#rough translation pls understand

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | four

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: after a conference in new york, you and j miller phd take things a step further. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, i think i describe reader as having sweaty palms about 1500 times so it deserves a warning, alcohol consumption, the plight of being a woman in academia, oral [f receiving], unprotected piv sex [IN A BED ??? GASP] for you filthy animals, prone bone, a little roughness and then not much at all, uhhh pet names during sex.... uhhmm intimacy errrrrr.... soft!joel... feelings... okay bye word count: 9.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: hey folks, thank you so much for all your patience as i took my sweet sweet time writing this. we get to know our prof a little better in this one so a fair amount of dialogue for you but yeah anyways i hope you enjoy it, and i'd love to hear what you think! [and if i Fell Off because of the depression, don't tell me lol] A WORD ABOUT THE TAG LIST: i will continue the taglist for this part and for part five, and after that i will rely solely on my notifications account @hier--soirupdates so pls follow that and turn on notifs to be told when i post writing x this is part four of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three.

Saturday.

The conference centre is vast.

A large space that protects you from the threatening clouds that loom over New York City, and exposes you to countless dense conversations.

An NYU teacher’s assistant is glued to your hip, parading you through the centre with a wayward index finger that points out the bar, the room where the keynote speech will be given [large, with an imposing stage], and the room where you will give your presentation [less large, with a far less imposing stage].

Your presentation.  

You fight the urge to pull up the email for the thousandth time while she explains how there will be fifteen minutes to set up beforehand, and advises on when the doors will open for guests, and reminds you that you have a strict allotted time of 20-minutes, do you understand?

But the email is branded on the inside of your eyelids after this morning’s flight was spent reading and rereading and rereading the words. So you nod and smile and placate her on the tour of the centre, as you run through it in your mind.

We look forward to welcoming you to NYU’s Annual Classics and Ancient History Conference. Our team was intrigued by the presentation devised around your translation study in Athens…

“Did you hear me?”

You wish she wasn’t dressed so casually.

Loose balls of lint are collected on the back of her cardigan like trinkets, weighty and threatening to fall off in a sort of bread crumb trail behind her every movement. It makes your dress feel all the more serious, all the more formal. Navy blue and a little tight, with sleeves that slant across the middle of your bicep and a hem that cuts modestly across your lower thigh. Professional, smart, sexy, but not too sexy. You and Nora spent two hours at the mall picking it out last weekend. And you can see people in suits, in blazers, in dresses, everywhere you turn, but your eyes keep returning to the TA’s cardigan. Little pills, sad morsels of broken fabric.

She says your name sharply.

“Yes,” you snap to attention, and clock her poor attempt not to roll her eyes. “You were saying?”

“It’s an open bar,” she continues from a few steps ahead, slowly back away while raising her voice to be heard over the countless others sprouting across the room. “And food is served after the Keynote.”

Finally free of her and her cardigan, you scale the edge of the hall, curious eyes glancing across faces familiar and not. You notice some other postgrads from UNE, and some professors from your alma mater. But it isn’t until three hours into the conference that you notice him.

You’re in a painfully long conversation with Professor Carmichael, an ancient history department head from Boston, when you notice them.

“Well you see,” he’s saying, slowly. “The First Roman Triumvirate was very unique. Surely you agree with me there, my dear?”

“Of course,” you nod amiably. A waiter floats past you holding a tray of glasses. You grasp one with a grateful smile, and turn back to face him with a sip of cold white wine moving down your throat. “The Big Three, it’s all very interesting. Although I must say, I am personally more interested in the second triumvirat—”

“Oh they all say that,” he waves his hand. “Everyone is so taken by Antony and Octavian that they forget about Crassus! So tragic.”

“A very tragic death,” you offer an exaggerated frown. “I agree.”

Carmichael hums, eyes narrowing as if you’ve said something wrong. Sipping your wine, your eyes float over his shoulder, determinedly trying to spot any sign of food, gaze spilling across countless faces and tables and waiters and professors until one set of people makes you pause.  Wild dark hair atop a floral dress floats in your vision, her pale hand hovering over the sleeve of a tall man in a suit. You watch the backs of their heads; the way the woman tilts her chin upward to speak to the man and laughs at what he says in return. That laugh. You frown, and feel yourself take a step forward, a step in their direction.

“Is something the matter?” Carmichael asks and you halt, flash him a sweet smile and shake your head.

“No,” you rush, practically tasting the opportunity to escape the conversation. “I’m sorry, Professor, I thought I saw someone waving me over. If you don’t min—”

“Always so many people to talk to at these things,” he says in a sing-song tone of voice, smiling obliviously. “All in due course, dear. You’ll find them later I’m sure.”

It’s not until fifteen minutes later that the tap comes on your shoulder. You turn and feel relief wash over you as you come face to face with Rachel, with her tangle of curls and bright orange dress. But then a jolt shudders through your frame, for you spot the man accompanying her; the man you watched her traipse around the room with, the man in the sleek black suit—Joel, hovering a step behind her.

“Rachel,” you blink. “Joel. Hi—”

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Rachel says. Her eyes are wide, lips pulled back into a crooked grin that immediately sets you at ease. Joel, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable to say the least. You watch him tuck his hands in his pockets and then take them out again quickly, lips pursed together in a tight line as he glances between you and Professor Carmichael.

“Joel,” she grips the sleeve of his blazer and tugs him forward to stand beside her. You watch where her hand grazes him - the ease with which she jostles him around. “Did you know?”

“No.” He stares for a moment, lips parted and eyes darting across your face, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t know.”

“I’m giving a presentation,” you explain quickly, eyes darting between the two of them, fingers tightening around your glass every time your eyes settle on him. He trimmed his beard again; the hairs are shorter, neater—almost too short and too neat for your liking. His shirt is pressed and crisp, shock white beneath the midnight black of his jacket. He’s wearing different glasses. Tortoise shell glasses. Someone clears their throat to your right, snapping you out of your reverie. You apologise quickly, “This is Professor Carmichael.”

“Of course,” Joel nods, stepping forward to grip the older man’s hand. “Good to see you again, Professor.”

“And you, Professor Miller,” Carmichael chuckles, patting a shaky hand against Joel’s shoulder. “When was the last time we crossed paths? A year ago?”

“Must’ve been a year,” Joel smiles easily. His eyes slip to look at you every few seconds. “The conference in Ottawa.”

“The conference in Ottawa!” Carmichael cheers, nodding away. A weight sinks in your stomach like a cinder block as you watch the Professor gear up to wrangle Joel and Rachel into another conversation about Crassus’ untimely demise. But then Rachel slips away, called out to by someone across the room. And before Carmichael can open his mouth, Joel is speaking again, that honeyed drawl like music to your ears.

“Excuse me, Professor Carmichael,” he smiles again. Two of his fingers grip your elbow, tugging you a step backward. “Do you mind if I steal my star student for a few moments?”

Joel tilts your body to the left, and then the two of you are veering off into the crowd, wandering through throngs of people, his warm fingers pressed against the soft flesh above your elbow.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say under your breath, glancing around warily, trying to spy any curious eyes that might notice the two of you.   

“Could say the same thing,” he murmurs, dragging you to a stop at the edge of the hall with his eyebrows raised. “When’s your talk?”

“At one. Overlaps with the Keynote, which I’m a little relieved about,” you smile, a pinched, tense thing. “Hopefully everyone will go to that, and I’ll have a smaller crowd.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. You think you notice his shoulders stiffen. “S’that right?”

A persistent pang of hunger stabs through your stomach, you rub a hand over the front of your dress and nod. Curious brown eyes follow the movement.

“Here,” Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. His fingers graze your skin as he tucks the shiny rectangle of foil into your palm. “They don’t put out any food until after the Keynote.”

It’s a granola bar. Peanut butter and banana. You stare at it for a moment, almost dumbfounded by the kindness of the gesture. By how attentive he is; how much he notices without you even having to speak.

“Thanks,” you say. Nestle it into your purse and give him an appreciative smile.

“Sure,” he nods jerkily. Adjusts the glasses on his nose. “I’m disappointed to miss it.”

“Oh?” you blink. Your eyes focus then, flitting downward to focus on the badge hanging from his lanyard.

Joel Miller, Ph.D.

University of New England.

Keynote Speaker.

“Oh, shit.”

“Mhm,” Joel squints at you. “Sorry if I don’t share the sentiment that everyone comes to watch me instead of you.”   

“Why didn’t you…” you gape. “You didn’t say you were giving a talk?” 

“You didn’t ask.”

“The Keynote speech is a big deal,” you say, as if he wouldn’t know.

“I was their third choice,” he shrugs you off with practiced ease. “First two weren’t interested.”

“Third time lucky then,” you smile, and he chuckles. Someone calls Joel’s name then, and you both spin to see Rachel across the room with a group of people, all eagerly waving him over. Something nasty curls in your chest – something bitter and unwarranted and cruel. You smother it with a mouthful of wine and a soft smile of farewell to him as he turns and walks in her direction.

A hand clasps down on your shoulder and you flinch, turning to see Professor Carmichael beaming.

“Where were we then, my dear?”

You eat Joel’s granola bar at the back of the hall five minutes before your talk and walk onstage with the taste of peanut and banana on your lips, brushing crumbs of dried oats off your fingers.

Fifteen people attend, spotted miscellaneously across the amassed rows of chairs. The slide clicker is damp in your palm, and your thumb hovers trembling over the button, awaiting each moment you need to press down.

“Working alongside some fantastic translators,” you tell them. “We focused on studying the disparities between how Greek texts are translated by men and women. Particularly, we aimed to delve into the way emotive language has been downgraded or elevated depending on the lens through which a text is being viewed.”

Professor Carmichael sits in the front row, those sun-spot covered hands clasped in his lap, offering an encouraging smile as you shift upon the stage. Rachel is a few rows back, and she nods intently whenever you glance in her direction.

“One of our main points of focus,” you continue. “Was to understand points of difficulty in translating while accounting for cultural nuances, and how the context of differing authors can impact upon this. In my next slide—”

It’s as you turn to glance at the display that you notice them for the first time. Three rows from the front, where a group of men sit. Two of them young, maybe around your age. You change your slide and watch them whisper in each other’s ears. One of them points at you. Or not you, rather—your legs.

And you yearn for it to be meaningless. A meaningless gesture between colleagues. Meaningless legs, meaningless dress, meaningless curves and slopes and dips and spins. But as you continue, you know it can’t be. The way they talk through your presentation, as if they aren’t bothered to be heard. The way they leer at you over Carmichael’s shoulder, grinning to each other. Your words in one ear and out the other—simply a talking point for them, a blue dress, something to stare at. Your dress feels hot, tight, and your chest feels hotter, tighter under the lights as those eyes glaze over you. You glance back towards Rachel. She gives you a thumbs up that doesn’t serve to cool your nerves.

“When translating word for word in our field, it’s uncommon,” you stutter to a stop, eyes flashing warily. “Sorry, it is not uncommon to find that narratological creativity dwindles.”

You hear a chuckle to your right and swallow down the urge to shoot daggers in the direction of the sound. “Translators struggle to maintain the in-depth imaginative expression that the original Greek text inspires. But through my discussions with Professor Samaras, we found that…”

It’s in the final minutes that you notice him. Tucked away in a back row of the room, arms folded across his chest. You pause for a moment, words caught in your throat. But Joel merely gives you a short nod. The faintest hint of a smile, of the corner of his eyes slanting upward, and it’s as if a cool breeze washes over you. Hands steady, knees lock, and you push through. You don’t look at any of their faces until it’s over.

And when it is, and scattered applause decorates the air, you can’t help but cast a smile in Joel’s direction. A smile that slips and wavers when you spot the broad expanse of his back, that sharp black blazer, as he slips out the doors without wasting a second.

The rest of your audience follows suit, a slim line that wanders out the doors without a second glance—spare Carmichael, who tells you he was quite taken with how you presented yourself, my dear.

You hear your own name and turn to see Rachel approaching, a burst of floral frock and swinging earrings. Her smile is wide and crooked, and you can’t help but smile back.

“That was wonderful,” she cheers, squeezing your shoulder. “I was so taken by how you spoke about the importance of linguistic quality assurance when translating emotive texts. Brilliant!”

Your face warms. “Thank you,” you shake your head quickly. “It was… thank you. That’s very kind.”

You glance over her shoulder, wondering if he’ll reappear – perhaps share her sentiments, maybe shower you with praise. He doesn’t.

She catches you looking. “Joel was in a rush,” she offers easily. “Lots of people wanting to talk to the man of the evening.”

“Of course,” you swallow thickly. Another smile.

Rachel stares at you curiously. “He’s very impressed by you, you know.” Her voice is warm, gentle—soft spoken like a mother who can sense the slightest flash of insecurity. You cringe immediately, feel your arms cross protectively across your chest. Don’t give the game away now. “Honestly, I think he read your comparative paper on the katabasis three times. Practically raved about it when I asked what it was.”

“Oh,” you blink, shifting uneasily under her gaze. “That’s… wow, I’m flattered.”

“He sees a lot of potential in you,” she says.

“Right,” you nod. “Well, he’s a grea—you’re both great teachers. I’m very lucky to be learning from the two of you.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, and you fear your face grows warmer in the silence. Can feel the slick on your palms returning, the flash of heat in your chest, the longer you sit in it. You make a quick and tumbling excuse to flee the scene, spitting a mess of thank you so much and just need some fresh air, before you’re stumbling out of the hall and wandering outside on newborn deer legs. You snag a flute of something bubbly off the bar on your way, and find yourself on a secluded bench in the breezeway behind the conference centre.

You sit there alone and watch the grass, the way the light from inside shines out across the green. Feel the chill of the wind slip past you, rustling your hair and raising goosebumps on your bare legs. Sip dry Cava and contemplate how many more of these things you can feasibly imagine attending in your career. There’s a single text from Nora on your phone, asking how the presentation went. You tuck it into your purse, leaving the message unanswered.

By the time you hear the door hinges creak, the glass is near empty. You spy a shadowy form snaking its way down the path, headed in your direction.

“Mr Keynote Speaker,” you hum. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Funny,” Joel mutters dryly, knees cracking as he falls onto the bench beside you. A heavy sigh slips from between his lips, fingers lacing together in his lap as he gazes across the breezeway. You down the last of your drink and place it on the concrete by your feet. “Needed some god damn peace and quiet. All that chit chat drives me insane.”

You murmur in agreement and stare at the side of his face – the neatened beard, the thick frame of his glasses. Purposeful or not, the side of his body is pressed against yours. Thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder – he’s sat directly in the centre of the bench. Heat radiates off his body and it’s almost too warm, and yet you find yourself relaxing against him.

“First time at one of these?” Joel asks gruffly. He’s still not looking at you, his eyes trained on a pigeon pecking at a discarded foil wrapper on the grass.

“Is it that obvious?” you grimace.

“Only because I’ve been to twenty of the damn things,” he says. “Y’learn how to smell the nervous energy comin’ off the first timers.”

“Twenty?” you mutter. Feel your stomach curl and twist at the idea of doing this day nineteen more times.

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Went to a lot during my second degree. Had to get good at talkin’, fast.”

“Ahh,” you say. “So, you weren’t always such a sweet talker then?”

He lets out a low chuckle, as if amused by the thought. “Sweet talker, huh? That what I am?”

You shrug, suddenly emboldened by him following you outside, by how close he is, by how open he seems.

“I suppose,” you say slowly.

“And what gave you that idea?”

“You here alone?” you offer a poor imitation of him, voice low and breathy with your awful take on a Southern twang. “Meet me in the bathroom.” You wink, quietly delighted by the way his lips have tightened into a flat line.

“Funny,” he says again, entirely unamused now.

Something warm shifts in your lower stomach. Something wet—a vivid memory of him on the ground behind you in the bathroom of a bar, of hands spreading you open, of his tongue pressing inside you, of The Eagles playing faintly in the background.

“You do that kind of thing often?” you ask.  

“Do what?”

“Approach young women at bars,” you wiggle your eyebrows, smirking. “Rob them of their virtue in the bathroom and then hope you never see them again.”

“You? Virtuous?” Joel rolls his eyes. You can see the corner of his lip curling upward. “Must be gettin’ yourself confused with somebody else.”  

“Maybe,” you smile.

“Sometimes,” he casts you a look, after a moment. “Not… often. And not young.”

“Younger,” you counter quickly.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” he trails off and shakes his head. “It’s not a thing I do, alright?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t date then?”

He tilts his head at you curiously, eyes planted firmly on your face now. “Not for a long time.”

“Why not?”

“Been busy,” he grunts, clearly growing impatient by the line of questioning.  “Spent a lot of time studying. Working.”

“Where did you study?” you press.

“This twenty fuckin’ questions?” he snaps, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Came out here for—”

“You came out here,” you interrupt. “Because I came out here.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t try to deny it.

“Night classes at Texas A&M for my undergrad,” he grits out. You smile sickly sweet, pleased. “Did my postgrads part time at UT Austin,” Joel says.

Your eyebrows kick up again, the teasing pretence all but forgotten. “Sounds… unconventional?” you offer softly.

“That’s one word for it,” he agrees vaguely. “Spent the better half of a decade at school just to end up teaching at one. Ain’t that somethin’.”

“And before that?” you press.  

“Before that,” he continues with a wry grin, one full of distaste and frustration and resentment. “Was a contractor for a long time. Houses, buildings.” He rests a hand against his shoulder, fingers pressing against the muscle there, as if working out a decade old knot.

And for a moment you can see it. Can almost taste it. Collared shirts and glasses replaced with hard hats and hammers and dirt in the lines of his palms. Joel carrying a plank of wood on his shoulder, wearing a toolbelt. Joel on his knees, sweat shining on his forehead while he wields an electric drill.

Your dress feels too tight suddenly. Too warm.

“A contractor,” you say distractedly, and hope he doesn’t notice how your thighs press together.

“Mhm,” Joel nods. “With my brother.”

“You have a brother?”

He ignores that. “Where did you study?”

“San Diego State,” you flash him a grin. “Go Aztecs.”

“Good school,” he hums. “You’re a long way from California.”

Only a little further than Texas, you think.

“You did good up there,” Joel adds.  

Your smile dips and wanes into a scowl, uninterested in the change of subject.

“What?”

“It was…” you shake your head slowly, face warming as you glance down to your lap.

“What?”

“It just wasn’t what I expected.” You pick at a loose thread on the hem of your dress. “That’s all.”

“And what did you expect?”

“To be listened to,” you grunt. “Not gawked at by some ancient jerkoffs that were only there to stare at my ass when I turned to change a slide.”

Joel nods, quiet.

“I wanted it to matter,” you mutter. “Wanted to… fuck, I wanted to impress them.”

“I was impressed.”

“Oh yeah?” you snort, finally looking up. “You hightailed it out of there pretty quickly.”

Joel shakes his head and stares back at you, gaze heavy. His hands tighten into fists against his thighs, knuckles lightening to white as he squeezes. You shuffle on the seat—ignore the flare of heat that erupts where your shoulder nudges firmer against his. 

“I guess you could say,” he speaks slowly. “I’m tryin’ to keep my distance.”

You arch an eyebrow and attempt to swallow the laugh bubbling up your throat.

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” you smirk.

Joel laughs and your smile falters, mouth going slack at the sound. How rare it is, and how much rarer to have it all to yourself like this. For all of his sharp angles, his sweet talking, his harsh words, and harsher touch—that laugh is the cruellest part.  

He jostles his shoulder against yours a little. An acknowledgement; perhaps a glimpse inside. Something that says, I know, I see it, I feel it, I can’t stop either.

“You make it hard,” he says then, and his voice is soft—almost a whisper.

“How’s that?” You match his tone, as if you’re two little kids who’ve snuck outside to share secrets where no one else can hear them.

“You bein’ here,” he murmurs, eyes searching. “Startin’ to feel like you’re everywhere I turn.”

A breeze swims past and you shiver, locks of hair floating in a mess around your face until you pat them down. Joel moves almost imperceptibly, curling his side tighter against yours to shield you from the onslaught.

“I know the feeling,” you admit.

The muscle in his jaw ticks and he clears his throat, looking out across the green again. For a moment the pair of you sit in silence. Not as professor and student, but simply a man and a woman on a bench. Breathing the same air, soaking in a shared silence that only the two of you could understand. And there are so many more questions you want to ask him, so much more you feel compelled to know, but instead you settle for this—sitting on a bench together, shoulders and thighs and chests pressed side to side, two frames moulded around the welcoming shape of one another. For now.

“It gets easier,” Joel says then, jaw tense as he spares a glance back in your direction. “This stuff, these people, all the talkin’.”

You acknowledge him with a small smile, just the slightest twitch of your lip. Don’t bother saying, maybe for you. Maybe for a man.

“You know,” you suck in a breath and give him a lazy smile instead. “I think this might be the longest conversation we’ve had without ripping each other’s clothes off.”

“Mm.” He leans his head back to rest on the wall, eyes focusing up towards the sky.

“I like it,” you say quietly. Hear how vulnerability chimes in your voice – a wobble that begs to be ignored and understood all at once. “It’s nice… talking like this.”

Joel’s head tilts towards you, dark eyes locked on yours. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see that wariness in his eyes. The same wariness that poured out in flecks of brown and amber and gold in the light of your bedroom a week ago, when he told you he was fifty. A hesitant curiosity, an incessant suspicion, a bark of disbelief. You feel the desire to pluck the feeling out of him and swallow it whole. To lock it safely inside yourself and make it so he never has to feel it again.

So you lean in a press your lips against his. Painfully soft, just a whisper of two mouths slotting together. Chapped and dry from the wind, he tastes like bitter sparkling wine. You sigh into him, uncaring. Hook your ankle around his, place your hand on his thigh, and sink closer, deeper.

He pulls back an inch, mouth still hovering over yours, the tip of his nose pressed into your cheek.

“Shouldn’t do this here,” he warns quietly, eyes still closed. His breath is hot against your face, and you inhale the taste of mint and Cava and Joel.

“I know.” You grip the lapel of his blazer and kiss him again. Firmer this time, grazing your tongue along the seam of his lips until he welcomes you inside to taste behind his teeth. The frame of his glasses presses into your nose, your cheeks, and you smile into his mouth. Rough palms and lazy fingertips graze the skin of your bicep, your neck, until they find a home at the nape of your neck. His thumb presses against the hinge of your jaw, hot wet tongue working your mouth open until you’re whining, teeth nipping at his bottom lip and fingernails digging into the meat of his thigh.

Only when you move to press a hand beneath the collar of his shirt does Joel pull back again, this time to stand and take a step away from the bench. A tinge of scarlet creeps its way from the hollow of his throat to the apple of his cheeks. He clears his throat and glances over his shoulder, towards the door. When he looks back, there’s something new there. Some dangerous that flashes in his eyes and lingers when his gaze dances down the curve of your body against the seat.

“Where are you staying?” you ask, breathless.

For a minute he doesn’t answer. Simply stares, contemplating, broad chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The lenses of his glasses are fogged, and you watch them slowly clear.  

Then— “The Pendry.”

Joel reaches into his pocket and retrieves something small and laminated. You take it from his outstretched palm carefully. “Fifth floor.”

You stare at it for a moment. Turn it over in your palm once, twice. Read the room number printed on the key card before tucking it safely into your purse. When you look up again, Joel is already walking back inside.

It’s nearing midnight by the time you arrive at the Pendry – a high rise in Manhattan West, the kind with a fancy lobby and a doorman in a neat black suit. The polar opposite of the hotel where your suitcase lies unopened across the city. You feel out of place in an instant, but you’re still in your dress, and the staff don’t bat an eye at your presence. The key card he gave you is hot where your fingers curl around it, plastic damp and foggy with the sweat from your palms. By the time you reach his door you have to wipe it on your dress before the sensor will recognise it.

A hollow beep echoes through the hall, and his door presses open with a soft hiss.

The room is enveloped in darkness. Moonlight shines in through a slim gap in the curtains, highlighting vague edges of the space. A desk against the wall, a large bed on the left of the room. For a moment you consider that he isn’t here—that he got caught up at the conference, sweet talking into the midnight hour with other professors and alums. You can hear sounds from the street, music and car horns blaring, even from the fifth floor. But nothing else. No Joel.

Tentatively, you take a step inside the room. And then another. Kick your heels off and feel rough carpet hairs sift between your toes. Holding your hands out into the darkness, fingertips ghosting the wall for support, you venture further into the room, only pausing when your shin thumps against the corner of something sharp and sturdy.

You spit a surprised curse and stumble into the wall, hands falling to grip your leg where it throbs and smarts.

“Jesus fuck,” you hiss, smoothing your fingers against the already forming lump.

A lamp flicks on, and the room lurches into view, tinged in a soft yellow light. You jump, eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. Bed sheets rumple and shift, and Joel is frowning at you from his place amongst the pillows, a hand raising to drowsily scratch his chin.  

“The hell are you doin’?” he rasps.

Heat flares in your face as you straighten up, mirroring his frown. He moves slow, a sluggish stretch out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and he looks almost concerned. It gives you pause for a moment, eyes unsure of where to settle, as you note just how much of his body you’ve never seen before. The soft muscles in his legs, the dark hair over tan skin. You can see the slight round of his stomach through the thin fabric of the shirt.

“Were you asleep?” you accuse.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” Joel mutters, and the sound is a fractured medley of words and yawns. You feel a dull pang of disappointment in your chest as you watch him rub sleep from the corner of his left eye.

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t?”

He doesn’t respond.

“You gave me a key.”   

“I know,” he sighs.

“Of course I was going to come.”

He nods. Yawns again, hand snaking upward to cover his open mouth.

You turn your back on him slowly. Take a glass from the little kitchenette and let the faucet run a cool burst of water into it. Little specks of water splash up, dotting against your hand. Your feet ache from wearing those damn heels all day, but you wilfully ignore the pain, gulping down half the glass while staring at your reflection in the splashback. Blue dress, hair tucked behind your ears, charcoal smudged around the curve of your eyes.

Joel’s fingers wind around yours, peeling the glass from your clutch so he can steal the final few sips. He discards it on the counter and leans against it. You try to make out his expression in the shadowy light, wiping your water-dotted arm against your side.

“S’a good dress.” He looks more alert suddenly, eyes sharp and focused, wide shoulders squared.

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“Didn’t say anything about it earlier.”

“Was tryin’ not to think about it,” he says plainly. “And how badly I wanted to take it off.”

Your hand stills. That misplaced disappointment slips out of the room, an unwelcome third party, and you grin at him. A sleazy, sleepy smile, and walk backwards in the direction of the bed without taking your eyes off of him.

“So take it off,” you challenge.

Your heartbeat is a steady thrum against your breastbone as he crosses the room. Badoom, badoom, no less than three strides and he’s there, gripping your waist to turn you so his chest is against your back.

Your zip is a low whir in the air, spinning downward slowly, slowly, from the nape of your neck to the sloping base of your spine. Deft hands trace skin, grazing every mark, every freckle as they are revealed to him, until the material of your dress is a gaping smile across your back. You shiver as the air rushes to meet your bare flesh, and then careful—cautious—you feel a pair of lips press against the top of your spine, soft pink against steely vertebrae. You say his name, low and surprised, and he doesn’t say anything. Those hands push the dress down your arms, and you watch it tremble and fall, a mess of blue at your feet.

You can hear his breathing; the way it stutters and jumps as he traces the clasp of your bra, the arch of your spine beneath it.

“Take it off,” you say again, and feel a sharp scratch of desperation that perhaps this time he won’t deny you this. This something that you’ve not experienced even once, and yet you find yourself missing.

The idea of his skin against yours is something prophetic, something inevitable, something divine—something determined far before the two of you met in that bar. It’s out of your control or his, irrevocable—a beast bred from desire that claws and snaps at the bars of its cage, calling you kicking and screaming into each other’s arms.

His fingers pluck at the clasp, and you smile. Sigh in relief as your bra hits the floor and the weight of your breasts are borne to the increasingly warm air. Joel is still behind you, still not seeing you. But broad palms splay across your back, massaging and flexing into your skin as they roam your sides, your stomach, up your front to cup your breasts. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as he squeezes softly, palms warm and solid against the stiff peaks of your nipples.

“Fuck.” Joel’s nose buries itself in your hair, his forehead against the back of your head. Your legs shake, and you lean back into his chest, your body a soft and tremulous thing that would surely float away if he weren’t here to hold you up.  

His hands are on your breasts, sweet and tender and finally, and you wonder how long this wanting will feel like burning. Like nicks of flame that gloss over you and spit embers at anyone who dares to get too close—at him, sparking and sputtering as they collide in a spitfire symphony. This man who lives set ablaze in his own right. This man who welcomes your flame every time—swallows it whole, and lays kisses against the back of your neck with lips still warm.

Calloused fingers roll and circle your nipples, playing gently, listening for every gasp, every sigh, before diligently repeating whatever it was that called the sound forward. Your underwear is all but ruined, already damp and clinging to the slick skin between your thighs. And you can feel him against your lower back, albeit unmoving—not grinding against you, not pushing you down onto the bed, but waiting – for what, you can’t be sure.

You turn around faster than he can stop you. Hook fingers into the band of your panties and drag them down in a swift movement before straightening, holding his gaze all the while. And Joel—

He looks in pain. Dark eyes lock onto on your face and don’t stray. Don’t dip downward, don’t glance around the room. His hands hang by his sides, palms facing upward in a dejected fashion, jaw slack as he just—waits.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you whisper.

“You don’t….” he shakes his head. “If I look, I won’t be able to forget. And I—I can’t—”

There’s a flash of that memory again. Sweating in the dark bathroom of a bar in Portland. Joel wiping stained lipstick from your chin. The words I’m gonna remember this dripping from his swollen lips.

You take a step forward. Feel your nipples graze the soft material of his shirt. “And what if I don’t want you to forget?”

He says your name quietly, shoulders tense. But when you grip the hem of his shirt, he doesn’t stop you. Rather, he lifts his arms and lets you drag the fabric over his head. You marvel at the bare skin, eyes dancing across jutting collarbones and the soft swell of his stomach. Watch the way his chest rises and falls as stilted breaths flurry inside him before spilling into the air between you. Admire the trail of dark hair that rests between his bellybutton and the soft band of his underwear. His eyes don’t leave your face as you push the boxers down his legs.

“So handsome,” you say and Joel exhales, hands hovering a hairsbreadth from your waist. The weight of the moment hangs heavy between you. This moment of more. To be with him like this feels like more. To be naked feels like more.

You grip his hand and raise it to your breast again. Squeeze your fingers over his. His thumb flicks across your nipple and you gasp. His eyes darken, nostrils flaring as he fights to restrain himself.  

“Joel,” you whisper. “Look at me.”

Finally, he does. Those brown eyes flickering downward to rake in the sight of your body.

He’s on you in a second, mouth slanting desperately against yours while his hands drift aimlessly across skin, untethered in their access. Fingers pinching and grabbing and squeezing, teeth searing at your lips, and you gasp as his cock presses against your stomach. The long, thick weight of him, drooling and needy. Your fingers slip around him, rub softly over the underside of his head, the vein on the underside of him. Joel grips your wrist and pushes you backward a step, his lips leaving yours with a wet smack.

“Sit on the bed,” he orders firmly.

You wander backward, stumbling onto the edge of the bed when your calves collide with the heavy wooden base. He watches you, hand drifting to wrap around the base of his cock. He strokes himself gently, black eyes tracing vigilantly over every inch of your body. And you expect him to push you down, to crawl on top of you. Instead, you watch with bated breath as Joel drops to his knees in front of you. His knees crack as they bend but he ignores it, nudging your thighs apart so his broad frame can fit between them. Hooded eyes gaze between your thighs, roaming across all of the bare skin on show. Slowly, he lifts a hand and rests it gently on your mound. Calloused fingers stroke over the dark hair there, stroking through the short curls. You sigh and cant your hips up, but Joel only grunts, his free hand squeezing your thigh to hold you against the mattress.

Before you can process it, he’s leaning forward, nose nestling in your hair as his warm tongue parts your folds. You groan in unison, your fingers carding through his curls to hold him against you. He murmurs something that you don’t quite catch over the roaring in your ears, but you don’t care. Too caught up in a smooth slide of his mouth slotting against you. The flat of his tongue glides up and down your sex, smearing a mess of slick and saliva in his wake. You gasp as it flicks sharply across your clit, your jaw tensing at the harsh sensation. Joel notices—pulls back.

“Tell me,” he urges.    

“Slower,” you say quickly, voice feeble and desperate.

“Slower,” Joel repeats with a nod, and he massages your thighs as he licks into you, fingernails scraping your skin as his grip tightens and loosens and tightens and loosens. He traces slow circles around your clit with the flat of his tongue that have you gasping and bucking against his face. And when his tongue presses inside of you, you moan, fingers twisting in his hair and tugging.

“Fuck,” he growls into you, and he likes that. You do it again and his eyes flick open, pupils blown, gaze darting wildly across your stomach, your arms, your breasts, your face – watching, admiring, taking in every detail of the offering that you’ve laid so generously at his altar. The tip of a finger curls inside you and he grins when your thighs tense around him. He rears his head back to watch how you welcome him inside, eyes locked on the way your weeping cunt clenches and drips around one of his fingers, and then another.

“Yeah,” you sigh, nose scrunching at the slight stretch. “Yeah, like that, fuck.” 

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Christ.” And then the cut of his wet red mouth is back on you, lips parting to suck against your clit until you’re crying out, voice a hoarse shout as you speed rapidly towards your end.

“Shit, Joel,” you gasp. One of your legs kicks out straight and his hand drops from your thigh, one set of fingers working you open while the other comes up to part your lips, giving himself more access. As he lathes wet kisses against you, the coarse hairs of his beard scraping your inner thighs, you can feel it. That liquid heat that coils and stirs in the base of your stomach.

“Joel, I—ohh—I think I’m gonna come,” you whimper, hand shooting out to grip his shoulder. Your nails dig into the tense muscle there, using the leverage to rut your hips against his face.

He groans into your sex, fingers moving faster, unforgiving against that spongy spot deep inside that sets you alight. His teeth graze against your clit, the lightest brush, and your stomach is tensing, every muscle in your body locking up.

“Give it t’me,” he says gruffly. “That’s it, come on, baby.”

A choked gasp falls from your lips and then you’re coming, twitching against his face, pussy bearing down on thick fingers that stoke you through the high. Your hand leaves his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding his face against where you’re aching for him still. Joel moans, a low sound from deep in his chest, dragging his fingers away so he can drink down every heady drop of your orgasm.

Baby.

The word rings in your head, bouncing inside your skull, a fierce ricochet. Baby.

Trembling fingers feather across the cowlick at the crown of his head, twisting and petting soft wayward curls as his mouth pulls back, a wet drag across the skin of your hip. You catch a glimpse of his cock, heavy and throbbing between his thighs.

Joel’s teeth nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh, a sharp pinch that makes you flinch. Tired muscles tensing, face twisting up as he sucks and licks, hot tongue soothing over the stinging red mark. He breathes your name, mouthing the sound into your flesh once, twice.

“I’ve been tryna remember this,” he murmurs. “Only ever had it for a second.”

You whimper as he licks into you again, slowly. And you’re so sensitive, and maybe—maybe—it’s too much, too soon, but he doesn’t care. He grips your calf and tucks it over his shoulder. Holds it there in a vice grip.

“Wasn’t enough,” he says. Dark eyes look up and you’re rapt in them—bound and boneless simply from having those eyes on you you you nothing but you all he sees is you and he loves it, you can tell. Thrives on the way you melt beneath his rough fingertips, the wet drag of his tongue. “Remember that first day in my office?

Remember, remember, remember, how could you forget? I’m gonna remember this this this.

“Yes.” Your leg trembles against the side of face, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching your skin. The tip of his tongue lathes slow circles around your clit. A cruel, leisurely slip of flesh on flesh that has you gasping and twitching beneath his hands.

“I wanted this that day,” Joel rasps. “Needed it. But you were gone so soon, ‘n’ I couldn’t help myself.”

“What—oh fuck—” He flicks his tongue faster, hot swipes from side to side that have your thigh clamping down against the muscles in his neck. Your mind is a blur, eyebrows furrowed as you try to make sense of his words.

“Fucked my fist the second you left,” he growls. “My fingers in my mouth, the taste of you—Christ, couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Joel,” you gasp, impatient. “I—get up here. Please, just—”

Strong hands push you up, push you back, further onto the bed until your head hits the pillows. His hair is a wild fray around his head, knotted and mussed from your fingers raking through it.

“I don’t have anything,” he says.

“I don’t care,” you say.

His knees press onto the mattress on either side of you and his eyes glance down your chest before he grips your waist and he’s turning you. Your stomach meets the sheets and you move to arch your back, to tilt your hips up towards him, but a firm hand rests on the small of your back, and keeps you down.

“Like this,” you hear him say. “Trust me.”

His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel him there, knuckles brushing the flesh of your ass, spreading you apart so his cock can press inside. The pillow swallows your wet gasp, and your eyes pinch shut against the stretch as he sinks deeper and deeper. Every delicious inch splits you open wider, further, carving out that space that’s just for him, and it’s more. Your vision blurs and you clutch at the sheets, fingers tangling in linen as Joel’s breathy groans fill the air.

“God,” he grunts. “Always so fuckin’—tight.”

You cry out as he begins to move, pressing you further into the mattress. The stretch of him is so broad—so deep—it has hot tears pricking in your eyes. Your legs are straight, almost clamped together, leaving the smallest gap for him to break through. His chest melts against your back, sweet sweat sliding from skin to skin. And his stomach is soft against the base of your spine, but his teeth are sharp where they nip and smart against the skin of your shoulder, your neck. He sets a pace that has you biting down into the pillow to muffle your groans. It’s almost overbearing how good it feels, how he surrounds you. Flat against the mattress, there’s nowhere to hide from the pleasure, no way to twist or curl your body away from how good it feels. A choked moan is muffled by the pillow.

And then his fingers are in your hair, dragging your head up.

“What are you fuckin’ doin’?” he grunts. You gasp, eyebrows furrowed and mouth ajar as you take take take. He pulls your hair harder when you don’t respond, presses his chin against your shoulder, lips curling against the skin of your neck as he speaks. “Don’t do that, not here. No more hidin’, I wanna fuckin’ hear it.”

He grips your hips and drags you upward so you’re on your knees, bracing against your forearms, and then his hand snakes around the front of your body, fingers dragging between your thighs as he begins moving again.

“Oh fuck,” your eyes widen in surprise, jaw hanging slack as he rolls his finger in expert circles over your clit. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Fuck,” you repeat, mewling every time one of his thrusts sends your face forward into the pillows. “Yes, oh god.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust of his hips. “That’s it, lemme hear it.”

“Joel,” you cry out, voice cracked and broken. “So good.”

“I know, baby,” he grunts. “I know.”

“You’re so—deep,” you gasp.

“I know,” he soothes.

“I missed this,” you babble, mouth moving faster than your mind. “Missed you.”

“Christ,” he spits, pulling you up until you’re leaning against his chest. His fingers are a blur against your clit, cock a fast wet shift in and out in and out.

You tilt your head back against his shoulder, mouth hanging open as you press your ass back into him.

“Missed me?” Joel says, and his cheek is warm against yours. Wet. Your face is wet. “Gonna show me how much?”

“Yes,” you moan. His free hand grips your breast, squeezing and pinching.

“Need to get my fuckin’ mouth on you,” he growls.

“No,” you beg. “Joel, don’t—fuuuck, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Wanted to,” his hips stutter against you, losing momentum for a second. “Jesus, wanted to take my fuckin’ time.” You snake a hand behind his head to grip his hair again, to press his face into your neck. His mouth latches onto your skin, spit mixing with sweat where his teeth and tongue trace your roaring pulse. Your thighs are trembling, knees weak and wobbling against the mattress as he pistons into you, unrelenting, unforgiving.

“I’m—” your eyes start to roll back. You can feel your back arch and twist against him, toes curling into the sheets. “Oh my God.”

He says your name in a panicked hiss and pulls out.

You gasp at the loss, eyes flying open in alarm. He moves your body, not wasting a second as he lowers you down onto your back presses inside again, hands gripping the underside of your knees, holding them against your chest. Practically bent in half, you tremble in his grasp, eyes blurred and wet as you sob his name.

“Lemme have it,” he goads you, voice a dull vibration against your chest. “Bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, yeah, just like that.”

And it feels like something splinters within you as heat floods your senses, vision whiting out until all you can see is the soft edges of his curls against your chest, the wet smear of his tongue over your nipple. All you can hear is the words he speaks against your skin.

I’m close, he warns, and you say yes, say please, say I want it, because you do.

“Where?” You call the shots.

And you say, Inside, say, I want it, because you do.

Because you want everything. Everything he has and whatever dark matter is left after that. And everything is a naked thought, a stark realisation, a frighteningly bare streak of madness that zips down your spine and melts in your belly, and you can feel yourself tightening around him with the enormity of it. Can feel your body squeezing and sucking and holding it holding it holding it and with black eyes, spheres of a night sky’s pitch, he stares at you. Unruly eyebrows pinched tight. Mouth slick and swollen and snarling, white teeth grit like prison bars, keeping everything contained inside himself, just out of your reach.  

“Fuck,” Joel spits, pleading, desperate. “Don’t—”

But his hips are bruising against yours and you relish in the ache. The jut of bone amidst the softness of his skin, a reminder of the coldness in him, the determination, the impatience. And you know that you can only have so much softness until there is stone. But you cannot understand don’t, you never have with him, so you grind upward. Meet him thrust for thrust, and shiver in delight as a tortured expression passes over his face. And when you come again he curses, broad palms bearing down on you, holding your frame into the mattress as he pushes you through it, prolonging that naked thought, that fearsome idea. You only hope that he cannot see how your own everything spills. How it cools and congeals around him with its palms spread open, longing to receive as much in return.

Joel comes with a shout, hips dragging backwards so his spend can spill across your stomach and the puffy lips of your sex. He grips his cock, milking himself for all he’s worth until wet ropes of his come are smeared across your thighs too. You gasp and writhe against the bed, trying in vain to keep your heavy eyelids open, not wanting to miss a second. The shine of your slick on his thighs and lower stomach is clear in the dim lighting, and you smile at the sight of it – your claim on him. Chest heaving, he follows your gaze, fingers swiping across his skin before sinking into his mouth. He groans around his fingers and you stomach lurches as he lowers his chest to the bed, mouth drifting between your splayed thighs.

You cup his jaw and hold him still.  

“I can’t,” you murmur, and your voice is cracked and broken. “S’too much.”

And he agrees, tracing the marks on the inside of your thighs with his mouth until your eyes drift closed.

Time passes slowly after that. You don’t open your eyes for a while. Too fucked out, too tired, too tender.

There’s a warm glide of something soft and wet over your stomach, your thighs, between your legs—Joel cleaning up his mess. You almost wish he wouldn’t.

“Sorry,” you mumble a few minutes later. “I’ll go in a second.” But your eyes are closed, and the sheets smell like him.

You feel the mattress dip beside you. Hear a soft click as he turns off the lamp, and darkness swells around you once more.

“S’okay,” he says, and his voice is so close, as if he were whispering against the shell of your ear, breathing the words into you. “Don’t have to go.”

And it makes sense not to go. To stay, to stay, to stay. To sink deeper into the hotel mattress, and let the sounds of his heavy exhales lull you further to sleep. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t come any closer. But you can smell him. Can feel his warmth, a radiating sun that shines across the side of your body closest, and you sink deeper still.

You think of the katabasis - the hero’s journey spiralling down into the underworld. Of Orpheus seeking the safe return of Eurydice, his love lost too soon. Of Odysseus, guided by Circe to discover Teiresias on his quest for homecoming. Of Aeneid, venturing downward to meet his father and hear his true destiny. This descent into the afterlife, into the realm of the dead, wherein upon return our hero is irrevocably changed. But to stay, to stay, to stay. So warm it is here, you think, so lovely and warm to descend wholly into this wanting, this burning, this everything.   

“Is this a good idea?” you murmur, voice a drowsy call into the darkness. “For me to stay?”

Joel doesn’t respond.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @bbyanarchist @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @@lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5 @psychedelic-ink @what-is-your-wish @sugadolly @elissaaa @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul

thank you for reading! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #ALP #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut

[mizu-nights]

# another language

★ — chars ; toya , akito , rui

★ — notes ; HELLO NAGULAT AKO NUNG NAKITA KO TO FHDHFHFFH di ko na-expect na makakatanggap ako ng tagalog req... hindi ako masyadong magaling mag tagalog (native language ko...) PERO hopefully maiintindihan mo ito huhu ... also yes ofc feel free to ask any questions u want! (just not personal ones obv)

★ — notes (2) ; i had a fun time writing this, but i'm rlly rlly nervous abt posting it (╥﹏╥) if i accidentally made a mistake in a few parts, pls don't be harsh with me!

★ — notes (3) ; fem!reader implied for akito , otherwise none!

★ — languages used (keep in mind i used google translate for some + my tagalog isn't good) ; tagalog , italian , korean

★ — shout out to my bbg for helping out with akito's part (she doesn't follow this blog and i hope it stays that way)

★ — requested by ; anon

★ aoyagi toya — tagalog :

oh, he's so confused. of course he knows that you're speaking in another language, yet he doesn't know what you're saying...

so, naturally, he wonders what you're talking about when he accidentally overhears you in a call with your friend one day.

"ang pogi si toya... like jusko sobrang sweet niya sakin baka magka diabetes ako." (rough tl: toya is so handsome... like oh my god he's so sweet to me i might get diabetes.)

... he understood about... 3 words—'toya', 'sweet' and 'diabetes'. and now he's extra puzzled.

toya asked you about it the next day since he doesn't want any misunderstandings between the both of you. which led to you becoming a rather shy mess while explaining what you were talking about.

"oh... i see."

despite the dry response, you could see toya's face lightening up once he realized that you were actually gushing about him, just in a language that he didn't understand.

he definitely researched some cute endearments that night, so don't be surprised if he randomly calls you names like 'mahal' or 'sinta' from now on.

★ shinonome akito — italian:

akito got the idea over time that you were talking affectionately about him in another language, but he would prefer if you admit it yourself. mostly just to tease you, honestly.

with that in mind, he's still a bit surprised when you tell him you love him in another language.

"...ti amo tanto." (rough tl: i love you so much)

"huh?"

"nothing!"

but with how cute and funny his reactions are, how can you stop? his confused look always looks so charming whenever you compliment him.

"sei così carino, sai?" (rough tl: you're so cute, you know?)

"okay, seriously, i don't understand a single thing..."

eventually, he gets tired of your teasing and just translates what you're saying when you're gone. prepare to be surprised with random compliments in your own language by your boyfriend.

"sei la ragazza... più carina che abbia... mai visto..?" (rough tl: you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen)

... even if it could use some work.

★ kamishiro rui — korean :

rui is a sneaky one, so you always make sure to gush about him whenever he's actually away, or if he's asleep.

and in this situation, you thought he was asleep. keyword: thought.

unsurprisingly, it seems like your boyfriend stayed up a bit later tonight to finish an invention. you chuckled softly, finding him endearing as you covered him up with a blanket.

"...너 정말 귀엽다. 잘 자고 있길 바래, 내 사랑." (rough tl: you're so cute. i hope you sleep well, my love.)

rui was actually awake, though. of course, he couldn't understand a thing you said, but that only added to his list of robots to make.

so, weeks passed by after that incident. and something similar happened again, only this time, rui was prepared.

he rested his head on the desk, setting his brand new translator bot nearby to record what you say.

and, to say the least, his experiment did not disappoint! he's never going to let you live this down, either.

just to mess with you a bit, and to let you know he knows about your little secret now, he went up to you the next day, whispering something into your ear.

"내가 귀엽다고 생각해? 네가 더 귀여워." (rough tl: you think i'm cute? you're cuter)

you were so surprised, it's like he took your breath away. you give him a look that basically yells out, 'you know!?' and rui simply nods, with that well-known cat-like smile of his.

#toya aoyagi #toya aoyagi x reader #akito shinonome #akito shinonome x reader #rui kamishiro #rui kamishiro x reader #project sekai x reader #pjsk x reader #project sekai #pjsk #★ — you are my literature

[goldenbuckyyy]

EXILE

Summary: Don’t Worry Darling movie premier leads to events that you didn’t expect.

Pairings: Harry Styles x Fem!Reader (exs), Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 5.4kish

Warnings: One big thing is non-consensual kissing, crying, brief altercation of physical fight between two people, anything else? Let me know pls

A/N: hi! Here’s part 4 of my power mini series! I wasn’t too sure where to go from my last part. I was still a little hesitant on this part, but overall felt satisfaction when I finished it. Thinking of maybe doing only one more part? And it’ll probably be a time jump! Song inspiration for this part: “Exile” by Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver

Also this is a repost because my original post wasn’t coming out in the tags! 🥺

All mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other side nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

September 6th, 2022. 

Venice, Italy. 

2:13AM. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Your boyfriend's soft voice breaks the silence in the room. 

You don’t look at him, instead you focus on your nails. Two of them broke off earlier at the after party. You pick at the remaining piece to try and get it off. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the events that had happened tonight.

You feel his warm hand touch yours to stop you. 

“Look at me,” he demands. His tone is not rough, but airy and delicate. As if you can break any second. 

Which isn’t wrong. 

You slowly look up at him, your eyelashes touching the skin underneath your eyebrows, feeling wet, and you sniffle when you meet his sky blue eyes. 

He gives you a small smile, his lower lip torn but luckily isn’t bleeding anymore. 

His touch lingers against your skin, not moving, but waiting for you to react. 

“Are you upset with me? Because… because I punched him?” His voice sounds scared, like a small child waiting to get punished. Your eyes go wide, shaking your head, “Of course I’m not. I’m not upset with you… I’m upset with him.”

His eyes soften at your reply, he sighs lowly, and gives you a weak smile.

You feel love in his stare, your heart feeling heavy, but you wrap your fingers in his and pull his palm to your lips. You kiss his hands gently, leaving red lip stains, and he closes his eyes by your gesture. 

“I’m here for you,” he whispers and reciprocates your gesture by doing the same. 

You pout, lower lip trembling, and you know he’s being honest. 

“I know,” you express, wiping away a fallen tear, and meeting his gaze. 

“I know we are still taking this relationship slow… going at your pace.. But if you need space,” he pauses for a moment, his hand tightening his hold on yours, and he continues, “I’ll understand.” 

You shake your head, “I don’t want space. Not from you. Never from you.” You try your best to explain to him with all honesty in your tone. 

“Then please talk to me,” he begs. 

You slowly nod your head, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, baby. I just want to know what’s going on in your pretty little head.” He kisses your inner forearm. 

“Tonight was…” you trail off. 

“Overwhelming,” he states with a sigh and you nod. 

“I…” you start and he only waits for you to continue. Your gulp down the lump in your throat, your dress feeling itchy against your skin, and you sigh. 

“I know I don’t really speak about him to you.. just during the times it’s needed. And.. and maybe I should have spoken about him more to you. But I was just trying to put my past with him behind me. Because I want a future with you,” you lock eyes with him, his eyes soften, “I’m being one hundred percent truthful right now.. I-I want a future with you. Only you. But…” 

You whimper, “But a part of me… a part of me feels guilty. Guilt for staying there and listening to his stupid words. Not being over him. Over Harry.” His name feels foreign leaving your lips. 

“Not being over him in the way of not being over what he did to me,” you state. 

“He hurt me… he hurt me more than anybody ever has. He loved me one day… and then… and then he left me the next. It blindsided me. How.. how can someone do that to another person?” Your eyebrows crinkling together because you’re finally letting out every single thought you’ve had for the past almost two years. 

Your boyfriend caresses your hand slowly, encouraging you to continue. 

“I couldn’t think straight for months. I couldn’t… I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep… I had to basically build myself up from scratch from the day he left me. It never got easier. I just had to move on. Just… just like that. I had to move on from being happy and engaged to the person I believed was the love of my life… to suddenly living alone, not engaged anymore… and then hearing he was with the one person I used to admire.” 

You feel warm tears falling down your cheeks, you notice your boyfriend hesitating on getting up to comfort you, but you place your other hand on top of his to hold him down instead. You need to speak without being comforted right now. His touch was all you needed right now to feel safe. 

“I remember when I saw that photo of him with her at that wedding…” a rush of sadness rushes through your body, “I was shocked. I was truthfully blindsided. Blindsided by everything because I couldn’t believe it. He had left me…left me… for the director of the movie we both starred in.” 

You let out a burst of laughter because you couldn’t believe it. Even saying it out loud felt crazy. 

“Can you believe them?” Your laugh turns into sobs. 

“I hate that he still has this power over me. I hate that he can still make a cry like a fucking baby,” you seethe out. 

“I hate how he made me feel tonight,” you cry out in a whimper. 

“I hate how he did that to me. I would have never done that. I just.. I-I just don’t understand.”

Your boyfriend decides then to get up, not letting go of your hand, he pulls you up into his arms, holding you in as you cry, wrapping his arms over you, you cry into his chest, finally letting go of all the suppressed anger and tears you had been holding in since you didn’t know how long. 

He kisses your forehead, placing his hands on your cheeks, and pulls your chin up to wrap his lips against yours. Your salty tears mix into the kiss, but he doesn't care. He kisses you deeply, showing you how much he loves you with his actions, even if you both haven’t said the three words out loud yet, you can feel it all around you, and you hold him tightly against you. 

You pray that he’ll never let you go. 

15 hours earlier… 

You had intentionally avoided getting to Venice on time because you simply did not want to be in the press conference with Harry and her. 

Your assistant, Ellie, told Olivia after many messages and calls to Ellie’s cell phone that you would not be attending. You made the excuse that you were too busy filming another movie in a secure location to attend the event that early. 

But yet, here you were… arriving right after the press conference had started with a big smile on your face and Sebastian by your side. 

You held onto Sebastian’s hand tightly as you waved at the paparazzi snapping millions of photos of you two. You were a bit nervous at entering Italy with Sebastian since you two have been official for a while now, but you needed him by your side today. 

Sebastian only held you close, giving his dazzling smile to the photographers, and you soon made it to your hotel. 

You both walked into your shared suite, kicking off your heels, and throwing yourself onto the king sized bed. 

You let out a loud laugh when Sebastian plops on top of you, giggling as you kiss his lips, gasping out, “Get off of me, you big teddy bear!” 

He lets out a laugh into your neck, kissing you there, and gets up. He starts unbuttoning his breezy button down, kicking off his shoes, and lays down next to you in only his tight briefs. You get up and do the same, wanting to cuddle with his naked skin, before you have to get ready for the night. 

Your body intertwines with his, easily and as if it’s second nature, and he holds you against his chest while his hand goes into your hair to play the strands. You inhale his sweet scent, feeling warm and safe, and cuddle into him. 

His chest moves up steadily, your nails grazing up and down, and you both lay there silently. 

“Are you nervous?” 

You look up at him, adjusting yourself to face him, “A little.” You reply honestly, not bothering to hide that you are. 

He nods, “I’ll be there the entire time.” 

You kiss his cheek before kissing his lips, “I know. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, my love.” 

You guys are able to cuddle for maybe two hours before you are rudely interrupted by multiple people waiting outside of your hotel room. 

“It’s time,” he whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead, squeezing your shoulders, and you swiftly get up. You wrap yourself in the hotel robe and Sebastian does the same. 

You open the door to your team which they all pile in carrying multiple bags and pull in a rack which is holding your covered dress and Sebastian's tuxedo. 

You sit in the chair, anxiously waiting for your team to start, and Sebastian smiles at you from the bed. Which he’s sitting on and admiring you. His eyes twinkled underneath the lights. Your heart flutters at the sight of him. 

Your team gets to work and you slowly daze out, letting your team pamper you, and you feel light as they work on you. You let yourself relax into the chair, closing your eyes to let them work on you, and you hear Sebastian playing your favorite music from his phone. 

Your makeup team had decided on doing a light makeup look, with a bold cherry red lip, and your hair was styled away from your face. Azkiel, your hairstylist, had styled it into curls that fell down your back. He sprayed down your loose strands and gave a kiss to the air when he saw his finished product. 

“You look beautiful, my dear.” He gives you a smile as he steps aside to let yourself look into the mirror. 

You smile slightly as you look at yourself in the mirror, feeling prideful at how beautiful you look, and you tilt your head side to side to admire the work they did on you. 

You look at Sebastian, who is coming out of the restroom in his all black suit, and give him a big smile. His eyes melt when he sees you. 

“Beautiful,” he says with a wink and his signature smile. 

You stand up to change, your assistant Ellie follows you into the bathroom to help you, and you pull off your robe. Ellie has seen you naked plenty of times since she’s been with you for years now. 

You still blush as you take off your robe, Ellie rolls her eyes at you, and laughs. “I’ve seen you naked how many times, babe?” 

“Stop it,” you say flustered as she helps you into your dress. 

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the front, while Ellie hooks the neck part together, fixing your hair, and zips up the zipper at your waist. 

You adjust your breasts at the open neckline which falls to above your naval, smiling to yourself because you feel sexy, and Ellie lets out a low whistle. 

“You look hot,” she states with a big smile. You put on your simple pair of diamond earrings, your favorite silver rings, and smile at her. 

“Thanks,” you breathe out, starting to feel nervous, and Ellie opens the door for you to go back into the room. 

Sebastian is fixing his hair in the mirror when he notices you come out, his eyes go wide, and he twirls back to face you. 

You walk up to him, smiling, and he sets his hands on your exposed back. 

“You look breath-taking,” he says, placing a kiss on your cheek gently, and goes back to admiring you. 

“Yeah?” You ask, beaming up at him. He steps aside to allow you to stand in front of him and you both look at your reflection in the mirror. You sigh happily as you fluff your dress out, admiring the deep neckline, the side of your breasts showing from the opening, and you love it. You love the way it hugged your curves and the red lips complimented the dress perfectly. 

“Always.” 

You smile with a hum, sitting down to slip your feet into your black heels, and Sebastian bends down to help you strap them around your ankle. 

He kisses the inside of your ankle, shivers run down your back, and you shake your head at him. Once he’s done, you stand up in front of him. You mess with the tulle of your dress, pressing down, “You don’t think it’s too out there?” Your insecurity is peaking out slightly. 

“Never. You’re the lead actress. This film is all about you, honey.” 

You nod at his words, shoving down the insecurity, and holding your head up high. 

“Ready?” Ellie asks, exiting the bathroom in her own black dress, it’s simple but elegant, and she still looks beautiful. Her beautiful blonde bob framed her heart face perfectly. You think she looks beautiful. 

“You look lovely,” you say to her and she brushes you off, her cheeks tinting pink.

“Thank you, hun. We’re running late, let’s go.” She walks hastily in the room in her heels, grabbing all the important stuff, shoving it into her purse, and you roll your eyes. 

You don’t feel rushed. “There’s no rush, Ellie belly. Who cares if we’re late?” 

Sebastian lets out a laugh, placing his hand on your open back, and you both walk out to the awaiting black SUV. 

The ride to the red carpet is a quiet one, your nerves filling you up, and Sebastian knows. He knows without you saying anything and simply holds your hand in his to ground you. 

You soon arrive infront of the red carpet, you peer out of the window, and see that everybody has already arrived. You see them all walking down the red carpet, posing for photos, and the paparazzi is going crazy. All you see is bright flashes and loud screams from all the fans. You gulp at the sight. 

Sebastian kisses the inner corner of your wrist, you turn to look at him, and give him a weak smile. 

“I’m going to get off now, baby.” You nod at him, letting out a shaky breath, “I’ll be waiting for you at the end.”

He leans in to kiss your lips softly to not ruin your lipstick. You hum in content. 

Ellie knocks on the window once Sebastian pulls away and they both exit the SUV. 

Ellie waits on the edge of the red carpet for you while Sebastian walks the red carpet with his sensational smile on his face. 

Your heart warms as you watch him pose for a couple photos and you can hear the screams. He’s a big actor and you know people will know you’re coming next since he’s here already. 

You grip your hands together, slightly shaking as you feel like you might vomit, and you quickly check your make up in your compact mirror. You smile to check if you have any lipstick stains and adjust your dress one last time. 

This was your first time at the Venice Film Festival and you closed your eyes for a second to relax. You brush off the nerves and knock on the window. 

As soon as the door opens, you hear the screaming and the chanting of your name. The flashing of the cameras always blind you, but you step out of the car with a smile on your face. 

You adjust your dress while Ellie adjusts the back of it to make sure it’s perfect. 

You pose for the cameras in front of you and you walk down the red carpet. You hold your head up high, the smile never leaving your face, and happiness is almost bursting from your chest. 

You stand proud as you walk the carpet, waving at the fans that are trying to get your attention, and make your way towards them. 

You smile for different cameras, sign different things for your fans, and speak to a couple of them. 

You even do an interview with someone in Italian for the festival.  One of the questions made you laugh when he said to you, “Your role was so inspirational.” 

“Really? What was so inspirational about it?” You asked with a sweet smile, battling your eyelashes at him.

The poor man flushed furiously and stumbled with his words after that. 

You had even made a comment about how it was inspiring to say no on and off the screen. 

“How did you feel about the feminine power your director insisted the movie is about?” 

You burst out into a giggle, covering your mouth with your hand, and you look at him with a dazed look. 

“Feminist empowerment? Maybe misogynistic empowerment, I believe. Not too sure what she's on about, honestly. But maybe the director has a different view point.”  You say with a shrug and a sly smile. 

The interview ended soon after that, but you didn’t mind one bit. 

You soon make your way stop at the end of the paparazzi photo line up. 

You pose in different angles and you can hear different paparazzi shouting for Sebastian to come stand next to you. Everybody wanting to have the first official photo of you two in public. 

You peer at Sebastian, only looking at him, and avoiding everybody else for the moment. He’s shaking his head no to the paparazzi until he sees you looking at him. You wave your hand at him to join you and he breaks out into a smile. 

You both melt into each other. Your arm landing on his back, his arm wrapping around your waist, and you place your free hand on his chest. Melting into his side with a beaming smile. 

You couldn’t wait to see these photos online and to frame one. 

You both pull away when you think they’ve gotten enough. You turn to the awaiting cast members, laughing loudly when you see them all with their cameras photo yelling at you to pose for them, you jokingly pose crazily for them, Sebastian laughing along with you, and you feel so happy seeing all your DWD cast members. 

Chris Pine on his knees taking pictures of you with a disposable camera, Nick Kroll right next to him snapping shots with his iPhone, and Gemma laughing loudly behind them. 

You and Sebastian say hello to them all. Gemma and Sebastian catching up since they are both Marvel actors and speaking about their next movie. 

Chris is the last one you see, he wraps his arms around you, and squeezes you tightly in his arms. He always treated you so well. As if you were a daughter to him, always giving you advice when you asked, and even checking up on you constantly since DWD filming ended. Him knowing personally about the situation that occurred after filming finished. He absolutely hated Olivia and Harry with the same passion as you. 

Your heart was bursting with happiness at merely being close to him again. “You are a gem!” You beam at his compliment as you both fall easily into a conversation about what you both had been up too. Him complimenting you on ‘Fresh’ and saying you did phenomenal. 

You even take photos with the cast members with Chris and Gemma standing on your side, not allowing Harry and Olivia to get close to you. 

You had never been more thankful for them than you were right now. 

You all disbursed after the photos and went back to your previous conversation with Chris. 

In the corner of your eyes, you can see Harry and Olivia hovering around. You try your best to avoid their eyes. You can see Harry staring at Sebastian with a disdained look. You didn’t even look at them long enough to take notice of what they were wearing. 

Sebastian avoids them as well, not bothering to turn their way, and once his conversation finishes with Gemma, he walks back towards you and says hello to Chris. You and Sebastian talk quietly amongst each other, smiling and giggling together, and then you see Olivia walking towards you from behind him. 

Your face falls slightly which causes Sebastian to stop mid sentence and turns slightly to look behind him. 

He spots Olivia walking towards you with a big smile on her face, Harry walking behind her, your eyes widen when Sebastian looks back at you, your mouth frowning at the sight of her, and Sebastian moves to cover you quickly. 

Your eyes met his and you feel furious at the fact that she’s even coming towards you guys. Your hands grip onto his as you think about the audacity she has coming towards you. 

Fuck her. Everything went downhill after you accepted the lead role for her fucking movie. 

You see Olivia right behind Sebastian about to say something, but you quickly wrap your arm into Sebastian’s and walk away from her. 

You look back at her, angrily, and watch in satisfaction as her face falls. Chris notices the situation and falls into step walking behind you with Gemma to create more distance between you and them as you all walk inside with you leading. Not even having to say a word to them, not even a look, and they just knew. 

You ignore the icy stare you feel from Harry. Not even looking at him either. 

You wrap your arm around Sebastian tighter as you walk into the theater lobby. You huddle with him in a corner with Chris, Gemma, Nick, and his wife. You all carry conversation before going into the theater. 

You watch Olivia and Harry make their way into the theater first. Your eyes meet Harry’s for a brief moment because you look away and peer up at Sebastian. He’s smiling at Chris at something he said, but his hand never leaves your skin. Always holding your shoulder or your waist, or simply your fingertips in his. 

You cuddle into his side, feeling content, and soon the staff is letting you know it’s time to go watch the movie. 

Chris and Gemma go in first while Sebastian holds your waist to walk in front of him. You walk inside, Sebastian kissing your cheek as he goes to sit in the row behind you, and you follow Chris to your seat. 

You stop as you see your name next to Harry who is sitting next to Olivia. They both look at you. Harry’s face shows no emotion while Olivia is smiling at you. You avoid their eyes, looking at Chris for help, and he shuffles to the seat next to Harry. 

He looks at the names on the seats, rips off your name and falls into the chair with a loud huff. 

Harry looks at him with a raised eyebrow and is about to speak, but then Chris says, “They must have made a mistake.” Harry purses his lips and looks away from him. 

You mouth a thank you and squeeze his shoulder in appreciation. You sit down next to him as Gemma sits next to you. Along with the rest of the cast. 

You peer behind you to smile at Sebastian, he smiles back, and places his hand on your shoulder to give you a gentle squeeze. 

Soon enough the movie begins and you have to avoid cringing in your seat. Not because of the movie itself but because you feel awkward watching yourself in this movie with Harry. 

It wasn’t how you felt with Sebastian when you watched Fresh together at the premiere. You had watched it side by side, smiling and laughing together, and you felt happy the entire time. 

Now you feel weird watching the scenes with Harry kissing you and the sex scenes make you peer at Sebastian every time. 

All he does is smirk at you and give you a wink. Never making you feel awful that he’s watching this. You know in his mind this movie is just you acting. But you know this movie is a movie you did with your fiancée at the time. It feels awful because you really did love Harry throughout the entire thing. 

You try to black out the whole movie. When the standing ovation is happening, you smile at everybody, staying until the end of it, and once the clapping stops.. you hurry out the theater. Waiting for Sebastian at the entrance and you both walk out to the awaiting care. 

Sebastian pulls you into a heated kiss in the car, wrapping his arms around your waist, and mumbles into your ear, “You did amazing, baby. A fucking amazing actress.” 

Your driver drives you both to the secluded after party that’s happening at a rented out venue that was for the entire cast, crew, and the attending DWD crowd. 

You pull away from Sebastian’s lips, panting, and you wipe his pouting lips with your thumb. He pulls your thumb into his mouth, sucking slowly, and you moan at his gestures. 

“Stop it,” you tease him with a giggle. 

Soon enough you were both at the after party, enjoying yourself with all your cast members. Olivia and Harry were secluded on their own, speaking to different members, but it was an unspoken rule that you were not interacting with them at all. 

You were already a couple drinks in when you whispered to Sebastian that you were going to go to the backyard of the venue for a breather. He asks you if you want him to come with you, but you shake your head no and kiss his lips. 

You stand by the glowing lights that illuminate from the pool, sipping on your drink, and enjoying the quietness around you. Enjoying this peaceful moment. 

You almost jump out of your bones when you hear someone speak behind you. 

“You look lovely.” 

“Jesus!” You yell out with a hand on your chest, frightened slightly by Harry’s voice, and you twirl around to look at him. 

You finally look at him for the first time tonight. He’s still wearing a suit, but his hair is messed up and he has a buzzed look on his face. The buzzed look of his when he’s had too much to drink for the night. 

You sip on your drink as you look at him. Not ready for whatever he’s going to say. You twirl the liquid in its glass as you wait for him to say something. 

“You’ve moved on, huh?” 

You roll your eyes, scoffing “Give me a break, Harry. Of course I’ve moved on. You did before we even broke up.” 

Harry’s face falls, his lips turning down into a frown, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He steps closer to you, but you don’t move. You only stare at him with a sad look. 

You gulp down the rest of your drink, warmth filling your belly, and your skin feels hot. 

“You know… I’m really happy with Sebastian. I can honestly see a future with him. As crazy.. as crazy as it may sound. I-I do, I really do. I never…” you pause, Harry listening to you intently, “I never thought I would move on from you.” You snort a laugh as you say that out loud. 

“I always thought it would be me and you, you know? We had our entire future figured out.” Your eyes narrow at his, “But you had to fuck it up, Harry.” 

Harry drops his glass onto the grass nearby and steps even closer to you, “I did, too.” He admits, “I wish.. I wish I hadn’t fucked it all up. I… I don’t know why I did what I did. I was an idiot. I'm still an idiot… I, fuck, I never thought I would ever look at someone else.. ever.. when I was with you… you were it.” 

Suddenly, his hands are gripping yours. You furr your eyebrows at him, trying to tug your hands out of his hold, but he doesn’t budge. 

“If we could go back, would you give me another shot?” His eyes wide, looking at you, and you part your mouth open in shock. 

“I still love you so much,” he admits and you want to slap him. “I’m so in love with you. It kills me to see you with him. It drives me insane. I-I wish I could go back.. I want to go back and change what I did,” tears fill his eyes, “I want you. I need you.”

He reaches down to try and kiss you, you instantly pull back quickly, trying to shove him off of you, “Get off me! What are you doing?!” You try to push him off, his hands gripping your wrist tightly, and you cry out as his lips touch yours harshly. 

You can’t believe this is happening. 

His lips move roughly against yours, tugging your hands away from his tight hold, but he doesn’t budge. You open your mouth to cry out, but he forcefully pushes his tongue inside of your mouth. Tequila fills your taste buds and tears fill your eyes. 

You manage to pull away from him, crying, and trying to shove him away from you still. 

“Harry, stop!! Harry, please stop!” You yell out as he drunkenly tries to kiss you again. 

For the first time, you feel scared of him. You have never been scared of Harry before. You’re trying to shove him off, the pain of your nails breaking against his chest feels like nothing compared to the fear you feel right now, and you wonder how you got here. 

In what world were you afraid of Harry? 

You want Sebastian. 

Where is he? 

In an instant, Harry is ripped away from you and punched in the face. Harry tumbles to his side, mumbling profanities as he almost falls down to the cemented floor, and you step back quickly. 

“Ohmygod!” You cry out covering your mouth as you see Sebastian punching his face, furiously and angrily, and now there’s a crowd forming around them in shock. 

Gemma wrapping her arms around you to comfort you when she notices you crying, Harry punching Sebastian, his lip splitting open, Olivia watching in shock and trying to figure out what is happening. 

“Don’t ever fucking touch her again!!” Sebastian yells at Harry as he pulls his fist back to punch him again, gripping him by his coat, and Harry’s right eye is swelling shut now. 

You cry out his name, Sebastian throwing Harry to the ground with a big shove, and he quickly turns to you. Blood rushed down his split lip and down his neck slightly. You cry harder at the sight of him being hurt. 

He pulls you out of Gemma's embrace, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight, one hand in your hair, and the other holding you close. He’s kissing your head repeatedly and whispering that it’s okay. That you’re safe now in his arms. 

“Let’s go,” he says as he holds you in his arms, hidden away from all the confused stares, and you suddenly feel someone pulling you away from his arms. 

You yelp as you see Olivia holding your arm in hers, angry eyes, “What did you do?!” 

You pull your hand out of her hold and instantly slap her hard. The smack is heard by everyone and it’s instantly quiet aside from the gasps around you. 

She’s holding her cheek in pain, tears filling her eyes because of it, Harry is stumbling to his feet watching you two in shock, his nose bleeding, and you shove Olivia away from you. 

“Get the fuck away from you, you homewrecking bitch!” You yell at her loudly and see red. You feel rage seeing her, your heartbeat racing in anger now, and you feel flushed from your neck down. 

“Don’t fucking touch me ever again, you stupid bitch.” You spat at her, wrapping your arms around Sebastian, and you both exit the venue quickly. Paparazzi snapping shots of you, a million questions coming your way, ignoring them all, you both hide your faces as you walk to the car quickly, and you both sigh loudly as you relax into the seats. 

You cry into your hands. Not believing what had just happened. 

Sebastian pulls you into his lap, the driver putting the partition up when he notices you're sitting on his lap, arms wrapped around him, and he wipes away your tears. 

You thump away the blood from his lips, kissing him gently, he tries not to hiss at the pressure he feels, and kisses you back slowly. 

“Did he hurt you?” His blue eyes fill with worry, lips frowning. 

You kiss his cheeks, shaking your head slightly. “You saved me,” you whisper, placing your forehead against his. 

“You’re safe with me,” he says in a low voice, arms wrapping around you. 

You nuzzle yourself into him, letting yourself relax in his arms, “I know.” 

#harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles #powerau #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

[saruman-the-silly]

I can see through the scars inside you

tags: terzo x gn!reader, reader is depressed and is having an extra rough day, (I might've poured some of my religious trauma into this lol) hurt/comfort, angst, mild swearing! shitty google translate italian once again ::D italians dont kill me pls

this is a bit short, I meant do add some more but decided to keep it short and sweet <3

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Everything feels just wrong. Your socks are itchy, your hair doesn't feel right, you haven't cleaned your room or replied to any of your friends who have been asking about you. It's just a full on downward spiral at this point and everything feels like shit. Your boyfriend, Terzo was coming back home today after a long tour but you just felt numb.

Speak of the devil, Terzo had just arrived with his ghouls and was surprised to see you were not there to greet him. Usually you were very excited to see him again, and would jump to his arms and shower his face with kisses. He frowned, this was weird and not like you at all.

Terzo quickly hurried to his room, dumping all his bags there and swiftly walked towards your room, intending to find out where his amore was hiding.

"Amoooooooreeeee, I've been looking everywhere for you my angel-" He dramatically burst into your room, stopping at the sound of crying coming from your bedroom. Terzo quickly walked over and peaked through the open door. There you were, bundled up in blankets and sobbing violently.

"Amore?" He sat down on the bed, gently taking your hand in his. You looked up at him with puffy red eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, voice hoarse from the crying. "I meant to come down and greet you but..." You trailed off, voice wavering. Terzo kissed your hand tenderly and shushed you.

"It is no problem. I can find my way up the stairs myself," He grinned. Terzo cupped your face gently and kissed your forehead, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

"How about some food eh? I can tell Omega to order us some Chinese takeout, while you, mia amata," He booped you on the nose, "are in for a nice bath."

Terzo hopped up and when you tried to get up he stopped you.

"Nonononono, this will not do. You stay right there with your lovely butt and I will soon be back." He dramatically bowed, winked and twirled around before marching to the bathroom, making you giggle.

After a few minutes he called for you to come in and when you opened the door you were greeted by the smell of you favourite scented candle.

Terzo had lit up the scented candles and put your favourite bath bomb in the tub. He was sitting by the tub, eyes full of love.

"Come on now, let's get you undressed and in the water." He held out a hand for you, making you tear up again. You started crying, and dropped down to your knees, leaning your head on his thigh.

Terzo sighed: "Amore mio, if only I could get rid of the terrors racking through your beautiful brain." He ran his fingers through your hair, gently combing open the knots that had formed. "If I could, I would take all of your pain, so you wouldn't have to suffer." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your hair.

You sniffled quietly, and looked up at him.

"I- I'm sorry I'm like this, I thought I was getting better and-" Terzo shushed you, and got down to the floor beside you, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

"Amore, nothing could make the love I have for you disappear, you understand? I am here for you, now and forever." He wiped your never-ending tears away and smiled.

"I can see through the scars inside of you, and your soul is not tainted. Even though you've been told awful things through out your life by those horrible people, you are more than that. You are my treasure, mio amore." Terzo kissed your forehead and wrapped his arms tightly around you.

"And to that stupid little cloud in your head that keeps telling you stupid shit, to him I say fuck off." You snorted at that, making Terzo grin.

"Now, let's get you washed up so we can have an impromptu movie marathon."

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thanks for reading <3

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost the band #ghost bc #papa emeritus x reader #ghost band fanfiction #band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #terzo my beloved #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #the ghost band #ghost terzo #terzo x reader #terzo emeritus #papa terzo #papa emeritus the third #papa iii #papa emeritus fanfiction #papa 3 #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus

[togetherwithmistakes]

I just made myself cry laying down trying to sleep because I got railroaded by a fic idea from Lady Kiku’s perspective; I’m not skilled enough to write this but …. Imagine it’s something like 6 months after the events of the show and she’s in her rooms at the tea house. Perhaps she has an evening to herself or perhaps it’s an appointment booked in advance, I don’t know how but somehow the Anjin appears unexpectedly at her door. Maybe he’s broken in and there are some angry guards trailing behind him that Kiku is able to wave off. Clearly he’s been drinking, but he is not a loud or foolish or an aggressive drunk like she’s dealt with in the past; he’s unsteady but calm. He is silent despite the fact that he’s grown accustomed to speaking for himself. She invites him in and he sits, she pours him tea and tries to talk slow so maybe he can understand. She moves closer, to entice him to speak, to try and understand why he’s here with her. She wonders briefly if he has come back to her because he enjoyed their time together and now seeks comfort. But the thought is fleeting. She does not see him often in town but knows from her sources that there has been a cloud over the Anjin that has not broken since his return from Osaka. He has forge ahead and made well for himself without his translator, but Kiku can see that he is shrouded in a sadness that only a few have noticed and even fewer can understand; she realizes she alone bore witness to the Anjin’s true feelings for Mariko-sama.

After what feels like eons, he unexpectedly reaches out to her and touches a loose piece of her hair, running the silky strands between his index finger and thumb. She’s taken aback by the gentle act and even more so when she realizes his eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling in slow huffs.

After so many years of training, she knows the power of a fantasy. So she lets him sit like this for a long time. It was not too long ago they were all in this room together, where she made way for the Anjin to imagine himself here with the woman he loved. Now it remains only the two of them to share this memory, and Kiku feels the weight of Mariko-sama’s absence, just as she had done that night she escorted the Anjin to bed alone. With his eyes still closed she uses the back of her fingers to softly brush the tears from his face, just as she imagines Mariko-sama would wish to do if she were here now. Before she retreats, he catches her soft hand and holds it flush to his rough cheek, covering her small hand with his calloused palm. After only a brief hesitation, he allows himself to lean into her embrace. She holds the quivering jaw of the rugged barbarian in her one hand and wipes away her own tears with her other. Kiku watches as his mouth opens to speak and she knows it’s her name poised to fall from his lips before his mouth snaps closed again. After another brief moment he stands quickly, avoiding her eye and ignoring her quiet protest, and provides a long bow. Without a word he is off into the night before she can even think to stand up, and she is left to wonder if he will be back again to find Mariko-sama in her touch.

Anyway, if you have the skills to write it, pls do and send it to me so I can cry

#fx shogun #shogun #mariko x blackthorne #blackthorne x mariko #mariko #toda mariko #lady kiku #john blackthorne #anjin #john x mariko

[desertfangs]

What do you think of Armand and Marius's reunion at the end of Blood Communion? Armand opens his heart back up to Marius according to the text. It felt as if Rice was reconnecting both Lestat/Louis and Marius/Armand in that novel.

I'm sorry if this sounds invasive. I don't like so-called ship wars because these vampires are polyamorous in nature but why do so many Devil's Minion's fans here write about Armand and Daniel as if they are endgame when it doesn't exactly seem so? It seems many ignore the contents of Blood Communion.

Anon, I love that it seems Armand's heart is no longer shut against Marius! Armand thought he had lost him which is bound to make anyone take stock, and I really hope that's the catalyst of them healing their relationship and coming to an understanding. I am rooting for them!! And I think Daniel is also rooting for them, paying mediator and translator as needed, and wanting them to settle things so they can all be happy and cuddle on the couch together.

I do think BC2 was Anne trying to reconnect Louis and Lestat and bring everyone to a place of like... We're Getting Along Now and Court is A Happy Place and Everyone Is Fine. There's Marius and Armand, plus Armand and Lestat share that look at the end seems to imply they've come to a better understanding or at least are going to try.

You don't sound invasive and I sure hope I didn't sound like I was trying to encourage any ship fighting because I am not about that life. If I had my way, they'd all hang out together all the time like one big polycule on a giant sectional sofa at TG watching movies and having make outs. Eternity is a long time, you're not going to get everything from one person. Armand also loves Louis deeply, and we know he loves Lestat. Obviously he loves Marius! I don't think Daniel can be or wants to be everything to Armand, and while I think some jealousy is fun for delicious drama, I don't think it's the ruling factor in most of their relationships, either.

Now the big question: Why do Devil's Minion fans write about Armand and Daniel as if they're endgame? I mean, by virtue of being DM fans, we are heavily invested in their relationship. A/D are my OTP and while that's not true for all DM fans, gun to my head if I had to pick one couple who earned their happy ending, I'd say it's them. They had a rough road. Daniel getting The Blood was beautiful moment of victory and Armand seemed so happy with him in QotD, despite any misgivings he may have had. It's great!

And then... stuff falls apart but we only get tidbits for the rest of the series. We know they split, we know Armand almost died, we know Daniel went mad, and then we know they come back together in PL and go hunting. We know they shack up in PLROA and plan to go back to Trinity Gate together. We're given crumbs but the trail does lead to them getting that happy ending after all.

I don't think anything in BC2 discounts that. Daniel isn't mentioned at all so we don't know where he is but we also don't get any indication that things went south between Armand and Daniel since they left for TG. Armand's love for Marius and Lestat and Louis doesn't change his love for Daniel. He loves all of them desperately and that's why he's so intent on trying to help protect them and so frustrated that he is often dismissed at Court.

So I can't speak for all DM fans but I don't think the intention of us taking that happy ending and holding it tight is meant to dismiss or discount those other relationships. We're just very happy we got anything given how little of them we got in the latter half of the series.

I hope that makes sense!

#daniel molloy #armand #armand/daniel #devil's minion #this is a multi-ship household #i didn't even get into Daniel/Marius but I don't think that's over either lol #armand/marius #vc meta #the devil's minion #a/d #armand x daniel #prince lestat era #vc #vampire chronicles #the vampire chronicles #anonymous #answers in the desert #thank you for the ask anon i hope this makes sense #i ramble a lot

[authoratmidnight]

im begging ppl to use just a pinch of common sense pls.

i keep seeing people bringing up the ‘season 4 in production’ and ‘season 4 cancelled’ things from the chapter 276 translations and. I am BEGGING people to

1) understand the concept of a joke.

2) use an ounce of common sense and realize that maybe ‘trust me bro’ is not, in fact, a reliable source

3) the 3rd season literally only had 5 episodes out at that point. no anime ever is going to announce a new season at that point.

The ‘season 4 in production’ announcement was made by a snipe scan team on a very poor translation of the chapter, presumably to screw with people by making bank on the fact that the vast majority of readers do not speak/read Japanese and will not bother to fact check(it’s NOT in fact, that hard to find the raws and throw it quickly through google translate for a rough idea of what it says if u wanna check). We do NOT get anime news like that in the manga. On top of that the place it was put, said NOTHING about the anime (it was the blurb box that mentioned Opera being a SD and teacher). It was fake, stop treating it like legit news(like, there was LITERALLY no source guys come on).

The ‘s4 cancelled’ was a JOKE meant to poke fun at that translation (you would think by now ppl would realize that the Misfit Scans team has, a sense of humor). Also the box it was put in was the ‘to be continued’ one(i.e, one with nothing important in it).

We do not know if or when s4 is coming. And any news about it will be posted on the official anime twitter, not in the manga.

#Mairimashita! Iruma-kun #Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun #Mairuma #i am begging this fandom to use their goddamn brains on this one

[scrambledslut]

pls explain your angst blurb with joel, i didn’t understand anything but i felt really sad for reader and joel :(

ok so basically the reader uses sex as a form of self harm (unknowingly) and thinks that their body is the only thing anyone would ever want from them. all their past sexual experiences have been very rough and almost violent and because sex with joel’s always been rough now they’re panicking because he’s becoming more tender and soft, which in their mind translates to him becoming bored of them. don’t get them wrong, reader has always enjoyed sex with joel , not always because of the pleasure but because of the intimacy and feeling of being wanted. this has led them to disregard their own wants and needs just to satisfy joel. for example: they were already having a very shitty day and we’re truly not feeling up for sex with joel right then but they don’t do or say anything to let him know this. he only realizes something is wrong when he feels them crying. joel thinks that they’re using him as a way to punish themselves because they feel like they deserve to be hurt and treated however.

safe to say they’ve got some serious abandonment and attachment issues, a fucked up view of themselves and sex in general + other past trauma that’s making them think and act illogically.

#i hope this made sense #i have no idea if what i wanted to convey actually made itself know in the writing but yeah idk #it’s 2:30 am lawd #ask allie🫂 #cw sh implied

[myreygn]

Number 42 with haikyuu

an: oh man this one was a real challenge... the song is about capitalism and how it hurts and poisons humanity and to transfer that to haikyuu was rough, but i think it worked out okay... apologies for the wait anon, i hope you still see this!

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♫·¯·♪¸¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

42 - Wachstum über alles by Saltatio Mortis

(translation to english)

If there's one feeling Shoyo connects with volleyball above everything else, it's passion. And only now, that he's been on professional level for some time, he realizes how lucky he has been throughout the years and years of playing; he's never played with or against someone who hasn't been passionate about the sport to some extent as well.

Kageyama, of course, the king of the court, the volleyball freak, maybe the only one who's always on the exact same level of excitement as Shoyo, the exact level Shoyo needs him to be on. There are other players, other setters, but without Kageyama, he doesn't know where he'd be today. They bicker and fight, just the way they always did, but at the end of the day their passion brings them together again - just the way it always has.

Tsukishima as well. It might've taken him some time to find his passion, but he found it and it showed. The change he has made is incredible and now? He's one of the former Karasuno members who's still on a team. And Shoyo loves playing with Tsukishima, even though he's far from the nicest guy around, but then again, so is Kageyama.

So is Oikawa, but playing volleyball against him in high school as well as playing with him afterwards is among the top 10 volleyball experiences of Shoyo's life. (Yes, he has them ranked. So what?) Oikawa Tooru is crazy. Insane, even. Every time he looks at him playing, Shoyo is reminded of how much Oikawa deserves the term 'Monster'. (Not that he ever forgets it. He just likes the excuse for looking at Oikawa when he plays.)

Another player definetily deserving of the term is Bokuto Koutarou and Shoyo could really not wish for any better senpai slash idol slash team member slash friend. Every time he hears the booming HEY HEY HEY behind him, he knows that he doesn't have to worry about anything, because while they still have to pull him through sometimes, Bokuto is strong enough to carry an entire team over the finish line when push comes to shove.

And the list goes on and on and on. Shoyo could swoon over the amazing people he got and still gets to play with all day. (Sometimes he does and there's always someone who doesn't get it, someone he can't explain it to, because it's something you have to encounter yourself in order to really understand it.) Not to mention the people who shaped him in high school, those who don't play on a professional level but have a deep and undying love for the sport; Nishinoya, Tanaka, Suga, Yachi, Lev, Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa… Yes, he's lucky. Really lucky.

And he's almost ashamed to only realize it now that he has seen the other side. People who play without a real fire behind their movements, without a real light in their eyes when they score a point, without a real strain on their face when they leave the field in defeat. Shoyo still struggles to wrap his head around that - how can you play volleyball, or any sport, really, if you don't have fun with it, don't have any passion to share with others? (The sharing of passion, the greatest gift, the best thing about all of it!)

Of course he knows the answer. If you do it on a high level, volleyball player is a fairly well paying job. (To just think of it as a job makes his blood boil, because it's so much more.) The fans all around the world are incredible as well and the uncomparable feeling when a whole stadium erupts into ecstatic cheering is phenomenal; a part Shoyo freely admits he enjoys almost as much as the game itself. But to do it for the cheers only? That's an idea he just can't get behind. Where's the fun in that?

The realization that greed is the main motivator for some players hit him hard when he first had it. And it still hurts to think that someone can take this thing that is so near and dear to his heart and turn it into something solely practiced for profit, but Shoyo is at a point now where he has learned to accept, or at the very least co-exist with the fact. In fact, these people can do however they like, he thinks to himself, as long as they just don't use their greed to destroy the burning passion that's luckily still very much present in the sport. A burning passion, he promises himself, that will not die out as long as he's still there to keep it alive.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♫·¯·♪¸¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

send numbers!

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu fic #song ask game #rey writes #hinata shoyo #saltatio mortis #wachstum über alles

[van1tyyy]

𝐃𝐎'𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓'𝐒 !

1 : this list is being updated still + pls send an ask if u are not sure if i write smth.

𝐃𝐎 !

𖥔 dom/sub/switch jjk & cod or reader.

𖥔 hurt/comfort, fluff/angst. [includes but not limited to: safeword use, trauma, situationship angst, misunderstandings, arguments, sickfics, pregnancy fluff, domesticity fluff, baby fluff].

𖥔 abusive/traumatic settings. as long as reader nor the character is initiating or doing, i.e comfort type. examples: abusive relations, domestic abuse, SA, traumatic past events, character death, etc.

𖥔 degradation/condescension, dumbification, dacryphilia, noncon/dubcon.

𖥔 praise, gentle sex, silly sex, making love, pet names [along with rough content ofc].

𖥔 sex pollen and/or fuck or die tropes.

𖥔 aphrodisiacs.

𖥔 forced/arranged marriage, established relationships, situationships, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, loss of virginity, coercion, stepbrother/stepdad, dbf tropes.

𖥔 age gaps [in accordance to stepdad&dbf tropes]

𖥔 breeding kink.

𖥔 wet&messy, squirting [for both reader and character]

𖥔 dark content, SOME instances of monsterfucking [js. sukuna.]

𖥔 female characters requests [shoko, yuki, valeria...]

𖥔 only she/her or afab reader [i'm not well-versed with gn!reader but if you request it, i'll try my best.]

𖥔 trueform!sukuna.

𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 !

𖥔 owner/pet dynamics, hard domination.

𖥔 daddy kink/mommy kink. [sorry, they js gross me out ahhh]

𖥔 scat, vomit and all of the freaky shit.

𖥔 necrophilia.

𖥔 misogyny kink.

𖥔 abuse as the doing of character or reader.

𖥔 major character death.

𖥔 sad endings, hurt/no comfort, heavyyy angst.

𖥔 graphic noncon/bio incest. [stepcest is ok!]

𖥔 no action-related stuff. don't like writing it, sorry.

𖥔 amab, he/him reader. [afraid i'll mess it upp]

𖥔 use of y/n [nah. y/n is a female name atp].

𖥔 lactation.

𖥔 young geto/gojo [older geto n gojo are fine.]

𖥔 yuuji/megumi/nobara [unless aged up, then yeah.]

also, absolutely no minors may interact with this account. i won't tell you not to read this stuff, because even i remember how i felt reading nsfw as a teen, exploring. but please do not interact, and understand how uncomfortable it is for me to be receiving interaction from tweens or teens, knowing they read what filth i wrote. also tw dark content. don't like what you see? block the tag. don't like me? block me. simple as that. don't go bullshitting on my work knowing you could just do that. ageless blogs will be blocked as well.

© van1tyyy. do not copy my layouts or my works. don't recommend me on tiktok. do not translate my work. do not upload my work onto youtube ♡ take care !!

#do's and dont's♡

[mangoisms]

hiiii it’s dc anon <33 oh lord icb u also like the grishaverse like at this point i feel like we have the same brain (which would actually be amazing cuz ur like an amazing writer i want an ounce of ur talent) also !!!! absolutely adore how ck is going i can’t wait to see how steph beats tim up so he can finally stop being the way he is (which probably will never happen because he’s … well … u know …. tim but still). and wait omg before i forget, i loved what u did with jason like idc that he was there for such a small amount of time hes my favorite batfam character and i’m so tired of people completely missing the point of his character (and fuck dc for what they did to him !!!!) thank u so much for doing him justice and taking him away from the vigilante / violent lifestyle, my guy deserves a break.

i feel like this is already insanely long but i saw ur posts abt project hail mary (i hope i didn’t get the name wrong). i thought it sounded pretty interesting and considering that we might as well have the same tastes i was wondering if u could possibly drop some books / book series recs ??? i’m so sorry if this is annoying but i’ve been in a reading slump since the beginning of the month 😭

anyway !!! i know i say this in every single ask i send but u really are amazing pls take care and good luck with the new semester i know ur gonna do amazing, just remember to take it one day at a time <3

HI DC ANON <333 YOU TOO? omg… our minds… that is such a cool coincidence!!!! honestly so happy about it, like daiya. dc. grishaverse. omg. so cool!!! we’re basically bffs now <3 (also this is very long so under the cut <3)

WLDMEKDKEK yeah… yeah… tim is certainly… tim…. but no worries at least here he will Face The Consequences Of His Own Actions. if there’s anything i like to do with him, it’s That. so without saying too much. He will certainly be getting a dressing down from Some People….

OMG? OF COURSE i love jason so much he rotates in my brain just as much as tim (a lot more now that i’m shifting away from tim actually, jason and someone else i shall not name yet…) like he was what drew me into dc in the first place, he will always have a special place in my heart.. and there is just SO MUCH potential for his character and dc will never cash in on it. instead they give him crowbars as a weapon and use him as a prop for bruce and it’s just. UGH.

civilian nurse!jason is in my brain constantly. so much so that i’ve thought about doing something for him. i don’t like to mention fic ideas until they’ve been posted/started writing (that way i know they’re actually feasible!) but for u beloved dc anon i will happily make an exception… so one idea that rotates in my brain a lot is that. civilian nurse!jason i mean, it doesn’t take place in gotham but somewhere else, maybe something like a small town. he’s in pediatrics and something something lonely/unsure what to do now. fulfilled by his job but still missing a social aspect and YEAH. yeah. something about hope something about humanity i’m not sure. like i said it’s a super rough idea that i’d like to do but not sure if i ever will but. for you <3

don’t worry about the length i absolutely do not mind!!! i love talking to you <33 and you aren’t annoying at all!!! i’ve got some recs!!! and you are right hehe it’s project hail mary by andy weir!!! it is SUCH an excellent book, i highly HIGHLY recommend it!!! the martian by him is also pretty good (not as good as project hail mary and with a bit more math too but still understandable!).

for recs… let’s see! i’m not too into fiction these days actually, i lean more into nonfiction and honestly i haven’t read as much as i’d like to (i’m also in a reading slump but project hail mary got me going!) so let’s see

ones i have read and recommend and sorted into categories:

fiction

project hail mary by andy weir

the martian by andy weir

an orestia translated by anne carson

frankenstein by mary shelley (i feel basic for this one but it’s timeless it’s so good even if you had to read it for high school… picking it up on your own and reading it it is excellent)

nonfiction

the body keeps the score by bessel van der kolk (personal favorite and also Very appealing to the psych major part of me so that might skew it)

the art of loving by erich fromme (also a personal favorite)

like streams to the ocean by jedidiah jenkins

poetry

dog songs by mary oliver (i have a collected volume of her poems as well, i think it’s vol 1?)

the carrying by ada limón

currently attempting to read right now (as in i’ve been on it a while…): pride and prejudice by the myth the legend herself jane austen. also currently rereading ruin and rising by leigh bardugo (this and siege and storm went by quickly but again they’re re-reads so much easier)

ones that are on my to-read that i’ve heard great things about:

fiction

if beale street could talk by james baldwin,

sense and sensibility and emma by miss jane austen once again!

nonfiction

all about love by bell hooks

attached by amir levine and rachel heller

i hope this helps!!! and if you happen to have any recs, let me know!!!

this got so very long but i love talking to you so thank you so much for popping in <33 and thank you for your kind words as well <33 i hope you’re doing better and taking care of yourself too!!!! :** <33

#sending you hugs also kissing ur brain because of our shared vision for jason #and general interests 🤝🤝🤝 #truly. our brains 🤝 #inbox #anonymous #dc anon 🔎

[heybaetae]

he said what he said! cr. outroher

#tae #taehyung #taehyung* #kim taehyung #networkbangtan #taehyungedit #btsedit #btsgif #dailybts #dailybangtan #bangtanedit #bangtangif #vantaenet #bangtanarmynet #ipurpleunet #purplearmynet #armysource #*gifs #rough translation pls understand

[spenzitz]

hiii !! hc request for inumaki when his s/o picks up on using onigiri ingredients after a while ? have a good day ^_^

a/n~ahh this is so cute thank you for the request ( ๑>ᴗ<๑ )

words~558

tw~more tooth-rotting fluff w/inumaki

when you first met toge, you went through that rough stage that everyone does where you have a hard time understanding him with his limited vocabulary.

however, as the two of you became friends you realized how much can be communicated through actions and tone of voice.

you even made a little flashcard set of his riceball ingredients so you could memorize them.

he loved how considerate you were of him and how you tried to include him in your conversations even if he couldn't add much.

now that you were dating, it was like you two could read each other's minds

you didn't have to go into detail explaining what you meant when you were talking to toge, he now understood you as well as you understood him.

toge didn't think much of it when maki said "c'mon y/n, you should start running with me! it'll help build up your stamina!"

that is, until you sharply responded with "bonito flakes."

and he's a goner, heart melted.

you didn't seem to have a reaction to your involuntary translation. but everyone else did...

maki is frozen in place, panda is looking back and forth between you and toge, and megumi and nobara are giving yuji the side-eye while he goes "aww"

and then there's toge, who immediately jumps on you and starts pecking your face with giggle-filled kisses.

"toge!?! what the heck?" you say laughing along with him when maki asks "what did you just say?"

"sorry maki, I love you, but going on a run around campus first thing in the morning every day doesn't sound appealing to me," you answer, and everyone around you seems more confused.

"I don't think y/n noticed." says panda, now laughing as well.

"you said 'bonito flakes' instead of 'no'. like just now." maki says in disbelief.

you look at her(toge still hugging you tight) confused and say "wait really? I didn't even notice."

meanwhile, nobara and megumi are still scolding yuji for audibly awing at your response.

later, when you and toge are alone, you tell him how embarrassing it was now that you look back on it.

he shakes his head and gives you a kiss on the cheek, his way of saying "I thought it was cute."

from then on, you start doing it more often when it's just the two of you which leads to it becoming a habit.

now instead of saying yes or no to someone you say "salmon" or "bonito flakes"

which is cute to toge, yuji, and gojo, mildly annoying the other students, and very confusing to people who don't know toge.

gojo already teases you and toge, so this is just more fuel to the fire.

whenever you see a meme or tiktok you want to show toge you run up to him tugging on his sleeve saying "tuna, tuna!"

whenever he falls asleep cuddling with you and he wakes up with you beside him, you look at him with a soft smile and whisper "kelp"

or sometimes if you feel like you haven't had enough attention today, you will hug him from behind and say "salmon cod roe" while kissing the back of his head.

again, teeth rotting sweetness.

toge gushes over how cute you are to yuta over text. pls help, this man hears too much about you

I'm not sure how I feel about this, but I hope you liked it! ( ´･_･`)

request open!

masterlist

#toge inumaki x reader #toge x reader #inumaki x reader #inumaki headcanons #jjk x reader #toge inumaki

[childespetturtle]

albedo NSFW alphabet

(headcannons)

warnings: dom!albedo, sub!reader, gn!reader, aftercare, nipple stimulation, cum play, aphrodisiacs, body worship, teasing, praise, slight degradation, soft sex, rough sex, masturbation, breeding kink, experimentalism, brief mentions of sadism and knife play (N), oral, orgasm denial, edging, sexual toys, cockwarming

-

pls send me thirst and requests i am literally begging muah muah

official genshin impact art

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

albedo is going to take such good care of you i promise. expect a lot of praises on how well you did as well as loving caresses.

he will make sure you are hydrated and will make you food if you’re hungry at all! he will oftentimes clean you up in the bath, but if you are too exhausted he will clean you up with a soft towel and rest besides you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

albedo’s favorite body part would be your nipples. he is fascinated by how sensitive they are and how you mewl under him when he sucks on them.

in all honesty he wants to try to make you cum with just nipple stimulation. he will go at it for hours, just for a chance at making you cum.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

i see him being able to shoot out more cum than you would have expected. he spends more time focused on his work rather than his needs.

his cum is slightly bitter to the taste, yet still enough for you to beg for more.

he really likes cum play, so expect for the both of you to cum multiple times per session. he also loves to cum on you as well as inside. he wants to see you covered with his cum and he may even smear it around your body.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

albedo really wants to develop an aphrodisiac just for you.

if you consent to this, expect waves after waves of pleasure flowing through your body. everything will be so sensitive, and you will be so horny and ready for him. he will definitely tease you like this and watch you come undone by simple touches.

however if you don’t consent, he will stop immediately. he does not want to do something that you don’t want and he respects your decisions.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

prior to you, i definitely feel like he was a virgin. he often struggles with relationships and tries to avoid unnecessary interactions so i don’t see him having a lover before you.

this does not mean he is clueless in sexual encounters with you. he has definitely studied the subject and will begin to study you to find what areas make you feel the best.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

his favorite position is any of them where he can see your face.

he loves to see your fucked out facial expressions from how good he’s fucking you, whether it be his fingers, dick or anything else you two may use.

he loves your flushed cheeks and how your hand tries to cover your face in embarrassment. of course he pries your hand away because he loves your beautiful face. he also loves how lost you look to the pleasure and how your eyes roll back when he’s fucking your special spot.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

albedo is generally a more serious person. he may give you a soft smile along with teasing kisses, but that is as close as he will get to being goofy.

he is more focused on testing your limits and making you feel good rather than cracking jokes. i don’t really think he would know any jokes that wouldn’t ruin the moment anyway.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

albedo definitely has good hygiene, and tries to keep clean! he takes frequent showers back in mondstadt and takes good care of his gorgeous hair. his efforts to keep clean also reflect down there, as he keeps it trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

if you two are having soft sex, i see him as a total sweetheart! expect lots of praise and sweet chaste kisses.

he would take a lot more time just worshiping your body and telling you all the things he loves about you. he also puts in great effort to make sure you’re not in pain.

his pace will be a lot slower, unless you ask him to speed up. he also loves to plant kisses on your neck whilst thrusting in you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i headcannon that albedo is sexually frustrated. this man spends way too much time on his experiments and he forgets to take care of his needs too!

if he does masturbate, i honestly see him experimenting with himself and seeing what makes him feel good. he would definitely play around with nipple and prostate stimulation.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

honestly i really see albedo having a breeding kink! as an alchemist, his main goals are to create life and understand the secrets of the universe.

but that also translates on to you. you are his own little mystery and he wants to find all your little pleasure spots. the way your little cunt flutters when he cums in you doesn’t go unnoticed.

with his fascination with creating life, expect him breeding you until the two of you are exhausted. as a homunculus, i don’t see him actually being able to impregnate you if that is applicable to you.

he will be cumming in you at least 5 times per session, he needs to see you full with his cum. he honestly gets upset when he sees his cum flowing out of you, he will scoop it up and shove it back into you until it stays in.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

if either of you are exhausted or didn’t have the best day, know that he is going to bring you to bed and take care of you. he loves soft sex and just trying to make you feel as good as you can. he often coos at how comfortable you look while he fucks you into the mattress.

albedo really gets off on taking you in his lab. in the lab, he often treats you as his own special little experiment! he loves to test how much you can take, as well as how little stimulation can make you come undone. he loves the lab setting and often takes notes on your reactions!

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

this man is spurred on by your reactions to your touch. he loves how you writhe beneath him, how your toes curl and eyes roll back.

he is also really attracted to your moans. part of the reason why he isn’t as vocal is because he is listening to you. he loves your begging and panicked moans, he may even cum on the spot to it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he is an experimentalist, however he would never do something against your will or that would cause great bodily harm. he may slap your ass or choke you but he is not into knife play or any weapon play.

he also doesn’t want to go past your breaking point. you would have to be the one begging him to continue and he would have a safe word established ahead of time. he will ask repeatedly if you are doing okay.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

albedo loves both giving a receiving equally as much!

if you give him a blowjob, he mainly wants you to do what you think feels best for him. he isn’t entirely sure what he wants you to do. but when your tongue curls around his tip and your hands quickly jerking him up and down, he doesn’t know how long he will be able to last.

when giving you oral, expect major teasing before he even touches you. he wants you needy and writhing beneath him before he dives his tongue straight into your cunt. expect a mixture of both his fingers and his tongue.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it honestly depends on the mood. he would definitely prefer to go more slow and tease you, but you would be mistaken if you think that he wouldn’t slam his dick into your sweet spot over and over, just abusing it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

this man does not like quickies in the slightest. he thinks there is not enough time to worship your body as well as to fuck you beyond coherency. he likes spending his time pleasing you and experimenting on you which takes time.

albedo does not see the point of just fucking you for 10 minutes and being done. he likes to drag things out and see how horny you can get just from his teases.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

albedo is the king of experimentation. he wants to understand sex more and what feels good. but this goes for the pair of you.

he primarily wants to experiment on you and find what makes you crumble from the pleasure. i see him playing around with orgasm denial, orgasm ruining, and overstimulation. he absolutely loves cum play on you. he also loves trying out new toys on you as well as nipple stimulation.

on himself, he often experiments with anal stimulation and his prostrate. he wants to understand why it just feels so good when your fingers are curling in his ass. he may even beg to sub for you and have you fuck him with your dick or strap.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he has an unusually high stamina and he will definitely use that! with his love to test you, know he will be using his dick to absolutely ruin your cunt as many times as you can handle. he may even try to go past your breaking point if you allow him.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

expect albedo to even make toys for you. dildos infused with elemental energy to get different reactions out of you, lube created from diluted slime secretions, and even vibrators of many shapes and sizes.

the toys he would make and use on himself would be the vibrators and he would often use cock rings to deny himself. he loves testing himself as much as he does testing you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

you will get many teases from albedo when you get intimate with him! he loves to see that only he can make you like this.

some teases include; “so needy, already? i haven’t even touched you.” “you wouldn’t want to stop the experiment would you? we would have to start all over again.” “what a good little cumslut, keeping my cum in your cute little cunt.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

albedo tends to be on the quiet side. rather than loud moans, he tends to have breathy groans. if you’re lucky enough, you may even get to hear him whimper a bit once he gets close enough.

he also really likes to hear your moans and whines, so he keeps quiet. he really gets off on your whines when it just feels too good. if you ask him to be louder, it will mainly be praises towards you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

if he is in his lab doing research, expect his dick in your cunt. albedo absolutely loves cockwarming, he is able to be close to you whilst working on his work at the same time.

he is humored when your walls flutter around him and will tease you about it. if you start rocking your hips, he will only grasp your thighs and teasingly scold you for interrupting him.

however, if you continue to move around, ignoring his wishes, he will only make you stay on his lap even longer. the more you move, the longer he will test your limits with cockwarming.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

based on his in game model, albedo seems to be on the slimmer side. due to his work in swordsmanship he is very much toned, but he is not bulky.

to be honest i don’t think albedo only has a star on his neck. i’m not sure where, but i feel like he has more starlike marks on his body.

his dick however, is about 5-6 inches with a circumference of about 3.5 inches. no matter what his size is, you still will be fucked into oblivion by his dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

it really depends on his mood. he doesn’t have an extremely high sex drive, but once you get him going, he doesn’t wanna stop.

if he has an especially tough day with his work, he may release his stress on you by fucking you. his stamina is high, so expect him to fuck you for hours u til you’re both spent.

you may have to initiate a majority of the intimacy, but once he gets into it, he will fuck you into the mattress.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

albedo insists on staying up to do some research oftentimes after sex. he will stay in bed with you but will probably stay awake unless you beg him to sleep.

if you do get him to rest, he will wait for you to fall asleep before passing out like a light. good job for getting our favorite alchemist boy some sleep!

#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin x reader #turtle writes #dom!albedo #dom albedo #albedo #albedo smut

[defect-child]

just thinking about how rindou would keep you on his lap while ran tends to you 😩

Warning: Smut, incest, oral(f receiving) , spitting, a slap on the face

Rindou would be the kind the lock your legs open with his own, your back against his, fingers deep inside your mouth to muffle your moans, slapping your thighs if you even dare to think about closing your legs. Ran is on his knees between your legs, fingers playing with your needy cunt, tongue lapping at your juice.

Of course they will laugh together about how pathetic you look, all fucked up because of them. And because they are mean, you won’t get to cum until longs minutes of edging, Ran’s fingers curling inside of you, hitting all the right spots while Rindou’s one play with your clit, his other hand pinching your nipples. Hiding your face in Rin neck will be one of the big mistake you could make, rough hand grabbing your jaw only to meet Ran’s eyes.

“Don’t you dare looking away.” You will get a slap across the cheek, Rindou’s fingers squishing your cheeks to open your mouth, allowing Ran to spit in your mouth.

Even if you look completely fucked up, you love being in that state, at their mercy, being their perfect fucktoy <3

A/N: Kinda hope i understood well! I had to use google translate to get it lol ! Thank you tho<3 I got carried away because you can’t understand how much i love the haitani 😔

(pls send me more thoughts everyone)

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev smut #ran haitani #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers x reader

[koos-euphoria]

ᴋɪᴍ sᴇᴜɴɢᴍɪɴ’s ᴋɪɴᴋs

seungmin | smut | 18+ | headcanon

wordcount: 221

warnings: list of kinks

notes: I’ve finally finished these for all of skz! :D

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍ.ʟɪsᴛ | sᴋᴢ ᴍ.ʟɪsᴛ

© koos-euphoria 2021. do not repost, modify, or translate

switch with dom lean.

More of a soft dom than hard, but can be when angry.

Pretty vanilla when he’s not mad, prefers soft passionate sex

However he can be pretty mean when mad.

Mad = rough

Praising, both giving and receiving, he wants to make you feel so loved and cared for.

Body worshiping!!!!

Light pet play, with collars and leashes. Pls call him puppy when he subs.

he will especially melt if you say something like “such a good pup.”

When he’s mad, he loves to make you beg for him.

Breath play, both giving and receiving.

degradation, but only when he’s mad.

Doesn’t have the filthiest mouth until he’s mad then he does like a whole 180 and is the filthiest fucker there is.

Is low-key possessive, one of the biggest reasons why angry sex happens with him.

Orgasm denial, both giving and receiving.

Has a thing for tattoos and piercings. Will cum in his pants if he find you with nipple piercings.

The best at aftercare.

So soft and cuddly.

If it’s a time where he’s went rougher he will apologise at all the mean words he called you

making sure you understand that he doesn’t mean them and that it was just in the heat of the moment.

Will continuously shower you with praises and kisses.

#stray kids smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids headcanons #seungmin smut #seungmin imagine #seungmin headcanons #Kim seungmin smut #Kim seungmin imagine #Kim seungmin Headcanons