#and then having a good ¼-½ of it unusable

[setsu-kos-arashi]

The room's completely clean yet unused, and already weary from never being able to get a good night's sleep, decides to take a short rest. And upon waking feeling refreshed like never before, as if the room was just perfect for you.

Looking around at the photos along the walls, the figure is you, albeit smaller and younger, yet somehow not changed. Seeing how you grew until nothing, the pictures stop as what would have been was gone. Going to look around further as your feet glide across the ground, you see how the room perfectly aligned with everything, nothing out of place, and yet a lack of the eery feeling one would get.

Eventually pulling up one particular photo of the woman who showed the room and a younger you, sitting in her lap, small and revealing scratched up porcelain body with a carefree smile.

A room called ‘The Doll Room’ that’s full of dolls is… mundane.

But a room called ‘The Doll Room’ that only has one doll in it? That’s fresh

[pedgito]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | Joel hates change, but you introduced the idea that letting someone else take charge isn't always bad.

author's note | horrible summary but just know that man is dow horrifically bad. i don't think i need to explain what inspired this. i recommend a mix of father figure by george michael and i'm on fire by bruce springsteen on a constant repeat while reading this, for the vibes <3 thank you @chaotic-mystery for beta'ing and constantly making me laugh

content warning | 18+ MDNI, sub!joel, no outbreak, power dynamics (he's your boss), age gap (shocker), lots of open communication, vague plot, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, restraints, joel eating the puss with no hands, use of a cockring, joel's a real good boy, open-ended

word count — 7k

“You ever thought about lettin’ someone else take control?”

Tommy’s staring over the dirtied tupperware in his hands, the heel of his boot squeaking against Joel’s cluttered desk, who’s staring down at the mess of paperwork before his eyes flick up briefly at his brother, glaring.

“And run this place into the ground?”

“Joel, look at this place,” Tommy gestures lazily toward the space.

It is a mess—paperwork misorted, information scribbled on a calendar long forgotten underneath the pile, sticky notes scattered throughout, and Joel’s brain running a million thoughts per second on top of the physical work he’s providing throughout the company.

He’d taken on the position thinking it would be a good thing, a breather, after years of working only physical labor—extra money, more security for his daughters as they entered college, always feeling the support of him even miles away. But, it had slowly begun to overtake his life, his weekends that used to be spent watching football games and drinking in his backyard, were forced into four walls.

He can’t even remember that last time he’s had the chance to have a night out.

Gone on a date.

Hell, even sex was nonexistent.

“Hiring someone means training and you and I both know we don’t have the time—”

“That’s why you hire someone with experience—and vet ‘em. You know what, I’ll ask Maria if she can help out with finding someone. Lord knows you’ll never make a decision.”

“I am your boss, remember?” Joel threatens lightly, tossing a dry, unusable pen on his desk, mirroring his brother as he raises a foot on his desk and leans back, arms crossed over his chest, “Maybe work would be less of a pain in the ass if I jus’ fired ‘ya.”

“Yeah, but then who’s gonna deal with all your cryin’?”

Joel tosses a balled up napkin at Tommy’s head, one that he dodges with ease as it flies over his head, barely missing the trashcan on the other side of the room as it slumps to the floor.

“Just try it out—ain’t nothing bad about change, brother.”

For Joel, it meant relinquishing the control he wasn’t ready to offer up.

–

You fidget nervously in the chair in the front office, heart hammering in your chest.

First impressions were always nerve-wracking, but with Joel, and the preface you were given by both Maria and Tommy, who had led you through the hiring process, made it seem like he was nearly unbearable at times.

The door to his office creaks open right on time, not a second after.

He’s dressed up, slacks and a tight button-up paired with loosely slicked back hair, peppered with grays that dissolved into his trimmed facial hair, a permanent scowl on his face as he greets you, head down and following you as you slipped by his large, stocky frame.

As the door clicks closed, he begins with audible uncertainty, “I’m not sure what all my brother and his wife told you, but—”

You interrupt firmly, attempting to assert your unique approach at dominance when men like him, slinging your bag into one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk.

“So—I manage the day to day. I can handle calls, within reason, unless you like doing that yourself,” Truthfully, it wasn’t his favorite thing although it was the most important—selling the company, getting the customers, Joel could be a smooth talker when he wanted, “for paperwork, I’m scarily organized and I’ll take care of all,” You look around at the tornado of receipts and contracts scattered around, “this.”

“What about lunch?” Joel inquires jokingly.

“And breakfast,” You answer nonchalantly, “Listen, I’m here to help you.”

“I’m used to handling all of this alone, so forgive me if I’m—”

“Territorial,” You finish for him, eyebrows raising inquisitively as Joel cracks a faint smirk.

You cross one foot over the other and clasp your hands together, connecting with his gaze as he stands a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets, and he opens his mouth like he wants to argue or protest against the word, but you smile knowingly.

“I’m used to it,” You assure him, “Mr. Miller—Joel, I’m not…sure what you prefer. The goal is balance, your brother mentioned something about you sleeping here sometimes.”

“Just Joel is fine,”Joel tells you, glancing sheepishly at the messy couch, a blanket and pillow balled up on one cushion.

“That’s not happening anymore,” You assure him, “and don’t think you’re overwhelming me. I need a list of everything you want me to cover—I’m your assistant, so if helping means grabbing you breakfast every morning, I’ll do it.”

It takes an hour of conversation and convincing before you finally manage to lead Joel toward his desk, inadvertently organizing some of the paperwork as he wrote down a list that grew and grew as you talked, giggling to yourself as he would occasionally scribble out a word and then rewrite it down.

You’ve dealt with plenty of men like him, an unwillingness to hand the leash over, gripped tightly around his hand—Joel just needed a shove and some reassurance.

And within a few weeks, after you’ve managed to introduce an entirely new filing system to keep things organized, color-coded his calendar, and started taking calls while he would make his rounds to check on the employees posted at different locations around the city, he realizes that he can breathe a little easier.

It’s also a mighty big plus that he doesn’t have to spend twenty minutes in the pick-up line for a black coffee and bagel or concern about lunch before deciding to skip it entirely.

You spend most of your time with him, learning subtle nuances and quirks that help you decipher his steely expression and non-existent personality. Tommy, who was outwardly joyful and shamelessly extroverted, was the complete opposite of Joel, who was reserved in all aspects of his life.

“Forgot how greasy these damn things are,” Joel gripes lightheartedly as he pulls the paper away from the double cheeseburger, sipping at his soda as you tap away quietly on his computer, watching him briefly from the opposite side of the desk as you took up residence in his chair for the moment, “what’re you doin’ again exactly?”

You silently pass him a napkin which he grabs wordlessly.

“I’m scheduling a week off for you and clearing your schedule so you won’t have to worry about anything,” You tell him, the line returning between his brow as he chews.

“I didn’t approve that,” He says around a mouthful, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the crumpled napkin, “besides I ain’t got the time—”

“The last time you took off was,” You pause for an extended amount of time, searching back through the calendar before you spot it, “two years ago for…”

“Graduation,” He answers quietly, “for Sarah and Ellie.”

His daughters, who he always spoke of fondly, pictures scattered around his office.

You were a few years older, wondering if the reason he was so reluctant to your help was your age, wondering if you truly had the experience to handle the workload.

“Exactly,” You answer sharply, “And your birthday falls within that week, so you’re not going to argue with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You grin triumphantly, snatching a fry from his to-go tray.

–

By September, Joel has fully settled into having you around. It’s only been a few months and he’s already able to spend more weekends at home and occasionally get back to more physical labor when his body agrees with it, unfortunately the company was heading toward a rush, a quickly moving train with no end in sight.

It was the third late night in a week after Joel had returned from his much needed vacation and you’re working quietly at writing down a plethora of dollar amounts to work out on the white board beside his desk before he huffs, leaning back in his chair as he curls his fingers behind his head and grimaces at the stress, forehead shining with a sheen of sweat.

Oh, yeah—and the AC was broken.

They were scheduled to fix it at the end of the week, but for now, it was thin dresses and loose fitting clothing and Joel, who was sticking to jeans and a casual, worn-out shirt. Your hair was tossed over one shoulder as your head tilted, arm extended up as the marker squeaked against the board, unknowing of his eyes that dragged along the expanse of your body.

He’s never shown any interest, not really. Almost always respectful, sometimes too much.

He’s asked about your life, your interests, whether you were thinking of marriage or not—it all felt wholly casual. You knew he had never been married, that he’s raised both of his daughters alone aside from the help of his brother Tommy, and that he rarely went on dates.

You tried helping him once, even scheduling his work day around the date to accommodate and allow him the opportunity, but you were ultimately greeted with his sour expression an hour after lunch.

“She kept tellin’ me how much I reminded her of her ex-husband,” Joel had told you, your hand covering your mouth in both shock and amusement, watching as he slumped into the chair and loosened the cuffs on his shirt. You weren’t sure how anyone could pass up on that.

Now, you can sense his discomfort. Like an aura. 

Lately, you’ve felt like an extension of him. He sensed it too, with you seeming to say things he’s thinking, in your own words, always knowing exactly what he needs, whether it was just a moment to himself or a day of you handling other work while he hid away in his office to handle the overload of calls.

You’re not sure why you stop writing, but you do. The pull guides you to him, moving silently, watching as he leaned forward on his desk, head slung down as he rolled his neck and quietly, your hands curl around his shoulders to squeeze, digging deep into the knotted muscles.

He’s quiet for a moment, both savoring the feeling and processing the situation.

First, he speaks your name, like a warning.

“You’re stressed, let me help,” You comfort him, watching as his shoulders relax with the effort of your hands, now completely slouched against his desk as your hand drags around his shoulder blade and back up, thumbs pressing into the base of his neck as he groans quietly, “does it hurt?”

Joel shakes his head, allowing the press to continue before he slowly pushes up, reaching blindly for your hand before you swat it away, “It’s just a massage, Joel. Relax.”

That wasn’t the issue.

He won’t admit it either, his face blushing as he leans his head back, feeling the delicious pinch of skin as you work out the difficult and stress-filled knots, eyes closed as his lips part.

You smirk slightly, watching the mess of his soft brown curls caress your breasts and he situates himself in his chair, slowly curling your fingers over his shoulder as his bottom lip quakes, shivers.

He whimpers.

He hears it, you hear it.

Joel’s eyes peel open in apology but you shush him, the cold touch of your fingers dragging along his neck, in perfect position to take hold and you’re almost positive Joel wouldn’t try to stop you.

“Don’t—don’t say it,” You nod to reassure him, dragging your other hand over his clammy skin, pushing his hair away from his face as you tug at the strands gently.

Joel nods obediently, swallowing as his hand glides over his crotch, rubbing through the denim of his jeans, cock swelling slowly underneath as he presses the heel of his palm against it for a sliver of relief. 

You both ignore how quickly the lines have blurred, glaringly aware of the unlocked door to Joel’s office as the massage transforms into something much more nefarious, your fingers slipping underneath the fabric of his shirt and against his skin, through the coarse hair on his chest, not a single reaction as his right hand curls around the back of his chair to twist around your thigh, pulling your knee up on the armrest.

With the slight adjustment, you notice his hand squeezing tight at his jeans, desperately trying to avoid his obvious want, attempting to stifle the desire and not acknowledge it.

“It’s been a while, huh?” You ask softly, too scared to startle him.

Joel nods, blinking slowly as his eyes fall on your lips and the way they curl slightly over your teeth and into a thin line at his response.

“Since someone touched you like this?” You inquire further, feeling his fingers squeeze at your thigh as your hands work like magic over his skin, trailing down his chest and twisting into his hair, his eyes fluttering closed at the interaction.

“At all,” He admits, “s’been so long—m’sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t apologize,” You tell him, sensing the regret as it invades his thoughts, quickly quelling the feeling, “I think—I think I can help you.”

Joel sighs, breathing out through his nose, “I’m your boss.”

Obviously, you think.

“On paper, maybe—but you’ve had no problem listening to me,” You tease, the slightest hint of shame on his face at your words—he’s guilty, he knows it—”in fact, I don’t think you realized how much you liked it, until now.”

The voice trailing along the hallway breaks you both out of your trance, slowly pulling your touch away as your leg falls, Joel’s fingers yearning for a final touch as they dig into your skin.

“Easy,” He cautions, looking down at his desk as he pulls at his jeans, adjusting the obvious discomfort of his stiff cock as it waned, “not—not here.”

“Gimme your phone,” You urge, holding your hand out expectantly.

He hands it over with an air of skepticism, your finger tapping against the screen quietly before you pass it back to him, the device dwarfed in his large palm.

“If you’re not busy tonight,” You say quietly, increasingly careful as you hear Tommy’s voice carry throughout the office, “I put my address into your phone, it's in your favorites. Should be easy to find.”

An invitation. 

Like dangling a treat in front of him, waiting to see if he’d take the bait.

-

He’s starving, fortunately.

He sits through dinner with Tommy and Maria, a regular occasion as Joel is often horrible at taking care of himself, surviving on very little sleep and a couple meals a day, often supplied by you.

He should take better care of himself. He knows that.

Regardless, he’s jittery as he pulls up to the apartment complex his phone led him to, parking in the garage attached as he sends you a single text around ten o’clock that night.

Your phone dings on your kitchen counter, finishing up pouring out your glass of wine as you pull it toward you with a single drag of your finger.

Joel: Here. Apartment number?

You chuckle at his straightforward nature that translates loudly through the tiny letters on your screen, quietly tapping out a response before you push your phone aside.

As you’re rounding the counter to head toward your couch, the deep knocks follow, wondering if he’d already been perusing and got lucky he was near.

You turn the knob and pull the door open as you press the glass to your lips, taking in the sight of a man who looks and feels entirely out of place. 

His eyes follow your state of undress, assuming you were ready to climb into bed with the silk shorts that clung to your hips and the scantily cropped top to match, barely covering your breasts.

He’s changed since work, only trading the denim for a much softer material to cover his legs, a fresh shirt, his hair mused like he’s been running his fingers through it with worry and unsurety. 

“How was your night?” You ask casually, moving to allow him the room to step inside your apartment, closing the door behind you as you head toward the fridge, silently grabbing for a beer—his favorite just happened to be your own, so it worked out perfectly.

“Fine,” He grumbles, watching as you hand him a now opened beer and push by him, but not before your fingers drift against his own, pulling him alongside until you reach the couch.

His fingers curl around yours without a second thought.

“You started talkin’ about football and Tommy went on one of his rants again, didn’t he?”

He’s used to it by now, how well you can assess him.

“S’almost like you were there,” He chuckles, tipping the beer to his lips and taking a long chug, “did I bother you? I know it’s late.”

You shake your head, allowing him to finish up a decent amount of his beer and your glass of wine before you’re plucking the glass from his hands and tucking it away on the table.

“Have you done this before?“ Joel asks softly, a deep gravelly timbre to his voice as your ass angles up, leaning off the couch to dispose of the drinks before you’re climbing over his lap, quietly raising your hands to cradling his face.

He doesn’t look at you for too long, not allowing the weight of the situation to settle quite yet, selfishly roving the expanse of exposed skin, feeling your hands grip his own to guide them to your hips.

“Does it matter?” You ask, dragging your thumb along his beard, rubbing at the bare patch of skin on his cheek, “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

“No.”

A small sliver of tongue peeks through your teeth as you bite down, grinning openly at him and his sheepish gaze.

“You’re my first—is that what you wanna hear?”

You can feel the bluntness of his nails dig into your skin at your words—oh, he that is exactly what he wanted.

“I’m just—M’not sure what I’m supposed to do here, sweetheart.”Joel responds instead, licking his lips before they pull together in a tight line.

“Would whiskey help? I got whiskey,” You respond cheekily, “I’ll get you some. Stay put.”

Joel chuckles nervously, “Yes, ma’am.”

You climb off his lap and disappear into your kitchen, reaching into the cabinet for a glass before crouching down to retrieve the liquor hidden away, hearing the soft and subtle rustling as Joel adjusts more comfortably on the couch, his shoes now removed and tossed haphazardly toward the coffee table. 

“If you—if you haven’t done this before,” Joel pauses as you return, making immediately room for you on his lap as you press the glass into his waiting hand, “why’d you offer?”

“Men pay me to boss them around, plenty of men like you,” It was a loose description, but it was the one strong suit you’ve prided yourself in, corralling stubborn men, “I like it and I’m good at it.”

“Clearly.” Joel comments under his breath, a small scoff of astonishment slipping past your lips as you force the glass to his own lips in a silent command.

“I don’t make it a habit to have sex with them, f’that is what you’re really worried about. They’re all married, miserable, but married. And I don’t like the mess of getting involved. Any time I’ve moved on it’s been because of that.”

Joel continues to drink by your aid, downing the rest of it as you continue to speak.

“You’re not married, you’re not complicated. You’ve been respectful. This isn’t you approaching me—I made that move, I just gave you an offer. One, which, you can still bail on and I won’t be upset. I won’t quit, either.”

As the liquor takes hold, Joel seems to relax, the tension in his body dissipating as you slowly trace the lines of his face and body with your fingers, explorative within reason.

“I guess we should set some ground rules,” Joel grunts at the mention, slightly more handsy as his fingers meet at your back, dipping a centimeter below the waistband, “If we do this—I’m in charge, completely. That’s the only way this works, or helps you. And it should be a given, but I’m clean and on birth control. But, it that reassures you—I’d rather you hear it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Joel groans, feeling the immediate loss of his touch as he rubs his hands over his face before stretching them out over the back of the couch.

“I’m just…covering the bases, I’d rather not have the question come across when you’re an inch away from putting your dick inside me, you know?”

“Coverin’ your bases?” Joel echoes, slightly amused.

You grin, climbing off of him slowly as you reach for your phone, fumbling through your playlist before you find a slow, sensual tune to fill the quiet air.

Hey, little girl, is your daddy home?

Did he go away and leave you all alone?

I got a bad desire

Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire

“Do you dance?” You ask curiously, wandering toward your kitchen for the open wine bottle, half-empty and begging to be consumed.

“Not much—not…not anymore,” Joel doesn’t know he words it so cryptically; he danced, just not well. 

“Tommy told me how, at least, before the girls, how often you two would go line dancing,” Joel’s fingers curl around your hand as it extends, bring the wine bottle to your lips with the other, “now that I have to witness.”

“You and Tommy sure do talk a lot,” Joel notes, looking down at you as your fingers drag along the hair at his nape, “anything else he told you?”

You shake your head nonchalantly, bottom lip jutting out slightly as you sway your hips in time with the lyrics, Joel’s hand covering the full expanse of your own as it wraps around, constantly mesmerized by the sheer size.

The goal was to shake his nerves out, but he seemed to stiffen with your progressive movement as you twirled yourself around, one long gulp of wine before you set the bottle aside and relent, dragging your finger up the fabric of his shirt before you squeeze at the collar, pulling him closer.

“Either you dance with me,” You begin, “or I’m dancing for you—your choice.”

His non-answer is enough, forcing him back onto the couch before you’re shoving the table out of the way and turning up the volume to the rhythmic tune.

You’d convince him eventually, dying to see those skills come back to life, even if it was just a glimpse.

“Put your hands under your legs,” You instruct him casually, eyes tracking up as you watch his chest puff out with the motion, fitting his hands under his thighs without argument.

Huh, that was easy. 

Time was a teller, though, and you were curious how long it would last. 

—

He’s seen glimpses of it before, the soft hum under your breath as you sing the catchy tunes playing on the radio in his office, a subtle sway as you flip through a stack of paperwork or at his desk, the tiniest movement.

But here, now, he’s mesmerized.

He gets it, this is what you wanted.

Joel’s fists have balled up under his thighs, watching you turn away as you dance, the swaying movements pulling at the already short fabric as his eyes follow the way you bend, giving him a full glimpse of your ass.

You giggle softly at his lack of reaction, which wasn’t entirely true, watching his knees widen at the action, subconsciously making room for you despite your distance. 

Yearning. He was yearning for you.

You drop to your knees, crawling toward him slow under the low, ambient light of your living room—a faint glow of pinks and purples, transforming into greens and blues, filtering slowly through colors as your hands grip his knees, sliding up the inside of his thighs tantalizingly slow. 

“So…” Your finger trails around the drawstring of his pants, “at any point that this gets too much or you’re not feeling it, just say stop.”

“That ain’t somethin’ you gotta worry ‘bout.”

“Communication is a good thing, Joel,” You explain, “it’s important—to make sure we’re both benefiting from this. I’m not enjoying this unless you are, alright?”

Joel nods, a raised eyebrow offered in return.

“Yes,” His voice cracks slightly, clearing his throat, “uh—yes, ma’am.” 

“A simple yes would have worked, but I appreciate the manners,” You tease him, knowing he’s always been stuck in his ways, old fashioned and polite. It comes naturally.

Your fingers fold around his waistband and tug, his hips rising at the motion and you hear the breath he’s holding release as his cock springs free, leaking at the tip and begging to be attended to. You grinned, tongue peaking out to lick along the head and around, salty precum hitting your taste buds as you look up at Joel, his eyes falling shut as his hand wraps around your forearm in desperation.

You pull back instantly, gently moving his hand away.

He seems to realize his misstep, silently tuck his hand away under his thigh again as you nod, pulling his pants the rest of the way down and off before you’re licking him from base to tip, fingertips wrapping around his shaft and squeezing alongside the delicate suction of your mouth.

He groans, so deep and guttural you think he might come now, peeking your eyes open to see his head resting back, eyes closed. The sight was too much, having to force some reprieve on himself as you worked your mouth down his cock, head bobbing at a slow, tortuous pace until your throat can relax and take him fully, nearing around eight inches and thick, feeling the stretch of your cheeks alongside the ache in your jaw.

You pull away with watery eyes, a long string of spit connecting you to him, speaking, “If you feel like you’re about to come, say it, don’t lie to me.”

With that, your thumb rubs over the slit of his head, feeling his cock pulse in your hand, squeezing at the tip while his face contorts, lips parting as he breathes out shakily. 

“Oh, fuck—yes—yes fuckin, ma’am.”

He’d rip the stitching in your couch if he gripped it harder, losing his hold on reality as he watches your head move through bleary eyes, the buzz of alcohol tingling his brain as you gag against his cock, held in the back of your throat before he’s stammering out desperately, the familiar tug in his gut that proves just how long it’s been for him, ready to come after only a few minutes of your mouth on him.

He’s embarrassed, the words falling from his lips in a rush, “Stopstop—fuck, stop.”

You pull away quickly, the urgency in his voice startling you as your face contorts in concern.

“Fuck—not like, stop. Jus’ I was about to come. Sorry—sweetheart, I panicked.”

It calms your worry, nodding in response to his words.

“I’ve…actually I have an idea, if you’re okay with it that is.”

He’s suspicious of the glint in your eyes, rising on sore knees as he sat there naked from the waist down, your eyes dragging over his firm, muscled legs before they took in the sight of his cock again, standing proud as it rest against his stomach, the shirt slightly bunched at his chest.

You make the short trek to your room to retrieve the item you were looking for, coming back to Joel massaging his sore wrists, a subtle worry in his eyes that he’s done something wrong.

He eyes the bag in your hand suspiciously, brow raised. 

There were a few items, but the one most notable he reaches for initially, dangling it between two fingers as he asks, “You have that just layin’ around?”

It was a cockring, flexible material that he stretched his fingers before you politely snatched it away.

“What? I picked out a few things. Besides, I couldn’t get you anything for your birthday so consider this a late gift,” He sees right through the sickeningly sweet smile, pushing the bag into his hands as you straddle one thigh, the silk material of your shorts dragging along his bare skin.

“I dunno,” Joel’s hesitant, but not entirely close-off to the idea, “s’that even safe?”

“It is,” You assure him—Joel doesn’t really question it either, “You trust me, don’t you?”

He tries to stifle the small chuckle at your act, batting your lashes as you reach for his hand, settling it against the center of your chest underneath your shirt, the soft press of your breasts squeezing his hand and Joel has to resist the urge to explore further, rifling through the bag one-handed, pulling out a thick piece of cloth, a rich, plum stained fabric. 

“You’re in good hands,” You smile, leaning forward to brush your lips along the shell of his ear, “I promise.”

–

He does touch you now, though careful of his hands wandering too far, spreading you out on your bed sheet with hesitance, sensing that this wasn’t just a moment of uncertainty, but rather unfamiliarity.

“It’s been so long,” He admits, not lost on you, “I’ll try—jus’ might need some remindin’.”

Be vocal, he pleads without asking. Let me hear you.

Done and done.

His hands grip at the back of your thighs, pulling you near the edge of the bed before they’re pushing up, forcing your legs apart as he settles on his knees, stripped of his top and nude, a stark contrast to your clothed state as he pressed his face into the fabric of your shorts, his nose prodding at the seam of your pussy, teeth biting lightly into the fabric.

His eyes trail up, the bottom half of his face obscured as he pressed his mouth into the heat of your cunt through the silk, awaiting your command.

“Grab,” You sigh, his kisses trailing along your thigh and down, lips kisses at the sensitive skin of your ankle, “the bag—the bag,” You point vaguely, forcing him away gently with your opposite foot. 

You’d dropped it on the floor beside Joel in the mess of limbs, the bag hidden underneath his disposed shirt and as he thrusts the small paper bag into your hands you fish for the binding balled up at the bottom of the bag, tossing the rest of the bag aside as you sink to match Joel’s position, gently grabbing his wrists as you guide them behind his back.

“Just to make sure you keep your hands to yourself,” You inform him, face heating under his heavy gaze, looking up at him innocently as you knot the fabric blindly behind his back, tugging when you’re satisfied enough and rising to meet his face, nose brushing against his own at the close proximity, “Do you want a taste, Joel?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me, sweetheart.”

In this light, under the soft glow of streetlights that spilled over into your room, it was like you were seeing a different man, not at all the confident and defiant man you challenge on a day to day, but a man dedicated to you, an eagerness in his expression that you’ve never seen.

“Oh, honey—you’re gonna work for it.”

You crawl back on your hands, rising to perch on the edge of the bed with your legs spread, one foot perched against the mattress as Joel shuffled forward slowly, “Can’t taste you through those shorts, might help if you—”

“Get creative,” You urge, haphazardly pulling your top over your head and throwing it aside for incentive, breasts bouncing softly with the movement and spotting the way Joel swallows, hard.

It made him feel young, this desire that didn’t show itself often. He’s resigned himself to months, years of handling himself; jerking himself off with his hand to satisfy that urge, but never more. He rarely had time then, lucky if he could manage a full eight hours of sleep. 

He leans forward, his teeth digging into the fabric at your hip as he pulls, wrestling with the material as he drags it down your thigh—innovative, you think. You giggle softly at his steadfast gaze, a stubbornness in his scowl as he rips the fabric off. 

Joel doesn’t waste time, licking a long stripe through your already damp underwear, accumulated slick ruining the fabric as he greedily laps you up through the garment, but he hisses when your hand grips into his hair, pulling him back as his scowl grows deeper.

“All of it.” You demand.

You watch as his teeth gripped at the front of your underwear before he’s dragging them down, tossing them aside even more impatiently, like a dog with a chew toy, before he’s pressing his face into your cunt, leaning most of his weight into you as his strong, angular nose presses against your clit, his tongue dipping inside of you instantly, like he was trying to consume you.

A mix of a broken laugh and gasp leaves your mouth as he groans, a slight shake to his head as he attempted to force himself deeper, the movement shifting his nose of your clit in a way that has your entire body curling in on itself, his eyes closed, lost in the taste of you and the warm cradle of your thighs around his head, foot smoothing over his back as you pull him in.

He suckles at your clit as he shifts up, the wet expanse of his tongue sliding over the sensitive bud, responding with a soft noise as your fingers dig into his hair and tug, ““Fuck, you love it like this, don’t you?”

Joel responds with a noise, ignoring your question as his tongue swirls over your clit, repeating the motion repeatedly as your breath hitches, gasping loudly.

“I asked—asked you a question,” You interrupt, pulling him back defiantly, “I’d like an answer.”

“M’sorry, I do—I do,” Joel apologizes, mouth shining with your slick, his beard wet and his cheeks flushed, “jus’ taste so good, sweetheart. Wanna make you feel good—am I doin’ alright?”

“So good,” You tell him softly, your hand cradling his chin as you slide your thumb over his wet lip and through the dampness at his chin before you’re pushing your fingertip into his mouth, letting the pad of your thumb press against his tongue, closing his lips around you finger to suck, “You’re always so messy, you know that?”

Joel chuckles, pulling his mouth away as you slowly guide him back toward your cunt, pulsing around his tongue as it dips inside of you once more, like a tease before he returns the attention toward your clit, groaning as your thighs squeeze tightly around his head, feeling the creeping sensation of your orgasm as it coiled in your gut.

“A damn good meal if ‘ya ask me,” Joel comments, too entranced to chastise his comment as your orgasm spills over, the rush of fluids hitting his tongue as you cry out, his unrelenting tongue making your vision go white.

“That’s good, baby, keep doing that. Just like that,” You encourage weakly, legs shaking with overstimulation as he glares up at you through his half-lidded gaze, his nose smushed against your cunt.

Your fingers sift gently through his hair as you come down, feeling the weight of his head against your thigh as he speaks, “You’re shakin’ like a leaf, sweetheart—y’alright?”

“I am,” He can hear the elation in your voice as you rise slowly, “does it hurt?”

Joel pulls at the binding, loose enough that there's no straining or pinching, he shrugs noncommittally and answers, “If I say yes will you take ‘em off?”

You tilt your head at his subtle mischievous tone, “As long as you’re being truthful.”

“I wanna touch you, if ‘m bein’ honest,” Joel admits.

He’s such a smoothtalker, even now. 

“Fine—but, I’m not finished,” You warn him, “so don’t get any ideas.”

“Oh, yes ma’am.” He agrees wholeheartedly, feigning seriousness. 

It shouldn’t be this easy with him, but it was. 

–

“I’m tryin’ to help you out,” You tease him, fitting the ring around his cock, settled underneath his balls as he stifles the groan of your touch against his overly sensitive skin, having been so close to the edge and losing focus that he’s fallen soft, resting back on his palms as you rub your hand over his chest and down, fingers rolling along the underside of his sack before your fingertip trails along the seam and up, following the thick vein that led to the head of his cock, “Is it good when I touch you here?”

“S’good,” He answers shakily, watching your hand press flat against your tongue before you’re gripping his cock tight, jerking him firmly, his hand flying to your hip, trailing up blindly as you press your chin against the top of his head, feeling his hand tangle into your hair, cradling your face with a desperation, “I’m fuckin’ sufferin’ here, sweetheart.”

“Not yet,” You counter, leaving his now hardened cock to bounce freely against his stomach as you reach for two items sprawled on the bed, gripped in your fists as you straddle him, his cock sliding through your wet folds and nearly sending him over the edge, “which one?”

Choices, he thinks. He hated making a decision.

Sight or touch, he debates the two items.

“If you don’t pick I’m choosing both,” You warn him playfully.

“Not bein’ able to see you feels like a punishment,” Joel admits.

You hum thoughtfully, “You’re right—and what a good boy you’ve been, huh?”

“Real good, sweetheart,” He agrees desperately, feeling his cock pulse against your cunt, fighting the restraint it was taking him not to sink into you now and plow you into the bed underneath him, but that wasn’t the point of all of this.

So, the decision is made.

Joel settles against the headboard as you restrain his arms behind his back in a similar manner, his eyes following your movements carefully as you leave soft, light kisses along his skin before you straddle his hips, hovering over him for a brief moment before you’re wrapping your hand around his cock and sinking down onto him slowly, adjusting to the stretch as his eyes flutter shut, face pinched up.

‘It’s not too tight, is it?” You ask, moving your hips at a tortuous pace as your fingers curl around the back of his neck, his head shaking at your question, focusing so innately hard he can’t answer, as much as he tries.

“S’probably the only thing keepin’ me together,” Joel forces out, “all I could think about at dinner earlier was you—this, s’fucked up, ain’t it?”

Your eagerness wins over, bouncing on his cock at a quicker pace that has him panting into your skin, a pathetic whine ripping from his chest, “And I spent—spent all evening thinking about how you’d look when you came—and how stubborn you’d be—”

Joel chuckles pathetically, moaning weakly against your chest as you grip the headboard above him, the sharp slap of skin against skin as you ride his cock.

“Turns out you’re pretty receptive,” You continue, “‘s’good—I like it.”

Joel murmurs an acknowledgment as his neck strains back, slamming against the headboard as he forces his eyes open, panting heavily as he watches your body stretch above him, one hand sliding down to spread out against your thigh as you head falls back to mirror his own, moaning loudly as his cock pulses with need, your walls fluttering around him.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Joel speaks drunkenly, mesmerized, “M’never lettin’ you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You assure him, watching him nod as his eyes squeeze shut, that familiar ache in his gut growing as his cock throbs with the need for release.

You lean forward, working your fingers through the knot of the restraints and speak softly against his ear, “Y’gonna listen? Yeah, like a real good boy?”

Joel nods fervently, sighing with the release of his hands as they immediately latch onto you, still and unmoving but like a relief for the both of you as his hands press hot against your skin.

“What should your reward be, huh?” You coo, “Should I let you come?”

“Sweetheart, please—”

You lean back slightly, riding him with fervor as you nod your head, cradling his lulling head between your hands, “Tell me how good you’ve been,” You encourage gently, his skin damp with sweat as you slide a hand down his chest, dangerously close to the point where you’re joined together, “let me hear it.”

“So good, sweetheart. Bein’ such a good boy for ‘ya,” Joel complies, his breath hitching as he feels the tight ring around his cock loosen, thrown to the side, slipping out and back in without skipping a beat, like you’d never left.

“Right there,” He warns, “fuck—baby, I dunno if I can—”

“It’s okay,” You whisper softly, hearing the pain in his voice and the way his arms wrap around you like a vice, “I’m gonna make you clean it up, anyways.”

Joel groans at that, nearly lifting off the bed as his hand steadies behind, pumping his hips into you jerkily as he comes inside of you and coats your walls, gasping sharply at the feeling of his blunt nails digging into your skin, riding him gently through the aftershocks before he falls lifeless against the bed, panting heavily.

You sigh with elation, though exhausted, slowly moving back as you lean on your elbows and gently poke at his thigh, his hand covering his softening cock as he grunts, grumbling some unintelligible. 

“You’re not finished,” Joel chuckles lowly, his hand wrapping around your ankle as he pulls himself up, eyes immediately locking on your swollen cunt, cum spilling out as your walls squeeze, your own fingers spreading through the mess before you’re dragging it toward your mouth, licking your fingers clean before reaching for his hair, mused from sex as you yank him closer and demand, “clean up your mess.”

“Gonna need you to schedule another week off for me,” Joel admits, dipping his tongue inside of you without hesitation, his hands squeezing around your thighs to pull you in, “and you.”

“Why’s that?”

Joel grins as you glance down, speaking confidently against your cunt, “Got a few messes I wanna make, that alright?”

You pause, a moment of hesitation, “I’ll consider it.”

Joel growls into you, nipping gently at your clit as you squeal loudly.

You relent quickly, swatting his head playfully.

After all, he was still your boss.

[knavcsblade]

unprofessional.

+18!

cw: professor/dilf!arlecchino x student!reader. NOT highschool; both arlecchino and reader are adults. dom arle, sub r. overly descriptive. a lot of tension. age gap. power play (?). slight degradation. cunnilingus. 

wc: 3.4k

summary: professor arlecchino tutoring student reader who had fallen behind in class… and lesbian sex.

a/n: i couldn’t stop thinking about dilf arle as a professor… i would apologize, but i know this is a millionaire idea. plus, i haven’t written in ages and my fingers are now moving all over the keys like it’s nothing. i’m free!

Lessons have always been annoying—as far as you can recall—so much so that you would usually find yourself pouring your focus into the most insignificant things you could think of.

You would bring novels into class to read as the professor explained a new subject; you’d look out the window and process all the things you had to do on that very specific Tuesday afternoon; you would even take naps in between the prolonged sentences of that one teacher you simply couldn’t stand, for a reason that managed to escape you every time.

That was until the day the man was rumored to have been fired and replaced by another professional with more experience on the field—someone who most likely wouldn’t bore all the students to death.

Great, you thought, another male educator with an inflated ego who would roll his eyes at every inquiry from his pupils before proceeding to answer sarcastically just to make them feel witless. You were oh so excited for that.

The moment you looked up from your walnut desk, you already knew something was off. Everyone went silent as soon as the door opened—a common occurrence, though it felt different this time, especially since the clicking of heels echoed through the large room.

“Good morning, class,” those were the first three words that came from the new professor. The gravelly depth of her voice carried an air of authority that quickly forced everyone to put all their attention on the manner in which she approached her desk.

You were all in almost a chokehold in an instant, that was as clear as day. However, you seemed to be the most interested one out of the bunch by the way your eyes lingered on her form—on the way there was a lack of sway in her hips that you were unused to.

Most of the female scholars were nothing like her, and not just physically, you could already tell. She carried herself in a way that had you almost hypnotized, and you already knew you would be paying attention this time around.

There was a soft thud that bounced off the walls when she set her messenger briefcase on the dark wood of her new desk, eyes glimmering like coals in the darkness never leaving the class sitting before her. “Before we begin, introductions are indispensable,” her gaze flickered towards you for a few seconds before she spoke again.

That was… odd. You definitely looked like a deer in headlights to her now.

“I’m Arlecchino, and I’m afraid I will be your new professor from this moment onward… and no, I shall not disclose the details of your previous professor’s departure, before you ask.”

The auditorium had fallen silent the second she walked in, but due to the velvety, spellbinding tone of her voice, it seemed to grow even quieter. Of course, she had every student’s undivided attention at this point, but you found yourself staring at her for longer than would be considered appropriate.

The way she wore her suit captured your notice almost instantly. This was a common attire worn by every professor at the institute you attended, though hers was utterly captivating. The way the fabric clung onto her body, adding the way she carried herself… it was difficult for you to focus on her words at all, no matter how hard you tried.

And oh, her voice had you in a trance. The way the low vibrations of it echoed through the room sent shivers down your spine in a way you had never felt before. This person couldn’t be real…

You were so distracted by her you didn’t even realize the lesson was already over until you noticed the people around you beginning to stand up—Arlecchino taking a seat at her desk just to go through some papers she had taken out of her briefcase.

Much to your dismay, you were snapped out of your thoughts by this and, of course, her speaking. “Make sure to continue… hitting the books, as they say. In spite of your former professor’s leave-taking, the exam dates remain the same.”

The moment you got up and most of your peers had exited the room, you simply had to look at her for the last time. Truly, where did this woman come from? She was otherworldly, in your very honest opinion, and you were one hundred percent upset about having to make your way outside at that moment.

But oh, did you enjoy the lectures now.

You enjoyed her… them so much, the quality of your exam was abysmal. For her, even having to read the few words you wrote down felt like a punch in the gut, and she almost winced while going over it. However, who could blame you? Your last professor was truly someone who spoke and lulled you to sleep, and she was too distracting for you to even begin to comprehend the words that flowed out of her mouth.

The moment you picked up your test from her desk, you didn’t even look at it. You caught a glimpse of red inked scribbles all over the paper, clearly Arlecchino’s corrections, but you couldn’t bring yourself to even read what she had to say. You already knew you had messed up—what was the point?

You always told yourself you would simply ‘study more next time’; however, this was futile. All the subjects were related, so you practically were doomed to fail. You hadn’t the time to go over so many different things in just a few months.

The lesson began once you sat down, and one more time, your chin rested idly on the palm of your hand as you watched her. This was the sole reason you had underperformed on the exam, or so she thought.

She could almost vividly see the way her speech went in one of your ears and out the other, and in spite of her calm demeanor, it was slowly beginning to vex her. Were you truly this careless?

Of course, she kept an eye on you while she explained the intricacies of the new subject at hand, slowly pacing before the entirety of the class as she did her best to direct your attention to her words—not the way her steps allowed you to notice just how toned her frame was beneath the fabric of her suit.

The second everyone got up to leave the auditorium after long hours, you heard a soft “you”—one that oozed authority despite its calm tone. You already knew whose lips that simple word came out of. Naturally, you looked disoriented as you approached Arlecchino with your bag now hanging from your shoulder and heart beating so loud in your chest it might as well have been about to burst.

“Yes?”

Her gaze eventually turned to you, blackened hands gaining purchase on her own hips as she looked down at you. Finally, you could see her nails up close, one of the things you continued to ogle while sitting a few feet away from her, and you were more than fascinated by them now.

She cleared her throat to catch your focus once again after noticing it deviating from her face, and you would have been startled if only you hadn’t found her so attractive. “I have been informed that you are… one of the students who didn’t exactly pay attention to these classes previously. I wished to let you know you may come to me after lessons so I can clear any doubts you might have.”

Her eyes bored into yours as she spoke, and if you couldn’t hear your own heartbeat in your very ears, you would have assumed it had stopped completely. Educators were allowed to be mesmerizing, sure, but you had never found yourself being so… distracted by one.

“I’m positive you have quite a few of them, since I was told you spent most of your time dozing off or staring out the window at the previous professor’s lectures. Not to mention the way you seemed more than distracted in our last ones, unlike the other students…, and your failed exam.”

You immediately felt called out by her—who wouldn’t? Wasn’t this deeply embarrassing? This woman assumed you were, well, an uninterested fool, judging by her almost condescending tone. She already knew you had always been busy hearing her voice, but never truly listening to her. You felt your cheeks begin to burn from the shame.

“Yes, I…,” you cut yourself off to clear your throat, fist covering your mouth as you thought for a few seconds. Would you confirm her obvious assumptions about you, or reject her offer? Well, the answer was obvious. “I suppose it would do me good.”

“It would do your grades good,” her head tilted ever so slightly to the side as she spoke, piercing eyes solely focused on yours at all times. They were inhumanly beautiful yet hauntingly distant; despite this obvious nature, you couldn’t look away. “I don’t particularly enjoy the idea of my students falling behind.”

That said, a vocal sigh left her parted lips and filled the room in an instant. 

“We will meet at the library, yes? Perhaps I can… enlighten you for once.”

And so she did. She would spend hours on end trying to get certain things through your pretty little head, often having to literally snap you out of your thoughts. You spent long periods watching the way she held her garnet fountain pen instead of listening to her, and this was becoming tiresome.

You could practically hear her jaw clenching as you quietly giggled and lied through your teeth. “Don’t worry, I understand” and “yes, that makes sense” were things you would say time and again, even if Arlecchino hadn’t been speaking for minutes.

In a way, she found you… amusing, albeit irritating. The situation wasn’t one she was used to, even after years of being an important scholar of Teyvat.

You thought you weren’t being so blatant, though she caught on the reason for your absentmindedness pretty quickly. She would notice even the smallest of details about your actions, like the way your gaze would drop to her lips as she spoke, or how you continued to bite the inside of your cheek—it was almost as if you were somewhere in between reality and some different plane of existence.

She didn’t blame you, however. You were very clearly infatuated with her, and oh, did she find it sweet.

The only issue with these private lessons was that neither of you had considered the fact that the library closed once a month for the staff to conduct a book recount. The first Friday this took place, Arlecchino found herself having to simply invite you to her home so you could both resume your routine.

This wasn’t exactly inappropriate, at least not to her. It was fairly common for her colleagues to take the students who needed the most support to their places so they could perform their duties as tutors to them—you were utterly flustered, however.

You had ‘sneakily’ gotten information out of her about her personal life, like how she had adopted three children a few years back, or how she had a beautiful garden with rainbow roses she enjoyed taking care of before making her way to the institute. None of that could ever compare to setting foot into her house, fully missing those children she had mentioned before.

You now sat at the desk in her study, cross-legged with your tightly clasped hands resting on your lap and Arlecchino sitting before you. You desperately wished to look around—to take in the way she had decorated the room and maybe catch onto small details of hers she wouldn’t confess. However, you kept your gaze on her the entire time. Furniture could wait, could it not?

“I apologize for the… chaos,” her voice rumbled as she focused on putting away the scattered papers all over the large desk into a folder.

All you did was wave your hand dismissively in response, and if you weren’t looking so intently, you would have missed the way the corners of her lips lifted with utmost subtlety.

Your books were covering the mahogany wood in minutes, Arlecchino slightly leaned in as the crimson crosses in her eyes focused on the words plastered on the pages. She could definitely feel you studying her form more than you would ever study the sentences sitting right in front of you. She had had enough now.

Her voice pulled you out of your head in an instant, doe-eyed as you hummed. It took you a few seconds to register her question, the usual “did you understand?”

“Oh, uh… yes, absolutely.”

“Do it, then,” she said, leaning back with crossed arms and brows furrowed slightly enough to make you press your lips together instinctively.

It was clear you were puzzled at her words. You hadn’t heard what she had uttered before, and she just knew it.

“I’m… sorry, what?”

To this, all she did was exhale deeply through her nose and begin to organize all the books and papers you had placed on her desk. Her patient demeanor was beginning to falter, and all due to you.

“Get on the desk. Don’t make me repeat myself again.” Her answer was simple, and the way she said it left no room for hesitation whatsoever.

She put all your belongings aside to rest her palms on the edge of the furniture, getting up with a swift movement that made her chair roll back and give her enough room to wait for you to do what she had commanded. It was clear there was a plan in her mind, one about what she would do to you the second you obeyed, and it was nerve-racking.

Oh, well. Who were you to not do as she said? Especially when her gaze lingered on yours expectantly.

You slowly made your way towards her, hands trembling as you used them to prop yourself up and now find yourself sitting atop her desk in pure silence. Your legs were pressed together, naturally, since you had decided to wear a skirt due to the hot weather that had taken place merely a couple of weeks earlier. You didn’t wish to expose yourself before her, or did you?

“You know, dear,” she started as she drew closer, the nickname as well as the manner in which her hand found its way towards your thigh making your heart race in what could only be anticipation, “you aren’t good at listening, or understanding what I regularly explain to you… or keeping your focus on something other than me.”

At that moment, everything around you seemed to vanish. She was now so close you could feel the heat of her body against yours and her breath tickling your face. Somehow, before you could even react at all, she stood between your spread legs as her blackened hand snaked its way under the fabric of your skirt.

Could your poor heart even take all of this?

“I’m sure you aren’t even paying attention to what I’m saying right now, are you?”

“Sorry, you… you’re too close. I can’t…,” you didn’t even finish your sentence, but not due to her. It was all because your mind could only concentrate on the way her nails uniformly dug into the plush skin of your thigh.

“You can’t… what? Think? Of course you can’t,” she muttered in response, knowing she needn’t speak louder considering the closeness between you two.

It didn’t take her long to shatter this small distance, however. She leaned in impossibly closer, giving you all the time in the world to pull away if you wished to do so—if she had been stupid enough to misunderstand the whole situation. Yet, as the seconds passed, you didn’t. Obviously. 

Her other hand managed to gain purchase on your waist to pull you in and meet her lips halfway, wrapping you in a kiss as unhurried and torturous as it was passionate and hungry. And oh, the way you finally let out the breath you weren’t aware of holding through your nose the instant you tasted her only made her fully press herself against you.

You let her in eventually, a whimper betraying you as she fervently explored your mouth and her fingers wrapped around the hem of your underwear to slide it down your legs. She couldn’t find herself caring about anything other than giving you what you had wanted in such a desperate manner since you first saw her, even more so ever since you had managed to grow on her so easily.

She thought you were simply… almost adorable. The way you drooled every time your eyes landed on her was something she found more than entertaining, and she wished to see how many reactions she could pull out of you with uncomplicated deeds.

Arlecchino only pulled away to kneel before you, and you couldn’t help but notice the fine thread of saliva that connected your lips before it snapped once her face waited right in front of your unclothed, drenched cunt. She watched you in silence, crimson eyes now turning darker at the sight of your desperate expression.

You just wanted her to ravish you, didn’t you?

All she had to do was lift your legs up to rest on her shoulders just so her tongue could finally roll between your folds and soak in your fluids fully. This took longer than you were hoping for, but once it did, your head lolled back at the feeling.

This was followed by you dragging a moan out of the depths of your throat, an action that made her hold tightly onto your thighs since she could already tell you would be the type to squirm and make a mess only from getting eaten out.

The pretty noises coming from you the moment she found that sweet bundle of nerves only made her react by digging her nails into the warm skin of your thighs and shoving her face even further into you. Her nose was pressed against your mound, and the sensation of the small hairs pricking on it made the feeling even more enjoyable for her.

She seemed to eat your pussy out like a woman starved—one not afraid to pour the entirety of her silent desire onto you and watch you relish it in its entirety. She could even feel the mixture of your wetness and her saliva beginning to drip down her chin and pour onto her pants to stain them in the future, all the while she lapped against your sensitive clit.

Long minutes full of moans, whimpers, and your hand tangling in her hair passed when you felt that well-known heat forming in your lower stomach. You couldn’t ignore it, and neither could she. Arlecchino could simply tell how close you were to an orgasm just from the way your legs squeezed her head every once in a while.

“Fuck… fuck, Arlecchino, please,” a strained plea that was interrupted by a mewl left your mouth which hung open for her to hear you.

Between lewd slurps and wet noises, her eyes found yours for what probably was less than a second. This managed to get you to clench around nothing as a loud moan filled the air.

“How vulgar,” came the only muffled response from her, though she lacked the sharpness of her usual tone. She was absolutely pussy-drunk at this point, only focused on bringing you to ecstasy with her tongue and claws carving crescent moons into your thighs.

It didn’t take you long to find your release, twitching and holding onto absolutely anything on that desk to keep yourself from fully resting on it. Even at the peak of your orgasm she didn’t let go of you; she was entranced by making sure she licked you clean of all your juices no matter what. It became overwhelming at one point—the way she made sure to swallow your climax solely made you wish this would have happened sooner.

Once she was done enjoying your taste, she slowly got up to wipe the remains of your loud crescendo with the back of her hand, red crosses finding your pupils though she knew you were more than out of your five senses.

“I do hope that, after this, you will pay more attention to our future lessons, dear,” her voice was somewhat deeper, and it forced you to nod through your exhaustion.

You would definitely focus on her words from now on.

[endursent]

Hi Ma’am! I’ve recently come across your “my partner turned into a cat” series and it’s wonderful. I was wondering if I could request something similar where reader turns into their partner’s favourite animal? Preferably with Kaveh, Neuvi, and Dottore (if you write for him). If not, that’s all good. Have a nice day!

【 content; established relationship , humour , gn!reader , temporarily turned animal (reader) 】

【 characters; il dottore, kaveh , neuvillette 】

【 note; i haven't actually written for dottore before strangely enough considering how much i love him, so it might take a while for me to get his personality and mannerisms down... thank you for the ask! 】

【 word count; 1.454 | masterlist 】

Il Dottore;

Never had you considered what his “favourite animal” is, mostly because you’re convinced Dottore doesn’t have a “favourite” anything—his interests are too unpredictable and subject to change at any moment. 

  Though you should have seen it coming that one day, his experimentation would strike you—thankfully you’re not dead, you’re luckier than some assistants that have been zapped a time or two and carried out in body bags. However…

  Why are you a fat little platypus, and why does he seem so excited about it?

  You look absolutely ridiculous, you imagine—and feel, having four legs and a beak is peak body horror that is unfortunately eating at your brain right now. And yet, Dottore picks you up like one would a cat and dangles you in front of him with both an excited and thoughtful expression. “How unexpected—and interesting. I made little change to the formula…” he plops you down on the table next to the damned formula he had been adjusting… never will you inhale “experiment fumes” again. Not that you’re supposed to be doing so in any case.

  “A fascinating specimen indeed,” he pokes around your fur and you shake yourself, but he is relentless with his prodding! “One of the few mammals capable of electroreception! I wonder if you've maintained those sensory capabilities... This requires immediate testing."

  He doesn’t leave you alone for a single second that you’re like this, always either checking something—one time you were freaking out about the fact that you had no idea how to eat or drink like this… and Dottore took out a notebook and tried to get you to bite his fingers to “test the venom”... you bite a bit harder than he likely bargained for. 

  Dottore does try to “help” in his own way, while he brainstorms how to turn you back, he creates a “suitable habitat” with burrowing zones and a “pool”. He means well, but he’s also using it to observe you like a specimen so you kick up dirt and splash water on the floor and tables in spite.

  Out of anyone, Dottore is the fastest to get you back to normal… or he could, if he wanted to. But he kind of likes seeing you waddle around trying to walk with webbed feet and seeing you knock your tail into things and make weird noises. He has plenty of experience pressing your buttons and what makes you tick as a human, why not enjoy a new side of you?

Kaveh;

He’s more traumatised than you are when one moment you’re standing next to him—and the next there’s a random ass deer there. He looks around and searches for you frantically, thinking you might have fallen into a creek or rolled downhill… very unaware of that same deer following him around and trying to get his attention. 

  He does love deer, he thinks you’re unimaginably cute but also kind of silly in the way horses are silly but not huge and terrifying. 

  Kaveh almost needs you to headbutt him for him to realise that you are, in fact, in front of him and not soaking around in a nearby river hanging out with the frogs. Thankfully, he’s smart enough to put two and two together after he snaps out of it—but now he’s just confused.

  How? You had just been right there! There wasn’t even a rustle of leaves or anything!

  In any case, he needs to get you back to the city… you walk like a human in a deer suit, unused to the long four legs and strange join positions—and as soon as you enter his and Alhaitham’s home (after getting your antlers caught in the door like an idiot if you have those) you suddenly stop. 

  “What is it?” Kaveh peeps from behind you, confused as to why your ass is just standing in the doorway.

  The house has hardwood floors.

  He doesn’t realise this, of course, and gives your behind a firm push—only for you to slip and slide and nearly tumble inside like a freshly born animal. Kaveh rushes in behind you, apologising for nearly knocking you over and trying to make sure you don’t fall against anything and break things… Alhaitham would never let him live it down if he saw this.

  It’s not exactly easy to… navigate this, you’re not a small animal nor are you yourself particularly knowledgeable about your new proportions. 

  He can barely stop himself from continuously stroking your fur and feeding you crunchy things to be able to watch you munch on them. It does kind of kill the fascination he had with deer, as he’s never really interacted with them so closely until you happened to become one.

  You follow him around like a lost puppy, even as he had a very important client meeting—you didn’t let him get away… and thus, Kaveh had to improvise a bit. 

  The client, an older woman, squints at you standing slightly behind Kaveh and trying to munch on the blueprints in his hands (you haven’t had food for two hours, which is disastrous with this huge stomach you have now). 

  Kaveh clears his throat, pushing your snout away. “Yes, we can change the—no, you see, this is… yes, it’s okay, this is just… a friend.”

  He has no idea how to explain this so he just chooses not to. “Anyway… about that garden idea, if we put a patio by this side—”

Neuvillette;

You can’t believe he’s keeping you in a bowl. 

  Somehow, and for some reason, when you had accompanied Neuvillette for an evening walk along the seaside just outside of Fontaine’s walls—you had stubbed your toe on a shell that stuck out of the ground, and with a sudden zap… you had turned into a blob.

  Neuvillette looks up from his desk as he hears your soft body pound against the bowl next to him—and toss up some water that almost splashes onto the documents splayed out before him—and frowns slightly. “I know it’s not very spacious… I apologise, my love. But I don’t have anything larger at this moment, hopefully the pet store will find a more adequately sized fish tank soon.”

  He doesn’t understand how you had suddenly turned into a jellyfish, you had been behind him for a brief moment before he heard your curse (likely because you stubbed your toe) and then a poof… when Neuvillette had turned around, you were like a deflated balloon on dry land. 

  Thankfully he had created a pocket of water for you from the saltwater nearby to float in as he brought you back to the city, but the situation puzzled him greatly—how could you become such a creature? He wasn’t entirely sure you were fully conscious in that body, but judging by your frustrated movements in the small bowl, he suspected you at least had partial awareness. 

  Neuvillette doesn’t want to leave you alone while you’re like this, he’s both worried you might suddenly transform back, without any clothes—which would be terribly awkward to try and depart his office in that state—or possible hurt yourself if you broke the bowl with the transformation and cut yourself.

  Thus, thankfully after you’re given a larger tank in his office (and at home, he’s not leaving you at his office overnight alone!) there is a smaller one placed in the Opera Epiclese, next to his chair. 

  During a court proceeding, Neuvillette had to present the evidence in a firmer manner than usual, as the representative to the one being judged was being rather contrarian—which was far from productive and consumed far more time than it needed to. 

  Every time he successfully made an argument that couldn’t be refuted or argued with, you released a faint bioluminescent glow—as if applauding his expert navigations of the evidence and arguments. No one seems to notice (it’s difficult enough to see Neuvillette so high up above the stage) but he still feels a bit sheepish when you do it—you’re likely not doing it on purpose, he doubts you would know how.

  Neuvillette is very careful with the temperature and the salinity levels of the water you inhabit for the time being, he creates a careful schedule to check it every few hours as well as adjusting it depending on day and night. He’s very determined to ensure you’re as comfortable as you can be, whether you realise you’re a weird blob with tentacles or not. 

  And he hopes he can figure out how to change you back soon… as cute as it is to watch you twirl around and show off when he stands before your tank, he would rather you show off your moves as yourself—where he can properly talk to and touch you. 

[resisteverything]

Like what they did to Miley Cyrus as a minor, having her wear a "Purity ring" to announce how pure she was for being a virign like "Yeah I'm unused goods" fucking kill me. What the fuck even was that? Who cares whether she had sex or not? If that's your daughter having underage sex, yeah you should care, like what kind of person is doing that? Is she doing it safely? Does she know the nuances of boundaries? But what possible reason would a grown adult or even a teenager have to care about the sexual history of a girl they've never met?

And a more blatant example was the ice cream pole shit. Imagine thinking that a girl standing next to a pole with one hand on it is a sexual act. Not only did every news station use this one image of her crouching down so she could be closer to the crowd in order to make it look like she was doing something sexual, but someone made a comic caricature of her flashing cameltoe on the ice cream cart with it announcing "Young Cherry" as a flavor. Excuse me what the fuck?

modesty culture is still a culture of sexualization

[knottyforlegoshi]

legoshi as your boyfriend; 

— so awkward when it comes to the object of his affection. he’s a guy who spends most of the time in his head. whoever catches his eye is subject to a ton of brooding stares, conversations that trail into silence as legoshi overthinks the next thing he’ll say. he comes off as hot and cold without realizing it. he spends more time fretting about possibilities rather than taking chances. but once he gets comfortable around you, you’re surprised by how easy he is to get along with.

— he absolutely melts at physical affection. if you’re a herbivore, of course it comes with his own reservations; he can’t be too careful with his strength. even if you’re a carnivore, he’s tense and unused to physical affection. but once he’s comfortable enough, he craves every bit of it. he won’t demand it from you, but you will notice his tail wagging when you reach for his hand in public, or when you pat his head.

— dates are usually lowkey affairs. he considers any prolonged time spent around you as a “date,” even if it’s something as mundane as shopping for groceries together. he prefers doing things at night, like staying up in bed to talk about the mundane, watching shows together, or perching on the roof to watch the stars; even though he’s acclimated to daytime, the evening is when legoshi is  most energetic. he also prefers secluded, private dates since he gets angsty around large crowds--his protective instincts kick in.

— gives great hugs once he’s in the habit of them. definitely the type to give you awkward “dad hugs” or pats on the back when you first start dating. but once he knows how to handle his strength, he likes to drag you into his lap and curl his tail around you. 

— his love language is most definitely acts of service and quality time. he struggles with wanting to tell you all the sappy things he thinks about you, like how your smile makes him forget all his worries, or how whole he feels when the warmth of your fingers brushes against his own. these are things he keeps close to his heart. instead, he tries to show you what he can’t tell you. if you have trouble reaching the top shelf, he lowers everything down for you so you can grab things. if you don’t like spicy food and the restaurant serves you something hot, he’ll offer to switch plates with you. he also just... enjoys being around you. the two of you don’t even have to be doing anything special. he could be feeding his insects and you could be on your phone. he just feels more at ease when you’re in his presence.  

— he’s incredibly stubborn and loyal to a fault. legoshi will never break up with you first. even if you two are going through a rough patch, he’s more worried that you’ll break up with him. this makes it a bit hard to have open communication with him. he’ll shove everything bothering him down if he could. even if he didn’t, he has a problem with idealizing his significant others. nothing really bothers him, though; he’s patient and understanding to a fault. unless, of course, you make him jealous...

— he feels the sting of jealousy incredibly easily. part of it stems from his insecurity--he’s aware he’s a reticent person, not the most expressive, and constantly worries that he’s not enough. the other part is that wolves are highly possessive by nature. when you’ve been together for awhile, you notice legoshi rubbing his scent on you. it’s subconscious at first--you mention you’ll be around other men, and legoshi’s rubbing his muzzle into the side of your neck. to other canines, it’s a sign that you’re taken.

— because of his fervent attempts to stay together, he gets blindsided by breakups. he doesn’t realize how much fretting about your perceived dissatisfaction with him might become a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

not sfw

— praise kink. god, he is the definition of praise kink. tell him how much of a good boy he’s been, and he’ll lick at you even more enthusiastically. he doesn’t like to admit to it, but he enjoys being recognized for his efforts. he likes knowing he’s worthy of your praise. 

— pleasing you really gets him off. legoshi could—and has—cum untouched just from the feel of your thighs clamping around his head, your moans in his ears, as he licks at your most sensitive parts.

— he isn’t aware he’s big until the sight of you grimacing in pain to take him.  then his size becomes a point of embarrassment for him. legoshi will actually get so upset to see you struggling to take him that he goes soft; it takes him awhile to learn to be okay with his natural assets. and lots of lube or slick.

— sex for him is very much a mental and emotional endeavor. he can’t truly let go and ignore his anxieties until he knows you’re his. because of that, i don’t think legoshi is the kind of guy to do casual sex. he needs to be in a committed relationship before he truly can let his guard down and give in to his baser urges.

— goes absolutely crazy when you go down on him. because he’s so inexperienced, he’ll literally cum with five seconds flat of your tongue on his cock. he has to take breaks from oral, regulate his breathing, think about feeding his pet beetle, etc. luckily, his refractory period isn’t that long, and he’s able to get hard again in a few minutes. 

— when he’s in a rut, god, he’s feral. it’s so unlike him, to absolutely lose control, but he can’t help it, especially if he’s partnered during his ruts. he does his best to inform you beforehand, explain that he doesn’t want to force you to be around him and that he has trouble controlling his urges, but none of that really prepares you for the ferocity and carnality that accompanies his ruts. for the first few days, he prefers to keep you in bed so he can fuck you nonstop. it’s really just pump and go again, pump and go for another round. he’s got insane stamina for days. after seemingly endless rounds of fucking though, at some point legoshi becomes aware of how sore you are, how exhausted you look. he takes pity on you and makes sure to wash you, bathe you, hug you, etc. 

  — in his rut, loves using his cum as extra lube to keep fucking you. he’s just a whooole different animal when in his ruts. 

— one of his less obvious turn-ons is when you pull on his tail. for some reason, it gets him hard like nothing else. pulling your tail as well. 

— he does enjoy the soft, squisher parts of you. resting his head on your chest, or your tummy, or thighs. he finds his own body to be hard, muscled, and unappealing. he much prefers a softer partner. 

— he really dreams about that super intimate, face-buried-in-your-chest, slow fucking. he definitely prefers it to jerking off. legoshi finds masturbation kind of... empty in comparison to sex with you. he will however resort to it if he’s in “male mode” and you’re not in the mood. 

[cosmerelists]

Nomad Rates Cosmere Planets

As requested by @endervexer :)

Nomad is always on the move--but if he had time to stop and rate Cosmere planets as if they were hotels (you know, rating how clean they are, what the accommodations are like, etc), what would those ratings look like?

1. Canticle (The Sunlit Man)

Place was pretty clean, as the ever-present burning of the sun constantly purified the land.

Food was mediocre. Needed spice.

Accommodations were pretty old and worn down, but clean.

People were polite but not overly friendly, which I count as a positive. Some of them tried to kill me, which I count as a negative.

Entertainment consisted of gladiatorial fights and/or public executions. You can also hear stories. The stories are about ghosts.

BTW, place is haunted.

Overall, 2/5.

2. First of the Sun (Sixth of the Dusk)

Note: I only had time to visit part of this planet. Specifically, the island jungle part.

I would not call it "clean." It is a jungle. It is full of death.

If you like your food fresh-caught and cooked over a fire, you will like the food here. I did not try much of the food, because I was mostly fleeing death.

Accommodations were sparse, unpleasant, and--you guessed it!--not very safe from death.

The people tended to be distrustful and prickly. I did not hold this against them. I was only there briefly, and I was prickly too.

Entertainment was mostly hunting and camping. Although I would not class it as "entertainment" as much as "necessary survival."

NOT an island vacation. 1/5 stars (one star because the chickens there were pretty)

3. Lumar (Tress of the Emerald Sea)

For a place in which water brings death, it was actually pretty clean. Not sparking, but clean enough.

I did not like the food much. Bland. Their sea chickens do not taste as good as land chickens, IMO.

Since most of planet seems to be oceans (NOT water-based), you will find yourself staying on ships if you stay on this planet. What do you want me to say? It's a ship. Even if you have a private cabin, it will be small. It was fine.

People were on the whole friendly but seemed unused to visitors. I don't think this spot is very popular.

Interesting place to sightsee. The oceans are all different colors. The lunagrees (moon aether waterfalls) are worth seeing.

Overall, 3/5

4. Nalthis (Warbreaker)

Planet was generally well kept up--dirty in the way that populated cities or vast snowy landscapes full of woods can be dirty, but nothing major.

Great if you like seafood. Worth seeking out ethnic neighborhoods within the big cities for better food.

Some parts of the planet have better accommodations than others. If you want to stay in a cabin and feel cold and depressed all the time, try Idris. If you want to be a warmer place and like seafood and way too much color, try Hallandren.

If you want culture & stuff to do, try Hallandren. We're talking sports, art, music, creepy statues, pretty much anything you can think of. I cannot emphasize enough that it too colorful though.

This place will take your breath away (just a little Nalthian humor).

4/5 I had to soak my eyes after.

5. Scadrial (Mistborn)

Saw lots of reviewers saying that planet is the dirtiest place they've ever been, what with the constant rain of deadly ash.

Not my experience. Place was admittedly dusty in a "we love our cowboy aesthetic" kind of way, but they've clearly cleaned up since some of those earlier reviews.

Food was okay, but this seems to be more a place you go to drink. If you like whiskey, you will like Scadrial. Yeah I saw the review saying people drink perfume. Can't verify. Didn't see that.

Lots of places to stay, many of which are pleasant enough. If you happen to be speeding through the planet in fear of your life and the life of everyone you've ever cared about, then you'll be happy to hear that your options are many: horses, cars, trains, magic.

(I will ding them for their idiotic train system. Sometimes people don't WANT to go through the center on every trip.)

Entertainment options I saw: ride trains, see giraffes, drink, visit fast-food places, drink, visit the Field of Rebirth, shoot guns, drink.

4/5 I'm just not that into cowboys

6. Sel (Elantris)

Cleanliness varied from "sparkling silver city of the gods" to "battlefield awash in the blood of innocents." Definitely not the dirtiest place I've ever stayed.

Food was a highlight. You can get good spice here. Sweet things are also available for women/ardents.

On the whole, accommodations are solid. Good infrastructure, no weather actively trying to kill you, some places on planet not currently at war.

People can be aggressively religious, but if you avoid people in red armor, it's fine.

For entertainment, I can recommend sightseeing--go see the city of Elantris. It's worth it. Note: reviews complaining about zombies and sludge are old. Always check the date on reviews.

Overall 4/5

7. Taldain (White Sand)

The place has too much sand to be clean. I'm sorry but it has to be said.

The place has too much sand to have good food. I feel like it was always slightly...crunchy.

The accommodations are fine if you like sand.

The people always seem to be subtly wanting to prove that they're better than you. Sometimes it is not subtle. I guess this is what happens when Autonomy is in charge.

If you want entertainment, try the Darkside.

Overall, 2/5 just not my favorite place.

8. Threnody (Shadows for Silence)

Place is quite clean.

Food is bland again. You cannot trust Threnodites to have good food.

Oh, also the place is full of ghosts who will murder you.

0/5

9. Komashi (Yumi and the Nightmare Painter)

Can verify that place is no longer infested by deadly nightmares seeking your death. Travelers no longer need to seek out the few pockets of warmth and light in the sea of encroaching darkness. It's a pretty normal planet now.

Food is pretty good. Ramen place in Kilahito (Noodle Princess) is a highlight.

Good accommodations, tech-wise. Heating, lighting, hion-viewers. If you need that stuff to feel comfortable, not a bad place to visit.

If you're not actively on the run, there is plenty to do, from watching your shows to attending local festivals or art installations, to star gazing.

Pleasant place, these days. 5/5

10. Roshar

Note: I'm from here so my review may be biased.

Can't say planet is very clean. It's always at war, and the rain is full of crem.

Food varies. Soulcast food is not very good. Non-soulcast homemade food is great! (Most food is soulcast.)

Accommodations matter--try to stay in a building that is sturdy on both the east & the west side because the storms here do want to kill you. That is not entirely a metaphor. Are the accommodations nice? I mean, they're fine.

There is a lot to do here if you like war. There is a lot of war.

5/5 This place sucks and I miss it a lot.

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

Archery

The sun filtered through the dense canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor as you adjusted your quiver. The archery parcours was tucked away in a secluded woodland, far from the noise of the world. You glanced over at Ghost, who stood with his arms crossed, surveying the area like it was a mission briefing.

“This what you do in your free time?” he asked, his voice low and amused.

“Sometimes,” you replied, pulling out your bow and holding it up proudly. “Thought it’d be fun to show you what I’m good at for a change.”

He chuckled, the sound sending a pleasant warmth through you. “Let’s see if you’re as sharp as you claim, then.”

You led him to the first target, a painted foam animal set up about 20 meters away. Nocking an arrow, you took your stance, drawing the string back smoothly. Your focus sharpened, the world narrowing to just you and the target. With a deep breath, you released, the arrow slicing through the air before sinking into the bullseye.

When you turned to Ghost, his head tilted slightly, impressed. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” you echoed, feigning offense. “That was perfect!”

“Alright, show-off. Let’s see if I can beat you,” he said, holding out his hand for the bow.

You hesitated. “Have you ever used a bow before?”

“Can’t be that different from a rifle,” he said with a shrug.

You bit back a grin as you handed it over. “Okay, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He fumbled at first, his gloved hands awkward against the bowstring. You stifled a laugh as he tried to nock the arrow, the tip wobbling unsteadily. “Need some help?” you teased.

He shot you a look through his mask. “I’ve got it.”

But when he tried to draw the bowstring back, he grunted softly, the unfamiliar motion clearly straining muscles unused to this kind of movement.

“Maybe rifles are more your thing,” you said, stepping closer.

He didn’t reply, his jaw tightening beneath the mask. You couldn’t help but smile as you moved behind him, guiding his hands into the proper position. “Relax your shoulders,” you murmured, your fingers brushing his as you adjusted his grip. “And don’t yank the string—pull it back smoothly.”

His body stiffened slightly at your touch, the proximity clearly affecting him. But he didn’t pull away, letting you guide him.

“There,” you said softly, stepping back. “Now aim for the target and release.”

He exhaled and released the string. The arrow flew… and missed the target entirely, sinking into the grass a few feet short.

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in. “Not quite the bullseye!”

He turned to you slowly, his body language betraying mock indignation. “Careful, love. You’re on thin ice.”

“Come on, Simon,” you said, still grinning. “It’s harder than it looks, isn’t it?”

He stepped closer, his towering presence suddenly making you aware of the small space between you. “Careful how much you tease,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I might decide to take it personally.”

Your breath hitched, the playful moment charged with an intensity you hadn’t anticipated. But you refused to back down, raising your chin. “Maybe you’ll just have to practice more.”

For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, heavy and unreadable. Then he turned back to the target, nocking another arrow with determination.

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of missed shots, sarcastic banter, and a growing sense of ease between you. By the end, Ghost managed to hit a target—barely—but the triumph in his posture was unmistakable.

“Well?” he asked as you packed up your gear.

“You’re… improving,” you said diplomatically.

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Good thing I’ve got the best teacher, eh?”

The compliment caught you off guard, your cheeks warming. As you walked back through the woods together, his hand brushed yours briefly—a silent thank-you for sharing something so personal with him.

You smiled to yourself, already planning the next time you’d bring him here. After all, even Ghost needed a little practice.

~~~

A few weeks later, you found yourself back at the archery parcours, this time with Ghost fully geared up with his own borrowed bow. You’d insisted he join you again, teasing him mercilessly until he relented.

“This is starting to feel like a personal mission,” Ghost grumbled as he adjusted the bow in his hands.

“Maybe it is,” you shot back with a grin. “You’ve got to earn your redemption after last time.”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through you. “Careful, love. You might regret pushing me.”

You raised a brow, setting up your shot at the first target. “Oh, really? Let’s see what you’ve got then, tough guy.”

With a smirk hidden under his mask, Ghost stepped up to the line. He nocked an arrow and drew back the string, his muscles tensing with the motion. The sight of him wielding the bow—a weapon so different from the ones he was used to—was oddly mesmerizing.

The arrow flew, hitting the target this time but far from the bullseye. You clapped slowly, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, Simon. That’s… better, I guess.”

He turned to you, the intensity in his gaze unmistakable even through the mask. “Keep it up, and I’ll pin you to the next target.”

Your breath caught at his words, a thrill sparking through you. But you refused to let him see how much he affected you, so you quipped back, “Big words for someone who’s barely hitting the board.”

He stepped closer, his towering presence making the space between you shrink to almost nothing. “You really want to test me?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

Your heart raced, the teasing moment charged with something deeper. You met his gaze, refusing to back down. “Always.”

The silence stretched, the weight of his stare pressing down on you. Then, to your surprise, his gloved hand lifted to adjust a loose strand of hair near your face. The gesture was almost tender, but the deliberate slowness of it sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re trouble,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its edge.

“You’re just figuring that out?” you teased, your voice breathless.

He stepped back suddenly, breaking the moment, though his eyes lingered on you a second longer. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s see you hit a bullseye, then.”

The rest of the session was a mix of playful taunts and focused shots. Ghost improved marginally, though he was quick to grumble about “bloody impractical weapons” whenever he missed. You didn’t let up, teasing him mercilessly every chance you got.

By the final target, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the forest. Ghost stood beside you, watching as you lined up your shot.

“You’ve got good form,” he said quietly, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced at him, surprised by the compliment. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, you know. For a beginner.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Cheeky.”

You released the arrow, watching it sink into the bullseye. Ghost let out a low whistle. “Impressive.”

You turned to him, unable to resist one last jab. “Maybe one day, you’ll hit one too.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his gaze settling on you with a weight that made your teasing smile falter. “Maybe,” he said, his voice low, “but I think I’ve already hit my target.”

Your breath caught at the double meaning, the playful air between you shifting into something heavier, more significant. He stepped closer, his gloved hand brushing yours as he passed, heading back toward the path.

You stood there for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you. When you finally followed him, your heart was racing, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

[4eelz]

Iowa City: it already sees high transit usage but is really stifled by the number of people you can fit on a bus, if you ran a small light rail from IRL to the old cap, with a stop in Downtown Coralville, going by that one awkerdly placed semi-off campus dorm you'd get collage student ridership during the school year and locals would use it to get to work and bridge the awkward gap area. Local voters love the busses enough to make em free everywhere but Coralville, and you have room for expansion (connection to North Liberty, then onto Cedar Rapids, or down to Moline). The Iowa City Cedar Rapids Railway already has some good-enough track that used to run an intercity, and places like the awkward highway one crossing near Kum & Go have accessible unused land near places people live you could build a stop.

I think the ultimate question in the future thag we are going to end up having to ask in regards to public transportation is this, how do we adequately distribute the funding necessary to build the public transit we need when so many places need it and the quality transit in the US is so unevenly distributed

[vodika-vibes]

Fight Song

Summary: You’ve always had a temper, a fact that’s gotten you into trouble many times over your life. As you’ve aged, however, you’ve learned to get a handle on your temper. Still, when your supposed BFF makes a comment about Dogma you lose your cool.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1022

Warnings: Reader gets into a fight with a bigot and doesn't regret it, reader gets hurt, Dogma has a whole slew of nicknames for reader

A/N: So this isn't one of my requests but for some reason, none of my requests sparked joy today, so you get this instead. I hope you all like it!

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You wince as you press the wet cloth against your eye, trying both to stop the swelling before it gets too bad and to stop the bleeding from the cut over your eye at the same time. 

In truth, you’re not doing the best job at that. You’re still too wired and hyped up on adrenaline to tend to your injuries in the way that they need.

Plus. It hurts.

Not physically. Well, not so much physically. But you lost a good friend today, and it hurts.

You don’t regret it. Not at all. The things he said about Dogma were disgusting, and there’s no room, or place, in your life for a bigot. Even if that bigot had been your friend since you were a kid.

Maybe even especially so.

You had no idea he had those kinds of opinions…or maybe you didn’t notice. You’ll have to ask Dogma when you see him later. And if you didn’t notice the bigotry, you’ll owe Dogma so many apologies.

For a moment, you’re mind lingers on your boyfriend. On his smile and the way his eyes crinkle when he’s genuinely happy. On the way he brightened when you taught him how to make brownies, and the shy way he gave you a whole tray of brownies made from scratch.

And, slowly, you’re heart sinks as a memory swims to the forefront of your mind.

“Another fight, cyare?” Dogma asks, a disappointed frown on his face as he steps closer to you and tilts your head back to scan your face, “You promised you would stop this.”

“I promised I would try,” You counter weakly, averting your gaze so you don’t have to see his disappointment, “And I did try, Dogma. I promise.”

A heavy sigh falls from him, and you cringe. But his fingers are so gentle as he takes the cloth from you, “Try harder, love. I hate seeing you hurt.”

You pull yourself out of the memory, and slowly your gaze travels to the pile of blood-soaked paper towels sitting on the coffee table, and then your gaze drifts to the wet rag in your hand, which is also covered in blood. Finally, your gaze drops to the tiny blood drops on the floor, trailing from the front door.

Dogma is going to be so disappointed in you.

And, like, you’re not unused to disappointing the people you love your parents often send you messages asking if you’ve been arrested for assault yet, and your older brother refuses to have anything to do with you because he “can’t watch you ruin your life any longer”.

But, somehow, it’s worse with Dogma.

And then, as if the universe wants to taunt you specifically, the front door slides open and a familiar voice calls your name, “I’m home! I saw your speeder out front. I thought you were spending the day with your friends.”

For the first time since the day you met Dogma, you panic when you hear his voice. Hurriedly, you shove all of the blood-soaked material into the bag and throw it behind the couch. And then you settle on your knees on the couch and hope that Dogma, suddenly, forgets how to be observant.

You hear him in front hall, the sound of him sitting on the bench by the front door to remove his shoes…though the sound of movement suddenly stops. And you’re reminded of the blood trail starting at the front door.

Fuck.

“Cyare?” You hear Dogma stand and the sound of his heavy boots heading down the hall, and you scramble to your feet and dart to the hall, suddenly distracted from your panic.

You stop in front of him and stop him with a hand on his chest, “Shoes off at the door, mister!”

Dogma stares at you, for long enough that you start to feel uncomfortable, and then he sighs and kicks his shoes to the side, leaving them messily in the hall, before he takes your face between your hands. Gently, he turns your head from one side to the other, and his brow furrows.

“You got into another fight.” It’s not a question.

“I…” You consider lying about it, but only for a split second, “Yeah. I did.”

“What was it about this time?” Dogma asks, exasperated.

“Someone said something.” You reply.

“Baby, you need to learn to ignore them.”

“I know. I know. But I couldn’t. Not with what he said.”

“About you?”

“No. About you.”

Dogma looks surprised for a moment, “I’m assuming this was your friend? What did he say?”

“Ex-friend. And I don’t want to say it. Don’t ask me to.” You wrap your hands around his wrists, “But, know that he deserved it. And I’m not sorry.”

He rubs his thumb under your eye, “Sweetheart—”

“Bigots get no mercy from me. Ever. You can’t change that about me Dogma.”

He scans your face for a moment longer, and then he sighs. “I wish you wouldn’t fight. It breaks my heart every time you get hurt.”

You avert your gaze, “I know. I’m sorry.”

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, “but I wouldn’t change you for all of the credits in the galaxy. I’m proud to have a cyare who is willing to fight for what they believe in.”

“Even though I get hurt?”

“I guess I’ll just have to take Kix up on that medic class he’s been shoving at us for the last three months. He’ll be thrilled.” Dogma smiles then, “Now. How about I help you get patched up and we order some lunch?”

“Can we have curry?”

“Whatever you want, love.”

“And fancy cake from that place down the street?” You ask, hopefully.

He laughs and lightly taps your nose, “Don’t push it.” Dogma presses a gentle kiss against your lips, and then releases you to head into the house proper.

You take a moment to straighten his shoes and sit them on the shoe rack, and then you hear Dogma from the living room, “Babe? Why is there a bag of bloody rags behind the couch?”

“...uh…I can explain?”

@kimiheartblade

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@kiss-anon

[fidenciocryptidcreechur]

Honestly yeah, plus yuu would also end up giving this to everyone else as well considering our lack of healing magic throughout history and thus nearly complete reliance on just the human body having a good enough immune system to get used to or acclimate to bacteria especially considering that just cause someone doesn't get sick doesn't mean they're not carrying it especially if that person has an immunity. I say arguably complete reliance since vaccines and soaps and medicines help but still rely on someone's immune system picking up the slack of whatever the treatment is helping with. Like the immunity or ability to get over an illness or not be affected by bacteria doesn't mean it's not on them or in them per se.

Yuu would both have to worry about the diseases there (arguably a yuu with a rather strong or very adaptable immune system might be okay though they're gonna be off for the first few months and will need to go to the nurse as needed) but also because of the lack of healing magic and healing potions throughout history, they too would likely be a walking plague starter tbh since they're also likely carrying diseases that have had to adapt to earth human immune system and change rapidly quite often in a variety of environments and even adapting between species (bird flu, swine flu) rather than being eradicated relatively quickly with magic or healing potions (assuming they are eradicated and thus an outbreak resolved before that population of bacteria/virus is able to adapt). Also so true about biting and sharing utensils since, for some reason, humans have one of the most diverse microbiomes in their mouths. Main reasons being simply adapting to different diets plus huge diversity in what humans eat and put in their mouths, since many bacteria helps in this regard but these bacteria do cause problems if out of hand or living in places other than the human mouth. Humans have 615 species in their mouth and counting, many of which are unnamed or are difficult to grow and study. The main reason it can have such a huge range of bacteria but not have a problem is simply because of teeth brushing. In comparison dogs have 600 species of bacteria and the reason they have oral problems is because they don't get teeth cleanings as often (dogs do have a natural enzyme to help with their oral health at least). Seriously, imagine being a species that has a history of teeth cleaning, with a modern day routine of dousing it in fluoride (toothpaste plus cleansers) alcohol or antibacterial rinse (mouthwash) and abrasives (tiny grit in toothpaste) and still having a huge amount of stuff going on in the mouth alone. It's natural and healthy but still startling.

Arguably yuu should've either caused an outbreak within the first couple weeks and then end up sick in bed. RIP to everyone honestly.

Would be a fun plague or outbreak au if the bacteria etc started getting funky with magical bodies or being affected by magic itself. Again assuming that earth bacteria is weirdly adaptable and has had more time/opportunity to be extremely adaptable to changes and be better at it versus wonderland bacteria that's likely able to be targeted more directly with magic and potions and thus less opportunity. It would be like introducing a new culture in what was already something that was being maintained or is unused to it. An invasive species. We already have plenty of zoonotic diseases that are able to jump from different species (and quite quickly at that) so it wouldn't be much of a stretch at all for them to rapidly spread throughout the campus.

Fun ideas to be had there

Since yuu is from a different world imagine how dangerous it could be to share the utensils, kiss or bite each other since all the Microorganisms, bacteria etc would all be completely forgein to yuu's body, like if someone were to bite yuu it could have a venom-like effect

[binxdoesgaming]

Uh oh, guess who's on the A.I.M.E. brainrot again.

My girlie :)

[canisalbus]

*carefully picks you up and peeks into your conch snail shell*

Ehm... Sorry to bother, but... Could we, maybe, possibly... see Vasco's wife and her lover pictured by your hand? Sorry again, thank you for listening. Take care.

*delicately lays you back into the water to prevent any stress or dehydration*

Unfortunately I don't have her lover figured out yet, but I think Ludovica looks something like this:

[fungi-maestro]

[binniesunderworld]

"I once compared Adrien to a mirror that projects the user's perception and cognition. Anyone who uses him, approaches him, educates him and guides him. His people will subtly project their own shadows onto him, and he absorbs many of the not-so-good things without any analysis and almost greedily"

You know, I guess that's something his parents taught him. Adrien never had completely positive influences in his life before school. While there were people who liked him, they were not good role models. And growing up surrounded by those behaviours, he never questioned whether they were really bad until he entered society, as you said.

"I can guess that before s2, he may have borrowed the image of Emilie as his personality expression (they are equally emotional, refer to some other people's comments on Emilie's resistance to her native family), and the isolated environment is very suitable."

In ‘Simon Says’ there is a scene where Gabriel talks to Ladybug and says: "I have to apologize for my son, Ladybug. He's like his mother, way too overly dramatic". So it's basically a confirmation that S1 Adrien got his mother's personality. We don't know much about Mrs Agreste's personality, we only know that she was rebellious and capricious, but still kind and hated upper class responsibilities. And by ‘capricious’ I don't mean that she was a selfish brat, but that she had very specific desires and did everything in her power to get them. It's basically the same personality as S1 Adrien.

S2 Adrien from now on is basically Gabriel. Adrien internalised Gabriel's anger and made it his own, and so many of his other behaviours. For example: physical touch. Gabriel always touches Adrien (whether it is a hug, holding his hand or grabbing his shoulder) when he is going to manipulate him, and Adrien does not realise that this is manipulation because he is so unused to physical displays of affection. So he interprets this simply as a token of affection without any other intention behind it. And that is why every time Adrien tries to comfort someone or show how much he loves them, his way of doing so is physical contact, because that is his perception of a token of affection.

Here is an example of Gabriel manipulating with physical touch, not only Adrien but trying to do the same with Ladybug. He puts his hand on Ladybug's shoulder and says ‘what could possibly happen with you here to protect me?’ in a rather odd tone of voice. Then, in another scene, he asks her permission to touch her earrings and extends his arm to do so before she gives her consent, to which Ladybug looks rather uncomfortable. This kind of manipulation does not work with her because, unlike Adrien, she is not touch starved. Hence the difference in atmosphere between the chapters where he manipulates Adrien and this one where he tries to manipulate Ladybug: Adrien's are not uncomfortable because they are from the perspective of a victim who sees it as a good thing, Ladybug's are from the perspective of a person who knows that the behaviour is weird and that's why the scene is so uncomfortable.

Whatever, I started talking about Adrien and ended up talking about Gabriel. Sorry about that. I guess the conclusion of this is that Adrien is a sponge that absorbs all the behaviours he is exposed to: when his mum was a strong influence in his life he behaved like her, when Gabriel was he behaved like him and when Marinette (S5) was he started to see through his father's manipulation and in a way he also started to behave like her.

I really liked the points you made and I don't think there are any mistakes, you did a great job!

How Gabriel Agreste Destroyed Adrien's Life: A 3 a.m. Analysis

From: ‘I enrolled in a school without my father's permission, I ran away from home to attend the first day of school and although I don't want my father to be angry with me, I'm not afraid of a punishment either because I KNOW there won't be one’.

To: ‘My girlfriend is alone with my father, with no one to protect her, completely defenceless. I NEED TO SAVE HER’.

One knows that his father is a good person who, no matter how angry he is, would never hurt him. The other doesn't, it's the opposite, he is no longer sure of anything, he fears for the safety of those he loves and is so terrified that he is about to have a panic attack.

But how did we get from the first to the second?

How Gabriel Agreste's abuse managed to completely change his son in a matter of days

People don't remember this because it happened a long time ago and has not been repeated, but Adrien used to be a NORMAL person, not as perfect as he is now. While he has always been kind and polite, there were also times when he allowed himself to be a bit hostile and not as perfect as we are used to seeing him (as Adrien, not as Chat Noir). Usually that ‘good boy’ facade was only used in front of his father and Nathalie, but in front of his friends he behaved like a normal teenager, even becoming a bit teasing, self-centred and rebellious. "The Bubbler", "Animan", "Kung Food" and "Evillustrator" being the clearest examples of these behaviours, in particular towards Nino, Chloé and Marinette.

In S1 it becomes clear that the only conflict Adrien has with his father is the fact that he does not give him as much freedom as Adrien would like. Apart from this, Adrien has no other problems with him and considers him to be a good father. There are several of Adrien's behaviours that suggest that Gabriel's overprotectiveness towards him was the only thing wrong with him, but that otherwise Gabriel was excellent. It is time for us to look at that.

1. Origins

Adrien literally enrolled in a school without his father's permission and when his father refused to approve Adrien's attendance, he ran away from home and went running to school. When Nathalie tries to convince him to come back Adrien simply says ‘this is what I want’ and turns around to continue up the stairs, not caring if she has anything else to say. He hears that someone needs help and immediately goes to their aid, and as soon as he finishes doing that he turns to Nathalie and the bodyguard with a charming smile expecting to see their proud faces, and when instead he sees that they are still angry he is immediately horrified and gives up.

This tells us a lot about Adrien: he is a spoilt child who has never been punished in his life, and when things get difficult his first reaction is to be adorable or do a good deed to be forgiven. Adrien intended to leave Nathalie talking to herself, and he wasn't worried about the idea of being punished when he got home from school because he knew it wasn't likely to happen. He then helps someone to ingratiate himself with Nathalie and the bodyguard so that they will stop being angry, and when he realises that it didn't work he is surprised. He is used to people forgiving his disobedience just because he is cute. He immediately gives up and asks Nathalie not to tell Gabriel. While he didn't want his father to be angry with him, he also didn't fear punishment because he knew he wouldn't get it.

Later, at the mansion, Adrien realises that Nathalie did tell Gabriel and he feels betrayed, as if he didn't expect her to do that. Basically, he is not used to people disobeying him. Gabriel again forbids Adrien from going to school but it's nothing he hasn't said before: Gabriel reprimands Adrien's behaviour with words, never with punishment, and there comes a point when words are no longer enough and Adrien is no longer afraid of them, hence he becomes ‘rebellious’. The next day Adrien runs away again and, surprise surprise, he is not punished, in fact he is rewarded. Despite having disobeyed his father again, he is rewarded and allowed to go to school, even Nathalie (whom he treated very badly) offers to help him. This reward is without explanation, just because. I'm not saying Adrien deserved to be locked up for life at home, at the end of the day he's just a teenager who wants to socialise with more people, but it's clear he was a spoilt child whose behaviours both good and bad were praised, just like Chloé and Felix, so if you ever wondered why he was such good friends with them, here's your answer.

2. The Bubbler

Here we get confirmation of how Adrien is a good boy only in front of his father and Nathalie, and how he is himself in front of his friends. At the beginning of the episode he together with Nino makes fun of his father because he does not agree to throw him a birthday party. Then, when Nino is akumatized, he at first refuses to be part of the party because he cares about Nino and wants to save him. Even when he realises that all the adults are trapped in bubbles, he never cares about his father, Nathalie or his bodyguard, only about saving Nino. And then he also gives up on this idea after a little chat with Plagg and says: "Okay, you're right. This might be the first day in my life that I actually get to do what I want for once", and Adrien joins the party without any show of consideration for the adults he knows.

Although all these behaviours were forgotten by the fandom, they are important to understand Adrien's character and how he changed due to his father's abuse. This is the normal behaviour of a teenager with a bit of a grudge: he's not a psychopath who wants something bad to happen to his father, he's a kid who knows that in the end he and his superhero partner will fix everything and he allows himself to have fun in the meantime. But it's something the current Adrien would never do, and there's where the difference lies.

3. Volpina & The Collector

This is the last episode in which we see Adrien acting like a normal teenager. He overhears Gabriel talking on the phone and decides to spy on him, then discovers that he has a safe behind his mother's portrait and out of curiosity goes to investigate. Adrien discovers the book and takes it with him, when he is discovered he quickly makes up a lie. RIP pre-lobotomised Adrien, you will always be missed.

This is the key point in the change of behaviour of both Adrien and Gabriel.

Gabriel confronts Adrien and he immediately gives an explanation in a tone of voice intended to generate sympathy:

—I just wanted to know what you were hiding behind that portrait that was so important.

This doesn't work so he resorts to blaming Gabriel himself:

—You.. you never told me about those things.

And this doesn't work either, so he decides to admit what he did but also looks for a way to justify himself:

—I was intending to give it back to you, I swear. But then I lost it.

Gabriel tells Adrien that he no longer trusts him, and what is Adrien's reaction? He just looks jaded and apologises to Gabriel, in an attitude that makes it clear that he is used to apologising to make things right, that he is not genuinely sorry, and also offers to buy him a new copy, confident that this will be enough for Gabriel to forgive him. This confirms the previous point: Adrien is used to getting out of his punishments just because he looks cute or does a good deed, and this became so repetitive that Adrien already knew how to get out of a punishment, and was not afraid of his father but simply tired of scolding that went nowhere. Again, there is no fear of consequences.

Everything changes completely when Gabriel tells him that this book is unique in the world, that there is no other copy. Apologies didn't work and the other form of redemption, buying him a copy, wasn't possible. Then is when Adrien's face changes completely to horror: he has just understood the magnitude of his mistake. His father punishes him by forbidding him to go back to school and Adrien is heartbroken, but does not try to reason with his father (as he had done, and many times, in past episodes). This is the birth of the Adrien we know now: from a normal boy to a submissive puppet. He knows that there is no way to redeem himself and that is why he decides not to fight, he finally realises that his actions have consequences, serious ones, taking away what is most precious to him: his freedom.

From here on we see a completely changed Adrien, from a rebellious teenager to a perfect doll with no thoughts of his own. Before, he pretended to be perfect only in front of his father, Nathalie and his bodyguard. Now he pretends to be perfect in front of everyone, regardless of whether he knows them or not. The trauma can be clearly seen: Adrien adopts this neat behaviour because he is afraid that his freedom will be taken away if his father finds out that he made another mistake. Now Adrien knows that he CAN be punished. He doesn't even allow himself to breathe in peace because of all the stress and fear he carries. And so it is that Adrien becomes a puppet unable to stop pretending even in front of his own friends: we go from an Adrien who was not afraid to react strangely to Marinette's odd behaviour, who was not afraid to tease Nino about his crush and who was not afraid to put Chloé in her place when the situation warranted it, to an Adrien who could not even keep his back bent for fear that his father would consider it inappropriate.

Gabriel Agreste being a shitty father and exploiting his son's weaknesses to profit from them

Despite being strict with Adrien, there were times when Gabriel let him spend time with his friends and have fun with them. In fact, in S1 there are several of these, most of them to be found there (before all the drama).

In ‘Animan’ he is in the zoo helping Nino with his date with Marinette.

In ‘Gamer’ he is playing video games for the school championship at Marinette's house.

In ‘Kung Food’ he comes to Marinette's house to help her with her uncle and even takes them to the hotel and stays for dinner with them, he spends practically the whole day away from home.

In ‘Horrificator’ he spends many hours filming the movie for the school.

In ‘The puppeteer’ he is going somewhere alone and relaxed.

In ‘Timebreaker’ he is present during the race between Alix and Kim.

As you can see, despite being strict, Gabriel sometimes let his son spend time with his friends. When did this change? After the book incident. After forbidding Adrien to attend school, Gabriel noticed how heartbroken he was and realised that school and his friends were not a whim for Adrien, but something he truly cherished. And Gabriel used these feelings to manipulate Adrien. In S1, before the incident, Adrien is more ‘rebellious’ and still has enough freedom to be with his friends. In S2, after the incident, Adrien behaves much better than in S1 and still doesn't have half as much freedom as before, and when he finally gets his father's permission to be with his friends, something happens at the last minute (Heroes Day Part 2, for example). This is because his father has discovered his Achilles' heel and uses it to benefit himself and manipulate Adrien.

The clearest proof of this is in the difference between ‘Horrificator’, where Gabriel let Adrien spend hours in the school filming the movie, and ‘Queen Banana’, where Gabriel let Adrien go for only a few minutes to the filming and right after he finished his part he literally left in a cage hanging from a helicopter. It is clear the pleasure that man developed in making his son miserable.

And we could talk about ‘Chat Blac’ and ‘Ephemeral’, but I won't touch those topics as they are not part of our timeline. I'll just say that they made it clear how far Gabriel is willing to go (literally traumatise Adrien) in order to get what he wants. What I think, is sick.

Adrien's Stockholm Syndrome: normalisation, justification and romanticisation, and how it makes him vulnerable to unhealthy relationships

1. Gabriel

We have already made it clear that Adrien became an uncritical puppet, and as a result he developed a terrible Stockholm syndrome. Adrien normalised all the manipulation, and by accepting it as something usual this caused him to start justifying it as well. Needless to name the episodes, in many of them there is always someone (usually Nino, Marinette or Plagg) who points out his father's problematic behaviour and Adrien immediately tries to justify it with ‘he does it because he loves me’ or ‘he just wants to protect me’. This shows us a big difference from the Adrien of S1 who was aware of his father's behaviour and even made fun of it, the current Adrien would never do that, on the contrary, he seems to live to justify Gabriel's actions. That's how serious the brainwashing is.

With Gabriel's behaviours now normalised and justified, they in turn begin to be romanticised. Despite being a shitty person, there are moments when Gabriel treats Adrien well: like when he hugs him (something Adrien is not used to), his worried words to Chat Noir about losing Adrien, or when he watches his mother's movie with him. These are all details that if they weren't accompanied by manipulation, anyone could call ‘cute’. And this makes Adrien unaware of the manipulation at first: his own denial and the kind details his father had for him confused his brain. Adrien did not think that his father could be so kind to him if he was a bad person, and that is why Adrien refused to consider him as such. This is a method of self-defence against dangerous situations, the feelings developed by this are not only romantic but any kind of feelings that are enough to make the victim feel safe in dangerous environments.

2. Kagami and Marinette

Let's start with Adrigami. Adrien didn't show a strong interest in Kagami until the chapter ‘Oni-Chan’ where he even rejects Ladybug's fist to make sure Kagami is okay, but what led to this? The romanticisation of obsession and control.

Kagami is simply Adrien's friend, but when she sees a photo of him with another girl, she gets so jealous that she is akumatized and starts chasing this other girl to get her away from Adrien. This is behaviour that is bad as a girlfriend, but even worse as a friend. Adrien doesn't take this seriously and even spends the whole fight making jokes instead of worrying that one of her friends is a jealous girl who is willing to kill for him even if they don't have any kind of commitment. Then, when he sees that Kagami still has the rose he gave her, his behaviour immediately changes and you could say that this is when he starts to feel a real attraction to her, even rejecting Ladybug's fist, whom he had long been in love with.

Here we see how dangerous the romanticisation of problematic behaviour is: Adrien is willing to let go of all the chaos Kagami caused and all her toxic behaviour just because she showed that she really ‘loved him’. And he reciprocates her feelings because he finds it cute that someone is in love with him enough to go crazy. The romanticisation of Gabriel's actions eventually led Adrien to romanticise other people's actions, even going so far as to feel honoured by all the questionable actions these people committed under the justification of loving him.

Something quite similar happens with Adrinette. In S5 Adrien mentions that he started to accept his feelings for Marinette from what happened in ‘The Puppeteer 2’, and there's no way this isn't weird. He had feelings for Marinette long before that, but it was that event that led him to accept them. Marinette literally assaults a ‘statue’ just because it looks like Adrien, starts fantasizing about a life together, steals one of his hair and many other weird things, and what's Adrien's response? To say that he fell in love. He literally saw how far Marinette was capable of going because of her obsession with him, and as much as that behaviour was justified with ‘it was a joke’, instead of caring, what he does is fall in love with her... because of her obsessive and bizarre behaviour towards him.

It is honestly quite disappointing to see how Gabriel's manipulation damaged Adrien to the point of leaving him craving only unhealthy relationships because that was his perception of love.

Both victim and perpetrator

Adrien developed a split personality and a taste for taking advantage of people when he is in situations of power. Gabriel turned Adrien into a victim and a perpetrator, the role depending on the situation. When Adrien is the one at a disadvantage, he displays submissive and manageable behaviour. When he has all the power, he has no problem using it selfishly and taking advantage of others. This was taught by Gabriel, from prudence to ruthlessness, are things Adrien learned from him. And in a way that's how Adrien differs from Chat Noir: the power they possess.

Adrien is always at a disadvantage: his life is in the public eye, everything he does is always monitored by his father or his fans, and if he makes a mistake it is very easy for his father to find out and punish him. This is why Adrien, always powerless, forces himself to act submissively. He does not possess the power in such situations, so he can only act as he is expected to act.

As Chat Noir things are quite different, he always has the power. Chat Noir is a superhero, he watches over Paris but no one watches over him, he has freedom, destructive power, a city that depends on him and a partner who needs him to defeat the supervillains. He has the power. And he uses this power to his advantage.

A clear example of this is his tendency to threaten. Adrien has several times been willing to give up his miraculous and even verbally threaten (in a passive-aggressive way) Ladybug just because it bothers him that she has secrets. All of S2 was Adrien threatening to give up his miraculous if Ladybug didn't tell him her secrets, and this behaviour wasn't like ‘we can't keep hiding things from each other anymore, this isn't healthy for me and if we're not going to be honest it's best to just give up’, no, this behaviour was like ‘if you don't tell me what you're hiding, I'll give this up and you see if you can do it all by yourself or if you find me a replacement’. I understand that he was tired of the situation, but manipulation is never justifiable behaviour. Evidence of this is found in episodes such as ‘Syren’, where Adrien even threatens Plagg with give up his Miraculous if he doesn't tell him what Ladybug is hiding.

Another example is ‘Glaciator’, where he invites Ladybug to a dinner and she makes it clear that she already has plans and is unlikely to go. And yet Adrien is self-illusioned, and when his fantasies are shattered by something Ladybug had already warned him would happen, he simply accuses her of mocking him, throws a tantrum, refuses to help with the akuma, and when Ladybug comes up with a good plan to defeat the villain he guilts her by saying: ‘Sorry, Ladybug, it's not cool to play with people's feelings’ when Ladybug never played with his feelings and in fact realised these only minutes ago.

There are many other episodes like these, too many to list. I guess the most notorious ones are ‘NY Special’ (where he has no problem being unfaithful to Kagami) and ‘Lies’ (where he also has no problem being unfaithful, lying to her, trying to provoke akumatizations and so on). His problematic behaviours are not only as Chat Noir, but also as Adrien when he finds himself in relationships where he has the power. In his courtship with Kagami he knows that she is completely in love with him and uses this to his advantage and does truly horrible things like the ones mentioned above without regard for her feelings because he knows or believes that she won't leave him. Something similar happens with his friendship with Chloé, he knows how much Chloé appreciated him and so every time she committed a bad deed he threatened to end their friendship. It's not wrong to want your friend to stop being a shitty person, and it's okay to let him/her know that if he/she continues this stupid behaviour you'll have no choice but to walk away, but the problem with this is that we go from Adrien's genuine concern for Chloé to empty threats just because, in the end, Chloé wouldn't change her behaviour and he wouldn't leave either.

Conclusions

This is not as well written as I would like it to be. I procrastinated for weeks and when I finally decided to write it I no longer had the series so fresh in my memory. I am a teenager with no professional knowledge of psychology who wrote this at 3 a.m. while I was not so sober.

This post is not salt against Adrien/Chat Noir, in all of ‘Miraculous’ there are only two or three characters I hate and none of those are Adrien, so this post is not hate towards him. While I did describe some of his behaviour in a not so nice way, that was not a personal opinion but an analysis. Like when you go to a psychologist and he doesn't give you his personal opinion but a diagnosis, the main difference being that I am not a professional nor do I claim to be one. Anyways, this is a direct attack on Gabriel Agreste for being a shitty person.

As you may have noticed, most of this analysis is based on S1 to S3. While I did mention some episodes from S4 and S5 they were not as relevant, this is because the first 3 seasons are the ones I've seen the most and ergo the ones I remember the most, maybe later (I don't think so) I'll do a part two on S4 and S5.

Finally: my personal opinion on Adrien. He is an amazing character whose development and build goes unnoticed by the fandom, this is probably because it wasn't done on purpose (if this character build was planned it wouldn't be half as good as it is, the writers aren't that talented). Adrien is just a boy, a victim of an abusive home that ingrained several of his father's behaviours within him and he has no ‘true personality’ as this depends on the situation he finds himself in. He acts this way as a method of survival and although it is not right, it is a psychological response and it is not as if he can help it. I'm really happy that the poor boy is free from his abusive father and I hope that in S6 he can be happy and get therapy.

[iced-souls]

Happy 9th anniversary under the tale!