#azra-sayed
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iâm going to be frank, direct and to the point.
...i have a hemorrhoid right in the middle of my ass crack.
now I canât sit in front of my computer to write đ€
#[azra speaks]#you can all laugh#thatâs why iâm doing when I try to say up#or even walk#but it hurts so bad
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Quick question! Are they soulless constantly in pain and suffer 25/8 or are they just kinda âeh; guess Iâm rottingâ like zombies or are they infinitely searching for something that feels like itâs missing (due to the no soul thing)?
What is the whole soulless experience like?
:D! oh all of the above though only the first is hardbaked into their nonexistent dna!! stuck in a human body that's unable to process sensory input the right way & still tethered to the invisible moon via their blood. granted, it's not burning blood jail 900% of the time, sometimes it's just an uncanny itch, random muscle aches, spasms, tingling nerves that sputter and spark; sometimes it's like nothing is wrong at all (esp prevalent with gray who will only notice some minor ache in response to linnea's touch driving it out of him <3 ofc that only makes it more painful when she withholds her cure, esp esp when she's in the mood 2 make him worse on purpose ww) this ask is getting away from me help
camp Rotting For Sport is mostly sky content as she heads towards soulless existence via blood rot/nascent pain (shoutout to dream game :)đȘ) sorry babygirl say goodbye to your hard-won strength control we are unlocking the birthright you never wanted </3
nd the 'searching for something thats missing' is mostly a consequence of the condition nd manifests differently for all of them!! faye is chronically homesick for the invisible moon she just wants to go back n quit existence, less so because of the pain (it isn't helping, sure) but she's the only one who finds a weird solace in it. the proof of her origin, her destination calling out to her!! and gray is the direct opposite, violently chasing any human feeling and desire, compounded by the fact that linn indulges in life so brilliantly she has so much fun!! but it's russian roulette whether or not he can partake in the same way; longing to eat but unable to hold food down. longing to sleep but never rested. etc etc the list is longer than i'm willing to engage him as a complex character rather than the guy in the 10 of swords card đ
long story short, being soulless sucks as much as any chronic illness sucks but they're very good at making the worst of it too <3
#this ask jumpscared the fuck out of me bc i was sideblogging and for a moment thought i had accidentally posted smth to main askdjaksjdksjf#askbox#anonbox#oc asks#I LOVE DOING OC ASKS SO MUCH TY FOR UR INTEREST ILYYY <3333333#also platinum road is one of my favourite settings bc it forces faye to confront the question if living might not be worth it after all#(being gay and arianna's object of affection will do that 2 u <3) not a love saves all scenario by any means but a fun thought experiment#bc she is so utterly devoid of human connection in the main storyline. she n eliada are besties but they both just wna go home#for the price of mindbreaking one (1) teenager you too can quit ur job & retire ! (terms & conditions may apply)#much more i could say here but that wld be getting way out into the weeds n maybe a little too on main#trust me when i say i have SO MUCH WRITING on these bastards n the shit they deal with / results of their hashtag coping mechanisms >:3#oh nd fwiw there is actual Zombie Rotting (live love laugh) in the azra corner but that's a wholly different story#sometimes you become a vessel for the universe's harddrive reset and that's okay! carry on soldier
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( @jieunfms )
Viktor didn't do hospitals; too many false calls when the disappearance of their sister was fresh, too many Jane Does lined up like actresses auditioning for their typecast, too many false hopes. Every nurse knew him by name, and he hated each and every one of them for it. They lingered near the visitors' entrance despite it - despite their resentment - like a loitering teenager, eyes catching on the back of every passing head until the right one walked on by. "You change your hair?" Viktor peeled himself off the wall, discarding their just-lit cigarette beneath their boot as they trailed behind Jieun, "Looks nice, very fucking - I'm taking control of my life. It's brave, French even." A pause. "Not dead yet, then?"
#âââ â starter ă blame it on your karmic curse. ă#c:park ji eun#missing person tw#jst the mention#hsadhkdf im so sorry. this is viktor's way of caring<3#hes referring to azra<3#im going off of the short hair era bt even if she didnt change her hair...viktor wld still say shit like this i think
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Felt incredible amounts of nostalgia this morning, so I bequeath unto thee a mass post of sketches and unpolished work of my OCs! Of no particular order, not even time, but all of it is from 2021 and early 2022 Â đđđ_(:Đ·)â )_đđđ
#Roach's Choice#omg hold on i gotta tag each one of these gd bastards#Raisa Yilan (OC)#Ali Dobermann (OC)#Azra Dobermann (OC)#Emory Noor Key (OC)#Evren (OC)#Nikalia (OC)#Cain Freud (OC)#Arata (OC)#anyways I have to say... greatest fucking hits fr#â|ïżŁ|_ i'm so not normal about any one of them tbfh#affflicted with being too alone disease today btw#so like#if anyone đđ wants to send me asks about them or whatever#<33333#i am so fucking ready to word vomit alll over my goddamn tumblr page#nuclear fallout levels of lore ready to be unleashed at the first anon to even MENTION any of my ocs at me
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Itâs okay because I ordered Achilles (fuchsia), Lykos (bronze) and Azra (bronze) sprites. Iâm also on a waiting list for Nereus (fuchsia) sprites so that will balance out the Blue.
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Iâm always soft for you, thatâs the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say âcome here, itâs been too long, it felt like home with you.
Azra T
#Azra T#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
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FOLIE Ă DEUX âââ jonathan crane â§
àłââ· âNot all love is gentle. Sometimes it's gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it's not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth.â - Azra T.
pairing. professor!jonathan crane x stalker!reader
summary. youâve been stalking your professor for 8 months, keeping track of his movements with your diary. one day, said professor informs that you left something of yours behind in his officeâŠ
warnings. swearing, choking, p in v, dacryphilia, oral sex (f), dubcon (if u squint), stalking, breeding, orgasm delay/denial, unprotected sex, hair pulling, student-teacher relationship, SMUT UNDER THE CUT
word count. 4.5k
a/n. this is my first ever smut, so if it sucks i really do apologize. also, im kinda unsure where the plot on this one went, but whatever! lastly, i do try to keep all my fics gender-neutral, but seeing as this is smut, i had to choose, and the reader is afab.
âMiss [Name], please stay behind after class. I need just a moment's worth of your time.â Your professor said absently, not looking at you, when he handed back your essay on the human id.
You hummed, nodding your head carefully. âYes, Professor Crane.âÂ
Inwardly, you swooned at his choice of words: âI need just a moment's worth of your time.â Heâd highlighted the existence of both you and him in the sentence, as if coexisting together, with one another, was plausible.
Later, when class ended, youâd packed up all your things, and walked into Professor Craneâs office off to the side, where he was tidying up.Â
âYou asked me to stay behind, sir?âÂ
âYes,â Crane acknowledged your presence, looking at you squarely. âYou forgot something in my office during our last tutoring session.âÂ
Your eyes widened slightly, both at the fact youâd left one of your items behind, and that your Professor had seen the item, and knew it belonged to you. He hadnât mistaken it as his own, or anyone else's - he knew it was yours.
âOh!â You said, a beat later. âThank you for telling me. Where is it, exactly?â
âBefore we get to that matter - do take a seat - I believe we need to have a, ah, talk.â He gestured to the seat in front of his office desk, the same seat you sat on every Wednesday at 6:30 for the past few months.Â
âA talk, sir?â You pried, but sat down anyway, reveling in the one-on-one time you were experiencing with your favorite professor.Â
That was the main motivator for getting tutored by the man - you adored going in, having an entire hour of him all to yourself.Â
Prior, you pretended not to get some of his lessons, let your grade in his psychology class slip to a pitiful mark so low he couldnât ignore it. Youâd started the semester with a stellar grade, so he took it upon himself to offer tutoring - he knew you could understand his method of teaching, and theorized that you hadnât been able to pay attention in class because of the sheer size of people attending.Â
In actuality, however, you understood everything completely - it was merely your obsessive attraction following him like the sound of thunder trailing behind lightning.Â
Crane scrubbed his face when you sat, thinking intently on what he wanted to say. âI need you to understand, Miss [Name], that a student-teacher relationship is completely taboo. Such a thing can never - should never, occur.â
Your breath hitched in your throat, and suddenly, you were reminded how you hadnât seen that book in a while, you hadnât read it when you woke up, when you went for lunch, you hadnât even written anything about him for the dayâ
Your professor slid open one of his desk drawers, and pulled out the familiar pocket notebook you kept with yourself at all times.Â
âIâm telling you about rules, Miss [Name], because you forgot this.â He said, voice low. âAnd, pardon my intrusion, but the stuff you have written here is quite⊠intriguing.â
Your heart began racing in your chest, a cold sweat trailing down your back. âProfessor, I- whatever you read in thereââ You began, but froze when he opened the notebook, thumbing through the pages.Â
Crane cleared his throat, looking intently at the words. His expression changed several times as his eyes flitted over your writing, and you felt your body burn with shame.Â
âJanuary 26th. Professor's gloves were found in the nook of his podium. I was looking for the green apple heâd forgo from finishing, his teeth tracks fresh on the alabaster flesh, but found his winter wear instead. Gloves were brought home - I imagined heâd come over to mine, undressed his biting winter clothing, and forgot his sweet mittens here.â Your professor read your diary out loud. Crane looked like he enjoyed your shame being laid out bare, but you were too absorbed in a whirlwind of emotion to notice.Â
âPâProfessor, please, I - I can explain, I didnât mean anythingââ
âApril 17th. Professor came down with a flu, like I expected. I saw him walking in last weekâs evening downpour and waited for what day this week heâd call in. Later, he bought cough syrup and aspirin at the convenience store. I watched him struggle to care for himself, covered head to toe in blankets, missing meals, barely able to keep upright. I wish professor knew how well I could care for him, how I fulfill his every request and need. I saw how touchy he was, how he fidgeted, that feverish want â I could satiate him like no-one else.âÂ
His lips enunciated every word, and the longer he went on reading, the dizzier you felt; your professor, your darling, had found out - he had found out - he had found fucking out -
âBe honest with me, Miss [Name]. Do you stalk me?â Your professor said, slipping off his wire-framed glasses. The man leaned in closer now, elbows resting on the wooden desk.Â
Your eyes darted away from him, looking anywhere but forwards. You felt like you had been stripped away, so bare your professor could count how many ribs you had, how many minor hairline fractures your tattered bones had collected over the years. You tried to analyze the manâs reaction through your peripheral, but it was to no avail - he was as cold as he had been during class, during your entire time knowing the professor.Â
You breathed, in and out, analyzing the situation tenfold, precisely, trying to find a way out of this place alive, dignity intact. Then, you found it.Â
This man had ensnared you, entranced you with his delicious charm and carefully spoken words. You repeat inwardly to yourself: Crane knew all the right words, all the right places to touch. If he dared press charges, you would tell the world he hurt you first.Â
âYes, Professor Crane.â You nodded, unabashed after deciding how to deal with everything. He canât touch me with this. Iâll just go first: please, he took advantage of me! I needed to pass his class⊠and he offered a solution to me. Heâs lying! Lying to you all. He just wants to destroy me⊠and hide his sin.
âThe human body knows when someoneâs watching them, but you havenât noticed, not once in the 8 months Iâve watched you. You didnât notice, even when I followed you home, even to Arkham. Every obscure outing youâve had, Iâve been there.â
âIâm quite alarmed by this information, Miss [Name]. Moreso by the absence of your remorse.â Crane said, but mere seconds later a low laugh was drawn out of him, looking more amused than alarmed if anything.Â
Craneâs tone was husky, nearing a purr, and he clasped his large, calloused hands together contemplatively. âWhat were you going to do to me, Miss [Name]? Or were you just going to watch, standby my life?â
You chewed the inside of your cheek, unable to respond to his provocations. You didnât want to alarm him further, tell him youâd been planning to finally have him, once and for all, as soon as you got a hold of his house keys and got the chance to replicate your own pair. You didnât tell him that you were barely restraining yourself from knocking him out during your tutoring sessions, wanting your darling all for yourself for more than an hour a week.Â
âAre you not afraid, Miss [Name]? What I can do to your life with this information? How I can ruin you, paint you mad enough to be admitted to Arkham?â he continued, closer than ever before and whispering in your ear. His plush lips brushed past the shell of your ear, making your heart skip a beat.Â
You winced, both from the feeling of him near you and his sweet voice spewing poison in your ear, but quickly composed yourself, for you knew things he didnât know you knew.Â
Then - you werenât quite sure what possessed you, but - your hand came up to his hair, tugging so he could hear you, âProfessor - or, should I say⊠Scarecrow, what would you do, if I told the police what Gotham Universityâs psychology professor did in his spare time?âÂ
âWhat would you do, if I plastered pictures of the renowned Doctor Jonathan Crane wearing the familiar burlap sack mask all over Gotham - especially in places the Batman frequented?â
âI can destroy you, sir.â Your voice was quiet, but dangerous, a terribly alluring thing, like a melody Crane heard a long time ago and remembered every time he smelt the must of an old piano. âDonât push me.â
This time, Crane stilled, turning to face you fully. His gaze had darkened, looking at you through his long lashes. âMy dear, you shouldâve just told me how bad you wanted to find out how this fear-toxin of mine can break you.â He whispered, so quiet you had to strain yourself to hear.Â
With your professor's warm breath fanning on the nape of your neck, you couldnât help how you squirmed, clenched your thighs together - especially when you had been dreaming of something like this for the past eight months. You couldnât count how many times you found yourself with your hands down your pants at the thought of your darling professor having his way with you⊠controlling you completely.Â
You didnât answer the man for a moment, gulping down the dryness in your throat. âWould you, sir? Would you let fear dominate me like those tortured souls in the Narrows?â
Craneâs eyes trailed across your face, then he pulled back, leaning in his chair, a grin all teeth and no tongue spreading across his lips. There was something there, you realized, something he noticed in the intone of your voice - had he noticed the neediness, the warble as your thoughts went elsewhere? The arch in your back, your body desperate to be as close to him as possible?
âCan I tell you what I think?â said Crane, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. âI think you want me to. I think you want me to see you tremble⊠shake in fear⊠you want me to hear you beg. I think you want to be utterly consumed by me.âÂ
The deep timbre of his voice, the suggestion in his words, how he stared you down with each syllable, sent electric shivers down your spine. You took in a sharp breath, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling, compose yourself, whenâ
Craneâs rough hand gripped at your throat, thumb caressing the little notch at the center, and your heart fluttered, jumping at his touch.Â
âFear is an addicting, beautiful thing, is it not? Youâre afraid of me, but you canât help how fucking needy you are.â Your professor spoke, pressing down further on your neck. He had noticed.Â
His touch made your skin feel like it was on fire, the rough pads of his fingertips digging bruises into your delicate skin. It was the most delicious thing you had ever felt, and you leaned into it, despite the connotations of death by asphyxiation looming over your shoulder.Â
Your professor manhandled you, dragging your weak body over to his side of the desk, hand still curved neatly around your throat. You were growing dizzy, a fearful, pleasure-filled fog slowly clouding your mind, and you couldnât speak. All you could do was let out little squeaks of surprise & pleasure, a moan rumbling out of you as he pressed down further.Â
Crane was saying something, but you couldnât tell under the pressure. His facial expression was all you needed, however; his eyes were bloodshot, lustful, so laser-focused that, if looks could kill, youâd have been long gone, while a feral grin replaced his emotionless facade. Craneâs usually well-kept appearance had dissolved, and his hair was askew, tie loose, buttons haphazardly undone.Â
Suddenly, the man pressed himself flush against you, pressing his face into your hair, your neck - losing himself in you. His tongue flicked out, dragging a long stripe down the side of your neck, and you jumped, a startled whine tearing out of your choked-up throat.Â
His grip on you tightened. âWhat? Iâm just having a taste. Is that so wrong?â At your wide eyes, and silent response, he let out a fitful laugh. âYouâre coated in shame, darling. Youâre sour.â
You squirmed - not because you didnât enjoy it - you just couldnât breathe, but Crane didnât care. His fingernails were sharp, maybe even drawing some of your blood.
âPleaâ sir, I canât breathe,â you stuttered out raspily. His face remained unchanged while listening to your pathetic pleas, before he leaned in close.Â
âBeg for it. Beg like youâre terrified for your life. You might as well be,â he said, and he began pressing his thumb into the center of your throat, choking you fully now.Â
You nodded - as much as the allowance between his hand and your head allowed, anyway. âProfessor, please,â you said breathily, âplease let me go. Iâll do any- anything, just puhâ please stop.âÂ
âAh, there it is,â Your professor cooed, eyes shutting at the sweet intone of your pleaing, distressed voice. He was losing himself in your words. âKeep going⊠and donât forget the crying. It's my favorite part.â
âLet - me go! Please,â you whimpered helplessly, mustering thick, heavy tears to form at the corners of your eyes as you saw black spots dotting your vision.Â
A lump formed in your throat, choking your words. âPlease⊠stop! Let me - breathe,â You said, leaning delightedly into his touch. His other hand was now digging painfully into your hip, as if the professor were focussing intensely on holding back.Â
âLook at you go,â Crane clicked his tongue, eyes opening and gazing deep into you. He pulled you in closer to him, letting go of your abused throat.Â
You finally breathed, taking in such large bouts of air you mightâve choked and keeled over right there. But then, Craneâs hands at your side crawed carefully to your rear, while the other hand came up to the crown of your head to pet you.Â
He whispered into the top of your head, âDid you mean it?âÂ
âMean what?â You said raspily, your face pressed flat against his bandy chest.Â
His hand found the swell of your ass, fingers grabbing hold and squeezing so tight you were sure thereâd be a bruise later, âAbout doing anything. For me.â
You nodded, still not looking at him. This answer didnât please him, however, and the hand that had been petting you tangled through your hair and roughly pulled you away, to look up at him. âIn words.â
âYâ yes. Iâll do anything for you.â You rattled off, prickling pain twisting in your scalp.Â
âYouâll be a good girl for me?â
âThe best.âÂ
A grin twisted his pink, plush lips, and he promptly pushed you face down flat against his cold, wooden desk. It was rough, and sudden, pain blooming in your side. But there was a tug in your lower stomach at the way he handled you, all selfish and touchy and focused solely on chasing after his own pleasure.Â
Craneâs hands roamed all over your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was insatiable, rubbing and petting and kneading at every part of your body.Â
His hands found your thighs, squeezing at the flesh, before hiking up your skirt and inspecting your panties. âOh, youâre fucking soaked,â Crane rumbled out, voice like gravel. âYou liked it, didnât you? When I said Iâd admit you to Arkham.â
Then, you heard him kneel down, and begin to press sloppy, wet kisses on your legs. âBe honest,â he said between kisses, âyou want me to admit you, have you all to myself in isolation.â
You didnât respond, instead whimpering and bucking forward when you could feel Craneâs sharp teeth brush over your sensitive skin. He noticed the effect he had on you, and you felt him smile against you.Â
âPlease,â you keened out, not dissimilar to how you begged him just moments ago, âstop teasing, Professor.â
You felt Craneâs hot breath fan over your clothed mound, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. âStop teasing, how?â he said at last, before suddenly pushing your panties to the side and licking a stripe up your cunt. He lapped at your lips, collecting your wetness on his tongue, but he didnât go further.Â
âPro - Professor,â you whined, grounding out a low moan. It wasnât enough, and he knew it. He liked playing with you, making you squirm and shake and beg for more.
âWhat? This not enough for you?â He pulled away, and you hissed at the cold that hit you. Then, he tugged, hard, pulling both your underwear and your skirt down to your knees.Â
âYou want me to eat you out till youâre a trembling fucking mess, donât you?â He buried himself between your legs, âI knew you were a horny little slut.â
Finally, his tongue found you once more, and pushed deep into your folds. Craneâs tongue ran across every rivet your pussy had, before darting out to your clit, suckling at the velvet bundle of nerves. His touch drew out a high-pitched keen, your back arching.Â
You couldnât see him, face still pressed against the wooden desk, but you could hear him, the filthy squelching of your pussy and his tongue making your knees buckle.Â
âFuck, Jonathan,â you choked out, when he went deeper into your quivering hole, your body tingling like nothing youâd ever felt before. At your reaction, his name curling around your pretty little lips, he went faster, wet mouth brushing against you, licking you up and down, animalistic, following his instinct to a tee.
âPlease, wait -â You said, feeling the knot in your insides grow tighter, the heat washing over you like a steaming shower, toes curling in your flats.Â
âWhat?â He growled out beneath you, not letting up his assault on your cunt.Â
âI donât - donât wanna come on your tongueâŠâ You said, shaking your head weakly against the desk. âWanna - wanna feel you in me.â
Jonathan snorted, and continued to lap up your insides, âDâyou think you have a fucking choice? Huh? I know youâre a whore, you could do this all day. Iâll just make you come again on my cock.â
Before you could protest, or even just whine at his words, you shut your eyes, feeling yourself come undone, your legs barely able to keep you upright. His hands had reached away from your thighs, rough fingers toying with your fleshy button, maximizing the climax washing over you tenfold.Â
âJonathan, Jonathan!â You practically screamed out, heat in your stomach pulsing rapidly.Â
âUgh, fuck,â You heard him say, âyouâre creaming all over my fucking face.âÂ
You were a complete mess by the time he pulled away from you, your high washing away as Crane wiped the come and wetness off his face.Â
âYou came that hard, just on my tongue?â He mocked, fingers spreading your lips and observing your swollen pussy as you laid flat, weakly gripping the edge of the desk so youâd stay standing.Â
âWell,â he said, reaching down to his pants and undoing his belt buckle and fly, âMânot done with this sweet little cunt just yet.â
Your eyes widened, âIâm - Iâm still sensitive, wait-â
Jonathan didnât listen, however, letting his pants and boxers pool at his feet, stroking himself in the artificial light of his office, which smelt like sweat and sex.Â
He spat on his hand, first coating his cock in it, then your parted lips (which you theorized was just because he wanted to feel you up again), before lining up his thick head at your entrance. âGod,â he groaned, âyouâre so fucking wet.â
You keened at the intrusion you felt between your legs, âJonathan, please, jusâ - give me a sec to rest ââ You were interrupted however, by the shock of how big he felt.Â
You hadnât gotten a look at him, but as he let himself slowly enter you, you could tell it was bigger than anything youâd ever taken before. âYouâre - youâre too big!â you squeaked out, âYou wonât fit.â
He laughed, hands resting on your hips as he held you upright. âIâll make it fit,â he said, before roughly pounding the rest of himself into you, stretching out your inexperienced cunt.Â
You choked, his fat cock pushing you wider than youâd ever been before, the pain biting at you, a burning feeling spreading within your lower body. âJon- Jonathan,â was all you could say, as he slowly pulled out, pure relief written on your face, until he sank right back into you, somehow deeper than before.Â
Tears welled in your eyes, as he gripped harshly on the flesh of your hips, making you pound back and forth on him. His cock was hard, and thick, and he was forcing the thing deep within you at an excruciatingly quick pace. Your sensitivity was the cherry on top to this whole situation - you were trembling, body weak, shallow breaths and teary moans tearing out of you at the overstimulation.
Soon, however, the pain slowly dissolved into a filthy, exquisite pleasure that echoed throughout your entire body. The rhythm your professor had gotten to was downright perfect, filling you completely and making you clench in all the right places. Crane made your brain go foggy, focussing solely on the sound of your skin slapping against each other in the quiet, after-hours office, his taller frame encapsulating you completely.
âFuck, youâre tight,â he cooed, hands moving to splay across your ass and spread you open further. âHow many cocks have taken this sweet pussy, huh?â
You gulped. âJust,â you started, but then your eyes rolled to the back of your head, stopping you mid-sentence as his length brushed up to your most sensitive spot.
âHow,â he gripped you tighter, âmany,â slipped out, âcocks!â Â then thrust into you roughly, rougher than before and making the desk screech forward a few inches.
âJust one!â You said at last, words choked up as his long cock pierced you.Â
âJust one, huh?â He said and began pounding in and out of you faster, rougher, needier, âI bet you didnât even fucking come, youâre so tight. This pretty pussy of yours is practically virgin.â
âUh-huh,â you said incoherently, thoughts blending together. âJusâ a - a fucking virgin for you,â you babbled out, losing yourself in the fast-paced pleasure he was serving on a silver platter.Â
âThat you are,â Jonathan growled, âyouâre just my horny virgin. Mine.â Every thrust he plunged into you brushed up against that plush spot deep within you, making you drool, body going slack.Â
âOh, jesus, youâre so fucked out,â he murmured, looking down at your limp, trembling form. âDrunk on my thick fucking cock.â
The ecstasy was becoming too much for you now, controlling you completely, like if he stopped fucking you right now youâd be so fucking needy, going slowly insane until he touched you again. You knew you wouldnât be able to fuck anyone else and feel the same; he made you feel fucking feral, instinctual, your id going into drive and controlling you instead of logic. Your darling was the only one you wanted to offer yourself up completely to. He could do anything he fucking wanted to you, and youâd take it in stride.Â
âJonathan,â you keened, feeling your walls clench around him tighter, âmâclose.â
âNo, youâre not,â he said, voice deep and dangerous, âkeep that orgasm in, whore, till I tell you to.â
Your cheeks burned, distraught at the denial of your release, especially when his cock slipped out of you as he flipped you over. Quickly, however, he rammed his cock back into you. You were facing each other now, and you could see how hot and bothered he looked, despite how confident and careless his words had been as he fucked you.
His lips were bitten between his teeth, hair sticking to the sweat on his face, cheeks flushed. He was focussed entirely on getting back that rhythm, and you let him, watching how his gorgeous features contorted as your hot cunt sucked him in.Â
Your arms reached around his neck, and he promptly lifted your legs up to hook around his back, making him fill you even further.Â
âFuck me!â You squealed, his shaft reaching places you didnât know could be reached. It was getting harder to stop your impending orgasm, and your felt fucking sick at how sweetly he was stretching you, how you knew you couldnât let go no matter what despite the delicious pleasure.Â
âAlready am, baby,â he grumbled, rutting in and out of you at a dizzying pace. You felt his pace stutter, slightly, and you heard his small, revealing whines of pleasure as his head was nestled in the nook of your neck, and you knew he was close.Â
The thought of him coming in you made you tighten and tense, and he felt it, your back lifting off the desk in an arch.Â
âFuck, howâd you get even tighter?â he said shakily, before sliding out of you so far he almost pulled out completely, then let his cock thrust into you so hard you saw stars dancing across your vision.
You merely mewled back at him in response.Â
âCome,â he said breathily, âcome all over my thickâ ugh, fuuuck, just like that, yes,â his sentence was cut off as you let go, letting the waves of pleasure surge through your body like electricity.Â
Your body shook, your knees trembled, and an animalistic whine slipped out of your bruise throat as he thrust into you jerkily. Just as quickly as you camez, he did too, and you felt Jonathanâs load shoot straight up into your worn-out cunt, not impeded by a condom of any sorts. Craneâs head cocked back as he did so, jaw clenching as he released his sweet and sticky liquid deep within you, warm and coating your walls completely.
For a moment, he laid atop of you, and you both kept silent, the office filled with nothing but your breathing and the sweet smell of come. Then, he pulled away, both of you wincing as his cock left you, his come dripping out of your weeping hole onto his office floors.Â
He pulled his underwear and pants back on, but revelled in your own crumpled form on his desk, your shirt hiked up, your skirt and panties hanging off your ankles, barely there. It was a shame he couldnât have explored further up your body, groped those tits he loved seeing bounce during tutoring, but his need to fill your pussy up took precedent.
Jonathan swiped a finger into your cunt, collecting some of your combined liquid, and you flinched at the feeling. Then, he licked at his dirty finger. âOh, baby,â he heaved, âwe taste delectable mixed together.âÂ
You raised a brow, then weakly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your panties and skirt (not without adoring the feeling of Jonathanâs fresh, wet come smearing all over your panties and sensitive cunt) before reaching for his hand. He leaned in towards you, and you lapped up the juice on his finger, grinning up at him.
Jonathan looked completely lost in your performance, brows knitted. âJesus fucking christ,â he whispered under his breath, âwhere has a perfect little fucktoy like you been hiding from me?â
âOh,â you said, nonchalant, âjust stalking you.âÂ
#jonathan crane x reader#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#batman begins#scarecrow x reader#jonathan crane#scarecrow#jonathan crane smut#cillian murphy smut
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Iâm always soft for you, thatâs the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say âcome here, itâs been too long, it felt like home with you.
Azra T
#Azra T#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
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Peel your heart like a
pomegranate.
Offer it to him, palms outwards.
Say "eat".
Watch him come away
stained red by you.
You're in his teeth.
He'll kiss you with that mouth.
~ "Fruit", Azra T.
#the band ghost#ghost#ghost bc#band ghost#papa emeritus iv#papa emeritus 4#papa emeritus fanart#ghost fanart#copia#dracopia#vampire#my art
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Iâm always soft for you, thatâs the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say âcome here, itâs been too long, it felt like home with you.
Azra T
#Azra T#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
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"So you are fucking," They observe - tone almost cheeky, unbothered; they're partially nosy, and partially wanting to test the waters between them. "Words hurt - am I not a giving lover? A great lay? I know you fucking - hate my guts, or whatever the fuck you feel - but at least admit it. So I can die peacefully." It's only adding fuel to an Azra-sized fire; but it's free entertainment, and Viktor's got an open afternoon. "The fumes make me fucking - smarter, actually. I can taste all sorts of fun new colors. I've solved fucking - E=mc2. Twice." Viktor only grins, tilt of their head - Cheshire cat-like. "You just looked fucking - happy. Not bitter. Maybe even youthful again."
Every word that comes out of Viktor's mouth only makes the disgusted expression on Azra's face grow more prominent. "You've been thrown out for a while now, I didn't need him to make it happen," she says, rolling her eyes. Thinking about the reality of her and Ren's situationship only pisses her off anyway. "I know all the paint fumes have fucked with your head, but is it possible that you've gotten dumber? In what world do you look at me and think I'm whipped?"
#âââ â replies ă blame it on your karmic curse. ă#c:azra nadir#everything viktor says is just to piss off azra#LKDSHFKSDFKSF
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Iâm always soft for you, thatâs the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say âcome here, itâs been too long, it felt like home with you.
Azra T
#Azra T#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
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DEMO
In the English countryside in 1914, you live with your two children on your late husbandâs grand estate. Two years have passed since the tragic sinking of the Titanic, from which you became a single parent.
Though surrounded by wealth and community, you remain lost in a fog of grief. But with the arrival of summer, the neighbouring family prepares to host their annual month-long house party. Your curious children persuade you to attend, hoping the festivities will lift your sorrow.
Lucas/Lucia Bertham, the family's charming heir, bonds with your children and seems to understand you in a way others cannot. But will secrets regarding their family's future prevent love?
Azra Hays arrives, a traveling storyteller with a gift for magic in their words that soothes your soul. Gardner Isaac Hill has loved you in silence, finding joy through your children's smiles.
More suitors await too - brilliant sculptor Zephyr Langston, whose art mirrors your heart, and Doctor Henry Bellman, who ministers to the people with patience and good humor.
As festivities crescendo with masques, fireworks and more, you start to believe in love and laughter again. But which person holds your whole heart? And will dark forces from the past destroy this new paradise youâve begun to build?
The summer promises intrigue, blessings, and maybe a sweet romance if you can let go of history and embrace the gifts of tomorrow.
Customise your character as well as your childrenâs
Choose where you live and how you dress
Your choices have an impact on how society reacts to you!
Uncover secrets from your past!
Pursuing different ROs with varying levels of affection leads to unique story endings that resolve the mystery
Lucas/Lucia Bertham (m/f/nb)
The Heir, 26, Lucas/Lucia Bertham is the only child and heir to the prestigious title and lands of Bertham. They are a successful businessperson, but relish returning to their ancestral home each summer. While other young people prefer to travel abroad, they prefer the simple pleasures of country life. They take their duty as head of the manor seriously, helping tenants with an approachable demeanor. Though destined to marry well for station one day, they remain single and enjoy lively flirtations. While others dance at balls, they are the happiest hosting gatherings under the stars or riding alongside farm laborers by day. Lucas/Lucia lights up any room with their charm, wit and easy smiles. But is there a lonely heart searching for more beneath this carefree facade? As always, only time will tell what develops between Lucas/Lucia and you over the magical summer months at Bertham.
Isaac Hill(m)
The Gardner, 35, Isaac Hill has lived and worked on your estate for years. His strong, weather-worn hands coax beauty from the soil. Gardenings comes naturally to gentle-souled Isaac, as does his way with any creature in need of care. The expansive gardens are his pride and joy, a wonderland open for all to enjoy. Despite his huge build, muscular arms and calloused palms, his demeanor remains soft-spoken yet self-assured. While most village maidens sigh for officers or heirs, Isaac's gentle soul and way with children has turned many a head. But he remains devoted to coaxing new life from the earth, finding solace in small things. Perhaps amid the Bertham's blossoms, Isaac's own heart may bud anew this summer as well.
Zephyr Langston(m/f/nb)
The Sculptor, 27, Zephyr Langston hails from one of London's most prestigious arts families. Though young, their sculptures have already gained fame across England. While many London soirees vie for their presence, Zephyr relishes escaping to the countryside each summer. Using moody landscapes as inspiration, they work tirelessly to capture fleeting emotions in stone. Some say their sculptures are too sensually lifelike, but the Berthams proudly collect their edgy works. Zephyr charms salon attendees but remains unmarried, focused solely on their "passionate mistress," their art. Though prone to brooding moody spells while working, they come alive at parties with a playful wit. Could this summer be when they find inspiration of the heart as well as hands among the Bertham estate's rolling hills?
Henry Bellman(m)
The Doctor, 29, though young, he runs the village medical practice with a maturity beyond his years. What he lacks in words, Henry more than makes up for with his compassionate bedside manner. He listens with steady brown eyes that seem to see into patients' very souls. While others chat idly, Henry prefers observing life unfold with subtle calm. An avid reader, he's as learned as any university man but without pretense. More than one farmer's daughter has blushed starry-eyed receiving his attentions, yet he remains a bachelor focused solely on his work. The Berthams value Lucas greatly for his discretion and healing touch. But does his solemn façade hide deeper passions waiting to emerge? As always, only time will tell what mysteries lie beneath the calm exterior of Doctor Henry Bellman, and what intrigues he may stir in your heart this season.
Azra Hays(m/f/nb)
The Storyteller, 27, Azra Hays is a free spirit , with mischievous eyes like the summer sky. While others settle, Azra is happiest wandering the countryside in their worn boots, flute in hand.Theyâre a jack of all trades but lives for their art - spinning spellbinding tales that transport listeners far from their daily toils. With their easy smile and flirty manner, Azra charms all they meet. Yet beneath this bohemian exterior beats a kind and generous heart, always helping travelers in need. An orphan from youth, they never take their freedom or talents for granted. Azra makes their coin sharing folklore, gossip and bawdy jokes in villages along their route. But they save their most magical stories for moonlit campfires, weaving magic that leaves audiences in awe. Some say their nose for intrigue could even rival the Sherlock Holmes tales. Will Azra linger longer this year among Bertham's gardens and party revelries? Is there feeling breeding beyond friendship beneath Azra's roguish charm? As always, only time will tell the true depth of bonds woven beneath the summer stars.
#interactive fiction#twine game#twine wip#twine interactive fiction#twine story#twine if#wip#status: wip#demo
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Iâm always soft for you, thatâs the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say âcome here, itâs been too long, it felt like home with you.
Azra T
#Azra T#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
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đđąđłđłđ đđđČ - đđĄđđ©đđđ« đđ§đ đšđ đđđđČ đđ§ đđđ
pairing: pre!outbreak joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader
series summary: After your grandfatherâs passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But JoelâŠJoel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you donât know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means youâre off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.
genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn
word count: 3.1k
summary: Months after the move you're trying to paint again. But you lack the motivation to do so. Thankfully, Sarah comes over and keeps you company until Tommy and Joel come over to pick her up.
warnings: brief themes of grief, tommy radiating younger sibling energy and being a menace, fluff
a/n: thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed the prologue and a special thank you to @pedrito-friskito who edited the chapter, love you! đđđ
prologue || chapter two
The dust lingers in the air, a constant reminder of what once was. You see flecks of it dancing in the beams of light that pour through the window, illuminating the room with a hazy glow. The smell of dust permeates every corner, fills your lungs. There are still boxes stacked in your room. Some of them waiting to be unpacked and some of them waiting to be filled.Â
Looking through your grandfatherâs old knick-knacks had been a harder task than you thought. You found pictures, lots of them. From his past, from his now. You even found a picture of yourself from when you were a kid; laughing in the sun with mud all over your face. You had promised him the perfect garden. At the end of the day, it was far from it but he still said that it was.Â
Your fingers clench around the brush youâre holding. An hour ago you decided to use the grief to make something of it. You had a heaping amount of black and red paint poured onto the pallete, untouched.Â
You shake your head, agitated. You really shouldnât be wasting paint. Itâs not like you can afford to continuously buy supplies.Â
Youâre staring deeply into the blank canvas when a loud knock jars you back to reality. You can feel a burn in your eyes, taunting you for the wasted hour spent sitting idly without so much as a brushstroke to show for it.
âFor fuckâs sake,â you grumble under your breath while heading to the door. Your eyes linger on the window, itâs a clear day out, which now you decide to point all your anger at. If it was raining, it would be different. You would have the proper ambiance to be inspired.Â
Without looking, you open the door, your eyes immediately dropping to the girl standing on your porch. âSarah?âÂ
âSorry for barging in,â she says with a sheepish grin. âI forgot my keys and dad isnât home yet. Can I come inside?âÂ
Dad. Joel.Â
You blink before smiling. You take a step to the side as a wordless invite. She steps inside with grace, her shoes blinking pink and purple. Itâs hard to stifle a giggle, which earns you a quizzical look from her.Â
You point to her feet, âNice kicks,âÂ
âOh,â her eyes lit up, leaving her heel glued to the hardwood floors, she lifted her foot. âArenât they cool? Azra offered we trade shoes for the day.âÂ
"Veeery nice," you nod, but as Sarah turns to head further inside, you clear your throat. "Shoes off," you remind her.
âRight, sorry.âÂ
You make your way to the kitchen, Sarah follows closely behind, taking off her blinking shoes as she goes. You stretch up on your toes and open the cupboard, searching for Sarah's preferred brand of tea.Â
Since you moved in and formed close bonds with the Miller family, both Tommy and Sarah have been regular visitors to your home. You enjoy their company. It was nice to talk to people instead of obsessing over your muses that had clearly abandoned you.
You pull out the box of apple cinnamon tea and place it on the counter. Joel never stops by. You only see him whenever he comes over to pick up Sarah and thatâs pretty much it. Sometimes you send cookies via Sarah and the next day she would tell you he enjoyed them. You arenât quite sure if Joel is just reserved or if he just didnât like you that much, but no matter what it is, the rest of the family seems to enjoy your presence. Which is all a neighbor could ask for.Â
The staccato drumming of Sarahâs fingers against the wooden table pulls you back. You turn on the kettle, a soft steam filling the kitchen.Â
âYour uncle Tommy is going to stop by too,â you say, leaning back and crossing your arms. âIâm assuming youâre dad is with him?âÂ
âYeah, but itâs pizza day today so my dad will probably force them to stop by the supermarket to grab some stuff,â she lets her head fall onto her hands and adds. âIf he doesnât forget, that is. You should join us,âÂ
The water comes to a boil, forcing you to turn away from her. You place two tea bags into comically large mugs (the ones that make both Tommy and Sarah giggle, which brightens up your day) and pour the steaming water into them. You place one of the mugs in front of Sarah and slide into the chair beside her, watching as she wraps her nimble fingers around the purple mug.Â
âIâm a busy woman,â you tease. âI need to work and stuff,âÂ
âCoffee shop?âÂ
âIâm off for the day,âÂ
A mischievous glint glimmered in her eyes, her smile widening into a cheeky grin. âDate?âÂ
You snort into your tea, waving your hand dismissively. Sarah raises an eyebrow at that. The girl has quite a sharp intuition. If you were being completely honest, it made you nervous some days.
âNah, I just need to work on my paintings. I havenât managed to paint a single stroke. Itâs frustrating,â you stop and take a sip, the fruity flavor makes your taste buds come alive. âVery annoying,âÂ
âMaybe just paint something else or sketch something you like,â she states nonchalantly. âTake a break from the main thing, do a side quest,âÂ
âSometimes I do that, but I really need to get a grip. Iâm gonna end up working at the coffee house forever, or Iâm just going to have to risk starvation,âÂ
âDonât worry. Weâll take you in, feed you,âÂ
Teenagers. You shake your head with an amused smile, âWhat am I? A dog?âÂ
âA friend.âÂ
You still at that, fingers curling around the hot mug, it burns to the touch. Sarah starts to look around your house as if what she just said just now wasnât ridiculously sweet.Â
She hops off the chair and starts to wander with her mug nestled between her palms. Taking a sip, you smile into the porcelain rim, your heart beating fast.Â
When you first moved here, you were scared to be alone. That you wouldnât be able to make any friends. After your grandfather died and left you the house, you had half a mind to not make the move. It was nerve-wracking at the time. But ironically enough it was your grief that spurred you to take the leap forward.Â
Sarah slows down, reaching the bookshelf. The one you have in the living room isnât really that impressive, mostly put there for decor. She pushes a succulent out of the way and allows her fingers to trace the smooth spines. âYou have a lot of childrenâs books,âÂ
âWhat can I say, Iâm a kid at heart,â you observe the bookshelf next to her. She isnât wrong. A lot of Roald Dahl books, which are followed by a series of Nicholas and the Gang books. âIf you want to see my more serious stuff, we can check the one upstairs.âÂ
âIâm good,â Hooking her fingers around Matilda, she pulls the paperback out of its home. She flips it over and scans the back. âCan I borrow this one?âÂ
âSure, be my guest. Thatâs one of my favorites,âÂ
âLiving in a house full of dumb-dumbs sounds like my life story,âÂ
âOh, believe me, your dad is much smarter than he looks,â the sigh you let out attracts her attention, eyes flitting back to you. âAnd so is your uncle. Also, Matildaâs parents are kind of assholes,âÂ
âWoah, spoilers.âÂ
Another knock at the door. Compared to Sarahâs slow, more careful ones. These knocks sound eccentric, hitting the wood as if the person behind it is out to break it.Â
âUncle Tommy,â Sarah guesses, rolling her eyes but smiling. âMy dadâs probably with him,âÂ
Sheâs spot on with her guess. Sarah peers from your side, looking over both her uncle and dad. Tommy shoots you a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Joel stands tall right behind him, his arms crossed, he greets you with a small smile and a signature head tilt.Â
âHello boys,â you say, returning the nod and smile. âDo you guys wanna come in?âÂ
Joel lifts a bag of groceries, âPizza day,âÂ
Sarahâs ears perk up at that, her eyes wide with disbelief, âYou didnât forget!â then she narrows her eyes, sticking her bottom lip out. âWho are you and what did you with to my dad?âÂ
âI had to remind him,â Tommy chuckles, nudging his shoulder into Joelâs. He holds your gaze. âBut Iâm here for you, beautiful,âÂ
âMy hero.âÂ
Joel scoffs with a half grin and gestures his head towards Sarah, âGet your things. Letâs get going.âÂ
All Sarah has to do is lean to the side and grab her backpack from behind the door. Joel waits for her below the short set of stairs, one hand in his pocket, eyes flicking between you and Tommy. He seems impatient, almost.Â
Tommy brushes past you while Sarah takes her first step over the threshold. At that very moment you feel suspended in time, your eyes finding Joelâs for a brief moment until Sarah comes into view. He slaps a hand over her shoulder and smiles at you. Sarah is still holding the book as she waves you both off.Â
When you close the door, Tommy is already in the kitchen, rummaging through your fridge. âYou have nothinâ to eat,âÂ
âI thought we could order out,â you offer, your gaze falling to the blank canvas. Tommy moves his entire upper body out of the fridge and slams it shut.Â
âYou have anything in mind?âÂ
You donât have to think long for an answer.Â
âYou know what? I think Iâm craving pizza.âÂ
The thing about Tommy Miller is that heâs a good listener, paired with quite the mouth.Â
He can talk for hours. You always comment on how that was his superpower; there RE no awkward silences when Tommy Ä°s near. Heâs also ridiculously intuitive, which makes you think Sarah got it from him.Â
You two are sitting on the couch with crossed legs and facing each other. Your knees press together as he tells you about his day, munching on the last slice. Heâs telling you how the concrete deliveries got delayed, which meant that the rest of their schedule got fucked. His words, not yours. Joel was furious, apparently. You never wouldâve guessed. He just looks tired all the time.
âBy the way,â he says, swallowing and reaching for the glass of bubbling coke. âIf you were cravinâ pizza so much, we couldâve gone over to Joelâs. Eat some of that good homemade shit,âÂ
Picking up the empty pizza box, you place it on the coffee table and push it with the tips of your fingers. You donât know how to answer him. Your brows furrow, and when he sees it, worry crosses his face.Â
A bitter chuckle drops abruptly from your lips, âI donât think Joel likes me very much,âÂ
âWhat?â Tommy sounds positively horrified. If anyone heard, they wouldâve thought you said something along the lines of your mother dying. âNonsense. He adores you. Why would you even think that?âÂ
Your eyes drop to the cushions you sit on. You feel the brush of his knuckles ghosting over your cheek, prompting you to meet his gaze. His eyes are a soft brown, a shade lighter than Joelâs.Â
âHey, you can talk to me. Did he do something to make you feel like that?âÂ
âN-No,â you slowly shake your head, your pulse throbs under your skin. âI justâŠI donât know. It seems like heâs wary of me, like I did something wrong once and heâs expecting it to happen again,âÂ
He sighs, his palm now fully cradling your cheek. You canât help but lean into his touch. âThatâs just Joel for you. Heâs got a fair share of weight on them shouldersâIâm also probably not a big help to him. Always getting into trouble,âÂ
âI know for a fact that Sarah and Joel love you very much,â you have the need to remind him, and his eyes light up at your words. The skin under his hand burns. âBesides young siblings are always trouble, I would know since Iâm the younger one as well. Itâs character.âÂ
He blows a raspberry into the air. His hand falls from your cheek and takes refuge over his lap. âSome character,â he utters under his breath, shooting you a playful gaze. âYou want me to talk to him?âÂ
âPlease no,â you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder as you get up. âThat would be super embarrassing,âÂ
âSometimes you need to tell that stubborn dog to behave,â his voice reaches you in waves, his socked feet following you to the kitchen. You dispose of the boxes, start to prepare him, and you some late-night tea.Â
âHe is behaving,â you reply, feeling his presence behind you. âI just get into my own head sometimes. Donât worry about it.âÂ
Your hands are still above the kitchen counter when you feel his warm breath fanning the back of your neck. You watch his fingers curl around the edge, his chin not quite pressing but lingering a couple of centimeters above your shoulder.Â
âAnyone who doesnât like you is a grade-A idiot, just sayinââ his voice is a low echo in your ear. Heâs not physically touching you, but it feels as if his entire being is consuming you by just being so close. The click of the kettle parts the silence. âThe waterâs done.âÂ
Youâre surprised when you turn and find that thereâs actually quite a bit of space between you still. You couldâve sworn that his body was only a breath away.Â
Tommy steps closer, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter. He has a lazy, yet adoring, smile on his face. Your legs start to tremble, a habit you found you did whenever you were in any kind of confrontation.Â
Now, there isnât really anything to confront, so you blame the crackling of tension between you and him. You take a breath and your chest heaves.
You hold your breath when you notice heâs starting to inch closer, gorgeous browns dropping to the flush of your lips. You donât pull away. But you donât lean in either. Youâre like a deer in headlights, shocked by the sudden beam of brightness.Â
âIs this okay?â he asks in a whisper. You swallow, your muddled mind finding it difficult to string the words that might or might not form a coherent sentence.Â
Tommy has always been a close friend. A confidant. Someone you can call in the middle of the night with noquestions asked. You know for a fact that he can be a flirt. And this quality of his cheered you up from time to timeâlike when he calls you beautiful or praises you in any shape or form. But youâre quite not sure you want to breach the limitations of a platonic relationship.Â
Suddenly you feel his lips on your cheek, pulling back as quickly as he leaned in, he releases you from the cage and grins at you.Â
âGotcha.âÂ
âExcuse me?â Your mouth feels like sandpaper and your throat dry. You swallow and watch him sit on a stool across from you. His fingers grip the peaking part of the stool head between his legs, he looks like a toddler.Â
âIâm just doing my thing, being a troublemaker. Just like you said,â he hunches forward, eyes looking up to you between dark lashes. âItâs character, right?âÂ
âOh fuck off, Tommy Miller,âÂ
âYou know Iâm not above accepting that offer, right? Itâs been a while.âÂ
You roll your eyes and turn on the kettle again, the steaming water now probably tepid.Â
âWhat would you do if I actually kissed you?âÂ
The question lingers in the air and uncomfortably presses into your skin, you lack the air to take a breath. You donât dare to look at him. Gaze stubbornly watching the button of the kettle to pop, signaling you that the water is boiling.Â
âI donât know Tommy,â you answer honestly and press a palm against the heating surface of the kettle. âI donât know.âÂ
You hate taking out the thrash.Â
You donât know why. When you were a kid, it was your dad who took it out and that would always be accompanied by a series of complaints. His habit of talking to himself and to the inanimate objects around him had passed on to you. The night air chills your skin, a shiver shuddering up your spine while you struggle to keep the trash bag in the air with one hand. Your nails begin to tear the plastic and you start to walk faster.Â
âShit, shit, shit,â you mutter, arm cramping. âCome on, just a little further,âÂ
When you reach the container, you lift the bag with a heave and do a small little hip wiggle at the small victory.Â
Turning around you see Joel watching you with a wide smile.Â
Youâre stunned into silence, arms and legs tingling at the thought of how stupid you mustâve looked. Heâs holding a trashbag of his own. Red flannel accentuating his narrowing hips perfectly. He cocks his head to the side when you continue to stare.Â
âAre you always this excited after throwinâ out the thrash?â he asks, humored by your reaction.Â
While you think of an answer, he takes wide steps and throws out his own trash. Joel then turns to you, the only thing separating your bodies being the white picket fence.Â
âLetâs just say that I was happy it didnât rip while making the trip,âÂ
He nods while pressing his hands into his thighs, âA worthy thing to celebrate.âÂ
You shift from one leg to another. The conversation you had with Tommy the night before echoes in your head worry clouding your chest with the question âdid Tommy say anything?â. Â But you assume not when Joel takes a step back, palms sliding down his jeans like a nervous tick.Â
âWell then,â he clears his throat. âSee you later neighbor,âÂ
You lift your hand to wave, an early smile starts to curl over your lips. However, your half-uttered goodbye is cut short by the absurdly loud growl of your stomach.Â
Ah fuck.Â
Joel stills. Your cheeks and the tips of your ears burn. His eyes drop to your arms that are now wrapped tight around your stomach, then he lifts his gaze back up to meet yours.Â
âYou wanna join us for dinner?â he asks, he pronounces every word slowly, reminding you of the way you whisper to animals that you donât want to scare away. âSarahâs makinâ her special burgers,âÂ
âSpecial?â you ask back, ignoring the fact that youâve become a charity case in a blink of an eye. âWhat makes them special?âÂ
Hand sliding into his pockets, Joel gestures with his head for you to come over.Â
âWhy donât you come over and see for yourself?âÂ
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x ofc#joel miller#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x y/n#tommy miller x you#tommy miller x reader#tlou fanfiction#tlou fanfic#hbo the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us hbo#the last of us
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Azriel x Adam ïżŒïżŒ
He didnât have this fought for a very long time only times when he was alone, and and his girls wasnât with him, but now when heâs back where the place he wanted to be the least most, but he didnât mind he got the change history in this time, heâs not worried about Lilith and Lucifer ïżŒ
But he is thinking about those times, and Lucifer said Lilith was the most beautiful person in Eden, and he was the most ugliest right now he was sitting under the tree where Azra usually sits all the time in Eden, he has to ask this question he didnât care it was dumb or stupid. It was just he just needed to know for some reason
Azriel, Adam asked yes my friend do you think Iâm ugly? What do you mean? I mean, you know ugly something that makes you vomit when you see it or something that makes you disgusted. Do you have the same feelings with me when you see my face ïżŒïżŒïżŒïżŒïżŒ
Azriel do you know where this came from? Usually when he sees Adam heâs so confident and calm. He doesnât know where this came from but as his friend he did ask him so heâs gonna tell him the truth
Well, Adam, the truth is Adam was scared about what he was gonna say next, but when he said next, he did not expect youâre the most beautiful person I have ever seen more beautiful than the animals and you know how much I love the animals and even more beautiful than Lilith ïżŒ, and she supposed to be the represent of Beauty and gold and the angels, but you have something that she doesnât have floss, you donât care what people think of you. You do your own thing without being scared to be judged you live life as the fullest every day your eyes are golden and bright like an Eagle live life like itâs gonna be last thatâs what I think the most beautiful part of you and every way ïżŒ
Was that a good answer my friend Adam was stunned and his face turned vibrant red yes yes it was thank you Friend he looked away quick ïżŒïżŒ ïżŒïżŒïżŒ
I canât help it, I need to give this ask a quick little doodle! Sorry it took me awhile to answer this.
Azrael is so sweet! Adam learning shame about his appearance from biting the apple in his past life stuck to him even in this new timeline. Two beautiful beings (and the only beings at that time) rejected him, but having an angel call him beautiful must have given him some sort of relief that maybe he isnât as terrible looking as he thinks he is. I love that it is implied that Adam started spending time with Azrael in the garden and they have peaceful interactions.
Honestly, I really love this! I donât know how to put it into words.
#azrael x adam#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel azrael#adam hazbin hotel#deadlyguitar#ask#mintartem art
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