#mans got a degree in philosophy

[cheruverse]

it's kinda funny that people hc dr ratio to give his s/o silent treatment after an argument. sure i can kinda see that but him giving his s/o the silent treatment for MONTHS until something bad happens to his s/o????? that's where you draw the line girl, i don't think dr ratio would do that- let alone give his s/o silent treatment in general. sure he can be immature and stubborn during at an argument but c'mon. i can only imagine that after an argument he'll talk about it to his s/o calmly like there's no way he'll leave his s/o that long cs it'll hurt him afterwards

[evertomorrowart]

Best of YouTube 2023

Yes, I did spend the first week and change of January on this. I wish I could have had it done for New Years, but too many people came out with incredible work in December, so waiting turned out for the best.

What these creators do are a huge influence on my life, I would honestly have difficulty doing what I do without them. That isn't to say that my favorites of the year are *only* on this image--It was almost impossible to narrow down my favorites. Many creators I wanted to include couldn't fit on a single page, and too many of them made more than one video I wished I could draw too!

But, to all of you, thank you for what you do. You're an inspiration.

For those who don't know, further is an explanation.

At the bottom center is an artistic masterpiece by Defunctland: "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History." Over the last several years, Defunctland has risen from delightfully-entertaining commentary on decommissioned theme park attractions to occasionally dropping profound statements on the creation of art itself. "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History" is worth treating like the cinematic experience it is: No second screen, you sit your ass down in front of a TV, set down the phone, and then you *watch it.* Any Disney, theme park, or independent film fan needs to pay attention to this one.

Bottom left is Caelan Conrad with their piece "Drop the T - The Deadly Consequences of Gay Respectability Politics." While I do think they've done more visually or artistically-daring pieces before, "Drop the T" is one of the most important videos released on YouTube in today's current climate of hate. We as queer folk (and our allies) need to understand how integral every identity of the queer experience has been since the start of the Civil Rights movement (and before!). While we are not identical, we *are* inseparable, and we deserve having our real history easily accessible.

TERFs and other conservative mouthpieces need not reply. Your opinions are trash. 😘

I cannot stop watching and rewatching this video by @patricia-taxxon, "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People." It's not just a defense of furry fandom and its eccentricities, it's a thoughtful and passionate analysis of what the artform achieves that purely human representation can't. Patricia goes outside of her usual essay format to directly speak to the viewer about the elements that define furry media (the most succinct definition I've ever heard) and just how *human* an act loving animal cartoons really is.

As an artist who can draw furry characters, but never really got into erotic furry art, this video is a treasure. Why did I choose to have her drawn as a Ghibli character, hanging out with one of the tanukis from "Pom Poko?" Guess you'll have to watch, bruh.

Philosophy Tube continuously puts out videos that I would put on this list--I'm not even sure that "A Man Plagiarised my Work: Women, Money, and the Nation" is the best work she released in 2023. However, this video got many conversations going between myself and my partner, and the twist on the tail end of the video shocked us both to such a degree that I had no choice.

At the very tail end of the year, Big Joel released "Fear of Death." On his Little Joel channel, he described it as the singularly best video he's ever done, and I'm inclined to agree. However, for this illustration, I ended up repeatedly going back to a mini-series he did earlier in the year: "Three Stories at the End of the World." All three videos are deeply moving and haunting, and I was brought to tears by "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot." While it may be relatively-common knowledge that the original Gojira (Godzilla) film is horror grappling with the devastation America's rush to atomic dominance inflicted on Japan, Big Joel still manages to bring new words to the discussion. Please watch all three of the videos, but if, for some reason, you must have only one, let it be "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot."

Y'all. Let me confess something. I hate football. I hate watching it, I associate seeing it from the stadiums with some of my worst childhood experiences, I despise collegiate and professional football (as institutions that destroy bodies and offer up children at the feet of its alter as a pillar of American culture)--

I. L o a t h e. Football.

But.

F.D. Signifier could get me to watch an entire hour-plus essay on why I should at least give a passing care. AND HE DID IT. I might think "F*ck the Police," the two-parter on Black conservatism, or his essay on Black men's connection to anime might be "better" videos, but this writer did the impossible and held my limited attention span towards football long enough to make a sincere case for NFL players--and reminds us that millionaires can *in fact* be workers. That alone is testament to his skill.

Sit down and watch "The REAL Reason NFL Running Backs Aren't Getting Paid." Any good anti-capitalist owes it to themselves.

CJ the X continuously puts out stunning, emotional videos, and can do it with the most seemingly-inconsequential starting points. A 30 second song? An incestuous commercial? Five minutes of Tangled? Sure, why not. Go destroy yourself emotionally by watching them. I'm serious. Do it.

Their video Stranger Things and the Meaning of Life manages to to remind us all why the way we react to media does, in fact, matter. Yes, even nostalgia-driven, mass-media schlock. Yes, how we interact with media matters, what it says about us matters, and we all deserve to seek out the whys.

Folding Ideas has spent the last few years articulating exactly why so much of our modern world feels broken, and because of that his voice continuously lives rent-free in my brain. While the tricks that scam artists and grifters use to try to swindle us are never new, the advancement of technology changes the aesthetics of their performances. Portions of Folding Ideas' explanations might seem dry when going into detail of how stocks work in This is Financial Advice, but every bit of it is necessary to peel back the layers of techno-babble and jargon and make sense of the results of "Meme Stocks."

Jessie Gender puts out nothing but bangers, her absolute unit of a video about Star Wars might be my new favorite thing ever, but none of her work hit so profoundly in 2023 than the two-parter "The Myth of 'Male Socialization'" and "The Trauma of Masculinity." There's so much about modern life that isolates and traumatizes us, and so much of it is just shrugged off as "normal." We owe it to ourselves to see the world in more vivid a color palette than we're initially given.

Panels drawn after Kate Beaton and "Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands."

"This is Not a Video Essay" is one of the most intense and beautiful pieces of art I've ever put into my eyeballs. Why do we create? What drives us to connect?

I don't even know what else to say about the Leftist Cooks' work, it repeatedly transcends the medium and platform. Watch every single one of their videos, but especially this one.

The likelihood you are terminally online and yet haven't heard of Hbomberguy's yearly forrays into destroying the careers of awful people is pretty slim. Just because it has millions of views doesn't mean that Hbomberguy's "Plagiarism and You(Tube)" isn't worth the hype. Too long? Shut up, it has chapters and YouTube holds your place, anyway. You think a deep dive into a handful of creators is only meaningless drama? Well, you're wrong, you wrong-opinion-haver. Plagiarism is an *everyone* problem because of the actual harm it creates--the history it erases, the labor it devalues, the art it marginalizes--which you would know if you watched "Plagiarism and You(Tube)".

Watch. The damn. Video.

In fact, watch all of them!

Thanks for reading this if you did.

[satoruhour]

LEGIT JUST DASHED HERE FKJAKJLASDFKJL

TA! Nanami won't leave my brain so pleaseeee 🥺just him assisting you with lab reports by eating you out

❄️

(ANYTHING BUT) LAB HELP

a/n: icy you got me thinkin about my own TA and the failures in which i am too scared to cop him 😭😭😭 / this was purely fuelled by my own carnal need for nanami after last week’s episode because WHEEEEEWWW !

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem!reader, TA!nanami, reader is a big simp for nanami but vice versa too, reader has long hair in this, slight age gap? since nanami is a TA (27 / 22), m! masturbation, fantasising, semi-public masturbation, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, little praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the first time your TA walked in, your jaw drops. with a face and body like that, he should rightfully be in the modelling industry, not teaching you about dissecting and suturing mice and looking at atoms under a microscope.

all you know is that nanami kento was just like every teaching assistant — attending lectures just like the rest of the students, taking down notes for his tutorial and lab sessions, answering curious emails from everyone — but every interaction you had with this man was anything but normal, or at least that’s what you felt.

you’ve never viewed someone in such a deranged and filthy way before: pulling on his blonde hair and taking off that hideous cheetah print tie and telling him to his face that wearing a full suit while teaching makes him insanely older than he actually is; and also maybe after that, to push him right down to your cunt where he’d eat you out like you deserve.

“i just don’t get why he needs to use a suit at twenty seven years old just to teach — you’re doing your masters, like calm down a little.” you mumble more to yourself than your friend, but she likes every juicy detail you have about this attractive TA you keep talking about even if you sound like you hate him with how much you talk about the damn suit all the time.

but your friend only knows that if you could get his trousers, suit jacket, tie and shirt off of him, you would in a blink of an eye.

“maybe he wants to impress.”

your mouth twists, “who? only person he should be impressing is me.”

it’s all in good fun, with the way you’re talking — in reality, you don’t know what you’d do if the opportunity really presented itself to you. gossip, your legacy (or shame) carried by mouth, expulsion from the university, there were countless of unfortunate things if you do decide to go for the teaching assistant meant purely to help students in better understanding the material.

but it wasn’t one-sided. all those glances you thought nanami was sending you weren’t imagined, nor was it because you thought he was squinting due to bad eyesight. he remembers your name from the first tutorial he taught you, caught you lingering around the lecture hall, helps you a little too much during lab sessions and every time, he’s inexplicably drawn to you and your aura.

“good afternoon, ladies,” the familiar deep and collected voice snaps you out of the conversation, heart beating a hundred miles. you were in no way prepared for this, but you’re grateful for even one meeting out of class. your friend is insufferable though — from your peripheral you can see her giving the two of you a sick grin, “any chance i could ask for directions to this particular room?”

that was another thing; nanami wasn’t from this university. having completed his degree in another, he took his masters in the one you’re attending, wanting a breath of fresh air from the four years of his time in kyoto. that’s what you remember from his introduction, amongst many other things: he liked neutral colours, he’s interested in the philosophy of aesthetics, and he loved bread.

“babe, i’m going to head off for a class,” lies. she had no classes today at all, “see you tomorrow!” she bows briefly to nanami who only shoots her a tender smile and you turn to the side to bite your fist. you’ve become good at containing your reactions, though.

“oh! nanami-san, of course. headed there for a class?”

what kind of stupid question is that? of course he w—

“i’m heading there for a seminar, actually, starts in about,” he checks his watch, “10 minutes. the uni invited an external professor to give a talk that merges both the philosophical aspects of questioning life alongside the functions of the body, sparking thoughts of science and philosophy. thought it’d be interesting.”

you swallow and you swear you can feel your core pulsing. hot, intelligent and always pushing the boundaries and capacity of learning? you could only thank the gods that it was a cooler day, not being able to do anything if you actually do melt into a puddle.

“y-yeah! yeah, i know where it is.” you don’t, but the rooms are usually lined up pretty nicely, and you know you would be able to guide him successfully without much trouble; but when you’re checking the seminar room, you realise that they may have changed venues.

“crap . . five minutes. nanami-san, do you think maybe they sent a follow-up email with the change in location?” you’re more on edge than nanami is because you usually don’t like to be late for anything, recalling the jumble of numbers and letters he showed you earlier and lining them with the label plates outside the room.

“uh— oh, shit. yeah, i might’ve shown you the wrong email.” your jaw drops when you see the new venue.

“that’s . . on the other side of campus, nanami-san.”

“how long will it take?”

you wince at the disappointment on his face, “if you take the campus bus, at least fifteen minutes.”

nanami’s understandably mad at himself for his own mistake, knowing he’d miss a good chunk of the talk whilst travelling there, but he’s distracted from his self-loathing — taken aback at the quickness in which you offer to drive him.

“uh . . it’s probably maybe eight minutes there by car. my car’s parked close by if you want a lift—”

and nanami thinks it’s simultaneously the perfect and terrible day to send his car to the mechanics and settle for public transport. perfect because he might accept your offer to be close to you, terrible because he would much rather you sit in the passenger sit of his car rather than the other way around.

nanami forgets to be modest in your presence, so he accepts it without a second beat and follows you in a jog to the parking lot. there are scattered vehicles, possibly belonging to professors and maybe students, and the both of you come to an everyday looking corolla.

“okay! unlocked. i’ll try to speed and get you there in four minutes.” nanami can only manage a soft thank you, touched by your generosity and even more drawn by the determination in your face. with a turn of the ignition key, the man clutches onto the seatbelt as you lurch forward with the acceleration, and then you’re taking off.

you’re not the best driver, driving past yellow lights and terrible at changing lanes, but you get the job done. coming to rest in front of the humanities block, you’re arriving with the seminar starting just two minutes ago, and nanami looks at you like you just moved the moon and stars for him.

“thank you, (y/n)-san, truly,” he’s out of breath, maybe a little shaken up from the drive but it’s nothing he isn’t used to (gojo sucks too), “how can i repay you?”

you shake your hand, “a-ah, no it’s nothing. it was just an eight minute drive compressed into four.”

“no, really, let me pay back the favour.”

you bit your lip — you can’t possibly say the thing that’s on your mind. he would report you, you would have to be kicked out, your future crumbling before your eyes — you go for the tamer request.

“lunch, one day, then.”

nanami smiles at you and you feel like it’s cupid shooting his shot straight into your heart. you hardly see the man, smile, ever, so to have a genuine one directed at you made you squeeze your thighs together. there’s hope bubbling in nanami’s heart when he sees the effect of his smile: a glint in your eye and the quickened breaths, he may have thought your thighs move, too, but he didn’t have the balls to glance down to the one place he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“how ’bout right after the seminar?” fuck. you’re grinning now and you see a little of nanami’s teeth in an amused smile.

“sure, nanami-san,” adrenaline sends you reeling, eyes boring so tirelessly into his that you wish he’d understand all the things you want him to do to you. he peeks a quick glimpse of your lips as they lick it before unbuckling his seatbelt, popping open the passenger door to head out. your hand instinctively goes up to stop him, “or should i say . . passenger princess.”

that prompts a full grin out of your TA, who lets out an attractive chuckle before leaving from your car, “sure, whatever you want to call me.”

you’re driving away happily, kicking your feet once you’re parked in another car park and giggling to yourself. unbeknownst to you of the small little thing nanami says after, “although i’d like it if you call me yours.”

the spiral starts from there. it was approximately two hours — you have two hours of going back to the dorms to choose something you knew you looked good in while continuing to text your friend in excitement. it was chaos between the hours of eleven to one pm, rummaging through your closet to find something suitable. you went through many rounds of outfits and with each photo to your friend you were losing hope.

“‘let’s just stick with the first’?” you scoff loudly after reading out her feedback, typing out a reply to your friend. it sounded a little agitated but you can’t help but heart the message wishing you a good luck.

before you know it, you’re hearing a knock on the window, greeted with the very nice sight of his suit jacket now removed and his blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves. it’s like he’s heard your thoughts too because even his ugly tie is bundled up in his hand.

“the AC wasn’t working.” he simply explains, once he’s in the car and he appreciates your gesture of turning yours to the max. you let your eyes rake over his figure, the pull of his shirt that looks too tight for him and the lines of his forearms, before he finally gets settled in and begs your eye contact.

“bummer,” you click your tongue, “but well, any places you have in mind?”

you start the car, pulling out of the lobby and nanami playfully hums, “not going to listen to your passenger princess’ struggles? do you hate women perhaps?”

“nah, i’m a toxic man who doesn’t care about his girl’s life.” that draws a laugh out of nanami, who sinks more into the seat. he’s more relaxed here than in class, than in lectures and it’s a nice sight to behold.

he echoes your sentiment with a small smile, “bummer.”

you both settle on an eatery pretty easily, with nanami keeping his promise of paying for your lunch (you made sure to pay back just a little with some bread, though, because how does a simple car lift equate to a whole lunch?). he was everything you thought him out to be: insanely insightful and smart; on a more physical level, jacked with such a pretty voice to the point you let him ramble about the seminar. it was the most animated you’ve seen him act.

since then, he’s become more open to accepting food items and hangouts with his students, although they never really hit like the first lunch he’s had with you. it was detrimental to his teaching, really, even now where he glares at your lab partner who you’re laughing with. it makes his stomach turn with jealousy, even as you exchange nudges while completing your worksheets.

he figures he can’t do anything but wait for you to initiate, mind muddled with thoughts of you and the possibility you were just being a nice person from what you did before, until you’re interrupting him from his rage-fuelled cleaning of the lab with a tap to his shoulder.

“nanami-san?” the students have filed out by now, a shell of what used to be a lab full of students groaning at the innards of the rats they were cutting open and the whispers of confusion at how to sew them back up.

“what is it?” he turns around too fast, almost knowing over a beaker by accident and when his hand goes over to catch it, you stabilise it as well. your hand encases his, the both of you resisting the urge to smile while you try to remember the question you so desperately tried to think of; anything to just talk to him.

“this is about um . . last week’s experiment about gas chromatography.”

“yeah?” nanami leans against the table, arms crossed and all and suddenly looking too buff that you feel a little lightheaded. his eyes skim over your body, a tight fitting shirt that accentuates your tits whilst you have some yoga pants on and if he bent you over, he’s confident he can see your pussy lips from behind the fabric. he knows it’s because you had a yoga class this morning, because he’s too invested in your life and you willingly give him what he wants.

“if the two mixtures contained the same alcohols but filled up to different amounts, do you know a method via the gas chromatogram to distinguish between the two mixtures?”

“uhm—”

nanami looks collected but he is sweating, approached at such a random time that he doesn’t have time to prepare except stutter through his answer. you don’t notice how you’ve been stepping closer and closer to him, either, until you’re an inch from one another.

“oh! alright, that makes sense.”

“anything else?” your TA looks down at you, hands just itching to bring you in. the lab is so quiet, now, save for the shuffling feet of the students outside but thankfully the windows are opaque. you could probably hear a pin drop if it wasn’t for your hearts pounding so loudly in your chests. your finger twitches with your incomplete lab report.

“right— well, yes, i was asking if you c—”

“babe!” the lab door slides open at the same time your friend calls out to you and you cough in embarrassment. nanami only clears his throat as the two of you step away and your cheeks burn, and he has to loosen the tie around his neck just for a bit.

“you told me to wait for you outside, right? well you were taking too long and . .” the other only continues his ‘task’ of cleaning up, looking anywhere but your direction as she continues to ramble, but he doesn’t miss the look of recognition on your friend’s face.

she mouths to you— i’m so sorry for interrupting, before she has half a mind to say something out loud and you’re clasping your hand over her mouth and ushering her outside hurriedly.

“shush— okay, thanks mr. nanami-san!”

he only waves a hand in farewell, but as soon as the door closes he collapses onto the seat. with head in hands, his mind wanders to the proximity in which the two of you were engaged in and the very, very uncomfortable boner in his pants. he’s so big that everyone can probably see it, frozen in place as he gets a sick idea.

“yeah, i told you to wait for me but not to barge in like that— oh my god! you should go on the records for having the worst timing ever.” you aren’t entirely disappointed, but it did seem like a good opportunity. you’re partly glad, too, because your mind now feeds you countless scenarios of nanami’s expressions turning into disgust and shock.

“dang, i’m sorry, but we do have to get going if we want to make it in time for that cafe event.”

your mouth twists, “yeah, i guess so.”

“if it makes you feel better, maybe he’ll want you more after this interruption.” she winks and you shove her playfully.

“now, you’re just trying to justify your bad timing!”

in that short time, you’re unaware that nanami has unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard-on through the hole of his boxers, insanely hard and body burning with regret. “lord, forgive me.”

he imagines you propped up on the (clean) lab tables, feet on his shoulders as he eats you out from below, or even hitting it from the back as he “helps” you with your lab report in the dorm, knowing damn well you won’t get anything done, or maybe even your mouth full of his throbbing cock sucking him off as he teaches.

nanami strokes his length in the empty lab room, knowing there wasn’t any classes any time soon from how often he’s looked at the timetables. there, he simply pumps himself under the table, biting at his shirt sleeves to muffle his grunts that he drools. it drops to the table, but he’s caring not one bit, because the feel of his hands just feel too good against him and the images of you only get lewder and lewder.

“s-shit . .” nanami swears quietly, hoping the slickness of his pre-cum doesn’t give him away, squeezing and moving his hands faster along his cock. his tip’s so sensitive — what would your mouth or pussy feel like? would you have let him rip your tights and fuck you silly just now? his hips are bucking into his hands, now, thinking of turning your sweet, sweet smile into something of pure sex, and before he knows it, he’s shooting his load onto the floor with a loud groan, thumbing his tip shakily. nanami’s breaths are ragged, guilt burning him alive while he washes his hand at the sink beside the tables and crouches to the floor, cleaning up after himself — nanami definitely wouldn’t be able to face you after this.

he was right. his mind was flooded with you in obscene positions and your saccharine voice twisted into moans and whines, he wonders if you taste as good as the pineapple juice he had the other day. even in tutorials, the students were wondering why the AC was turned up so high, because one glance from you made him hot and bothered. he liked to book it straight out of class, too, directing all questions to his email which he highlights very clearly in his slides, muttering something about being on a tight deadline with his thesis for his masters, but it’s never that serious — he’s usually heading back to quell the uncomfortable boner in his pants.

“prof? nanami-san?” you knew you’d find him in here in the professor’s office, probably going over lesson plans. your professor only shoots you a friendly greeting as nanami turns in his chair, he’s always happy to see his students while nanami swallows when you’re back in your yoga getup. it’s been a week, already?

“need anything, (y/n)?”

“oh, i need more of nanami-san, since it’s relating to my lab reports.” your professor usually conducted lab sessions, but nanami was the one to help with the reports, conveying the information of what to write and whatnot; well, it was also easier to talk someone who isn’t so intimidating and cool as your professor.

“kento, help me lock up after you’re done, alright?” your professor throws him the keys and you stifle a laugh at the way he stumbles out the door, “going home early to the wife, ahah . . guess i’m falling for her over again.”

that draws a laugh from both of you, bidding him goodbye with a smile on your faces before the mood turns tense again, and nanami looks up at you from his chair. you take him in: the manspread, the head tilt, the intentional (but you don’t know that) deep voice.

“yes, (y/n)?”

you gulp, remembering what your friend said — keep eye contact, slowly walk up to him, keep your voice nonchalant — it was easier said than done.

“cat got your tongue?”

you sputter and exclaim, “no— no i’m okay. i just wanted to ask about the alcohols used in the experiment last week.”

“ah, you’re still on that?”

his tone is laced with a slight disdain, possibly from how much he hates how you make him feel, coming in here to ask about your stupid lab report when he know you’re a bright student who hardly needs any help, coming in here like the two of you don’t want each other.

“y-yes, nanami-san.”

he stands and easily towers over you. from here, you can see his broad shoulders take up his shirt as he walks you back, buttons unbuttoned to reveal a bit of skin. you feel like prey being cornered, but nanami still has some sense of chivalry when he wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from hitting the frosted glass door.

“mind telling me why your lab report from over two weeks ago is taking so long to be completed?”

reality seeps in for just a moment and his hand removes itself, hovering just over your body, “we still . . have a week to finish it up, nanami-san . .”

your TA takes a deep breath and you think that maybe that was the wrong answer, but all nanami does is step even closer to you and your hands have no choice but to rest on his toned chest. he can only hope no one can see your figure when you’re pressed flat against the frosted glass, but he knows this part of the uni is a little deserted this late in the afternoon.

“that’s not wrong . .” his voice is down to a whisper, closing his eyes for a moment when your hands travel over his chest. when he opens them again, they’re more than just the pretty, hazel ones you like to fantasise about, stained with a darker sort of lust that involves taking you, even if it meant doing it in the professor’s office. “but you’re always submitting it pretty early on, aren’t you? what changed, hm?”

you can feel his breath on your lips, wishing he would just take the first step because frankly, your pussy is throbbing and your body is already leaning into him even without his hand on your back. it feels natural like that.

“i got distracted.”

nanami’s breath moves from your lips to your neck, and you cheer in your head as he plants a gentle kiss there, but it’s not quite what you want. he hums into the crook of your neck, torturing you with wet kisses and sucking lightly.

“by what? your friend? or perhaps it’s some external commitment that’s taking up a lot of your time?” nanami already knows the answer but he enjoys the way you squirm. “what is it?”

by now, your hands are trailing up his body, wrapping around his neck and playing with his undercut. his skin is so soft and he smells so damn good, and he sighs at your hands.

“by someone, actually.” you bite the bullet, forcibly removing him from your neck which is definitely starting to show the obvious blue black on the skin there. his hands this whole time have been placed against the door behind you, but the carnal need is too prominent that he wraps that same arm around your middle. the other, on your nape; the sheer size of his hand makes you whine and nanami smiles at that.

“mind telling me who is it? maybe i could give them a good talk, tell them to stop tormenting my smart girl.”

that draws out a visceral reaction from you, melting into his arms at the simple praise. nanami helps you a little, leaning in with an expression as needy as yours.

“you’re gonna talk to yourself?” a laugh is the last thing you hear before he crashes his lips against yours, a hand smartly going to the door to flip the lock before he pulls you flush against him. you moan softly when you feel his hard-on, against your front, manhandled easy by nanami’s arms as he whips you around to walk you to your professor’s desk.

“do you think he’ll sue us?” nanami kisses down your neck with him between your legs, hands fondling every inch of your body while you grind up against his pelvis. with such thin material such as your yoga tights between you, it feels so damn good.

“at most he’ll remove me as TA . .” as he speaks, you can feel the vibrations along your skin, legs instinctively bringing him closer. he doesn’t let you, instead pulling away from your body and goes to his knees, seeing just how soaked you are. he thanks god you weren’t wearing black, because there’s a wet patch that leaks too much — it’s clear you didn’t bother to wear underwear at all. “but that is if he finds out about this, right?”

you smile, feet pushing at his back towards your dripping cunt and you moan softly when he licks at your pussy through the fabric.

“yeah— yeah i guess so,” you’re then expecting his hands to pull at your waistband and you lift your hips knowingly, but you hear a stark riiip! that echoes throughout the office and you gasp, too focused on his pretty face to notice he’s dug his fingers into the yoga tights to tear it at your centre. the action turns you on, entirely sure you felt your pussy flutter at the sheer strength that he had.

“i’ll buy you new ones, baby,” nanami presses a gentle kiss against your clit and you shiver at the contact, hot breath threatening your demise by his hand, “they’re of terrible quality, by the way.”

you huff, “yeah, you kinda ripped it, nanami-san. plus, what’s terrible — not in quality but in looks — is your tie.”

nanami chuckles, caressing your inner thighs with gentle fingers, blowing lightly on your cunt, “personal vendetta against cheetahs?”

that sends shivers along your whole body, “n-no, just don’t really like the look of it.”

nanami hums, “i’m wounded.”

“you’ll live.”

he only laughs again, “okay, enough talking. i’m starving.” and starving he was — he latches his mouth onto your clit like a vice, sucking and flicking his tongue relentlessly you have no choice but to cry out his name. “taste so fucking sweet,” the sudden swear catches you off-guard, paired with the rasped voice and your hips willingly hump his mouth, “pussy made for me.”

“don’t say shit like that . .” you whine, embarrassed at the filthiness of his words and yet you’re sat here on a desk, pushing your sex more and more into his lips. “it’s embarrassin’.”

nanami clicks his tongue, “you’re still here.”

“yeah, shut up.” you push him further into your cunt to silence him, a loud moan leaving your lips as nanami slobbers over you — you’re so wet, spilling onto the floor. without warning, nanami slips a finger into you, easing it in and the sheer thickness of it prompts more mewls from you.

“k—kento . .” you hear nanami groan at the first name basis, shoving his finger deeper into you. he pumps it as his tongue works overtime, the slickness of which your pussy sounds out echoing throughout the room. “i’m c-clos—”

that seems to fuel nanami further, memorising how your body feels under him. you clench repeatedly around his finger, thighs twitching against him while your whimpers increase in volume, just like your incoherent babbles.

“i’m g’nna— kento, i’m c—” your back arches when you gush all over his face, juices squirting and making a mess out of his hair. nanami groans into your sopping pussy, slurping up your arousal shamelessly as you continue to give him everything of you. you’re shaking around him, moans slowly dwindling due to shame. by now, you’ve soaked through the bottom of your tights, letting him rip the seams for a little more access.

“wanna hear you, baby.” he easily multitasks, turning you around while removing his underwear, looking back at him while you shimmy your ass back into him. with a low moan, nanami drags his tip over your folds, collecting your cum and pushing it in with it. the stretch makes your jaw drop and legs tremble, pussy still sensitive from the previous orgasm.

you hold on to the wooden desk to the best of your ability but your iron grip makes the wood creak a little; it isn’t long before nanami starts moving.

“f-fuck . . you’re so tight,” the lewdness of the situation, your ruined tights, your ass moving with the force of his hips has him gripping your hips harsher than intended. his cock is just so fat, hitting your spots effortlessly as he rams into you from behind, “will this be enough motivation for you to finish that lab report, hm?” your perked up ass is receiving all the abuse from his pelvis, rutted into with pure primal need as the slaps of his balls against you gets louder and louder, just like your moans.

“g-gonna need more than this, kento—!” you’re whining as he reaches around to rub at your clit, messy and fast, surely drawing marks down the once flawless wooden desk. he just hopes there’s no one who requires the professor’s assistance because there was a clear indication that the office was open with the shining ceiling light but he was in no condition to answer any questions without panting.

nanami pushes down your lower back, cockhead hitting your spots over and over, “need more? of course you do, fuckin’ slut.” it’s a total 180 from the gentle way he’s kissed you earlier — a choked whine and a clench of your pussy tells him you like it . “oh . . she’s cock drunk already, huh?”

“yesyesyes! mmff— kento, please . .” he pulls on your hair from behind, made easy by the ponytail you had it in and you moan at the mixture of pain and pleasure. he takes it a little easier, resting his large palm at your neck and pulling, together with your hair. nanami sucks at the same spot as earlier, and the overwhelming sensations has you both arching your back and fucking yourself back onto him.

“pretty arch you got here, darling,” he pants out, fucking so hard into you with his support that your hands don’t even need to rest on the table. nanami knows you’re already close by the way you’re unresponsive, mindless babbling leaving your mouth while you let him use your limp body. “is it all for m-me?”

“mhmh— it is, it is—” you’re fucked senseless, letting him turn your head to meet him in a sloppy kiss. by now your pussy juices are spurting all over the place, staining the floor and table, dripping down his balls where with every slam of his cock you can here the wet pap! pap! pap!’s of it.

“y—yeah i know it is; that’s all you are, aren‘t you? a little cocksleeve for me.” nanami groans out, letting go entirely before wrapping his arms around you and trapping you between his front and the table. he’s flush against your back, thrusts faltering with each plunge into your warm, tight pussy as he feels you clench tirelessly and you don’t even to say it before you’re jolting in his hold.

“cumming, i’m cumming . . fuuuck . .” your body is so sensitive, shaking around his cock that continues to move into you. you cum all over him, listening to the dirty whispers he’s dumping into your ears.

“oh . .” nanami groans, “that’s a good little slut, s-shit—” your hips continue to move even though your brain tells you to stop, hands making terrible effort at reaching for him.

“wan’ you to cum in me, kentoo—” your grip on his forearm is tight, pleading with your doe eyes and small voice that has nanami grunting out in a dilemma, but your pussy’s too warm that he cums suddenly. his voice reaches a higher register, stuttering pelvis rutting into you with the intent of breeding you; he pumps you full of his seed, ropes upon ropes of white filling your womb. it’s so thick that you shiver again, yelping softly when he pulls out.

“look at that . .” nanami marvels at the amount of cum he’s dumped into you, using a finger to scoop it up before pushing it back in that you jump from the coldness of his finger. “a smart girl turned so dumb just from cock.” you give him an intoxicated smile, lazy and hooded as you lay limp on the table.

“only for your cock, nanami-san . .” you lick a stripe up the palm of your hand and he indulges you by stepping closer. he moans softly as your hand makes contact with his shaft, “or should i say . . sir?”

nanami ended up driving you back to your dorm, helping you to your room from how sore you were after that.

[cowgurrrl]

Something in the Orange

Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader

Author's note: this might become a mini series idk idk

Summary: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]

Warnings: no outbreak! au, teacher things, Ellie being a little loner, Joel the Menace making a return, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because it's what he deserves, flirty flirt, i think that's it???

You feel like you've been running a million miles a minute since you got in this morning. The second you could unlock the door, at least three students spilled into your room and chaotically ran to the kiln to collect their most recent pottery projects. One of them ended up shattering (the exact one you warned Colin about, but he didn't listen), and, as per high school custom, they were all screaming about it. You consoled the students just in time for your principal to walk by and ask about lesson plans which made you scramble through your backpack for your notebook even though you knew damn well there wasn't a single lesson plan in there. "Do you always have those lights on?" Principal Martinez asked, gesturing to the room's fairy lights and orange lamps. Leave it to administration to want to avoid art classrooms so much that they don't even know about the Big Light Philosophy. 

Since then, it's been class after class. You only have one more period before your planning period and then, finally, the end of the day. There are a hundred things to do, but you can't focus on any of them. You got so caught up in managing your classroom and helping students with the hardest parts of their portfolio work that you almost forgot you had a parent meeting scheduled during your planning period. 

Calling in parents for meetings about their children may be your least favorite part of your job. It makes you feel like a bad teacher, and parents usually don't feel great about getting called in on a workday to talk about their kid. Luckily, Ellie's dad, Joel, seemed more than happy to take time to talk about her. You rack your mind for his occupation as you add some detail to a canvas you've been hiding in your office and working on when you can. Was he a blue-collar worker? Or was he another stuck-up Austin transplant parent who's gonna accuse you of lying? He'd make the fifth parent who's made you cry this semester.

A knock on your locked door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly put away your painting before answering the door. "I told you she was in here!" One of your students, Dina, announces as she and a posse of three other kids you don't recognize push their way into the room. "Miss, you've gotta take that thing off your door; otherwise, people are gonna think you went home!"

"You mean the sign that says, 'planning period. Do not enter?'" You ask, and she snaps her fingers.

"That's the one." She says as she and her friends start putting their backpacks down at one of your high tables. You sigh and kick the door stopper into the threshold.

"You guys can't stay here. I have a meeting in five minutes."

"With who?"

"None of your business." 

"Miss!" Dina acts wounded, and you cross your arms over your chest, your keys jingling around your neck in the process.

"I am an adult with a college degree and the debt to show for it. You are a teenager with a still-developing brain. You have to listen to me," you say. "Wait, whose class are you supposed to be in right now?"

"Mr. Flynn's."

"Guys!" You groan before walking over to your desk and quickly writing up a hall pass for them. "I know you don't like math-"

"No, we don't like Mr. Flynn." Dina cuts you off.

"Or math!" One of her friends adds, and you shoot them a (loving) disapproving look. 

"Whatever you don't like, you can't keep hiding out here. Mr. Flynn is two seconds away from trying to get me fired for how often I let his kids in here during class, and I actually like this job, so," you rip the hall pass off the pad and hand it to Dina. As they pack their stuff up, a tall, bearded man steps into your classroom and makes eye contact with you. "Out, out, out! I love you. You're gonna change the world one day, but please get out." You blow them kisses as you usher them out of the room. 

"Are you Ellie's art teacher?" He asks, a confused look on his face, and you nod.

"Yes, I am. Sorry about that. They're still figuring out that I have work to get done even when I don't have a class," you explain, a little breathless from running all over the place and getting caught off-guard. You really do try to act a little more professional with parents, but the kids threw you off. The kettle whistling behind your desk doesn't make it any better. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?" You pick up a random mug off your desk but find it full of murky water. "Paint water?"

"Are you allowed to have an electric kettle in here?" He asks, and you laugh nervously as you find a clean mug and your tea box. 

"I won't tell if you won't." You say. He stands there awkwardly as you pour yourself some tea, and you realize you didn't pull a chair up for him. "Um, we can sit..." you glance around your messy classroom until you find a clear table and gesture toward it. "Here." He follows your lead, and you take a deep breath as you sit down.

"You gonna be okay?" He asks, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His curly hair looks golden brown in the low light, and his round eyes have a little knowing twinkle. You take another breath to compose yourself and nod. 

"Yes. Sorry. It's been a long day." 

"Don't worry bout it. I'm sure they run you ragged."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you do have paint in your hair." He says, and panic seizes in your chest. You're never more aware of how crazy your job can be until you meet Real Adults. Even if you can't remember what he does for a living, you still have to admit that you look a little silly next to each other: you, with your paint-stained sunflower dress and markered hands, and him, with his black shirt and jeans. He doesn't have any apparent stains or splatters on his clothes, but he's broad with thick biceps. He must work with his hands or something within that capacity. You clear your throat and try to get back on track with the meeting.

"Uh, so Mr. Miller, the reason I called you here today was to talk to you about Ellie," you start. "First, I just wanna say that she is an amazing student. She always does her work and engages thoughtfully with the material. I really do enjoy having her in class." 

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. She talks a whole lot bout this class and you, so... it's nice to place a face to the name," he says, adjusting his position on the stool. "But I have a feelin' you didn't call me down here just to tell me how great my kid is." 

"She is great. She's extremely talented, smart, and funny, but she spends more time in my classroom during lunch than anything else. I'm worried about her making friends and finding a community here at school. I've tried convincing her to join the art club, but she's hesitant. During class, she just sits with her headphones in and draws. She really doesn't like talking to anybody but me." You wait for blame to be assigned to you or get lectured, but it never comes. He just sighs, and he deflates a little in his chair.

"She's been through a lot this year. Well, her whole life, really, but 'specially recently," he says dejectedly. "What can I do for her?"

"There's an art show this Friday night here at the school. It'll all be student work from across the district. I thought if maybe you or... whatever adults she has at home came with her to this, she might feel more comfortable talking to her peers or even want to submit some of her own stuff."

"We can do that. I'll get off work early and ask her uncle if he wants to come," he's quick with his solution, and you're a little shocked. You rarely get parents, let alone fathers, who act this swiftly when something is going on with their kids. "Is there anythin' else goin' on that I should know bout?" 

"Uh, no. Like I said, she's a great kid. You should be really proud." You say, and the concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears with a proud smile. 

"Thank you," he mumbles, suddenly shy. "And thanks for carin' so much bout her. It's nice to know she's got someone lookin' out for her here." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and stare at him. You know, like an idiot. It takes a chuckle from him to snap you out of your thoughts, and blood rushes to your cheeks.

"Yes, of course. She's a good kid." You say. 

"You said that already." 

"I bet you'd be a little scatterbrained if you were at the mercy of two hundred teenagers all day."

"You're absolutely right. I would be," he says, smirking devastatingly. "Someone ought to get you a coffee or somethin' if you're dealing with all that." 

"People like you should go argue with the school board. I'm sure you'd be popular with all the teachers." 

"That'd be a first. I think I might've been the least favorite parent for all of my girls' teachers." 

"Well, I find that hard to believe." 

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little, and you nod, smiling. Your brain struggles to come up with something to say, and you're a little embarrassed at your silence, but luckily, your projector saves the day by buzzing loudly and making the picture on the board cut in and out. You mumble a quick apology before getting up and climbing up on a desk to jiggle a piece back into place. You hear Joel curse behind you, and when you turn to see what the problem is, you see him holding his arms out behind you. "Do you stand on desks often?" 

"Only every day. I haven't fallen yet this year." You laugh at his exasperated expression and turn back to the projector. It's still making a weird noise, so you move it around a little more, moving the desk under your feet, and Joel stabilizes it with a sigh. 

"How long has it been doin' that?" 

"Couple months. I keep putting in maintenance requests, but nobody ever comes to fix it."

"I can fix it for ya," he says simply, and you look down at him. "I've got tools in my truck. It wouldn't take long at all."

"Really?" You ask, and he nods. 

"It'd make me feel better knowin' you're not almost breakin' your neck every day."

"You mean, standing on a decades-old desk to mess with an ancient piece of equipment isn't OSHA compliant?"

"Please," he says, grabbing your ankle when the desk wobbles under you, and you laugh at his worry. "Let me fix it for you before you give me a heart attack." You think about declining and just putting in another work order, but the likelihood that anyone would actually come and fix it is slim to none. Plus, you really shouldn't be climbing on top of desks every day. You pretend to think it over for a few more seconds just to watch the worry play across his features as his grip on your ankle gets tighter.

"Only if you really mean it." 

"I really mean it," he says, offering you his other hand. "Now, would you please get down?"

"Fine." You say and take his hand. You bend to safely get yourself down, but Joel moves his other hand from your ankle to your waist and basically hoists you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he doesn't let you go immediately like he's trying to figure out if you somehow got hurt when he wasn't looking. There's a part of your brain that's aware of how inappropriate this would look to any passersby, but you're also highly aware of how warm his big hand is on your hip. 

"Ya alright?" He asks softly, and you nod, taking a conscious step back from his arms.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good," he says, also taking a step back. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll get that fixed for you." 

"Perfect. I'll be here." You stand there, staring at each other awkwardly, for another moment before he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom. The second he's out of your line of sight, you bury your head in your hands and start silently freaking out. 

What the fuck are you doing? How did a parent-teacher meeting turn into him hauling you off a desk and offering to fix your projector? Technically, nothing incriminating has happened, and it needs to stay that way. It doesn't matter if you think he's attractive or like how he worries about everything. He's Ellie's dad. Teachers have gotten fired for much less than this, and you're not willing to risk your career because of one guy. 

When he gets back with his toolbox, you're sitting at your desk and sorting through assignments like a reasonable adult. He doesn't say anything as he climbs up on the same desk you were standing on and begins messing with the mechanics of the equipment. You each work in silence for a few minutes before a screw clatters to the ground, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Do you mind..." he starts, pointing toward the lost piece. 

"Not at all." You cover your anxiety with your chipper teacher voice and search for the screw with your phone flashlight. You find it tucked between canvases, carefully pick it up, and walk over to where he's standing, waiting for him to be ready for it.

"It looks like it's just an old piece in here. I'm sure you can order a new one, and I can come back and install it if ya want," he explains, looking down at you. You probably look stupid just standing there with a tiny screw in your hand, but he doesn't laugh. "D'you mind handing me that tool to your right?" He asks, and you blindly reach for the tool you think he's talking about. "Your other right." He corrects, and you flush in embarrassment. 

"Sorry. I never was a very good woodshop student." You say, and he laughs once he has the tool in hand. 

"My girls are the same way. Just askin' ‘em to hold a flashlight while I work on their car is like pullin' teeth," he says fondly. "Speaking of which, is there a reason the lights aren't on in here?"

"The lamp light is less harsh, and it helps students focus. Plus, nobody likes coming into a bright classroom first thing in the morning." You explain, and he hums.

"If I'd had a teacher like you growing up, I would've been at school much more than I was."

"You didn't like school?"

"Hated it," he says, opening his hand for the screw. Once you drop the tiny thing into his large palm, he straightens up, and you can barely hear it going back into its rightful place. "'S a miracle I graduated." 

"That was me in college." 

"Now, I don't believe that for a second." 

"Really?" You laugh, and he nods.

"Someone like you, with your pretty dresses and all that empathy, was meant to be a teacher." 

"I wasn't always like this," you evade the compliment despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Being a teacher was never on my radar until I graduated. A lot of my life was never on my radar until then." He puts the hood of the projector back on and climbs down from the desk until he's standing in front of you again, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief from his toolbox. 

"Well, with the way you carry yourself, I never woulda guessed." He says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the sharp tone of the bell ringing cuts him off. You jump at the sound and look at the clock as if it were wrong. 

"I'm so sorry. Time must've gotten away from me. Thank you so much again, Mr. Miller, for coming in to talk with me and looking at the projector. I hope to see you and Ellie on Friday." You say quickly as the sound of rowdy kids fills the hallway, and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and squeezes it firmly.

"You can call me Joel. Mr. Miller makes me feel old." He says, and you smile. He doesn't look old, unlike the other dads you've encountered. Sure, he's got some gray at his temples and in his beard, but it suits him. 

"Joel, it is then." You resolve. His hand lingers in yours for a little too long before finally pulling away. "Well, Joel, unless you want to elbow through teenagers, I'd suggest you hide out here for a few more minutes." He does happily, even helping you carry supplies to your car once the hallways have cleared out enough. He's a proper gentleman, slinging your backpack over his shoulder and opening doors for you. You part only once everything is in your trunk, and he bids you goodnight with a charming smile that fills your thoughts on your drive home.

Ellie surprises you the next day as you're setting up the classroom. Normally, she isn't in until right before the bell rings, so seeing her this early is a little bit of a shock. The ink staining her hands is not. "Hey, dude. What's going on?" You ask. "Did you get breakfast from the cafeteria today? I heard Mrs. Hodges has those French toast sticks that everyone loves. You can probably get two servings if you run." 

"No, I already ate. My dad and uncle had to leave early this morning, so we got breakfast. Speaking of which," she says as she takes off her backpack and pulls a cup of iced coffee out of her water bottle pocket. "This is for you. We didn't know what you liked, so we got a vanilla latte or something." 

"Oh, El! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey." You say, and she sets it on your desk for you to enjoy once you don't have paintbrushes in hand. "If this is your way of getting a good grade on your piece, I already told you that you have nothing to worry about."

"It wasn't my idea. It was my dad's." She says nonchalantly before moving to the back of the classroom to get her sketch book. You, however, are confused and secretly pleased that Joel thought of you when he didn't have to. You find a message scribbled on the side when you reach for the cup to take a sip. 

Thanks again. See you Friday. -J

You turn to hide your smile from Ellie, but she's so deep in her work that you doubt she would've noticed anyway. You put some music on, and you and Ellie work silently on your projects until the bell rings and the day starts. 

The rest of the week goes by without a hitch, meaning that nobody accidentally ingested paint, and you only had to have one Come to Jesus talk with your Art 1 class. When Friday night rolls around, you're excited to see all the students work and treat yourself by wearing a new shirt with black scribbles all over it and black dress pants. You figure you should look as art teachery as possible for an art teacher event. 

By the time you get to the school, the hallways are buzzing with students dragging their parents from one piece to another and administrators praising their art programs even though you know not one of them has seen the inside of an art classroom in months. You make small talk with some of your students and their parents before finding a way out of the conversation and letting yourself wander through the makeshift gallery. You love your kids, but you really don't want them breathing down your neck as you look at all the art. You're almost at the end when you hear a familiar voice calling your name, and you turn to find Ellie walking toward you with Joel and, who you assume to be her uncle, next to her. 

"Hey, kid! I'm so happy to see you here!" You say sincerely, and she smiles shyly. You turn to her uncle and hold your hand out to introduce yourself. 

"Tommy. We sure have heard a whole lot bout you at home." He says with a smirk, and you laugh. 

"All good things, I hope."

"Of course. Ellie just bout worships the ground you walk on," he says. "Joel was singin' your praises, too." 

"Alright, I think that's enough. Why don't y'all go walk around, and I'll catch up with ya?" He suggests, and Tommy chuckles. Another teacher calls Ellie's name from down the hallway, and she's quick to drag Tommy off to meet him, leaving you and Joel alone. He's replaced his black shirt with a light blue dress shirt, and it looks like he's recently trimmed his beard. He looks nice.

"Singing praises, huh?" You raise your eyebrows at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "Thank you for the coffee the other morning, by the way. It was a really nice surprise." 

"Figured it was the least I could do to thank you for takin' such good care of my girl." 

"Well, thank you. I owe you." 

"You don't owe me a thing," he says. "Although, Tommy was a little upset that I didn't bill you for lookin' at the projector." 

"Was he?" You ask, and he nods.

"Oh, yeah," he laughs. "Said next time I should, at least, ask you on a date."

"Mr. Miller-"

"I thought you agreed to call me Joel." He raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and you shake your head, fighting a smile.

"Joel, while I'm flattered by the offer from someone so handsome-"

"You think I'm handsome?"

"I can't date my students' parents." You say, ignoring his question, but even then, the playful look on his face doesn't fade. "Well, I can leave you to it. I know Ellie will probably want to show you around." 

"Right. Of course," he says. "It's really nice to see you."

"You, too. I'm just glad I didn't have paint in my hair this time."

"I don't know. I thought it was kinda cute." You feel yourself blush at his words, but you have to shut it down before it can become anything more than flattery. You take a deep breath and try not to let that stupid smirk weaken your knees as he watches you.

"Goodnight, Joel."

"Goodnight, ma'am." He says, tipping his head politely before sauntering down the hallway like he owns the place. Trouble, you think to yourself. But you can handle trouble. It's in your job description, for Christ's sake. 

So, you brush off the flirting and try to ignore how his kindness and sweet words made you feel. You absolutely cannot flirt with the parent of one of your students. Dating is completely off the table. You can handle this like an adult. You have to. 

After a cold shower and a leftover dinner, you check your email once more before going to bed that night. Sitting in your inbox with alarming clarity is an email from Ellie with the subject line: Art Club. Her email is somehow just as short as her subject line. 

Simply, "When can I start -E." 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

[sepherinaspoppies]

after hours - modern! aemond targaryen x reader

summary: she receives a late night call from her needy boyfriend, aemond.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f and m masturbation, phone sex, use of sex toys for reader, and I think that's it?

wc: 2,387

masterlist

notes: this was supposed to be a very small drabble lmao. anyways this is kind of unedited. oops

She sits on her bed, a plate of yesterday’s reheated pepperoni pizza laid across her lap while the television played rerun episodes of Gilmore Girls when her phone rang unexpectedly.

At such late hours she decided to let her phone ring, for if she answered whoever it was calling on the other end would know she was awake and she did not want that. It was probably one of those scam calls that were going around tricking people to give out their credit card information for their own benefit.

Though, she wondered if they knew that she had only ten dollars currently sitting in her bank account after she had spent the last of her savings on pizza. 

She sighed happily once her ringtone slowly faltered down but it wasn’t long before it started ringing again and again. And on the fourth ring she sadly set down her pizza to the side before snatching off her phone from the power socket. 

Her eyes widen in horror as she views the bold letters of the caller ID. She immediately accepts the call, rushing to turn off the television to give her full attention to her caller. 

“Angel.” Aemond greeted in a low hum, sounds of metal clanking could be heard from the background. 

She appreciates that he doesn’t sound angry for her lack of response. In the past few months she had the pleasure of knowing Aemond, she had come to learn very quickly that he was not a very patient man. If Aemond wanted something, whether it’d be something materialistic or sexual, he wanted it now in any way possible. 

“Hey Aem, sorry I thought you’d be asleep.” She apologizes, setting a few pieces of loose hair behind her ear.  

In the other line, she hears Aemond acknowledge her by singing another low hum, something Aemond regularly did that frustrated her. At first she thought Aegon was just joking around when he first set them up on a blind date, that Aemond was a man of a few words and only humming out his responses. But as she got to know him more throughout their dating phase, she realized that Aegon was in fact not joking. It took her months to break him out of his shell. 

“So, how are things down south?” She asks, quickly changing the subject to that of his work status. 

Aemond worked in the field he always wanted to be in; as a high school history and philosophy teacher. Aemond loved his job even if they were students who made it tough for him to educate those who did take their studies seriously. He loved the challenge. He loved being up on his feet teaching the histories of how Westeros came to be or educating the famous ideologies of the greatest philosophers that made Aemond fall in love with the subject. 

You could say Aemond was a workaholic. There was no denying that. What some teachers considered the best part of teaching was the summer vacations, Aemond absolutely despised it. However that problem would soon resolve after she had called up her uncle Oberyn, who taught gender and sexuality studies at Sunspear University, if there were any positions available for Aemond’s area of degree during the summer. To her delight, her uncle informed her that the university was looking for someone who was fluent in High Valyrian to teach a beginner course. 

Aemond immediately emailed his resume in and within a few days after his students left for summer break Aemond got on a plane to Dorne and began to work in his new position in a new city. 

Which was about a month ago. 

“Hard,” Aemond breathes as he licks his lips. 

“Aw, my love—” She tried to comfort him before she was cut off. “Hot,” Aemond corrects himself, standing up from his own bed to retrieve his laptop. 

“Well Dorne is known to be quite hot. Especially during the summer.” She informs in a matter of fact tone as she toys with the thin strap of her nightgown. “Besides, I thought dragons prefer the heat.” 

A low chuckle came from the other end. She can practically imagine the corners of his lips curving up to a smirk. “We do prefer heat but we are not immune to it as you think. I even purchased three fans to keep myself cool. Though, they do not work for shit which leaves me, as of right now bare.” 

She paused, straightening up from the bed. “When you say bare—”

“I mean bare as when I came into this world” 

A long silence came afterward, and she could hear the beat of her own heart thumping against the screen of her phone. She looked at her Charlie Brown calendar hung above her nightstand. Once she confirmed that today was in fact the weekend, it became evident why Aemond was calling at such a late hour. 

Heat began to seep into her lower belly down between her thighs at what she could surmise would happen next. 

It had been some time since they were last intimate. Forty-two days to be exact; the day before his departure to Dorne.

Aemond and her spent the whole morning, afternoon and night tangled within each other going round after round in different positions and different rooms of their shared cottage saying their goodbyes until she passed out from the many orgasms Aemond gave her. The following morning Aemond threw himself into fits of giggles when she could no longer stand up from their bed to drive him to the airport, feeling sore and bruised from the intensity of the night before. 

“Angel? Have I lost you?” Aemond asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She replied with a shaky no before Aemond began to speak again. “Hmm then accept my facetime call.” Her eyes locked with her laptop which she did not realize it had been ringing and nervously pressed the green button. 

Through the low lighted room she could see the silhouette of Aemond. His laptop perched on top of his stomach, his bare and freckled chest full on display. She so desperately wished she was there to roam her hands all over him. And she stifled a moan when she noticed Aemond’s silver hair was pulled back into a braid just as how she liked it. 

“There you are my beautiful angel,” Aemond purrs, giving his hardened cock a good squeeze from the base. His eye roams over her clothed figure, taking in her sheer white nightgown that leaves nothing to his imagination. 

Heats spread to her cheeks, his compliments never tiring her. 

“You don’t know how much I miss you, angel. Your hands—” On cue her hand slowly waves itself down between her thighs, pushing her lacy panties to the side as her fingers come into contact with her arousal on the way to her clit. 

“Stroking my cock while your lovely mouth sucks me off.” Aemond imagines it all like it was yesterday and his cock pulsed so hard it ached. It wasn’t any better when he saw her chest rise and fall with wanton little pants escaping her lips. 

She was touching herself. Something Aemond warned her not to do in his absence. He wanted to reprimand her for such an act but instead Aemond let her continue as he wanted to watch her unfold and peak especially for what he had in mind. 

“Oh, Aemond, I miss you too.” She whines, throwing her head back into the pillows, struggling to keep her laptop perched ontop her knees. Waves of pleasure move throughout her body, his words going straight to her core. 

She hears Aemond groan. 

“Your tongue on my cunt and- and—” Her words stammer and she feels the tips of her ears flush with embarrassment for her next confession. “Go on, angel.” Aemond encourages as he gazes at her reddened state. He finds it endearing and if he was there right now, he would pull away her hand until she confessed. 

“Your nose.”  

“And what about my nose?” He hums using his thumb to circle the tip of cock. 

“I-I love your nose on my clit.” 

Aemond’s one good eye widened and felt the intense pressure in his lower stomach increase. It was no wonder why whenever he went down on her she screamed the loudest when his nose brushed against her sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Aemond continued watching her touch and lose herself in pleasure. Intensely watching as her fingers vigorously circled her clit with sweat above her brow. He moaned sweet nothings through his laptop and just as he sensed she was about to peak, Aemond stopped her. 

She did as she was told and she couldn’t help to let out a few tears of frustration.

“Get your buzzy out, angel.” Aemond instructed. Instantly her mood shifts into an excited and eager one. 

“Which one?” 

“Oh you know which one.” 

She definitely knows which one. Her hand reaches for the drawer of her nightstand where inside lay rows of different forms of vibrators as well as different sizes and shapes of dildos Aemond purchased within their relationship. Their favorite being a dual pink vibrator that was made to stimulate her g-spot along with her clit. It was also remote and app controlled with multiple levels of speed and vibrations that made her come in less than five minutes. Which was good since it took her a while to come. 

“Good. Now be a good girl and undress in front of me, angel” She eagerly nods at his words and sets her laptop in front of her. “Look at me while you bare yourself to me.” Her eyes snap up meeting his darkened violet eye that was full of passion and concentration as her fingers lift the hem of her nightgown. 

She sees him bite his lower lip once her breasts are revealed. Aemond nods for her to proceed to take off the next piece of clothing and she does so, tossing it somewhere across the room not caring where it lands. 

Having laid together multiple times, she swallows the need to cover herself and spreads her legs apart just enough for Aemond to gaze through the camera at how wet she was for him. Aemond inhales the desire to stroke his cock into completion. He wanted to see her fall apart first. 

“Now place the buzzy in your cunt, slowly.” 

She rubs the silicone against her slick gathering some of her juices before sliding the thicker part of the vibrator inside. She sighs in relief at the sensation, it wasn’t as big and delicious of a stretch like Aemond’s cock but it was just right to feel some satisfaction. 

She then bends the longest part of the silicone gently against her pulsating clit with needy whines and pants waiting for further instructions. 

Seven fucking Hells. Aemond curses to himself wishing nothing more than to book a flight back to King’s Landing and have her sit on his face licking away her juices. Aemond remembers that in a month that will happen soon. 

Aemond’s fingers swipe through the different kinds of vibrational settings through the blue hearted app and settle for one with the lowest speed to get her started. 

Once Aemond hears a series of surprised cries and gasps, he gives up on trying not to touch himself. He starts stroking his cock at a languid pace as he watches his lovely little angel struggle to keep her legs still and open through the camera. 

“You’re doing so well baby,” She hears Aemond praise. “Tell me does that feel good? Are you close? Answer me, sweet angel.” 

She fervently nods her head. 

“Use your words, angel.” 

“Y-yes.” She says, barely being able to control words out through the pleasure. “Yes, what?” Aemond taunts before he lets out a hiss when the fat head of cock starts to ache more. He knew he wasn’t going to last long as he hadn’t touched himself so intimately in forty-two days, wanting to also keep good on his promise. 

“Yes, Aemond, it feels so good. I need more please.” While vibrations felt so indescribably good it wasn’t sufficient to send her over the edge. She knew Aemond set the vibrator in level one. And in their lovemaking, Aemond usually set the speed at level five which was neither too fast nor too slow. Just right to see stars followed by another round. 

When Aemond set his laptop to the side, giving her a full view of his proud length standing straight against his stomach, she nearly lost it, clenching the silicone tightly inside her walls. Gods she really did miss him. All of him. 

She groans loudly when Aemond sets the speed she likes, making her eyes roll at the back of her head, pinching both of her nipples for some extra stimulation but what Aemond says makes her halt and glance at his disheveled state. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” He moans as she watches his hand stroke his cock vigorously while long ropes of his seed spurt all across his chest and hand. Series of whines and growls leave his lips all while his hips buck upwards at the intense pleasure that makes Aemond cry. Literally cry. 

She watches all in awe.  

Saying he looked beautiful was an understatement. No, Aemond looked so godly and ethereal and she understood now the reference that Targaryens were closer to gods than men. 

Once Aemond steadied himself, the words left her lips without thinking. 

“That was quick.” 

And before she had time to explain, the air in her lungs left quickly like her words as she felt the most intense and deep sensation between her legs. She let out incoherent noises to which she could not describe. Were they moans? Groans? Cries? She did not know. 

All she did know was the tightness in her lower belly finally snapped and her orgasm washes all over her like a tide. 

After a few minutes, she heard Aemond laugh through the screen. “You were saying?” He teases as he waves his phone around the camera. 

She feels too tired to reply. Her body automatically feels relaxed and stress-free. 

“Oh, angel, don’t get too comfortable. I’m not done with you yet. I’m still very hard.” 

Oh shit….

im gonna go hide under my bed now lol

general taglist: @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @smayhem @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @imsoshygirl @folksriddle @ficsandsin @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @qweencrimson @slytherized @qyburnsghost

empty is who I could not tag im sorry!

if you like to be on my general taglist click here

[michelle-is-writing]

Wedding Mornings, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.2k~

As a child, I always wondered if I would ever find the right person for me. Having no luck to find such a person as a teenager, I ended up wondering if I would even find a husband, better yet, my soul mate. In years to come, I would start to believe that I would be alone forever.

However, once I moved to Washington DC and found a job at the Melvin Gelvin library, I soon befriended a man that visited there a lot. I had seen him in the research section before, but he never came up to my desk for help. I thought he was cute, in all honesty, but I didn't want to come off as too confident and go up to him to see if he needed help when I never did that with anyone else in the library.

So, the one day he did come up to me and ask me where to find a book I had seen him take out many times, I smiled and nodded before helping him find the book. He was nervous asking me his question, and I couldn't help but be a little nervous as well. Although, once we found the encyclopedia for Philosophy, he introduced himself as Spencer Reid, and I couldn't help but rejoice as my name fell from my lips in return. Finally, I got to learn the name of the man who I had shared glances with so many times, yet, we never interacted - up until then.

After that, it felt like a free-game. Anytime Spencer came into the library, he was asking me for books that I knew very well he was aware of where they would be. In spite of this, I always helped him, and after he checked out the third book I had seen him read many times before, Spencer finally asked me out for coffee.

Unfortunately, our date kept getting postponed because of Spencer's job. At first, I thought he was backing out in regret since it had already taken him so long to ask me out in first place. However, once we did go on that date, I discovered that that wasn't even a tiny fraction as to why he kept rescheduling. As soon as I found out that Spencer held such a huge responsibility with a job that relied on him to capture mass murderers and kidnappers, I found myself in complete admiration for him. Not to mention the fact that all of the science books he had been checking out weren't for class or education - he already earned his degrees in those fields beforehand.

Now that I have a dazzling ring on my finger, I'm even happier that I was patient in waiting for Spencer to finally make it to our date. I knew how long I waited for that coffee shop date he promised - six-whole-weeks. However, I never knew how long I was waiting for a man like Spencer to make his way into my life until I found out how much I truly loved him. Through saying those three words that are often said too much, I discovered that I had waited my entire life to find Spencer, and when he proposed to me in Rossi's garden one late night, I found out that Spencer truly felt the same way.

Soon enough, the months before our wedding slowly passed until the brightest week of our lives came up, and once that started, it was like everything was going at twice the speed it should have been going. All of my bridesmaids (JJ, Emily, (f/n), and Penelope) ran around like chickens with their heads cut off while Spencer's groomsmen (Derek, Aaron, and Rossi) did the same. Even during the morning of my wedding, everyone was running around to get things done while I just stayed in my bride's quarter's kitchen and did the same thing I did every other morning.

"I'm just saying," Penelope starts, watching as I pour freshly made coffee into a mug for Spencer. "It's bad luck for a groom to see the bride before the wedding!" She reminds me, causing me to smile.

"I thought that was only if the bride was wearing her dress," I point out, adding more sugar than actual coffee into the mug. "And, besides," I add, giving the coffee one last stir before placing the spoon down on the counter. I have no idea how Spencer can drink this stuff with nearly half of the mug filled with sugar.

Turning toward Penelope with the steaming mug in hand, my eyes quickly catch onto the expertly made bouquet in her hands, every flower I wanted beautifully bundled together with a gorgeous (f/c) bow wrapped around the stems. How is she so good at any creative thing she does?

"I've made Spencer his coffee every morning since our first day living together, Pen," I tell her, smiling as I think about the fond memory. Sometimes he'll make me a cup too if I haven't done so myself. "I don't want to miss a day because of some old, wise tale that's probably been taken out of its original context," I add, slightly smirking as I know that's the truth. Once the words leave my mouth, Penelope can't resist the smile the makes it's way onto her lips as she shakes her head.

"Well, I don't think anything I say is going to stop you," She notes, earning a head nod back from me. She's right. Nothing is going to make me halt in my actions of bringing Spencer his coffee - not even a silly little fairytale.

Heading out of the hotel room in only my silk pajamas that match the rest of the girls' clothes, I find myself walking across the hall with my heart pounding in my chest. It's strange to just now realize that today is the official start of my forever. It's a fantastic feeling, but at the same time, it's giving me a high that I feel like I can't come down from. It's a dangerous, yet blissful thing.

Just as I round the corner to walk to the other end of the hall, my eyes quickly catch onto a familiar figure leaving his hotel room. There's no way I could ever forget those brunet curls or the slender body of the man I love. Although, what is a bit odd is that he's currently carrying a coffee mug of his own. I guess he didn't think that I'd stick to what we've always done.

"Good morning, handsome," I greet Spencer, causing him to lightly jump before turning around and seeing me. Once his eyes land on my pajama covered figure, he visibly calms down with a small sigh and smile.

"I wanted to go and see you, but the guys wouldn't let me. So, I had to sneak out," Spencer explains with a shake of his head, making me laugh. Just as I do that, Spencer's whole demeanor changes as if he's softening up. His tense shoulders loosen while his posture relaxes a bit, another sigh leaving his slightly smiling lips as he does so. He looks calmer than any other time I can remember.

"You... you look amazing," he compliments me, causing me to blush with a wide smile. My hair is an absolute mess right now, a majority of it up in a clip as I haven't brushed it yet. Not to mention my face doesn't even have a touch of makeup on it and I'm still in pajamas - there's nothing about me that says "amazing" right now. I don't know how Spencer can say such things.

"Thank you, baby," I tell him, taking a few steps forward before planting a kiss to his cheek. Despite today being the day of our wedding, Spencer's cheeks turn to light pink in response to my lips touching them as they always do, and I can't help but smile as I see the rose color take over his skin. Despite what some people say, I truly believe there's a good chance it will always be this way.

"I made you coffee for this morning," I tell him, gesturing to the steaming mug in my hand. "But I didn't know you made your own already," I further add, watching as the corner of Spencer's lip quirks up. Is he surprised that I would do this?

"Actually," he starts, holding the cup out to me. "I made this for you - that's why I was heading out of the room so I could go and give it to you," Spencer explains, trading mugs with me as a bright smile takes over his face. "I'm glad that we both had the same idea."

Smiling back, I nod before taking a sip from the cup of coffee Spencer made me, Spencer following in suit with the cup that I made him. We both let out a small, satisfied groan as the taste of coffee reaches our lips.

"You always manage to make my coffee perfect," Spencer points out, making my heart clench. He's so adorable, and he doesn't even realize it.

"And I'll never forget it, love, not for a long time," I tell him, leaning closer to kiss his cheek. However, before I can do so, Spencer takes the chance to wrap his free arm around me and pull me against him. Now satisfied, Spencer gives off a small hum before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. In his arms, I feel the happiest I've felt this morning, and with the events of today being added in, I am more than ecstatic right now. Making coffee for Spencer every morning for the rest of my life is only a small fraction of what our marriage is going to be, and I can't help but look forward to doing it.

"I'm so glad we're doing this," Spencer confesses, pulling away from my lips to rest his nose against mine. Smiling, I gently sigh as I feel his hand on my waist sliding underneath my pajama top and onto my skin. His touch is so gentle that I could almost mistake it for a cloud touching me. "I've waited so long for this."

"I wish we would've done it sooner," I admit, nuzzling the side of my face into Spencer's soft sleep shirt. "Then I could've been Mrs. Reid for a long time now," I point out, turning my eyes up to the smiling man holding me.

"I do like the sound of that," Spencer murmurs, smirking as he leans farther down to press his lips to my neck. "Misses Reid," He slowly says my new title, each syllable rolling off his tongue smoothly. Even before we were engaged, he would jokingly call me that, but now that I'm actually Mrs. Reid, my love for the name has only grown.

With that, Spencer and I connect our lips in another sweet kiss while holding each other close. In his arms, I feel the warmest and happiest I have ever been. Nothing could ruin this moment between us. It's simply too perfect.

"Stop making out in the hallway! You'll be doing enough of that later!" A stern voice interrupts us, causing Spencer and me to look over to the hotel room door he stepped out of a few seconds ago. Hanging out of the empty doorway is Derek who's smirking with an accusing eyebrow. "Isn't it bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony?"

"Actually, Derek, it's only bad luck if-" Spencer argues Derek just as another voice cuts in.

"What are you two doing?!" A shout sounds throughout the hall, the tone full of Penelope Garcia's typical sassiness. Immediately, both of our heads shoot toward the end of the hall where the spunky blonde stomps toward us. "What have you two been doing?!"

"Derek, help us," I beg, turning my head back to Spencer's best man. Instead of doing what I actually asked, Derek laughs and shakes his head while holding his hands up.

"Oh no," he starts, "I'm not suffering at the hands of the woman behind you."

"Yeah," Penelope states, matter-of-factly. "I would be scared too if I were you, missy," just as soon as the words leave her lips, Penelope puts her hand on my arm and practically drags me out of Spencer's arms while Derek does the same to Spencer, both mindful of the mugs in our hands.

"You can see your beautiful bride in a couple of hours," Derek assures my soon-to-be-husband while he gives me one last kiss. As soon as his lips touch mine, I realize this is the last kiss before the one kiss we get to share that marks our forever with each other. Plus, I have no doubt that our friends will be cheering and teasing us as we do so - just like Derek and Penelope do right now. Just at the single thought, I can hardly wait.

[lunas-side-anime-blog]

Modern College Student/BF Eren Yeager Headcanons

Armin version: HERE

Changed his major so. many. times.

Tried premed bc of his dad but then realized he had to take a lot of math and was like “lol no”

Was a business major for a bit but he didn’t have enough tact or strategy so dropped that pretty quick

Philosophy was next but he has such black and white way of thinking, he always got into arguments with the professors

Ethics was ruled out after like a week bc of…well, obvious reasons

Joined Armin’s major for like a month but it took so much studying and memory that he quit

Tried psych with Mikasa but yeah every teacher kept telling him to go to therapy??? And he was like “no thank you.”

Eventually i think he will land in something like sport communication or management, bc the competition really gets him fired up and he’s only good at something if he’s passionate about it

also feel like he’d be a college athlete with some scholarships so yeah, it makes sense

Not a great student tbh

Type of bitch to say “c’s get degrees.”

Really its only his public speaking skills that are keeping his grade afloat bc his presentations are sooo hype and get the class all inspired n shit

His essays and quizzes tho? Yeah, not so good

Bad at attending classes too, for sure will be like “srry my grandma died.”

And the teacher is just like “you’ve used that excuse already?twice??"

And hes just like “ugh fine you got me, I was tired and hungover”

Def tried to join a frat but Armin and Mikasa threatened to not be friends with him 

Still hangs with the frat boys a lot and is always partying with them

Pregames wayyy too hard tho, wasted before the party even starts

Unironically dances to lmfao and pitbull at college parties like “party rockers” is his fucking jam

Casual pothead, has a bong he def like nicknamed the “titan” cuz it’s so fucking huge

Will share his stash with you but like next time you got alc or bud just know he’s hitting that shit

High Eren is just really philosophical about freedom but with the munchies

Diet consists of instant ramen, mcdonalds and box mac n cheese, probably alot of redulls too

Thank god he’s athletic w a high metabolism 

Is fucking rocking the man bun and will fight you if you say otherwise

Games often with Jean, Conny and Sasha

Rage quits all the time and yes, Jean has recorded most of them for blackmail

Still uses snapchat streaks and will be so salty if one of his friends broke it

“You know nothing of loyalty. It’s one snap a day! How fucking hard was that?”  

Smells like irish spring body wash, old spice deodorant and weed

Also mint? I feel like he’s always chewing gum

One of those smokers who think he can just splash cold water on his face and chew on some gum and it wouldn’t be obvious that he’s high af

Carmex lip balm is the only slightly self care item he owns

Really into anime, loves the boss fights

I feel like he’d really like Naruto, Demon Slayer, Bnha or jojo’s bizarre adventure

You know anything with a lot of fights or training 

Ppl say he’d like Deathnote bc light but honestly I think he would get lost with all the twists and be like “why tf aren’t ppl just punching each other???”

Loves rap if he’s feeling good or screamo if he’s angry, like there's no in between lmao 

For sure listens to his music way too loud even with air pods

“Max volume isn’t enough, I wanna fuck the song” type of dude

I feel like him and Conny at one point prob tried to make a youtube channel where they like react to stuff 

Jean is the top commenter…..too bad it’s hate comments lol

Is one of those guys who has such a high body temp that even if it’s like december and snowing out, he’s still in basketball shorts and a short sleeve shirt 

Progressive bc Armin taught him how sex doesn’t equal gender, and pronouns are to be respected

Still a dick tho

“He’s such a fucking- wait hold up what are your pronouns?  They? K cool was just gonna talk shit about you but wanted to be respectful about it, thanks.”  goes back to his other conversation like, “They are such a fucking worthless cunt.”

As your bf

Probably met off tinder or something bc he is just a fuckboy looking to get his dick wet

But after fucking he just keeps hanging out with you? Or like if u get ur period or don't feel like sex he’s like, “it’s okay we can just watch a movie or something😀”

So ur not quite sure if you guys are fuckbuddies or not?

It becomes kinda obvious tho if he like ever sees you with another guy and gets all up in his face like “wtf are u doing with my girl/boy?”

U guys don’t have a clear anniversary bc he never asked u to be his, it was just kinda silently agreed upon?

Clingy lil bitch after sex like will follow u to the bathroom if u let him

Needs to shower with you, otherwise you both aint showering cuz he will turn off the water 

“Now we both stinky, bitch.”

Gives me the vibe of a guy who learned sex stuff thru porn

He goes really hard, fast and will put you in crazy positions

If u have a vagina you prob will have to like teach him about clit stimulation and literally take his hand and lead it there, he’s a fast learner though 

Will pull your hair but if you dare pull his?

He'll flip you over and spank you 

Wants sooo bad to be called daddy, up to you though if u wanna call him that but you can tell he tries to lead you to say it sometimes

Not really controlling or anything, actually loves an independent partner who has their own goals 

Is insanely jealous though, the only time he’s all up on you is if he thinks another guy is trying to get on you

If you fight tbh I think Eren can be a lil brat but I think he always has a time limit 

Like..he’s the type of guy that has about three days in him of being an asshole or being in silent treatment mode before he just breaks and knocks on your door begging for forgiveness

A little toxic but again, more so about others than actually controlling you

The type to start a fight in your insta comments if anyone other than him or your besties call you hot

Will try to be cool and say “wear whatever you want, I can fight”

And he will but like will he also cry later? Yes. 

Dates with him aren’t really dates? I think his love language is quality time so he’s the type to just try to hang out and make everything a lil “date”

Lots of late night car rides where you guys just talk and share songs (also car sex if ur up to it), lazy days where you two watch movies and cuddle in bed, also I think he’s the type of bf to try to tag along with you everywhere you go and offer to get you food afterwards

Only for like birthdays or anniversaires will he try to take you out for a fancy dinner, even then you might have to drop hints that you want a nice date bc honestly he’s totally okay getting mdconalds with you and pigging out

Overall he’s kinda a scary dog privellage as a boyfriend

Whose mainly all bark and no bite

(mostly)

Fav nicknames: Babe, babygir/babyboy, sexy, shortie 

Songs that fit the vibe: 505 by Arctic Monkeys, Cherry Waves by Deftones, Daddy Issues by the Neighbourhood

“I’d probably still adore you wth your hands around my neck”

“I’ll swim down with you, is that what you want?” 

“I tell you that I’m thinking about, whatever you’re thinking about”

[hadesoftheladies]

too many people view (uncritically, esp when it comes to feminism) separatism as this isolating, individualistic thing where people who don't want to participate just pack their bags and move to a far off country. that isn't what it is at all.

separatism is about re-centering the individuals of a certain community so as to strengthen the community. so that a community focuses its energy and resources on itself rather than on outsiders. it is, quite literally, about building and expanding community. it's not merely about escaping men or banning men, it is about relying on women, building a community of women, centering women, making it so that women are not dependent on men because women got them. you see how that's qualitatively different right?

like it's not so much about cutting off your father or brothers, but about spending deliberately more time fortifying your relationships with other women in your life. whether helping them out financially, donating books, giving advice, buying their stuff, giving energy.

when it comes to revolution of any kind, they die quickly without a strong sense and presence of community.

one of the biggest wrenches patriarchy has thrown into women's liberation is poisoning female community. consciousness-raising is difficult because every new generation of women is cut off from the one preceding it. younger girls are taught to resent women and view women with suspicion. they are male-centric in that they believe males will protect, love, provide for and cherish them only to have a rude awakening sooner or later.

bridging that disconnect is going to take practicing varying degrees of separatism. for sharing of knowledge between women and girls is hampered by male presence. you've all seen this happen. when a man or boy enters the picture, conversation between women is crippled. we start censoring ourselves.

censorship is a huge issue feminists face at every turn, and it's worse because we experience this censorship not just via government or public forums where men are in charge, but in our interpersonal relationships. and not just in our interpersonal relationships, but by our own selves. only female community brings out the honesty in us and gives us the courage to speak out and think freely. we all know this.

separatism is not only imperative to women's health, it is imperative to consciousness raising. it's not about living in a male free utopia but about centering women in all things so that women's community is strengthened and prepared to take on their oppressors and patriarchal society (and so that it survives retaliations). girls don't need to be totally isolated from males. they need to have predominantly female (not feminine) influence in their lives. they need to be in a place where they do not depend on males or cater to them. they need to be female-centric. learning female-philosophy and perpetuating authentic female culture.

that's separatism.

and the good news is that feminists are not the first oppressed group to employ separatism. black liberation movements employ this as well and are strengthened when they do. it's how they won some of their most vicious battles. lgb communities also utilize(d) separatism and it strengthened their communities. they had to de-center the narratives of their oppressors and rely on each other instead of begging their oppressors for scraps. they won because they gave themselves to each other as a community.

separatism works. over and over again. liberation takes time, but it has always needed separatism.

i just keep thinking about how communities can disrupt and change society, y'know? like how even in the throes of capitalistic/imperialist/white supremacist greed, small communities find a way to take care of each other financially and physically. culture predates economy, even while economy can beget culture or poison it. i love how small communities can just say "fuck you" to the presiding ruler and create within themselves micro-economies to keep each other alive. economy is just, after all, a social agreement/condition.

women are the ones who will liberate women. keep investing in that and it'll pay off.

[profoundbondfanfic]

Mad at your Dad?

Mad at your Dad? By wannaliveindeansdimples Rating: Mature Word Count: 7k

Dean wasn’t sure why he was even scrolling through Craigslist. Especially not the casual encounters section. It was four days before Thanksgiving. Not like he was gonna try and hook up with someone before that shitstorm. After, sure, but not before. He kept scrolling, though, not clicking anything until a title caught his eye. Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad? I am a 28 year old male felon who has no degree, but has studied enough theologies of the world, behavioral psychology, and philosophy to set your whole family’s teeth on edge—no matter which way they lean, politically, religiously or in terms of neuroses. I drive a van the same age as me that’s got a mural on the side of an angel holding an orgy. I can play between the ages of 20-30 depending on whether I shave. I live off an inheritance, and sell weed on the side. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship (monogamous or polyamorous, whichever sounds most like it would freak out su familia) with you (and/or others), to torment your family, I’m game...

A shortie but definitely worth the time to sit back and relax with this fabulous piece of fiction. Cas is everything you want a mentally healthy endverse!Cas to be, irreverent, smart as shit, and sexy as all hell. The man literally has no shame and it's a joy to witness.

Dean has been pushed past his limit and can't handle his family's medling and his father's disapproval anymore. The ad he sees in the paper seems like the perfect prank.

The best part? Cas gets thru to his family in ways Dean never could and Dean can see through all of Cas' bullshit for the armor that it is. They're both broken, both lonely, and both adorable.

For a happy, funny, quick fix, give this one a read.

[xehanortsreport]

what makes ymx so funny is that he's like. a fresh college grad. degree in philosophy. got a visit from his time traveling heart telling him he's going to be the best to ever do it. got hyped up left right and center by some mysterious (fortune teller?) (keyblade ghost man?) lost master.

he's got the attitude of god's favorite and literally no one to stop him. he pitches fits over sora and the gang not following his directions like they're toys that somehow gained the ability to be disobedient. he'd spit on you for being ugly and then complain about how disgusting you are for having spit on you. he'd demand you listen to him bc MoM said it's HIS turn on the xbox.

he has all of mx's arrogance and zero of the carefully cultivated chill, just him, his degree, and a slip from the future telling him he can do whatever he wants.

[pavel-chekov-appreciator]

I want better for Sybok.

I want a world where he got a fighting chance to do anything but become a cult leader. I’ve seen aus where he becomes a counselor and I can’t stop thinking about it.

No gods, no Sha-Ka-Ree, no cult. Just a kid who knows his history. Who researches Surak, and the world before him, and finds himself dissatisfied with present day Vulcan’s interpretations of his teachings. Unable to see the logic in following one ancient man’s words with no additional input or thought. Is this truly the best way for them to live? His mother didn't think so. He doesn't think so either.

He’s young, and he has big ideas and a lot of charisma, and a lot of inner pain from losing his mother and being suddenly told the way she was raising him was wrong. He quickly earns a reputation as a troublemaker. Indulging in blatant displays of emotionalism, just to prove his point, that he smiled and nothing bad happened, he cried and he felt better after.

He’s dissatisfied and ostracized and convinced there’s a better way to be living.

He fucks off at 18-not quite banished, but so strongly encouraged to leave that he might as well have been-and goes to a college on Earth, because the federation is a post-scarcity society so he has his basic needs met and he just wants to figure himself out, and where better to do that than a college campus, as far away from Vulcan society as possible. On his step-mother's home planet, where he knows at least a little of the culture, the language, what to expect.

He sees the school counselor a lot, and gets a lot out of their sessions. Takes some psychology courses and ends up getting really passionate about it.

Teaches himself to embrace his emotions while acknowledging that it’s very easy to be ruled by them. Utilizes aspects of traditional Vulcan control combined with the human practice of mindfulness to understand his emotions and control his strong impulse to act on them, without completely rejecting them. Knows he is choosing not to control his emotions, but he can and should control the actions he takes in response to them to avoid hurting himself or others. Knows that understanding why he feels a certain way can help him understand himself better.

Lives his best life and studies psychology to help other people find the same joy and peace he has, in whatever form that takes for them.

Then he finds out his baby bro basically told the VSA to fuck off and that dad more or less disowned him for joining Starfleet. Feels so damn proud of him for standing up the their parents like that.

Reunites with his brother after years of separation.

It’s rocky at first, but after both being disowned they’re all the family the other has left now, and they both do really care about each other.

Spock doesn’t understand Sybok’s choices, but he doesn’t need to understand them to respect them; Sybok is clearly still exercising some degree of control over himself, he even still meditates, he’s just controlling himself less, and differently, and his mind is more at peace than it’s ever been before. Sybok doesn’t really understand Spock’s continued dedication to logic either, but he respects it too, because clearly it still means something to Spock in a big way.

They make peace with each other, and their differences, and with the fact that their parents and society have rejected them. That Sybok did everything “wrong” and Spock did everything “right” and yet they both ended up in the same place; on Earth, with mom ignoring their calls, because she loved them both but she loves her husband more.

And ultimately he enrolls in Starfleet medical to become a ships counselor, because he still takes great joy in doing things he knows dad would hate, and because he wants to specialize in trauma and grief counseling and Starships need a lot of that, and because getting a new perspective on life from being around humans helped him a lot and he’s rejected a lot of philosophy that he found unhelpful but IDIC is something he still believes in; he wants to be around as many different ideas and perspectives as he can to improve himself and his practice, and Starfleet is a great way to do that.

Getting to follow his only remaining family into space is just a bonus.

[mswyrr]

lucy gray baird's philosophy

I want to "yes, and" this great meta post by @burst-of-iridescent​. Specifically this part:

by the end of the book, coriolanus gives in fully to dr gaul’s way of thinking simply because it excuses him from accepting blame for his actions. if he killed sejanus, it’s because he had no choice. if he betrayed lucy gray, it’s because she would’ve betrayed him first. coriolanus refuses to believe in the goodness of humanity because that would have meant accepting the goodness that existed within him, and with that came the potential for making a different, better choice - potential that he knew, deep down, he had wasted. attributing his crimes to an innate evil that no one can overcome means that he can’t be held accountable, because it’s out of his control.

This got me thinking about how much Lucy Gray's worldview rejects of this way of thinking (and of a Calvinist*/ableist "some people are just born evil" pov people try to impose on the text, which people think is condemning him but actually... accidentally agrees with him that he was born evil and therefore can't help it??????). The book begins with several quotes chosen by the author, but I believe the one that represents Lucy Gray's worldview is Rousseau, who believed people were born with fundamental goodness.

Here's a source on him:

(Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)

And here's the quote Collins opens with:

“Man is born free; and everywhere he is in chains.” — Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract, 1762

That's Lucy Gray's pov she's come to through living and reflecting as an artist; someone can disagree with it (of course, all of these questions are open for endless debate; they have been debated endlessly!) however, it's important to respect that is where she's coming from, not being foolish or naive. It is a worthy pov that should be respected, even if you disagree. And that she came to this pov through a hard life and from much thinking and she expresses it beautifully in her art.

Here's the key exchange from the book, after Coriolanus has taken on the idea that people are just awful and her articulating her philosophy in response:

(Ballad, 495)

She's not naive. She recognizes the nuance that Rousseau does, that society shapes us. And Panem is pretty clearly a society led by people applying all the pressures they can think of on people toward evil. (And, after his heel turn, Coriolanus' is going to innovate some new pressures...) Clearly there are situations and circumstances that form us before we have much say in it, but that's not the same as being born evil.

The difference between inherent goodness and a corrupt society is, for Lucy Gray, a lot of hard work. It's a struggle. This repudiates both the version of "born evil" Coriolanus himself takes on, which relieves him of responsibility, and the self-righteous, Calvinist and/or ableist pov people keep arguing for, which makes "normal" people feel like they can be sure they're good (and ignore how we are all complicit in evil to some degree or another) because they have a "good" normal brain or they were just born so pure as a soul predestined for heaven. No, for her, everyone has to do the work. To her it's everyone's "life's challenge to try and stay on the right side of that line."

Even more pointedly, the love song she wrote him before his betrayal, "Pure as the Driven Snow," articulates her philosophy in the opening lines:

(Ballad, 481)

Again, we have her personal focus on the work of "staying on the right side" of good and evil after being born good into evil circumstances. She knows it hurts; she's led a hard life herself. "It's rough as a bair" to do that work, it's "like walkin' through fire." But it is doable.

Lucy Gray meant it as a love song but IMO "Pure as the Driven Snow" ends up a lament for the boy Coriolanus was and her love that he betrayed when he betrayed himself. And it is a direct rejection of his excuses, it is inadvertently reading him for filth for the lies he tells himself that all the world is the Games arena, all people are selfish and bad, and he isn't to blame for what he's done because he just wants to come out on top/be the victor of this "natural" "war of all against all" that is Gaul's philosophy (related to the Hobbes quote Collins begins with; I wrote a meta on that here) that he adopts.

I see her demeaned as a foolish girl who just "like bad boys" and I get so frustrated. I also get frustrated by the view that she must not have ever been sincere in loving or trusting him because IF SHE WAS then she would be a fool and his betrayal would somehow be her fault. And she'd reject the idea that she's "good" just because she's so pure or that anyone can claim we're good without doing a lot of hard work.

(Ballad, 482)

She is so thoughtful and interesting as a character. And she didn't just "like bad boys" - Coriolanus showed only his good side to her until the very end, once he'd decided to kill that part of himself. She had no way of knowing. Sometimes you trust someone and they betray you, it doesn't make you wrong, the shame is all theirs.

*Strict Calvinist predestination is some people are just predetermined to be bound for heaven and some for hell, some people are just born good and others are born bad. A lot of people in fandom seem to love Calvinism idk why. The ableism bit of this should be self-evident: there is no such thing as a "bad" brain type completely incapable of morality or a "good" brain and neurodivergence is not the source of all evil!

[aesthetic-is-life]

GOM Headcanon

Kise

He has very dry skin. He follows his skin care religiously

He has both a huge prize AND degredation kink.

Every thursday he goes to Caribbean dances and has a regular partner for the bachata

He got a degree in something with fashion and marketing. Still working as a model and influencer during the college years.

After he goes works with his sisters in their fashion company

He and Midorima fucked few times between the Teiko and the High school

He's a little bit of a whore (especially at the club half drunk)

Absolutely adores to give orals. Yes let me suck you off sir please

Very good at it

Had a huge crush for Aomine during Teiko, but nothing happened

His romantic relationship never last long (monogamy problem)

He is poly

Feels trapped in a monogamous relationship

Very closed to his sister in the adult age

Vegetarian (vegan at home)

Has a little tattoo for each miracles (like a frog for Midorima, a cherry flower for Momoi..)

Akashi

Lactose intollerant

Aroace King (kise told him about ace people and Midorima confirmed the existence)

Degree in philosophy

Sojio professional player just for saying he has a job (not really need one)

After the winter cup he had pretty bad episodes of depression and eaten alive from his guilt.

But with the power of friendship (Mibuchi had called the miracles for and intervention) and therapy he got better

He would need a heavy session of consensual BDSM (he subs)

He and his dad ignore each other basically

Didn't took well the death of his horse, and after that doesn't want any more pets

He and Midorima suggest books each other

Doesn't drink, but can handle alcool pretty good

He play golf with the mother side of the family

Totally an addicted to

Only the Gom knows that he was diagnoed DID (dissocative identity disorder)

He would be a perfect menwife

Doesn't like to drive

Midorima

Doctor bccouse his daddy told him to

He and Takao got married at some point

His best man was Akashi

His dad was kind of homophobic, but had a change of heart

For each birthday he does the the natal chart of all the Gom + takao and Kagami

Can't hendle alcool (no at all, like half beer and he is WASTED)

Takao is an architect and he designed their house

Doesn't talk before his coffe

Morning person (after the coffe), Takao is not

Still listen to the oroscop every morning and brings the luck item (Takao is forced to have his too)

Has a thing for dirt talk (Takao doesn't complaint)

Still play piano and composes song for Takao

Would like to have a kid or two

Rei Ryugazaki (from free!) are cousins

Every sunday the have a lunch with the over miracles in their home

Aomine

His career in the NBA (because yes he entred) has benn pretty short for injuries

so he come back in Japan and makes the delivery for the flower/ plant shop of Sakurai.

in the US he and kagami lived togher, but they were in diffrent teams

He adoped a dog he found on the side of a road

Really like beers of all kind and flavors

Decent cook

He and Kuroko fucked everywhere in Teiko. But like everywhere, not corridor, bathroom, storege room or class was safe (they enjoyed)

He and Kagami had drunk and angry sex in the US times

Prefers women (boobs)

As an adult he went to therapy and understood what was wrong during the last years in middle school (depression time)

He and Momoi are big fan of horror movies

Very warm person

Can't stand gloves

Kuroko

Cold hands

He and Kagami moved in together, but neither of them belives in marriege

Kuroko would love a cat, but Kagami is allergic

He works in a kindergarten

and come home full of drawings of the kids

Doesn't want to have children though

Exhibitionist kink

Having sex is a park in the middle of the night

Kagami usually cooks and he drives

Brings his kindle everywhere with him

He smokes a little (like two or three cigarette per day)

Murasakibara

Chronic back pain and at the joint because he grew up too fast

Acne and bad skin in general because he eats to much chocolate and sweets in general

Became a pastry chef

He, Himuro and Kagami opened a nice coffe shop

The type with cultural events, book crossing and stuff

Doesn't really like having sex. He finds it really tiring

He and Himuro have an open relationship

Ass eater king. Not a big fan of penetrative sex because he dosent't want to hurt Himuro with his huge cock.

Has a little aquarium and adores stares at the fish

Can't swim

He got diabetes at some point

Momoi

She got a degree in statistic and after a very high paid job

When Baribe went out, she and Kise went all pink

In her highshool years she did something with some girls, but she found it pretty wet. Prefers small and cute boys

Seirously considering breast reduction surgey

She and Sakurai are together

They have an adorable little dog

When Aomine was in US they used to videocall every fucking day

She and Kise are the queens of gossip

Never had smth physical with Kuroko

Very good at videgames (had a youtube chanal)

especially the shooting ones

Wears high heels at work

Adores cherry

Allergic to something stupid like kiwi or apple

During college she made a lot of female friends

Pretty dominant in bed

Good at drawing

[beyondflashpoint]

Hey fam, y’boi is back with Val, and I’ve got to be honest with you, this was the most difficult redesign so far. I’m still not entirely happy with Val’s civilian clothes, I ended just settling on her clothes from the show, mostly because I’d already spent hours trying to figure out how to redesign her hunting suit. That was a whole can of worms in its self. I waffled between more armored, Arkham-verse adjacent design philosophy, to something that looked like iron man built it, before settling for a Batman Beyond vibe. I also struggled back and forth over making her more chubby, or more muscular, and ended up falling somewhere in the middle. Most of the rest was easy after that, and I think she came out pretty good.

Story wise. Valerie is pretty similar to her canon counterpart. 9th degree black belt in taekwondo. She’s also on the school tennis team, an activity she picked up with her mother. Though a member of the popular clique, Valerie maintains pretty good grades, an A-B average. She especially excels in English. Probably the least cruel member of her friend group, aside from maybe Kwan.

She does do volunteer work with kids, as she has a soft spot for them, and wants to be an elementary school teacher when she graduates.

[leoslosttoolbelt]

What I think the demigods would major as and why

these are personal head canons dont take them too seriously :)

Percy: Education. I know that we usually hc as a Marin biology kinda guy but I genuinely think that he wouldn't be too fond of the workload but instead want to work towards being a teacher and being the kind of teacher he needed as a kid, y'know? Alternatively, I can see him being into something like baking and pastry art to take over Sally's shop.

Annabeth: Architecture. I really don't think I need to explain this one to y'all but yeah she's an architecture girly. But if we want to branch out I can also see her studying law and working in the area of Child Protection.

Leo: Astrophysics. I have this head canon of him panicking because of the sheer amount of choices that he's presented with and choosing the first one of the alphabetical list. Lucky for him, he's insanely good at it AND it'll pay well in the future. He minors in mechanical engineering and realises that although he has all the practical knowledge because of his father, his theoretical knowledge isn't as strong lol.

Piper: Food Science. I'm trying to be unique here because yeah, she could do environmental studies but I also think it would be super cool to see her learning about food and developing new vegetarian versions of food because it's something she's visibly passionate about in the books.

Nico: I can see him getting a history / philosophy related degree for his bachelors just for him to get a  doctor of philosophy (Ph. D.) in mythology or folklore. His hyperfixation runs deep and he sure as hell is going to fuel it as much as he can.

Jason: Doesn't go to college!! Is severely burnt out <3. No but like idk man I think he'd legitimately want to take it chill if that makes sense? Maybe he'd do a business major just so that he can get a job somewhere but I can't think of somewhere he'd fit in nicely. Jason does have a lot of part time jobs though!!

Frank: Nurse! Nursing school! Despite being the son of Mars I can see him being in the medical field because he wants to help people in need. It's a long journey with lots of ups and downs but finally getting his degree makes it all worth it.

Hazel: Geology because rocks. And also women in STEM!! This one directly correlates to her powers in the books as well as both of her parents! On the other hand, I can see definitely see Hazel studying in the field of archeology with the goal of being an archeologist and then eventually a museum curator :)

Reyna: Psychology!! Listen, I know this seems out of the blue but Reyna gives me the right vibes. Everyone is skeptical at first because they don't think she'd fit the mold of a clinical psychologist but that's okay because Reyna wants to further herself in research! She studies Neuropsychology and becomes a prominent researcher in her field! Please tell me you see the vision.

Will: From what I can see in the books, Emergency Medical Services degree seems like the right field for him. He's already basically a paramedic at Camp Half Blood so he knows it's naturally the right step for him. On the other hand, for something a little different - he seems like the kind of guy who might be interested in studying cinematography or art history maybe.

Travis: He studies Economics because he's so fucking convinced that he can become the next Elon Musk if he studies this. Alternatively, he studies music because he wants to travel the world and like sing with the wind and all that shit.

Connor: he's a communications major because he's a really popular youtube and technically doesn't really need to go to college but oh well he can study communications.

Drew: She goes to cosmetology school as the first step to start her own makeup and skincare empire. She's super nice to all of her clients and helps out all of the other students when they're having trouble with something! I will not tolerate any Drew slander let my girl breathe.

Pollux: Chemical Engineering. He got influenced by watching breaking bad and somehow landed himself a degree in chemical engineering. He doesn't know how he survived that degree but it doesn't matter because he decides to not give a fuck and open a coffee shop that becomes really popular because all the drinks are to die for.

Thalia: I don't really know the right terminology but she has an art related degree / tattoo apprentice so that she can work as a tattoo artist!! It fits with the thalis vision and also she is the eldest daughter who loses it lowkey so she doesn't follow your usual education route. Tattoo artist Thalia for the win!!

[cowboyemeritus]

How Ever Fair and Pure (Papa III/Reader)

You’ve got to be one of the most repressed creatures Terzo has ever seen. He has to have you. As Papa, it’s his duty to extend a hand to poor souls like you, so desperately in need of carnal relief. (18+)

Read on AO3

I know we're all adults here, but please don't do what the reader does in this fic. It is so dangerous and bad. This was intentionally unrealistic because it's self-indulgent smut where I project onto her like crazy. Just wanna make sure everyone is safe out there.

Terzo has you pegged the moment you walk into the club. College girl, 20s, on the quiet side. Probably going for a liberal arts degree, but in something fun and exotic, like classical studies or philosophy. Definitely an academic type. The roommates are clearly more popular, but are sweet to you despite appearances. They without a doubt dragged you out here tonight. You spend too much time studying in your room, they say. And honestly? You know they’re right, but putting yourself out there has always been a little hard. If you were any less desperate for attention, and if you hadn’t obviously taken something before coming here, you likely wouldn’t be gracing his presence tonight.

You’ve got to be one of the most repressed creatures Terzo has ever seen, and you don’t even look Catholic. He has to have you. As Papa, it’s his duty to extend a hand to poor souls like you, so desperately in need of carnal relief. So he shoots a smug look at the Cardinal, who’s been sizing you up as well, before slinking away from the small booth. Omega and Alpha are unbothered by his wandering off, more than content to spend the evening feeding on the frenzied energy in the room. The rat-like man rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his bourbon, watching as Terzo approaches the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor. Without his paints, which he had insisted on this evening, he is very quickly swallowed by the crowd.

The cinderblock wall is cold against your bare thighs. You’re shivering as soon as you feel it, teeth chattering as the stranger — you can’t remember his name — latches the stall door shut and hangs his expensive-looking jacket on a nearby hook.

When he turns his attention to you, odd mismatched eyes running up down your figure, your knees buckle. In the back of your mind, you briefly wonder if taking those shots on top of an edible was a good idea. You’re not sure how much you’ve had; alcohol goes down dangerously smooth after getting high.

He catches you, strong arms wrapping around your waist. Your face flushes when your bodies press together, his hardness making itself known against the soft flesh of your stomach. You’re not a virgin, not at all, but it’s been a while. Even if you could get any, though, college guys just don’t do it for you anymore. They’re boys, really, and you don’t think there’s anything less appealing than that, especially when they’re stumbling around the dorms on weekend nights. Some people have to study, for fuck’s sake.

“Careful now, bella” the stranger purrs. The sound of his voice is rich and melodic. It hits you like a glass of fine wine, pulling the thick blanket of fog further over your mind. He kisses you, harder now that you have more privacy, and you’re melting. You’re so far gone already you’re sure it’ll be embarrassing in the morning (or whenever you’re sober again).

His lips taste like cigarettes and a smoky kind of liquor. Oddly enough, you were expecting it; this man is old enough to be your father and it suits him perfectly. He’s so painfully out of place here, a wisened face in a crowd of drunken college students. 

Fuck, he could be a professor for all you know.

You moan into the stranger’s mouth, begging him to so something. Anything. Whatever he has to give you’ll take it. You just need it now. You need it yesterday.

The lack of oxygen hits you all once. Again, your legs nearly give out as you pull away for air. Your companion narrowly avoids being taken down with you, catching and deftly moving you to sit on the closed toilet lid. Leaning down, he cups your face to keep you steady and smothers your mouth with his. Your hands are on him instantly, grabbing at the front of his pants and climbing upwards to the clasp of his belt. You fumble with it for a while before groaning in anguish. The stranger pulls away with a chuckle, one hand remaining on your cheek while the other makes quick work of freeing himself. 

When it finally presses against your lips, his cock is startlingly warm. You open your mouth without hesitation, eyes shutting as he slides into your wet throat. The music booming outside is loud enough that you barely catch his pleased sigh. You’re able to get a breath in through your nose before he moves his hips, the fat head of his cock brushing against your soft palate. Surprisingly, though, you don’t gag. It doesn’t even cross your mind, and you swallow him down eagerly. The stranger shudders and lets out a heavy breath.

“Get it wet for me,” he says, using the hand cupping your face to move you along his length. You see no reason not to comply, reaching up with one hand to work whatever doesn’t fit in your mouth. He seems to approve of this, and gently strokes your cheekbone with his thumb. It’s rather sweet for a situation like this, and you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to kneel by him while he works at his desk, finally getting to suck him off at the end of a long day. 

Would he demand such service from you, or would he praise your for your initiative? The possibilities are equally as enticing.

Your other hand dips into your lap, delving beneath the fabric of your skirt and you moan around the stranger’s shaft. The vibrations pull a quiet groan from him, and the hand on your cheek is joined by the other grasping the back of your head. He must see you playing with yourself because he lets out a small laugh through his nose, fingers threading through your hair to hold you ever so slightly tighter.

“Patience,” he murmurs. Despite the loud house music, you hear him clearly. It’s like he’s in your mind. “I will take care of you.” He fucks into your mouth a handful of times before slowing to a stop. Your eyes open after a beat of stillness passes. When he withdraws from your mouth entirely, a string of saliva connecting the tip of his cock and your tongue, your gaze meets his. That mysterious white eye seems to be glowing in the dark.

He takes a step back, flicking a lock of raven hair out of his face. The loss of his body against yours is devastating and you immediately rise to your feet, knees suddenly stable again. You chase him until his back is to the door, the latch rattling loudly at the impact. The bathroom is crowded, and for a moment, you wonder just how many people bothered to look to your tiny end stall. But who really gives a shit? Already starved of him, you press your open mouth to his, tongue quickly slipping past his lips. Even through your clothes his arousal presses into you like a hot iron.

With a low growl that says enough, the stranger moves you off of him. Clumsily, you maneuver so that the two of you trade places, bracing yourself on your forearms against the door. Your skirt has already ridden up so that when you press back into him, you feel his searing hardness directly against your ass. Skilled fingers dip into your wet folds and hook around the crotch of your thong. It’s a lacy, skimpy thing, impossible to banish from your mind when wearing. Normally, you would opt for something more comfortable, but it’s the only clean pair you had left. The intrigued noise the stranger makes at the sight of it, however, tells you neglecting your laundry has worked out in your favor.

He leans in close to whisper into your ear. “I see you got dressed up.” His words, and the tickle of his breath against your skin, have your pussy clenching around nothing. You want to whine, to beg him to fuck you already, but it seems the stranger is feeling merciful tonight. The tip of his cock presses against your opening and he rubs it through your slick, teasing your clit on the down strokes.

“Relax,” he commands. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your shoulders dropping. He presses into you, just enough to work the head inside, and you’re already shaking. Clapping a hand over your mouth, you let out a high-pitched moan and push your ass back into him. Another inch sinks in.

“Please,” you beg, hoping he can still hear. Regardless, the stranger obliges, bottoming out inside your dripping cunt. He groans, and you feel the vibrations where his chest is pressed to your back. Hands coming to rest on your hips, he starts thrusting into you at a steady pace and — oh fuck — you can’t tell if it’s the high or the circumstances, but you’re way more sensitive than normal. You let out a breathy sigh as a wave of pleasure rolls through you and your partner hums in approval.

“I’m not-“ You have to smother another moan with a balled fist. The stranger leans in again. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last.” He lets out another laugh through his nose.

“Piccolina, I know.” There’s a singsongy lilt in his voice. “You were wanting this from the moment you walked in.” He punctuates himself with a perfectly angled thrust, the head of his cock pressing into your sweet spot. You keen, insides fluttering.

“I don’t do shit like this,” you protest, pressing your ass into him despite yourself. One of his hands moves from your hip to the apex of your thighs. There’s no touch, he just keeps it there while his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“But I am not wrong,” he taunts. “We both know this. I see what you are.” For emphasis, he snaps the waistband of your flimsy little thong.

“What the fuck are you- oh.” Fingers graze over your outer lips and your hips cant wildly, craving more. If he keeps messing with you like this, you might just cry. If the other people in the bathroom aren’t privy to what’s going on, they will be soon.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers. “I can’t give it to you until you say it.” His tone is demanding, but gentle. This stranger has absolutely no authority over you, and yet every word and touch makes you want to submit. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you haven’t been fantasizing about someone like him — an actual man, not a boy — for a long time.

“Touch me.” You have no pride left to swallow. “Fuck me harder. I need it.” At long last, his fingers descend on your clit. “Oh fuck! Just like that.” The stranger’s breathing is heavy as he thrusts into you with more force.

“You’re a very good girl,” he coos. You can’t remember the last time someone called you that. Your pussy clenches and he groans softly into your ear. The taught feeling in your gut swells like the tide, building into what you know will be a devastating orgasm. It won’t be long now until it spills over, and In the back of your mind, you hope your trembling legs will be able to withstand that kind of force.

The shuffling and talking in the bathroom, the music outside, the groans and pants of the stranger, everything. It all starts to fade out and you know you’re done for. You cant your hips back harder and faster; it’s the only way you can think to tell him. Somehow, he understands, and his fingers swipe furious circles around your clit. The other hand reaches around to grope at one of your breasts, teasing the nipple through the fabric of your shirt.

You have to bite your hand when you finally cum. Otherwise, you’re sure they’d be able to hear you from the street. Waves of ecstasy, stronger than anything you’ve felt, either sober or high, slam into your body, and you thrash against the stranger like a cornered animal. That must do something for him, as he presses into you with a deep, rumbling moan. The rush of his warm seed is enough to pull one last whimper out of you before you nearly collapse, forehead coming to rest against the stall door. You and the stranger remain like this, panting as he slowly softens inside you.

Like a true gentleman, he’s helping you clean yourself up when a loud knock assaults your senses. Your head whips towards the door, panic creeping in as you’re starting to sober up. Completely unbothered, the stranger continues dabbing at your smudged makeup with a piece of toilet paper.

“One moment,” he calls. You’re honestly surprised he’s stuck around this long, thinking he would just leave the second he was done pumping cum into you. Being taken care of like this is nice, you decide. It’s refreshing after having your shit absolutely rocked.

“You have a phone call,” another accented voice responds. “It’s the old man.” The stranger rolls his eyes and gives a petulant huff.

“Tell him I am busy!”

“He says it is urgent.” The man gives a sigh of exasperation and his shoulders slump. After a final inspection of your face, he tosses the wad of tissue in the garbage can, grabs his jacket, and unlatches the stall door. You turn and find yourself looking at a man with a pencil thin mustache and the same green and white eyes as your partner.

“Ciao,” he says curtly, trying not to meet your gaze. You give him a nod.

“Hi there.”

The two men escort you out of the crowded bathroom. No one pays you any mind, which you’re incredibly thankful for, but you choose to keep your head down anyway. The odds are low, but you would die of embarrassment if someone you knew saw you like this. That would make for a very awkward conversation before class on Monday.

Back on the club floor, you quickly spot your roommates in the middle of the crowd. You go to thank the handsome stranger, to kiss him one last time before you part ways, but he’s already gone. Ghosts of his touch still linger on your body and you’re left reeling, wondering if he was even real at all. You blink once, twice, and you're still in the club, keenly aware of his release dripping out of you.

You decide to go get a drink before joining your friends again.