#it seems so easy. but that's not a good option for me

[bewaryofpity]

IT'S NOW OR NEVER - L. HUGHES

[3.9k] luke was raised a gentleman and by the third date you are worried why he hasn't kissed you yet or three times luke was too scared to kiss you and one time you took matters into your own hands.

warnings: none ! this is so corny; unedited

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1.

When Luke asked you out on a date, you were expecting something more traditional for a first date — a movie, maybe a dinner in a cute restaurant, even just a cafe date. But this?

“A baking class?” You couldn’t help but mutter to yourself this morning, eyebrows furrowed as you reread Luke's text. It had taken him a lot of courage to ask for your number a few nights ago, his awkward stance endearing, and he seemed like a guy who would choose a more practical option. Maybe you took his shy personality for granted.

Now, standing in the intimate studio filled with the hum of conversation from other couples gathered around their cooking stations, you weren’t sure what to think. It made you laugh a little because everyone around you already seemed to be a couple, and you and Luke were not… yet.

“Thought it might be fun. I hope you’re ready to be amazed by my baking expertise.” He smirked, his voice playful as he was standing by one of the sleek stainless-steel countertops beside you, finishing tying his apron.

You glanced at him with a smile. He was already rolling up his sleeves and looking at the recipe card in front of him with determination. There was something sweet about how out of his element he looked and you had a feeling his “baking expertise” was going to be revealed as a lie very soon.

The instructor introduced the recipe for a lemon tart which was slightly more challenging than you expected for a beginner’s class. Soon, you took the lead, carefully mixing the dough for the crust while Luke squeezed fresh lemons, their tart aroma filling the air. When it came time to roll out the dough, Luke tried to help, but the dough stuck to the rolling pin and tore when he tried to lift it into the pan. 

“Let me show you,” you said, after noticing his frustration, your tone gentle but amused. You guided his hands, showing him how to roll evenly and use a bit of flour to keep things smooth. Luke nodded along your words as you explained your moves, but he was more focused on the way your fingers brushed his than on the technique. 

While the crust baked, you left it up to Luke to make the filling. He whisked eggs and sugar with ease, his biceps peeking through his sweater, while you worked on zesting lemons and occasionally stealing glances at his cute concentrated face, though his arms were really distracting.

The filling came together quite nicely for your first attempt. It was a sunny yellow mixture that smelled like summer, and when it was time to pour it into the crust, you handed Luke the bowl so you could spread the filling evenly. The tart was finally ready and you placed it gently into the oven, before you started cleaning up your station, working side by side with an easy rhythm.

It wasn’t long before you dished the tart to start decorating it. As you reached for the thin slices of lemon to arrange them on top, Luke gently ushered your hand away.

“Leave the decorating up to me.” He said with a grin. You raised an eyebrow but stepped back, curious to see what he’d come up with. He placed the lemon slices with a deliberate precision that made you smile, adding sprigs of mint and finishing it off with a dusting of powdered sugar. He did have some baking expertise after all, you thought.

By the end of the class, the instructor encouraged everyone to take a bite of their creations, and you and Luke found yourselves amazed by your work. The crust was buttery and crisp, the filling perfectly balanced between tart and sweet. Your eyes widened at the first bite, and Luke couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride.

“This is actually pretty good.” You admitted. Luke grinned, savoring his own bite and the way your amusement seemed to radiate off something so simple.

You bid your goodbyes to the instructor on your way out, taking the leftover tart with you, leaving half to Luke. 

“Thank you for tonight. I had a really good time.”

“Me too,” he said with a smile. “Where did you park?”

“Oh, I took a cab here.”

“I’ll drive you home then, if that’s okay with you.” 

You tried to wave him off, not wanting to bother him since it was getting late already and you knew he had practice the next morning. But he insisted, and you didn’t have it in your heart to say no one more time, not when he gave you those puppy eyes.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, the radio playing softly in the background. When he halted the car at the stoplight, Luke stole a glance at you as you gazed out the window, your profile illuminated by the streetlights. You looked peaceful, yet he wished he knew what was going on in your head, because turmoil had started to rise in his. Doubts started to cloud his thoughts, what ifs and maybes worried him, and he truly couldn’t mess this up because he already knew you were the woman of his dreams.

When you pulled up in front of your building, Luke turned off the engine and hesitated. He wanted to say something meaningful, something that would let you know how much he’d enjoyed the evening, but the words felt clumsy even in his head. You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to him, your expression expectant but soft.

“Thank you.” You said softly.

“Don’t worry about it.” 

He wanted to reach for your hand, to bridge the small space between you, but his fingers stayed gripping the steering wheel. You lingered for a moment, your gaze dipping to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. He felt the air shift, a subtle invitation, but his nerves got the better of him.

“Goodnight,” he said instead, his voice steady but quieter than before. You blinked, a flicker of something unreadable crossing your face, and then you smiled, small but sincere.

“Goodnight, Luke.” You said as you stepped out of the car. He waited until you’d reached your door and waved at you before driving away, his chest tight with both satisfaction and regret.

Inside your apartment, you set down the box of leftover tart and leaned against the door. The evening had been lovely, better than you’d expected, really. Luke had been sweet and playful, your laughter easy and unforced, which was a rare occurrence after many past failed dates with other men. But as you replayed the moment in the car, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. You’d wanted him to kiss you, you felt the possibility hovering between you, but nothing happened and maybe you read this all wrong.

Still, you reminded yourself that first dates were just testing the waters, the first step towards something more and if your intuition about Luke was right, then there was nothing to worry about. After all, the best things were worth waiting for. 

2.

A message asking you for a second date came much sooner than you expected. You were looking forward to seeing Luke again, but hockey kept him busy and you were stuck with texting, which was fine, except for the fact that you missed him a lot. 

After the baking class, you had spent days replaying moments in your head — the way he smiled at you, the way he hesitated when he dropped you off. Something about him intrigued you, and you couldn’t wait to peel back another layer of him.

And that was how you found yourself walking to Central Park on a Tuesday afternoon, the air crisp and golden, autumn leaves falling delicately from the trees. Luke stood by the entrance, holding a picnic basket in one hand and a rolled-up blanket in the other. He waved as you approached, his face lighting up in a way that made your heart skip. Oh, this can’t be real, you thought. You loved parks, picnics even more so and how Luke figured that out, you didn’t know. This was just your second date and he had already done more than any guy you ever dated. 

“Hi.” You said shyly.

“Hi! Let’s go before they steal our spot.” He grinned, grabbing at your hand, not really leaving time for conversation. 

You walked together through the path leading towards the open patch of grass, the sounds of the city muffled by the rustle of leaves and the laughter of children playing nearby. 

“This okay?” He asked, spreading out the blanket. He busied himself trying to lay everything nice and neat to calm his nerves, but you could see the flicker of nervousness in his movements.

“It’s perfect.” And you meant it. The secluded spot he brough you to was beneath a sprawling oak tree and it felt like a little world carved out just for the two of you, despite the other couples around you.

Luke unpacked the basket with care and you were stunned by how thoughtful he had been. The sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, the container of pasta salad, fresh fruit, and the small box of cookies, were all things he prepared himself. You could tell, they weren’t perfect, but the fact that he took the time out of his already tight schedule to do something nice for you made your heart flutter.

“You’re really raising the bar here,” you said, taking a seat, legs criss-crossed. “Future dates are going to have a hard time living up to this.”

“Well,” he said, sitting down across from you, “I figured I should go big early on. Keep you interested.”

You giggled, and the sound seemed to relax him. The two of you settled into an easy conversation, eating and talking about everything and nothing. Luke told you about hockey, or at least tried. You weren’t familiar with the sport and what he was explaining didn’t make much sense to you, but he looked too cute to interrupt his nerd moment. You learned he played with his brother on the same team, something he wasn’t expecting on his draft day. You on the other hand, couldn’t say much about your boring 9 to 5 job, but when you mention your love for books, the conversation went lively again after he admitted Harry Potter was the last book he ever read.

“You’re lying!”

“Am not! I just can’t find anything interesting to read.”

Luke leaned back on his elbows, his gaze drifting to the trees overhead. The sun was starting to lower, the afternoon melting into evening, and the golden light deepened into the rich hues of a sunset.

After a while, Luke suggested a walk to stretch your legs, and you strolled along the park’s quieter paths, your shoulders brushing occasionally. When the sun dipped low, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, you both stopped by a small hill to admire its beauty. The city’s skyline stood silhouetted against the glowing horizon, and the moment felt almost too perfect to break with words. He sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his warmth, but he didn’t reach for your hand or lean closer, and his hesitation was endearing but also maddening. 

As the sky darkened, you realized it was time to head back. The walk to your apartment was quiet, but not uncomfortably so, though the silence felt loaded, as if you were both aware of the unspoken undercurrent between you. When you reached your building, Luke paused, his hands in his jacket pockets.

“I had a really great time today.” He said, his voice steady but soft.

“Me too.” You replied, wishing you could find the words to tell him how much. 

The moment stretched and he didn’t move. No leaning in, no reaching out, just the same gentle smile that had greeted you at the park, the same smile he gave you in the car last time. Your eyes never left his, hoping he would see the glimmer of hope on your face.

You hesitated, heart thudding, because if he wasn’t going to take the step, maybe you had to. So, gathering your courage, you leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, letting your lips linger just a second longer than was strictly casual.

“Good luck for tomorrow’s game, Luke.” You whispered, stepping back before you could second-guess yourself. He was surprised, a blush creeping on his ears and mouth hanging slightly open. It made your stomach fill with butterflies, maybe this would finally make him understand your intentions.

“T-Thanks, goodnight.” He finally said, his voice a little lower now. He watched you go, and when you turned to close the door behind you, he was still standing there as if he was rooted to the spot.

Inside, you leaned against the door, lips tight in a smile and your cheeks warm. The kiss hadn’t been bold or dramatic, but it was enough to get your point across, or at least you hoped it was. But for now, you were content to let the memory of the day feed the warmth in your chest.

And maybe, just maybe, the next time he’d finally close the distance.

3.

It wasn’t really a date, or at least that wasn’t the intention, but Luke texted you hours after his game finished with the classic “you up?” text and you ended up in the cold Prudential Center at midnight.

He couldn’t sleep after winning the game, the adrenaline pumping in his body despite his head being tired. He felt a bit ashamed to send such a cringey text, but his fingers moved before he could actually put some thoughts behind his words, and luckily you responded like it was no big deal.

The familiar scent of ice and cold air greeted you as you walked through the quiet halls, no crowds, no buzz of pre-game energy. It was dead silent. It was completely empty, the polished ice gleaming under the bright overhead lights.

“It’s just us?” Your voice echoed slightly.

“Just us.” Luke added, his hands tucked casually into his jacket pockets. “Figured it’d be more fun this way. No pressure, no audience.”

You stared at him, momentarily stunned. The gesture was unexpectedly thoughtful, and it made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t quite prepared for. You mentioned your desire to learn how to skate as soon as he told you he played hockey, but you were too nervous to hit the outdoor rink, not trusting yourself with loads of careless people around you equally as awkward.

“You know I don’t skate.”

“Yeah,” he said, flashing a boyish grin. “I’ll teach you, that’s why we’re here.”

He handed you a pair of skates he borrowed from one of the guys’ girlfriend, and helped you lace them up. His fingers brushed yours as he tightened the laces, sending a shiver up your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

When you stepped onto the ice, you wobbled immediately, gripping the edge of the rink for dear life. Luke was already gliding effortlessly, his movements smooth and confident. He skated over to you, holding out his hands.

“Trust me.”

Hesitantly, you let go of the barrier and placed your hands in his. His grip was steady, grounding, and he guided you onto the ice with patience, your hands probably squeezing him uncomfortably tight.

“Just take it slow,” he said, moving backward as you shuffled forward. “One foot at a time. You’ve got this.”

And you tried your best though you weren’t doing much work, instead being slowly dragged by Luke’s hands. You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, your movements awkward and unsteady, but he didn’t seem to mind. He kept his eyes on you, his expression encouraging and soft.

He guided you in a slow circle around the rink, his hands never leaving yours. The cool air nipped at your cheeks, but the warmth of his touch and the sound of his voice kept you focused.

“See? You’re a natural.” He said, his grin teasing.

“You’re doing all the work, Luke.”

“Pff, what? No, I’m not.”

You laughed at his silly remark, your head dropping on his shoulder and resting there. You turned your head to respond, and his gaze caught yours, your breath catching in your throat. His face was just inches from yours, his eyes filled with warmth and intent. The world seemed to narrow, the rink fading away until it was just the two of you, the quiet scrape of your skates the only sound.

Your heart thudded as you slowed to a stop, your hand still in his. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, and you felt a flicker of hope.

“Hello? Is anyone still here?”

But before you could say or do anything, a voice called out from the edge of the rink. And just like that, the spell shattered, and you stepped back instinctively, the perfect moment slipping away from your fingers. Luke turned his head toward the voice, his jaw tightening slightly.

“Though everyone went home.” He mumbled, his tone even but quieter than before.

Swallowing the lump of disappointment in his throat, he helped you off the ice, steadying you as you stepped onto solid ground. He helped you unlace your skates, his movements were slow as if to buy more time to spend with you.

On the way out, Luke apologized to the staff for the trouble, forgoing a decent excuse as to why he was here. It was obvious anyway.

The drive back to your place was quieter than you’d expected. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt heavy. And when he pulled up in front of your apartment, your fingers hesitated before unbuckling your seatbelt. You didn’t want to leave the car without doing something, anything, to push the boundary that seemed to hold him back. But you felt the familiar mix of hope and frustration swirling in your chest, so you let it go.

Once you stepped foot in your apartment, you leaned against the door, your heart still racing. Luke was sweet, thoughtful, and attentive in so many ways, but the question of why he still held back, why he hasn’t kissed you yet lingered in your mind.

You glanced out the window, watching as his car idled for a moment before driving off. The night had been special, probably the best out of the two other dates you had, because it was spontaneous, because he thought of you when he couldn’t fall asleep, because he remembered something you told him in passing. And it was the kind of date that would have been perfect if only he’d closed the distance between you.

You wondered if this was worth it all, if you should instead give up and tell him things aren’t working.

+1

You needed answers. After that night at the rink, you gave yourself a pep talk and mustered all the courage you could find in yourself to finally make a move. So you invited him over, telling him to drive straight to your apartment after his week-long roadie.

He made himself comfortable, changing from his suit into some sweats he had in his duffel bag, and was now sitting beside you on the couch, trying to explain the hockey game in front of you. In all honesty, you couldn’t understand a single thing. You tried watching sometimes, but the rules never stuck.  

“Wait, why has the game stopped?”

“It’s icing.” Oh, of course. “Did you already forget what that is?”

“Yes.”

He threw his head back, a giggle escaping his lips, and you couldn’t help but join him. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the warm light of the room catching the green flecks in his irises, making your heart flutter in a way you couldn’t ignore. You kept your gaze on him, watching as he stretched one arm across the back of the couch. He turned to look at you, catching you staring before you could pretend otherwise.

“You okay?”

You hesitated for a beat, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your hoodie. Here goes nothing.

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

The words tumbled out before you could overthink them, your voice softer than you’d intended. His eyes widened slightly, the smirk fading from his lips as he blinked at you. For a moment, the only sound was the low commentary from the game on TV, but you barely noticed. All your attention was locked on him, on the way his face shifted from surprise to something more unreadable.

“I mean,” you continued quickly, feeling a rush of nerves. “I just... I guess I’m wondering if you’re waiting for a specific moment or if I’m reading this wrong —”

“You’re not reading it wrong.” He interrupted, his voice shaking just slightly. He shifted in his seat, his arm dropping from the back of the couch to rest on his knee. 

“I like you too. I just —” He paused, his gaze flicking to the TV for a second before meeting yours again. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. My mom always told me not to kiss a girl on the first date, but then I felt like it was never the right moment. I wanted it to be special.”

His words made your chest tighten in the best way, a soft warmth blooming under your skin. You hadn’t expected that answer, but it was so him. Thoughtful. A little cautious. Mama’s boy.

You turned towards him, your knees lightly pressing into his thigh. You reached out to place a hand on his own, his skin was warm under your touch, and you could feel the slight tension in his muscles. You looked at him for a long moment, your gaze searching his face when he kept looking at the ground. Then, slowly, a small smile curved your lips. Your hand moved to cover his, your thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“Well then, can I kiss you?”

His head shot up, breath caught in his throat for a moment processing if he heard you right. From the day he met you, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. You were confident but not cocky, quiet but not necessarily shy, attentive and smart. And he was obsessed, to the point he would kiss the ground you walked on.

You smiled at him, your heart feeling like it might burst from how full it was. That was all the encouragement Luke needed. He leaned in slowly, your mouth immediately meeting his halfway, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips finally pressed on yours. His lips were soft, softer than you imagined and you couldn’t get enough. 

Luke kissed you until he couldn’t anymore, and when he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, you were both catching your breath.

“I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“It was worth it.”

He chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You squeezed his hand, still tangled with yours. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Please, stop asking and just do it.”

And so you cupped his jaw to kiss him again, not as long this time but just as breathtaking.

[kleptokure]

Silent Affection ⭒˚.⋆ ✴︎˚ ⋆˙⟡

Truthless Recluse x GN!Reader

Contains slight spoilers if you are not past 8-18.

·˖✮ ✮‧˖

You fail to remember the last time the environment around has been so quiet. Getting used to the bustling habitat of each region you traveled to, accompanying Gingerbrave, came as easy.

Now, left without the lively setting, everything feels astray. It feels otherworldly, even. But the worst part of it all is the stranger Pure Vanilla Cookie has morphed into.

Change can be a good thing, and you kept an open mind to those who reverted to different opinions. Yet this? No, this entire situation regarding your dearest is a case you cannot bring yourself to accept.

You never thought you would see Pure Vanilla Cookie's eyes modify themselves into such a dull state. The sparkle that was average to spot in his eyes seemed to fizzle out, but you swear you see the flicker of one when his stare lies onto you.

At the current moment, you stand before him as he sits on the edge of the bed in his gifted headquarters, residing inside of the unnerving tower.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie! You have to snap out of it. Our friends are in danger, we have to rescue them!" You try your earnest to get through to him, but all you receive is his eyes piercing into your own.

All of the warmth that used to trail after Pure Vanilla Cookie seems to have left. Uselessness strikes your dough, and motivation is not given from your emotionless lover. What else is there to do to convince him?

Pacing around the room, you attempt to think of another way to persuade Pure Vanilla Cookie back into his common traits.

You are unaware of why you were to be left at his side, now thinking about it. Shadow Milk Cookie did not afflict you with the same treatment he gave the others. As of right now, you've been permitted to stay beside Truthless Recluse for an unknown reason.

Expressing gratitude for your handling differing from your allies comes as hard. The fact that they can easily crumble from a tearing of the feeble cards they've been transformed into does not come as heartwarming.

Now, you put yourself before the silent cookie. You would hate to guilt trip your partner, you truly would—but it seems to be your last option.

"What if it were me? Would you turn me away, too? Leave me to be stuck as a tarot card?" You give your best to sound disheartened.

Truthless Recluse narrows his eyes at you, the grip he holds around his staff tightening. That counts as a reaction, much to your favor. Though would it do much in the long run?

He fails to see reason in why his heart feels heavy. Oh, but it is not with remorse. The gloomy cookie feels angered. How dare you suggest such an event could ever happen? He refuses to allow you to be turned into a small card, put inside of a bag and shrouded in complete darkness.

Yet he allows the misery to fall upon his other companions. Why must you be a discrepancy? He should've pushed you away long ago, yet he decided to complete the exact opposite.

Truthless Recluse feels ridiculous, causing to add onto his frustrations.

He stands up, towering over you with his absurd height. Pure Vanilla Cookie is one to be feared with his current body language, but you still stand in your place.

"You will not," he asserted, like a king to his pawns. Pure Vanilla's frown appears more prominent. You did not expect your short speech to cause such a reaction, coming off as wordless for a few seconds into your staring contest with him.

Then, you feel upset yourself. His single words, the few ones he's ever spoken to you, are hard to digest. Truthless Recluse can say that, but not hold to that same promise for your comrades?

Your hands clench into fist, standing with your chest puffed before the intimidating cookie.

"I don’t understand you. I never thought I would say this, but you are becoming insufferable!" Part of him feels hurt by that, and again, he falls short in knowing why.

"If you are so resistant to helping, then I will do it myself. You can stay here for as long as you'd like. I’m leaving." With that said and done, you turn on your heel, walking towards the exit of the room that you grow sick of.

But then, your feet prevent you from progressing. In fact, you do not seem to be touching the ground any longer, lifted a few feet above ground. Your hands remain fixed at your side, entirely incapable of moving.

That being said, you are unable to avert your stare towards the obvious culprit. Though there seemed to be no reason to worry, as the said perpetrator of your rigidness whirls you around to face him.

You were about to give him a mouthful, but Truthless Recluse reaches words before you have the chance.

"Stay."

"What?"

"You are not going anywhere."

"Pure Vanilla Cookie, release me," you shout, yet, as anticipated, his lips are shut thin. You become weary of his orders. He declines to hear you out, so why would you give ear to him?

But you soon realize, there is not much of a choice for you here. The look in his eyes signal that, and the fact that the strength difference between the both of you is quite measurable.

With the power of his staff, Truthless Recluse hovers you over his given bed, plopping you down onto the cushioning afterwards.

Quick to straighten yourself up, you look in his direction. There is irritance noticed in your stare, though it is miniscule. It goes difficult to stay mad at him, because at the end of the day, he remains your husband. Even within this form he takes.

Truthless Recluse takes a seat right next to you, your legs pressing together. Despite the harsh tone his talk is spoken with, there's little to no hesitation in his decision to be near you. Perhaps Pure Vanilla Cookie is not as far away as you would believe, judging off of that noticeable trait.

"So you disapprove of helping out our friends, but you also disapprove of me rescuing them?" You question, because you want him to know the absurdity of his own actions. Nothing appears to add up.

"Just say you want me here. That deep down inside, you still love me," you taunt him, more so to get back at him for his pettiness. Guilt tripping and persuasion are clear to have no affect on him. Taunting is not guaranteed to work either, but you can give it a shot.

Unbeknownst to you, your little tease did gain a reaction from the apathetic cookie.

Truthless Recluse dislikes the emotions that you, and you alone, are able to make him feel. Your simple words send him into strange mindsets, ones that he believed he would abandon after becoming a deceiver.

Liars are not known to have such close relationships, so he came prepared to dump his old friends. But you? Ditching you is easier said than done.

Maybe he can come to face the truth he has avoided. The reality is, you are no mere friend. Your title to him is far greater than that, which is why he is reluctant to allow your departure. Back then, he was more proud to call you his lover. Even though now, he would concede it, you are still his beloved. He loves you, and he hates that.

Why must you make his conversion so difficult?

It is as if Pure Vanilla Cookie reset. Again, he keeps as quiet, like prior, to any words you say.

But, you took note of his dramatic response to your attempt to flee. In this case, may it be that your actions cause more feedback than your conversation? There's one way to find out.

Scooting even closer to him, you gaze into his eyes. What a beautiful man he is, even with his drastic transformation.

Lowering your palm, you place it atop his own. You begin to hold his hand, a heartfelt gesture that was common between you pair, but will he return it this time around?

To your shock, and his own, he does. A sweet man can never truly be erased, it seems. That sprouts a smile on your face. But, why end it at holding hands? What else can grow to make him act out?

Tilting your head, you press a kiss to his cheek. He appears as unmoving now, but with how short the distance is, you can see the twitch in his face.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie," you whisper. "I love you."

He is no longer Pure Vanilla Cookie, he mentally asserts. Your love is in vain, as the cookie you once knew is shoved deep down and far removed.

Nevertheless, he accepts your affection all the same. That aspect is the most bothersome for him. He ought to silence you with your foolish declarations, but he falters in doing so.

Gaining his attention yet again, your face shifts to be placed right in front of his own. Truthless Recluse finds his mind to wander to how attractive you are, but he soon cuts those thoughts short for himself. He no longer believes in such facts, he would say.

Though if he deems himself a liar, that might be a lie.

"Truthless Recluse," you spoke in a gentle tone. "I love you."

Oh. That surprises him. He reckoned you would never utter his new label, but you have, which indicates you are directly addressing him, and he's lost on how to process it. All he can comprehend is the warmth radiating in his dough, as if he's back in the oven in which he was baked.

As your prior statement of admiration came with a complimentary kiss, the next remark shall have the same acclamantory.

You angle yourself closer, your lips coming into contact with Truthless Recluse's cold ones, meeting in a delicate kiss. As frigid as he is, you will be glad to share your heat to him.

Just as happy as he is to embrace it. Truthless Recluse finds himself returning your affection, leaning in to push your mouths closer. His eyes closed, he rediscovers how enjoyable affection can be.

His grip on his staff almost slips from how weakly he holds it. Truthless Recluse finds that possessing you in his arms is far more preferable, yet he refrains, as you already pulled away, much to his disappointment.

With a satisfied sigh, you rest your head against his shoulder.

"I don’t think we should keep the others waiting," you spoke up amidst the silence. "Perhaps we should go check up on them?" You wonder if your mounds of endearment caused to change his point of view. If not, then luck has long left you.

Witches, now Truthless Recluse is sure he has been tricked yet again. How can he let you get away with your foolery so easily? You are such an infuriating cookie, and he despises that his feeble heart wants more of that. He would tear it out if he could.

Though he comes to terms with it quite quickly. That is just your personality, and well, Shadow Milk Cookie does plenty for his own indulgences. Would it hurt for him to take a cookie in for his own appeasement?

"No," he concedes. You have a dumfounded expression. This cookie proved to be tough to crack, and that tends to be a good factor. But now, it shrivels in appearing as a perk.

"...Huh?"

"You, too, shall reside in the tower. Alongside me." He has got to be joking. Although he carries the title of a liar, even you can tell there is no deception in his tone.

"I'll... I'll give you another kiss if you grant my farewell?" Truthfully, that came to wilt his spirit. In spite of that, his silence as a response shows he has abstained.

Your husband developing a possessive trait catches you off guard. There's a chance those few kisses became disastrous in the end, as you see his eyes linger onto your lips rather than your own stare.

Oh boy. You’re in for a ride.

·˖✮ ✮‧˖

A/N: I wanted to say thank you for the lovely welcoming on my first post! All of the notes are what encourage me to write, so it's heartwarming to see so many haha. About a part two for my first fic, I didn't really think about that. Perhaps I will if I brainstorm hard enough. Thanks for reading! (*´ڡ`●)

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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[omorithedreamermod]

FEBRUARY DEVLOG - 1

The third DEVLOG has arrived...this time spelled correctly! Lots of progress has been made since the last update!

IMPORTANT INFORMATION:

So, about saves! I don't know if people noticed the edited DEVLOG from last time, but...it seems that you WILL be able to use your demo saves for the prelude! Testing looks good so far, so hoping it stays this way. Thank goodness, because now all those watermelons you collected in HEADSPACE won't be for nothing! Why is that...? Well! Hehe...

PROGRESS:

Remember how last time I said majority of maps were completed? That was incorrect. NOW the majority are done and only a couple are left. I've made so many maps this week. Thumbs up (fades into dust)

NPCs got cooked up. Basically all are complete, unless a couple more are needed, but for now, basically a done task. Some character sprite art needs to be made still, but not a lot!

All battle art is complete, including enemies, and portraits. They have also been programmed in, so they are fully functional, and battles are a done task! Wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be, thankfully! Battlebacks still need to be made, but those are relatively quick.

OST...I said last time it was near complete. I was wrong. NOW it's near complete. At the moment, there are currently 44 tracks for the full dreamer prelude (including the demo tracks!). There's still a couple more to be made, but definitely mostly done ^^ It's going to be a LONG compilation video!

Writing was on the back-burner while I was focusing on creating assets. That doesn't mean there wasn't progress! Still, from this point on, writing and programming will be a main focus now that majority of assets are complete.

Portraits are not all complete. SUNNY needs more hospital portraits, and BASIL also needs new real world portraits! Those will take a bit...

Currently, all the mirror locations still need to be done, which means completing the battle-backs first. There is also a new title screen art that needs to be done. Along with that...a major, drawn cutscene, and another rougher cutscene...and maybe another short one, as well as art for the credits. A lot of art to do...

NOTES:

March is looking bright! Very bright! One part of the panic now comes from hoping I can program and write everything in a speedy manner, including NPC dialogue and miscellaneous stuff. Once again, a ton of the content is optional. But, like the DEMO, you are rewarded for you investment ^^ There's also a lot of secrets, so, good luck! Badges will be even more fun this time around!

Everyone really stepped up with the NPCs and I am very thankful for the sprite teams help! The OST is also coming along so well thanks to everyone. I've also appreciated the people who have taken the time to answer questions about programming and such that I have!

Still, the biggest point of stress is that I'm doing all the art, and I don't know how quickly I can do these cutscenes. One of them is very important to look clean and beautiful, and I have to do my best to stay very on style, which isn't as easy in cutscenes as it is with portraits. Along with that, real world portraits take longer than, say, STRANGER, who is monochrome. DREAMER was pretty time consuming, but I'm not as solid on real world portrait style yet. I'll figure it out, hopefully...

I'm also concerned once again about the trailer, and making art ahead of time for it for future events. I think it'll be okay, though? I usually pull through! And if need be, I can simplify the trailer a little.

CONCLUSION:

Currently, (along with completing the remaining assets) the goal is for me to complete all the writing/programming to start playtesting before March 1st, which means the PRELUDE will be completed and playable before March. This will NOT include the final art, such as cutscenes, and trailer art that aren't required for progression. So, while playtesting is happening, I will hopefully step back and really get all that art done so the mid-March release is possible!

There's still so much to do, but so much has been done, and I'm very proud of how things are going-to the point I even find the DEMO very lacking compared to the full PRELUDE! Please look forward to the coming release, and the next DEVLOG!

[oceansoul001]

After 170 hours I've finished Kingdom Come Deliverance 2 and I cannot even start to describe this emptiness I'm feeling now, knowing that there is no more of this great story waiting for me to experience (at least for now). What a wild ride it was and what a surprisingly amazing game, with all the twists and turns of the plot, all the memorable characters that I deeply cared about and rooted for, all the emotions of Henry's journey and all the thoughts about war, revenge, duty, and finally making peace with the past and moving on. The emotional spectrum of the game is astounding - it can so flawlessly switch between being extremely funny or delightfully absurd to being heartbreaking or devastating in the heaviest moments. But as the game’s content is so dense and rich, that writing down all my thoughts would require a whole book, or at least a dissertation, I would like to specifically touch upon one, nomen omen touchy subject. The Henry-Hans romance.

I'm not sure if it is possible yet, but I would also like to skip over all the controversy-driven discussions regarding this romantic subplot, clearly lead in bad faith and mostly by people not even engaging with the game, and be able to talk about this topic and analyze it as it is, without questioning its right to even exist in the game. Why do I focus on this quite small and optional aspect of the game at all? Well, I’m not gonna lie – I always find the RPGs with possible romances more engaging and captivating, as love – as a general emotion, with different shades of it – is in my eyes one of the crucial aspect of any hero. So if we are already talking about the love towards parents or other family members, patriotic love for your country, or king, platonic love between friends and comrades, and then all of a sudden omit only the romantic love, something is not adding up for me. If you want to give me a rich RPG experience, give me at least one good romance option, and I’m sold. But it is not easy at all, especially the “good” part.

But as KCD2 is a very unique game when it comes to its different aspects – like the demanding, slow-paced gameplay, or the unique blend of open-world with more contained main plot missions – it is also very unique when it comes to the romance options, or, let me say it aloud – when it comes to THE main romance option, the most integral romance option, the most naturally developing romance option in the game. The Henry-Hans (optional) romance that we can observe growing very slowly throughout this 100+ hours, is for me one of the best and most meaningful depictions of love in any RPG with player's agency. This relation, even if you opt out of romance, simply has it all - is intertwined with the plot, is rooted in character development and has the possibility to depict characters together during many different situations throughout the whole game. And this is how a good romanceable character should be written in a video game – as an independent character first and foremost, NOT as a character that was created with a sole purpose to serve as said romance option. In this case Hans ALWAYS plays a meaningful part in the story, and ALWAYS shares an important bond with your Henry, regardless of player's decision whether to engage with the romance or not. But many other games seem to forget about that, or don’t manage to create the bond between characters first, before the option to romance them appears.

And then comes the hard to describe aspect of THE FEELS. The slow development of this relation, the steady growth of feelings, up to the point, when you cannot deny it any longer, and when you cannot allow yourself to not act upon them - because of the circumstances, because of this sense of impending doom, that makes all the risks worth taking, as any of you might anyway be dead the next day. Audentes Fortuna Iuvat, remember? The risk that Hans takes in the decisive moment of this relation is THE epitome of his saying, and I don’t believe it is a coincidence when it suits so perfectly to the whole theme of the game and to Hans as a character in general. And this bold risk taking is so gut-clenching and heartbreaking, but also heartwarming in this one stolen moment of happiness that seems unreal. Say what you want, but you simply cannot tell this kind of story, invoke this kind of feelings - without first having two equally developed characters, that the player equally cares for and have cared for before any romance possibility was on the horizon. Add to the mix very real external hardships (all good romances need a hardship to overcome!), that due to the time and place make this relation tragically doomed before it even has begun, and there you have it - one of the most compelling romantic stories I have experienced in a video game, hands down.

And please don’t start with medieval this, medieval that, before you stop and think about greatest medieval love stories (that we know of) – these are always stories of impossible love, of doomed love, of forbidden love. Of two people, that cannot and should not be together because of the class they belong to, because of the promises made, because of duty, because of sin and religion dogma. Don’t tell me you cannot see the comparison between Henry and Hans, and, say, Tristan and Isolde, THE number one medieval chivalric romance couple, where they commit sin against God and betray their King at the same time, every time they are together. Don’t tell me that Henry, who clearly aspires to all the ideals that we associate with knighthood – chivalry, protection of the weak, devotion to land and rightful king, and generally noble idealism, let’s call it – is not the perfect hero of chivalric romance, with Hans being of course his damsel-princess, way above his league, already promised to another and soon to be in a loveless, political marriage, spending parts of the game either captured in some tower or stuck in some castle, having to wait for his knight to safely return to him. It is all there, I am sure not accidentally, and it fits all the themes and motifs known from both actual medieval literature and their pop culture representation SO WELL if you think about it for a second.

And there's one more component that elevates this particular relation to S-tier for me. You can have superb writing, you can direct the most impressive cutscene, you can have the build-up ready - all of these won't matter and won't work if the actors don't sell you the romantic feelings in the key moment. Which I assume is not easy, when for the most part you play other aspects of these characters and probably were not cast with this specific plot point in mind. But here comes Luke Dale, showing us the side of Hans Capon that we have not seen before, with the most heart-wrenching expression of his fears, with voice breaking at the exactly right moment, the trembling, the anger, the despair, but also the tiniest bit of hope - and in just two broken sentences he conveys it all, and it's all so bloody real. It's a masterwork, and I'm so happy that I could witness it in game, even more - become part of this relationship as the playable character himself.

I sincerely hope that the end of the main game is not the end of this subplot, as there is still so, so, so much more to explore with these characters in these circumstances. And their relation is so unique, comparing to popular fiction in general, but even more so in video games, that it would be a great loss to just leave them be as they are at the end of the game. I cannot wait for the possibility to go through more emotional turmoil with Henry and Hans, probably because I cannot even remember when was the last time I’ve fallen in love with fictional characters so much and so fast, as with these two. And as already said, love is the key. 

[m1stm3]

money, money, money!!!

okok so my beautiful bsf (luv u @monouser) introduced me to a japanese custom called kozukai and said “nanami.” so i said sir yes sir and now we’re here!!! ^.^

cw’s!!: fem! reader, family issues (rude comments :[), and petty husband nanami!!

wc: 1.1k (eeeeeee!!!!)

kento nanami had always considered himself to be a very sensible man. he had a stable income and occupation, a beautiful home, and was generally very mature and well-mannered.

until someone messed with you, then all of that carefully curated sensibility was thrown out the window.

see, when you had first mentioned the off-comments your family made about your relationship with him, — as much as it irked him — he urged you to brush it off. why should their opinions matter when the both of you are happy and healthy? you agreed (albeit begrudgingly), and simply moved on with your life. and honestly? everything fixed itself up for a while. your wedding went without a hitch, not one complaint or aggravating comment from any of your family members. you knew better though, that it was only a matter of time until it started again but worse. the calm before the storm, if you will.

of course, you were right.

as soon as you mentioned the new living arrangements to your family, it was nonstop. “you? a housewife? you could barely clean up after yourself when you were younger!”, “don’t you think that’s a little fast? you barely know how to cook a proper meal!”, “good luck to your husband, he’ll need it to deal with you.”

the next time you told your husband about the mean-spirited comments, there were tears lining your pretty eyes. as always, he was soft in his comfort, gently reassuring you that you didn’t need to do any of those things for him to be satisfied. “that’s a sad way to think.” he murmured, pressing his lips to your temple. “you’re not indebted to me because i chose to marry you. i take care of you because i want to. because i love you, do you understand?” when you nod, you think that’s the end of it. you and your husband love each other and that’s all that matters, end of story.

kento nanami was a sensible man, so of course he wasn’t planning any sort of revenge on your family. he was mature and stoic and well-mannered so when he suggested a family get-together at your shared home (“just formalities, my love. don’t you want them to see how happy we are?”), you didn’t even blink an eye. your husband wasn’t easy to anger. even if he was, he wasn’t one to act on it.

kento nanami was uptight and stubborn and sardonic in the best ways possible. but more than anything, your husband was petty.

kento had a plan when he walked up to you and the small group of family members you were speaking to. the conversation seemed to be going well at first, with them complimenting your home and gushing over the two gorgeous rings on your finger (he couldn’t help the small swell of pride that bloomed in his chest when you gave the diamonds a loving look). he had seen the way you tensed after something one of them said, a strained little laugh leaving your lips as your shoulders deflated slightly.

that’s when he swooped in, one of his hands resting against your hip while he pressed a kiss to your cheek. you gave him a soft smile, the spark of grateful relief in your gaze obvious to only him. “apologies for the interruption, my love. i just wanted to check in.” he muttered by your ear, giving your hip a small, reassuring squeeze. he knew your family was watching the interaction, probably wondering what he was telling you (he couldn’t care less).

he turned to your family once you assured him you were okay, giving them a polite nod of acknowledgment before turning back to you. “you look gorgeous in that dress, love. it was the best option out of the ones you showed me, i’m so glad you bought it.” his voice was pointedly louder than before, a detail only you caught that caused your brows to furrow slightly. what was he doing?

your family nodded along to his words before doing an almost comical double-take. “you bought it? with what money?” your brother was the first one to speak up, pointing (quite rudely, in your husbands opinion) directly at you while scoffing skeptically. your cheeks heated slightly in embarrassment, your lips parting to rebut his words until kento beat you to it.

“with her money.” he said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. your gaze moved between the two men, trying to gauge whether or not you should step in. “your husband gives you an allowance?” there was a barely restrained grin on your brothers face, the cruel giddiness only growing when you didn’t immediately respond.

“she gives me an allowance, actually.” your husband spoke up once again, the narrow-eyed look he sent his way making your brothers brows furrow. “it’s more common practice amongst businessmen, so it’s understandable that you weren’t aware.” kento sounds a little more smug now. “she handles all of the finances, including my allowance. i’m honestly quite useless in comparison, i simply go to work and come home.” he added, his thumb tracing a senseless pattern over your hip.

your brother was practically glaring at the self-satisfied look your husband was wearing. but of course, your brother never knew when to stop, even if it was a losing battle. “oh, of course, because my sister is the person to trust with all of your finances. right.” his voice dripped with venomous sarcasm, his eyes rolling as he spoke.

“don’t talk about my wife like that.” your husband said suddenly, his eyes narrowed into a glare directly aimed at your brother. the two men gave each other the stare down for a few moments while you and your other family members looked between the two of them with wide eyes. your brother was the first to concede (obviously), storming off with a petulant sort of huff. the rest of your family was quick to follow (after giving you and your husband a polite nod, of course. who would dare disrespect you after the show your husband just put on?).

kento turned to you with a sheepish look after they left, the aftermath of his initial aggravation finally hitting him. “too much?” he asked softly, carefully watching you for your reaction. you only shook your head, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

it’s safe to say your family hesitated in their unneeded comments after that day.

[mildmayfoxe]

hey remember when i was like "i should change my domain to milktooth.co to be more professional and clean" and everyone was like "yes" well i just went to my domain website to renew my dot gay and also snap up dot co and guess what. it's already registered to a PEDIATRIC DENTISTRY CLINIC IN CALIFORNIA

[bumblingbabooshka]

Thinking about marriage/women's rights on Vulcan Some may think that T'Pring not being allowed to divorce Spock was because he was going through the pon farr but if she were allowed to divorce him at all she probably would have done that a long time ago, confirmed by T'Pol when she's speaking with Koss, who isn't suffering from the pon farr. She says that he can choose another mate (without invoking a fight it seems: note the difference between a 'mate' and a 'challenger') and after he makes it clear that nothing she says will change his mind about marrying her, she finally threatens to declare a kal-if-fee. It's clear that Vulcan women cannot divorce/refuse to marry a man they've been betrothed to under any circumstances if A) He himself doesn't consent to ending their marriage or B) She doesn't have someone else waiting in the wings to be given to in his stead. Though, if the challenger she selects fails to win the fight, she'll have to marry her betrothed anyway unless (again) he decides he doesn't want her after the challenge. That seems like an incredibly unfair system, heavily biased towards men. SNW is an alternate universe in many obvious respects but most egregiously in that T'Pring has a lot of non-canonical agency over her relationship with Spock. It's interesting to me that Vulcan society has women in many positions of power and treats women as equal to men from what I've seen despite these laws. We don't really see Vulcans exhibiting a misogynistic attitude towards women in general but in TOS (perhaps because of its general writing style but it's still interesting to note) both Sarek and Spock take on patriarchal attitudes specifically regarding wives. Amanda says that 'of course' Sarek commands her because "he is a Vulcan and I am his wife." It's worthwhile in my eyes to note that she specifies 'wife' instead of attributing this attitude to women as a whole. Again, with TOS' writing style it wouldn't be out of place for her to say "he is a man and I am a woman." Spock, while in a pon farr induced irritation, states that it's "undignified for a woman to play servant to a man that isn't hers" - again implying that there's something specific about being a Wife in Vulcan society which is different from being a woman in general and demands subservience to a husband. This could perhaps stem from the extreme sense of ownership that Vulcan law has permitted men to have over women. A woman legally cannot point blank refuse marriage. There is no option which guarantees she won't have to marry her betrothed other than death. When T'Pau speaks of T'Pring she refers to her as being 'property' and Stonn, before being interrupted, states he's made 'the ancient claim' - we don't know what this is because he gets cut off but it's obvious they're both using the language of Vulcan law. Men are permitted true freedom to choose. If a woman wants to choose someone else to be with there is no option available to her other than the kal-if-fee which might result in the death of the one she wants to be with. And, if her lover fails, her husband can still just decide he wants to marry her and she'll be forced to. T'Pring gives two scenarios: One where Spock 'frees' her and one where he doesn't - it's still ultimately his decision which is clear when he ends the conversation with "Stonn, she is yours." This again isn't just because of the pon farr as T'Pol also goes through this. Koss can choose another mate and when the option is talked about there's no implication that this would result in any sort of fight (both by the casualness of its mention and by the fact that there's no formal word for it unlike the kal-if-fee.) Also, the fact that Koss does eventually grant T'Pol a divorce and it's all fine means that T'Pol isn't lawfully required to have another man waiting if her HUSBAND doesn't want her. It's ONLY required if SHE doesn't want her husband. Tradition must take precedence over individual desire UNLESS!!! You're a man. Then it's fine. Like, your parents might not be happy but legally you're golden.

[bmpmp3]

everyone on earth probably has a hypothetical farming sim in their mind's eye that they daydream about on occasion because of the unfortunate situation that despite there being like a thousand farming games released every minute only like 4 of them are any good. and i think this is fun, i think its good to keep the imagination alive. if i made a farming sim i would bring back rival marriages from the old friends of mineral town. i want to steal someones wife.

[lord-shitbox]

everything comes back to me thinking wow im solidly not a great person

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room

[losersiren]

𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭

"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.” CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o

The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.

You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option. 

“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.

The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.

What a bastard

“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.

”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”

His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.

He should’ve fought harder for you.

People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.

 He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-” 

“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.

The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.

The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.

“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.

You’re so close

“I forgive you…I forgive you…”

“I forgive you, Ambrose…”

Oh…

His name on your tongue….

His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.

“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”

.." Or shall I beg more?"

End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)

[pinkmoonastro]

Every planet in the 12th: Observations

The 12th house shows you in which ways you can leave the biggest impact on the world in the purest most intentional way if you so choose.

*I didn't feel like proof reading spare me*

sun in the 12th often misperceived or seen as having underlining motives even when that is furthest from the truth. Actually quite often upfront with their intentions regardless if they know more than they've led you to believe. The projection others put on them is veryyy high, sun person unconsciously triggering deep seated wounds in others while they just assume they’re having a normal conversation. They either love gossip or are always being brought up in gossip. Attracting secret admirers bc of the taboo aspect of their personality. They teach others how to be themselves through example and that gives them the popular loner vibe, everyone wants to know whats going on in their life. Though Its often not as interesting as the stories that are being created about them (probably at home chilling). Unintentionally very funny their light hearted nature makes others feel comfortable. They know how to create warm welcomes. They can read animals minds. They dress how they feel. Escape artist. Probably through music, film or imagination. Gift for photography.

moon in 12th romantic relationships have a big influence on these people. They'll change their whole life around to fit into their lovers life for better or worse. Naturally harmonious these people are seemingly unsuspecting until you piss them off then you realize they just choose to keep peace. Prone to escapism usually through some sort of creative pursuit turned business. Obviously not forward with their feelings ppl tend to label them as having their head in the clouds when in reality they have plans its just nobody else's business. There's a love/resentful relationship with the mother. The mother could've been a physical provider but not emotional. These ppl had to nurture and comfort themselves and it made them very good at being those things for others. Children and animals loveeeee them. They are givers and don't mind sharing for the greater good. Dependable and persistent they can stick out something they feel is important. But if they don't care... Oh its very obvious. That job they don't like? Oh don't even worry about it they'll quit. They don't like feeling stressed or unharmonious and don't mind removing anything thats trying to hinder that. In the lower natures this creates a person that ignores anything that would make them have to readjust their behavior. Extremely delusional and misreads the room quite often. Very emotional changing how they feel about you frequently. It can become hard to give and receive trust.

Mars in the 12th manifest things/experiences so easy especially through their connections. They know how to put themselves in the right rooms with the right people. They date people that improve their social standing and they do the same in return. When its comes to career they could've seemed like the runt in the group but they grew themselves to be well respected in their field. Often hearing ''you only got this because''. They attract a lot of haters jealous of their success or the way they got their success. these people are attractive and naturally have a body others envy, they always have options and good ones at that.

Venus in 12th boy oh boy the hopeless romantics, but whats so hopeless about it? Others may often wonder why you picked the person you did viewing you as opposites. There may be an age gap or cultural difference. The women often choose partners that have a different social standing or perception than their own. The Men do the same though their more willing to be in relationships with unrequited love. Have had their fair share of infidelity issues until they found the person that would ride or die for them and vise versa. Privacy and trust are high priority for these people. Very good at socializing they know how to read what is needed to improve the energy of a space. Their parties/hostings are always so inviting and rememberable. They work very well with children and animals. Especially those in need. Fostering is something they wouldn't mind doing, along with nursing things back to health. Examples hair, nails. Plants etc. Very crafty they'd create beautiful jewelry and clothing. Their style is unique and acquired taste even. Controlling an image or narrative comes natural these Pol could do damage control for celebrities. When Ppl are in a frantic state they know how to calm assist.

Mercury in 12th are good at controlling the narratives around themselves. People hand on to every word that's said. These are the types that prefer to talk when necessary and not give out to much information. Just enough to keep you hooked. They have a unique sound and are musically inclined it helps that they think outside of the box. Usually the leader of the group because of their ability to see the broader picture and keep everyones best interest at heart. They attract haters bc they set high goals for themselves they get viewed as outlandish or unpractical when actually they just believe in themselves and remain optimistic. They know alot about very specific niche things.

Jupiter in the 12th don't get the credit they deserve for being so iconic. They really are trendsetters that break molds and stereotypes and tend receive backlash for the things they say & do simply because they were the first to do it. Opening up the pathway for others to show up more authentically and protected. They have big expression and are passionate about the things they choose to do. Their not afraid to speak their truth and having a forgiving nature. Creative pursuits are well received by the public attracting sponsors easily. Its also easy for them to find/create a community ppl reall gravitate to them. Their kryptonite lies in their self esteem. If they can't face rejection they'll hide the best parts of themselves. Only seeing the beauty in others and not what they offer the world.

Saturn in the 12th need to know when to stop while their ahead. They get into unnecessary battles bc of a fragile or inflated ego. When the ego is healthy this makes for a very powerful person that commands rooms with ease. They make Pol want to sit up in their chair when they walk in. These Pol are stubborn but more often than not it works out in their favor. Very hard workers and the same energy they apply is expected from those around them. If they put in 80 hrs a week they expect the same from you, if I can do it why can't you mentality. They achieve alot and Ppl notice it but its like no one ever sees them working they just see the finished product and know a lot had to be done behind the scenes. For example let's say someone is very popular you know they would've had to built those relationships you just didn't see it happen. They could have a guilt complex about their achievements and feel like theirs still more they should be doing for other ppl. Growing up as the star, the golden child, the one thats going to help the family put a lot of pressure and responsibility on them. This could've also affected the relationship between the others siblings. Lastly these Ppl are either very serious about punctuality or show up whenever they want to. Maybe even both they could've started out one way and over time became another way. When saturn is damaged they run from responsibility and are viewed as childish and never learning from their lessons.

Neptune in the 12th know how to win over the audience. I chose the word audience bc they love an audience. Ppl will make excuses for their behavior like ''you know they had a rough childhood'' as if that excuses hurting others. Professional sympathy grabbers even when their not even trying and great ass kissers when they want to be. That is in neptunes lower natures ofc. These ppl speak their mind without a fuck given. This is like the only pile im cursing in and that kind of explains them. Their going to say what they want and don't mind shaking the room up. Image is important to them. They'll study their own footage to see what they looked like, sounded like, acted like, and change anything they deem as not fitting. They could be great actors or social media personalities. Also would be good at managing social media accounts. These ppl may be easily persuaded especially by those they view as having a higher social ranking than themselves. Knowing how to adapt to any environment is their strong suit. They act as a mirror in their environment and reflect back whatever energy you give them. To a T at that. They know when to play it up or be more lowkey. This is type of person to always leave lasting impressions on ppl. They could be the first in a taboo field to achieve something. Like being the first pornstar to get 100 million views. Its like when you think you have them figured out they do something else that shows there's many other sides to them. Often hearing ''i didnt think I would like you at first''. With a great sense of humor they know how to laugh at themselves and lighten the mood they don't take life to seriously. They attract a lot of unique ppl their friend group is very expansive. They could be friends with a stripper and an attorney. Hell they might've been a stripper and an attorney.

Uranus in the 12th they just pop up and ppl are surprised like ''omg what are doing here'' these ppl are held in high regard mostly bc their very selective with their energy, your viewed as a busy person so when you come around it makes ppl feel lucky. You treat others fairly and want everyone around you to feel accepted. You value keeping the peace. The fact that I'm even using you instead of they is a reflection of how inclusion is important for you. Having an eccentric vibe is more obvious here but alot of ppl go the opposite way and don't want to appear uniquely at all they actually want to be as plain Jane as possible. This can actually rub ppl the wrong way and make them feel something is being hidden from them like your pretending. Feeling criticized in childhood is why accepting others is something they prioritize. They end up in rooms with many different types of ppl. This placement has a lot of experience in a lot of different areas. With a free spirited nature they are open to trying new things pushing themselves outside of their comfort zone quite often.

Pluto in the 12th, a quiet energy standing in the back of the room scoping out the scenery. They notice more than ppl realize and are smarter than they let on. Often having their power tested bc of their calm observing demeanor. Ppl try to make them feel they don't belong in certain environments or that their not really qualified but they don't mind showing you why that perception isn't accurate. They know how to push back. The type to pretend they don't care about popularity but they work very hard at obtaining it. But maybe they don't care about the popularity just the power that it brings. Knowing the value of relationships they put alot into maintaining them. They are very giving to those around them. Self sacrificing even, its like they believe thats how you show someone you really care. These are some of the most passionate people you'll meet. They just know how to make you feel understood and seen. They make everyone feel special. This is one of the most intense placements for the 12th house. The transformations are deep, murky, confusing but it breeds and very self sufficient determined person. They question everything and are always growing and adapting. When they find something they like they become obsessive about it. They will work for extended amounts at a time. Like binging behavior. In Pluto's lower natures they develop a chip or their shoulder and use their influence to hurt others. If they are operating from that place they become very good at it. If they are never brought into awareness they continue generational curses but their children will have it worse than they did. These are the type of Pol that will tell you a traumatic experience in such a casual way and your just left like wtf you said that like it was normal. They also could've grew up experiencing their traumas being brushed off like they were normal. They were familiar with death from a young age and may have felt like they never really were a child. They build the trust of others easily and its bc their honest. It is what it is to them. They are natural born leaders it doesn't take much convincing & they don't mind leading the way as long as you give them their accolades for it. Mind you they could have a god complex but to be fair if you've experienced or achieved the things they have you might too.

[thatsveryvortex]

Writing Tools for Planning Your Story

I've tried tons of writing apps and sites, so you don't have to. Here's a list of free sites to plot out your novel, with my review and some images of how I use it.

Milanote

Milanote is like having a giant pinboard with folders. You can upload anything onto it [yes even your main doc] and then draw over it or connect things with lines and arrows

Milanote lets you add up to a hundred things for free, not including drawing. This is one of the downsides of the site as I've found myself reaching that limit recently.

For me, the best part is being able to draw over stuff, and the color swatches.

Milanote is a lot less structured than other sites I've used, and personally, I don't think their templates are worth using.

8/10 overall, Milanote is what I mainly use. Here are some pics of how I use it:

Miro

Miro is a flowchart website mainly used for corporate jobs, however, it can be a great plotting tool for that reason

Miro has a lot of great starter templates if you are looking for a more structured freeform experience. It also comes with a blank page as well.

Unfortunately, I'd argue that it's a bit of a hard tool for beginners to use without a template, I've learned copy-paste is my best friend with Miro the hard way.

It's much better than most platforms at making timelines though.

It has a limit of three boards which is a bit disappointing but overall, I think it's worth the try.

5/10 Miro is very middle of the road for me due to the limited ability to customize things and the free limit. Here are some pics:

[I wrote that part weeks ago, I am now fully using Miro and believe it's the best for making timelines and charts, I just wish it let me make more boards 8/10]

Hiveword

This might be someone's jam, I can't really say it's mine though.

First off, the unpaid version is really just a few boxes saying "Write a summary here." which makes it just not worth it in my opinion

There really isn't any way to customise things which is my favorite part of most of these softwares

I've barely used this, so maybe there's something I'm missing but

1/10, Just use Google Docs at this point, here's a couple pics

World Anvil

People like this software, it's mainly used for tabletop, which is just a different way of writing adventure, and I've seen it recommended by authors.

Unfortunately, I'm going to disagree with a lot of people and say it's hard to use and isn't even really good at plotting.

I may be biased on this one as every time I've tried to use it in the past I've struggled. However, it seems like another just write it in a document and create a folder.

I'd say it's closer to an organizing tool, but even then just use something else.

3/10, I have nothing to say about it but maybe you'll enjoy it, all here are two photos

Campfire

This is the one I think I've heard the most about, but have never actually tried.

right off the bat, I'm going to say this is 100% worth it, you'll see at the end with the photos but this is like if Miro and World Anvil had an organization baby.

It's extremely easy to understand, and it makes timelines, it's more for writing your whole book but idk about that yet.

7/10, its themes are really pretty but it limits how much you can do to 20 I believe. Here are the photos

That's all for now, honestly, I think you should use Miro if you are looking to plot things out, and Milanote if you want to collect and organize your thoughts for writing, as that's what I do. Obviously what I like won't be for everyone, but hopefully, this helped you see some options

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (01)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.2k

Aliyah's Notes: this is my first series on here so go easy on me (#adele) pls + some things are not going to be obx canon ... at least some of yall are warned. anyw im so excited for this cause lord knows the amount of time ive wanted to make a fake dating fic!!!!!!! anyw i hope you all will enjoy this i had so much writing the first chapter

The clatter of high heels against the marble floor echoed in perfect sync with the ticking of your watch. Every step was deliberate, poised—just like your life had to be. Perfection, it seemed, was not a choice but a requirement for survival.

You adjusted your sunglasses, your gaze skimming over the glamorous expanse of the fashion agency's lobby. People buzzed around you like bees in a hive, their worlds spinning, fueled by the weight of names, status, and flawless images. You smiled politely at the receptionist, offering a nod, though your mind was miles away.

To the outside world, your life was golden. The covers of magazines, the invitations to high-society events, the million-dollar deals with luxury brands—it was a fantasy that others could only dream of. It was your dream some time ago, too. 

But today, your reality felt like walking on the edge of a tightrope, the safety net fraying below you.

Your phone vibrated in your purse, interrupting your thoughts. You fished it out, your pulse quickening when you saw the text from your lawyer. Three words that sent a chill through your carefully constructed façade.

"We need to talk."

Your heart sank. The issue of your visa had been hanging over your head like a storm cloud for months now, growing darker by the day. You’d known this was coming, but knowing and confronting it were two different beasts.

Fame didn’t shield you from the cold bureaucracy of citizenship laws, and your time was running out. One misstep, one delay, and your golden empire could crumble. In a matter of months, you could be deported, left behind by the very country that had built you up.

With a deep breath, you silenced your phone and slid it back into your purse. This wasn’t something you could dwell on right now, not in public. Your expression remained serene, even though your mind was anything but. You had a shoot in an hour, a charity gala that evening, and at some point, you had to meet with the lawyer to discuss "options"—a word that had started to feel more like a trap than a solution.

As you exited the building, the cool breeze caught your hair, the city unfolding before you like a glittering stage. New York City. You looked out at the streets, the people, the life you fought so hard to build. The car pulled up to the curb, and you climbed inside. On your way to your lawyer.

You stepped into the law office, the familiar scent of polished wood and stale coffee wrapping around you like a tight band.

"Ms. Y/L/N, good afternoon," Nicolas Ramirez, your lawyer, greeted you, standing behind his desk. His expression was composed, but you knew him well enough by now to spot the unease in his eyes.

"Hi," you softly smiled at him. Your heels clicked softly on the floor as you sat down, crossing your legs tightly, as if holding yourself together. "Let’s just get straight to it, okay? How bad is it?"

Nico sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Your visa expires in less than three months."

You felt your stomach twist, your worst fear inching closer to reality. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "And what about the appeals? The extensions?"

"We’ve exhausted every possible option—work visas, artist visas, even humanitarian grounds. Immigration laws are tightening, and without a permanent solution like citizenship or residency, you’ll be forced to leave the country."

"Leave?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the full weight of the nightmare you’d been living with. 

Leave? Go back there?

The country you had fought so hard to escape. The country where your childhood had been marked by suffocating poverty, where your parents had already planned your marriage before you even turned 15. Where your dreams had been a distant, impossible hope until that one person changed your life forever.

You felt your throat tighten. You couldn’t go back.

Nico’s gaze softened slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "I know what this means for you. I know how difficult—"

"You don’t know," you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended. "You… You don’t know—I can’t go back there, Nico. I just… I can’t."

He nodded, giving you a moment of silence to compose yourself, but the pressure in your chest only grew. You took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay.

"So what now?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Is this it? Am I out of options?"

"Well… There’s one option we haven’t explored yet." his tone was cautious, like he knew what he was about to say would open a new can of worms.

You furrowed your brow. "What?"

"Marriage."

The word hung in the air, thick and heavy. You blinked, unable to comprehend at first. "Marriage?" you repeated, as if saying it aloud would make the absurdity of it clear.

"It’s one of the few legal paths left," he explained, leaning forward slightly. "Marriage to a U.S. citizen could secure your green card and, eventually, permanent residency. It’s a legitimate route—many people in similar situations have done it."

You sat back in your chair, the tension in your body coiling tighter. The thought of marriage, of attaching yourself to someone you barely knew for the sake of staying in the country, made your skin crawl. You had already sacrificed so much for your freedom, for your career. And now this?

"You’re telling me the only way to stay here is to marry someone I don’t even love? Just to avoid being sent back to a country I don’t belong in anymore?"

"Not necessarily," Nicolas said, his tone measured. "It wouldn’t have to be a traditional marriage. Think of it as a business arrangement. It’s a legal partnership—nothing more. And it could save your career, your life here."

You crossed your arms tightly, your mind racing. Marriage. It was a word that had haunted you ever since your parents had tried to force you into it as a teenager. Back then, it was their way of controlling you, of keeping you bound to a life you didn’t want. Now, it felt like the universe was throwing the same chains back at you, just in a different form.

"I’ve compiled a list of potential candidates," Arjun continued, sliding a piece of paper across the desk toward you. "People who might be open to an arrangement like this. Athletes, businesspeople—individuals who might benefit from a similar deal."

You glanced at the paper but didn’t pick it up. The names blurred in front of your eyes. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to go. You’d already lost your family, fought tooth and nail to get out of your country and build something for yourself in the U.S. And now you were at risk of losing everything—again.

"I don’t know if I can do this, Nico," you said quietly, shaking your head. "I’ve already sacrificed so much. My family… I gave up everything to be here. And now you’re telling me I have to give up even more?"

"I’m not telling you that you have to do anything," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "I’m saying this is an option. One that could keep you here, legally. But the decision is yours. I’m just laying out the possibilities."

You swallowed the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. 

"I can’t go back there," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "I’ve worked too hard to get here. I can’t lose everything."

He nodded slowly. "Then maybe it’s time to consider unconventional options."

You finally picked up the paper, scanning the names but not really seeing them. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. Marriage. It felt like a trap, just like it had back then. But maybe—just maybe—it was the only way to keep your future intact.

"I’ll think about it," you said, standing up and smoothing the front of your dress. "But I’m not making any promises."

"Of course," he said, standing as well. "Just let me know. We’re running out of time, but I’ll support whatever decision you make."

You nodded curtly, turning toward the door. As you stepped out into the cool city air, your chest tightened with the weight of everything you stood to lose. The lights of New York City flickered ahead of you, just out of reach, as though the life you’d built here could vanish at any moment.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly afraid.

Your phone buzzed, dragging you out of your spiraling thoughts. You fished it out of your purse, heart skipping a beat when you saw the name: Nina. Your agent.

With a shaky exhale, you answered. “Nina, hi.”

“Hey, babe!” Nina’s voice was all cheer, a stark contrast to the storm inside you. “So, I have amazing news! Guess who just got major campaign offers coming in? You! Chanel, Loewe, and oh my God, don’t even get me started on Louis Vuitton. The year starts beautifully for you!���

You should’ve felt ecstatic, but instead, the words passed over you like an echo. All you could think of was the countdown Nico had set in motion: three months. Three months before everything you’d built here would be taken away from you. 

“That’s… amazing, Nina,” you managed, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Really amazing. Thank you so much.”

“Are you okay? You don’t sound like your sunshine-self.” Nina’s voice softened, concern creeping in. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause. Nina had been there through all your ups and downs, from your rookie days as a model to your rise in the industry. But the immigration issues, the fear of being sent back to a life you couldn’t return to—that was something neither of you could control. 

“Three months?” she repeated, her voice going higher. “Oh my God—what the fuck? I thought… I thought you had more time.”

“So did I.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Nina, I don’t know what to do. I’ve called Nico and he tried everything—extensions, appeals—but the laws are tightening, and he said there’s only one real option left.”

There was a brief silence before she asked, “What option?”

You bit your lip. “Marriage. Nico says I could marry someone for a green card.”

“Marriage?” Nina’s voice came out in a shocked squeak. “Like a fake marriage? Babe, are you serious?”

“I don’t know!” you burst out, frustration and fear colliding. “I don’t know what to do! I can’t go back there. I can’t. My parents… My parents already wrote me off as dead, and if I go back, I’m stuck in a place I spent my entire life trying to escape.”

Her voice softened. “I know, honey, I know… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound—God, I can’t imagine how scary this is for you.”

You took a shaky breath, grateful for her understanding. Nina wasn’t just your manager—she was one of the few people who you actually close to. She was a 34 years old American-Filipina woman. You trusted her with your life. 

“Okay,” Nina said, her voice more focused now. “Okay, now listen. We’ll figure this out. I know Nicolas wouldn’t suggest something like this unless it was a real option. Do you trust him?”

You sighed. “Yeah. I do. But the idea of marrying someone just to stay… it feels like another version of what my parents wanted for me. Like I’m back in that same time of my life.”

“I get it. But this isn’t like that. You’re in control this time,” Nina said. “If this is what you need to stay here, it’s not about love or being owned by someone.”

You nodded to yourself, trying to absorb her words. “Well, um, Nico gave me a list of potential candidates—people who might be willing to make an arrangement. You’ll never guess who’s on it, though.”

“Who? Shawn Mendes? Harry Styles? Tom Holland—”

“Rafe Cameron,” you said, cutting her off. “The basketball play—”

“Yeah, I know who that man is, Y/N. His reputation is a total mess right now. It’s not surprising for him to be on that list.”

“Exactly,” you muttered. “It’s a perfect business arrangement for him, too. He needs a way to look respectable again, and I need to stay in the country.”

“So, you’re actually considering this?”

You leaned against a streetlamp, staring at the city around you. “I don’t know. Maybe? It just feels wrong. Like I’m giving up a part of myself.”

“As nicely as this can be said, you are being dramatic here, babe.” Nina sighed softly. “Look, I’m not going to push you either way, okay? But I do think you need to look at it from a different angle. You’re not giving up on yourself. You’re doing what you need to do to stay here, to keep fighting for your career and your future. And Rafe—or whoever you’ll end up marrying—is not your parents. He’s not going to control you or he’ll get slapped.”

You closed your eyes, trying to let her words sink in. She was right—you were in control now. This wasn’t the same as being forced into a marriage you didn’t want. This was about survival. About keeping your life in the U.S. intact.

"Yeah… I guess you’re right," you said softly, feeling some of the tension release from your shoulders. "I just need time to think."

TWO WEEKS LATER.

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting warm light across your living room. After two relentless weeks of back-to-back fashion shoots, campaign meetings, and gala appearances, you had finally found a moment of peace. You curled up on the plush sofa, sinking into its embrace as the hum of the city outside became a distant murmur. The oversized, loose pajamas you wore were a far cry from the designer gowns and couture you’d been draped in recently, but they were yours—soft, comforting, and familiar. Your hair was twisted into a lazy bun under a satin bonnet.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, finally feeling the weight of exhaustion slip from your shoulders as you closed your eyes.

Buzz. Buzz.

The sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table pulled you from the calm. You groaned softly, reaching for it with one hand, expecting to see another notification about a meeting or event. Instead, it was a message from Nicolas.

“Any thoughts on who you're going to marry? We need to move quickly if we want to ensure everything goes through in time.”

The familiar weight of the situation you’d been trying to avoid crept back into your chest. Two weeks had passed since your lawyer had first laid out the reality of your visa situation. In those weeks, you'd thrown yourself into work, hoping the constant flurry of activity would drown out the anxiety. But now, in the quiet of your home, the decision loomed large again.

You typed back, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

"I haven’t decided yet."

A few seconds later, the reply came through.

"We need to discuss this in person. Can you come to my office today?"

You frowned, your eyes darting around the cozy room, not quite ready to leave your home.

"How about you come here instead?" you typed. "It’s been a long week, and I’d rather talk in private."

There was a pause before the three dots appeared, and then the message followed.

"Sure. I’ll be there in about an hour."

You put your phone down and leaned back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have, but it was necessary. Time was running out, and you knew you had to face it—whether you wanted to or not.

An hour passed in a blur, and soon enough, you heard the knock at your door. You padded across the room in your socks, your oversized pajama pants swishing softly as you walked. Opening the door, you found Nicolas standing there, looking as composed as ever in his tailored suit.

“Come in,” you said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.

Nicolas entered, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. "You look... relaxed."

You gave a soft chuckle, gesturing to your pajamas. “Don’t mock the pj’s until you’ve tried them.”

He smiled slightly, but there was a hint of emergency in his expression as he took a seat in the armchair across from you. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately, but we really need to make a decision.”

You nodded, sitting back down on the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. “I know… I’ve just been avoiding it.”

“And I noticed,” he said, pulling out a folder from his briefcase. “But with the visa expiration approaching, we don’t have much time. We need to find someone—someone who understands the situation and won’t make things harder.”

You bit your lip, holding a smile, glancing at the folder in his hands. “You bought the list?”

He nodded, and handed it over, and you flipped through the names, recognizing some immediately. Athletes, businessmen, even a couple of actors/singers. And then there was Rafe Cameron, his name standing out like a bold headline.

“I’ve looked at these,” you said quietly. “I just… I don’t know who to choose. None of ‘em feel right.”

Nico leaned forward. “It's not about right or wrong. It’s about who can offer the least amount of personal complications and help you secure your residency. Rafe Cameron, for instance—he’s someone who could benefit from this arrangement as much as you. His reputation needs mending, and this could be a mutually beneficial situation.”

You stared at Rafe’s name, the memories of seeing his name in the news about how much of a womanizer he was… Could you really tie yourself to someone like him in a fake marriage?

“Alright, but I need you to help me decide,” you admitted, looking up at him.

He nodded, his expression understanding. “Of course, that’s why I’m here. Let’s break it down together and figure out who makes the most sense, not just legally but for your peace of mind.”

Nicolas opened his briefcase again, pulling out more detailed files on the potential candidates. He laid them out neatly on the coffee table, each name with a stack of information—financial records, personal histories, public perceptions. It was all very businesslike.

You leaned forward, looking at the pages in front of you. Each one represented a major decision, a shift in your life you weren’t entirely ready to accept, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Let’s start with the most practical options,” he said, sliding the file on Rafe Cameron toward you. “I know his name has come up before. He’s wealthy, influential, and… well, let’s be honest, he could use a boost to his public image right now. It’s a good match on paper.”

You stared at Rafe’s name again, tapping the edge of the file with your finger. “Yeah, but he’s also a bit of a mess, isn’t he? I mean, the media paints him as this… whore, and his personal life is always talked about. What if that blows back on me?”

Nicolas raised a brow. “That’s something to consider, but you also have to think of the benefits. His public image might not be very clean, but he’s powerful. Marrying him would put you in a stable position, and if it’s a business arrangement, his private affairs don’t have to concern you.”

You exhaled slowly, still feeling uneasy. Rafe Cameron was trouble, and you knew it. But at the same time, trouble might be exactly what could make this work—for both of you.

“What about the others?” you asked, flipping through the files. “There has to be someone who’s�� less complicated.”

“Well,” he said, tapping another file. “there’s Owen Turner. He’s a succesful tech entrepeneur, keeps a low profile. No scandals, no messy reputation. He’s reliable, but you’ll have to approach this differently. He’s more private, less likely to want his personal life on display.”

“And boring—plus, he seems like the type of white guy to want a traditional wife. Like he would expect me to cook for him every night… and he has an ugly name.”

“Owen won’t be expecting home-cooked meals, Y/N. He’s a tech guy; he probably lives on energy drinks and instant ramen,” Nico pointed out, trying to steer you back to the serious topic. “But if we position it as a legal arrangement, he could see the value in it.”

You sighed, leaning back on the chair. “Okay, maybe Owen is the safer options. But can you imagine our wedding announcement? ‘Succesful Tech Entrepeneur Married Famous Model: They Share a Love for Cats and Instant Noodle.’”

Nico shook his head, trying not to smile. “Focus, please. This is a serious matter.”

“Right, right, sorry…” you said, wavering your hand dismissively. “But, what do you think about Rafe?”

“Rafe Cameron is the most straightforward option,” he said, his tone now more measured. “He’s already in the public eye, which means there won’t be as much of a shock if you’re suddenly married. Plus, his need for good press aligns with your need for stability.”

“And personally?”

He smiled softly, a rare gesture from him. “Personally, I think you should go with the person you think you can manage.”

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. Staring at the stack of papers in front of you, Rafe Cameron’s name glaring up at you from the top of the list. Every name on the list had its pros and cons, but something about Rafe’s file felt different. Maybe it was the intensity of his media coverage, the scandals, or the way he dominated the headlines for all the wrong reasons. But as much as you hesitated, his name kept pulling you back.

“I know his reputation isn't spotless,” Nico said, sensing your hesitation, “but in this situation, a clean reputation isn’t the priority. You need someone powerful, someone with enough influence to make this arrangement stick without getting tangled up in emotional complications.”

You nodded, again.”But I don’t know if I can handle all the baggage that comes with Rafe Cameron. His public image is a trainwreck. Wouldn’t that only complicate things more?”

Nico leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Possibly. But think of it this way: his personal life is already so chaotic that a stable, respectable marriage might be exactly what he needs to repair his image. And that’s where you come in. You’d be helping each other.”

Your eyes dropped back down to his file. "Do you think he'd even agree to something like this?"

Nico chuckled softly. “If there’s one thing I know about men like Rafe Cameron, it’s that they understand deals. His reputation is hanging by a thread, and a marriage to someone like you—someone with a pristine public image—could be the ticket to restoring his credibility. It’s a win-win, really.”

You considered Nico’s words. He was right. Rafe had everything to gain from a marriage of convenience, just like you. And while his scandals were messy, they didn’t define him entirely. He was still an elite athlete, one of the best in the game, and with the right PR strategy, you could both come out looking better.

But the thought of marrying someone like him—a notorious playboy with a history of messy breakups—made your stomach churn. 

“You know,” Nico continued, “if this were just about your visa, we’d be having a different conversation. But this is about your entire future. Your career, your freedom to stay here, everything you’ve built. I’m not saying it’s an easy choice, but it’s one worth considering.”

You sighed, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "What happens if it falls apart? What if things with Rafe go wrong?"

"That’s why we’ll draft a contract," Nico reassured you. "This won’t be a traditional marriage, Y/N. You’ll both have clear boundaries, and legally, we’ll protect your interests. If things go south, you’ll be covered."

You stared at the file a little longer, then closed your eyes.Rafe Cameron. He was cocky, possessive, and reckless—everything you usually avoided. But maybe that was the key. You wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to control you or make this anything more than a business transaction.

It would be messy. It would be complicated. But it would also keep you here, in the country you’d fought so hard to call home. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the solution you both needed.

“Okay,” you said softly, your decision finally settling. “I’ll do it.”

Nico’s eyebrows shot up, a little surprised at how quickly you’d made up your mind. “You’re sure?”

“No,” you admitted with a weak smile. “But I think this is the best option. I’ll marry Rafe Cameron.”

Nico nodded, closing the folder with a satisfied smile. “Good. I’ll set up a meeting with him. We’ll get the ball rolling.”

Oh God, you were going to marry Rafe Cameron…

chapter two

[mailmango]

One-on-One

Pairing: Professor Henry Cavill x Student Male Reader

Genre: Fluffy Smut, MDNI

Kinks/Warnings/Notes: AMAB Reader; Calling the reader a slut, a whore; Calling the reader a good boy, praise; Slapping and spanking; Age gap; Professor x Student

Length: 5.1k words, Fic

Synopsis: You're one of the lucky few to have ever experienced one of Professor Cavill's lectures. And you are the lucky, singular person to have ever experienced his heart-racing one-on-one session.

A/N: oml hiiii! If you're reading this, then thank you very much! this is my first time writing something over a thousand words (of my own volition) in probably 3 years at least! It's also my first time writing serious smut GAHAHAHAH I would appreciate feedback (totally optional), but most of all, hope you enjoy :D

Credits: @/aquazero for the divider and @/starboye for helping me with formatting and tagging!! ^-^

I picked this one just for you! I hope it’s sweet and juicy…

You’ve always liked your Ancient Mythologies Studies class. It was an easy A, one that came packaged with an interesting topic to boot. Who doesn’t want to hear of the religions and myths of civilizations from thousands and thousands of years ago?

The answer is most people. It was one of the smallest classes–even with a size cap of twenty, it had barely filled out ten slots. It seemed most people simply didn’t take interest in the subject. That meant that most people were poor, unfortunate people, because they didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Professor Cavill. 

Professor Cavill had worked at the university teaching their Ancient Mythologies Studies class for the past several years. He was a graduate of this school and, after having established himself as a prominent archaeologist, he opted to take time and teach a course for two sessions weekly. In his words he, “Wanted to help inspire any young people with a passion for learning about those that came before us.” 

You had found those words so, so interesting. But it was more so about the man saying them. 

Professor Cavill–Henry–was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-forties. He was kind and considerate to each member of his class, treating them with a warmth and manner you’d read about in an overly unrealistic romance novel. And yet, he was very much real. You had class with him every Monday morning and Friday night. 

Classes which you would sit in, bouncing your leg and hiding a raging boner as you watched the man fiddle with and adjust his tie. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N, are you sure you’d rather not attend the festivities?” 

Ah, just your luck, wasn’t it? Your college had been holding a concert for a handful of its alumni to celebrate their band’s first national tour. The university had decided that, due to the band falling under the alternative genre, they would allow classes to continue should any students or staff be disinterested. 

It just so happened that, as much as you weren’t opposed to them, you also weren’t heavily inclined to actually attend their show. You had figured that at least one of your ten classmates would feel the same. 

Apparently not.

Hence, you now sat alone in a small lecture room, the chairs beside you empty as you stared at your beloved professor, Professor Cavill. 

“Ah, no, professor. Were you looking to attend?” 

“Myself? My personal taste doesn’t align with their music. As much as I love Clive-” 

Clive was the lead singer and, as you recall, one of Professor Cavill’s former students. 

“-we’ll be meeting for a congratulations dinner tomorrow evening. We’ve already discussed.”

He smiled, dimples forming, as he flipped open his files for the night’s lecture. 

Then he had to reach for his stupid tie. 

“Would you mind if I loosened my tie? I’ve been feeling warm as of earlier this evening.” 

His large, somewhat hairy hand was already holding the knot one either side. He did it often; you had come to suspect it was an unconscious habit at times. He would tug at his tie, calling attention to his strong chest or those bulging biceps…

Damn his stupid tie. Today, it was his blue tie, one you knew to be one of his favourites. He wore it at least thrice a month, most often during Friday sessions.

Every time he would touch it, toy with it, it sent shivers down your spine and blood straight to your cock. You almost weren’t sure if you hated or loved that he was almost never without one.

“Ah, not at all, Sir. Go ahead.” 

“Thank you, Y/N.”

God, your name sounded so good out of his mouth. He drew the syllables out, gave it this weight that you hadn’t heard your name spoken with before. You could get addicted to the way he had said it just now. You were tempted to find an excuse to have him say it again. 

That opportunity came as, for the first time, he pushed past absentminded tugs at his tie and now pulled the knot away from his chest. For the first time, you saw his neck without the tie drawing attention. It almost sounded manic to say but… the sight began to draw you in. 

And then he overshot it. The tie came off, knot still done, but it was completely removed now. He stared down at the cloth before using his free hand to undo it, leaving it nice and straight in his hand. 

“Do you mind if I forgo it?”

Eye contact. He made eye contact with those god damn near hypnotising eyes. They really were unique; the man had something called segmental heterochromia. He had mentioned it once before. It meant that his left iris, though mostly blue like his right, had a patch of brown in its upper half. 

It felt mystifying, like a siren whose song you couldn’t ignore. He continued to look at you, and without him breaking eye contact, you were hopelessly unable to do so yourself. Instead, you simply muttered a weak response. 

“Go ahead, Sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Class seemed to fly by. Your hand wrote on its own as your legs bounced, mind and senses completely and utterly hinged on the man’s every word and movement. Though he entranced you each time you sat in on his lectures, tonight was different. You had always blamed his tie. It’s the tie. The playing with the tie, his stature with it, that’s what you blamed for your constant erections. 

But it was difficult to deny it when, as the man orated with his tie discarded, you found your cock throbbing more eagerly than you can remember it having ever done before.

Sweat rolled down your forehead from the heat you were feeling. You cursed yourself, begging that the man would somehow not notice the warmth that afflicted you. But, as you let yourself look at him again, really look at him, you were both relieved and mortified to find that he was under the same circumstances. 

“Is the air conditioning broken?”

His words were breathless as he fanned himself with his papers. He was tugging at his collar now, further exposing his neck, now slick with sweat. It seemed to be bothering him more than it was you, somehow. 

“I-I think so.”

You could barely manage to let the words out. Your breathing had gotten unsteady, mind and body unable to focus as the man groaned from the discomfort. Seemingly without realising, his hand undid the two topmost buttons of his shirt. It exposed his chest–a strong chest covered in wild, dark black hair that you had been completely oblivious to the glorious existence of.

“Y/N? Are you alright? Is something-”

Of course now he notices your stares. It couldn’t have been when it was something that was easily explained away, like you were staring at him due to intent listening. No, it had to be when your gaze, which he followed, led down to his exposed chest. His exposed chest which had, mortifyingly, caused a wet spot to form in your pants. 

“Ah, my apologies. Let me redo my button-” 

“No! I mean-”

Your words came out too eager. Your brain was screaming at your mouth not to speak, to not make an utter fool of yourself. But your mouth chose to go rogue, instead opting to speak like a horned-up teen begging his boyfriend to keep making out with him. 

“Y-you don’t have to. I don’t mind.” 

An eyebrow was cocked in your direction. 

“Is that so, Y/N?” 

Your silence was used to scream, rather than actually think of anything remotely close to damage control. 

“Y-yes Sir. I don’t mind if you keep your buttons undone.”

“If that’s the case, then…” 

Was this… reality? Surely it could be. It was impossible. 

You were sitting there, cock leaking with precum like you were a virgin watching your first porno, as your handsome professor began to undo buttons, one after another. He was exposing himself further and further with each passing second, each button exposing a new section of chiselled, hairy, sweat-covered skin.

His breaths were deep and heavy, sighs and groans of relief sending more and more sensations to your cock. Every vibration of his vocal chords seemed to be felt in full force by your erection, not helping your situation in any way whatsoever. 

Then the man had the gall to take his shirt off, folding it neatly and placing it aside. 

His body truly was magnificent. Plush, thick muscles were a constant, whether you looked at his chest, his abs, his shoulders, or any of his muscles. They radiated strength, covered in that same black hair as on his chest and equally slick with sweat. His body glistened under the dim light of the lights hanging above, almost like a gladiator fresh from battle. 

How the hell were you supposed to react? What the hell were you supposed to do? 

“Y/N, it’s hot, isn’t it? Would you mind if I further… undressed?”

How the hell were you supposed to say no to that? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost pathetic how easily the man got you to fish your cock out of your strained pants. Little more than an offhanded request, actually. 

Now you sat, pants and underwear around your ankles, your own shirt unbuttoned, as you feverishly pumped your erect dick. Your hand glided up and down due to the slickness of your overflowing precum, breathing unstable and desperate. But you were helpless, the possibility of you stopping a distant memory.

Professor Cavill was now nearly nude. He had discarded his elegant brown leather shoes and well-tailored pants, also in a neat pile on his desk. It left him, his statuesque form, completely exposed to you and your horny, unabashedly feral mind. It was a wonder you hadn’t cum yet. 

“Keep pumping for me, Y/N. Be a good boy and keep going.” 

Fuck, you couldn’t stop. Not when he said your name in a gruff, demanding voice. Not when he called you the sweetest pet names. Not when he stared at you, panting and eager, with a hunger that a predator has for its prey. 

Most especially when his cock strained against dark, black fabric, as he rubbed along his clothed shaft as he took in the sight of your desperate form. 

“Prof-” 

“Henry. Call me Henry, Y/N.” 

Shit, you could feel your cum about to well up and burst. 

“Henry!” 

He gave you a curt nod of approval. Your stomach pulsed with excitement. 

“P-please, fuck me-!” 

You looked at him, eyes wide and begging, and desperately awaited a reply. With mercy, he gave you one. 

“Alright, Y/N. I’ll fuck you.” 

You let out a pathetic, strangled mewl as your cum sprayed up and onto your sweaty torso. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henry–gah, you got to call him Henry–had a cock that you couldn’t fully process was actually human. It was too perfect. It was thick, nearly as thick as your wrist though thankfully just short. It was lengthy, having had to be nine or ten inches at full mast. His balls were heavy, full of cum that he was eager to let out, and the base of his shaft was buried in a wild, thick, furry bush. 

It was so close to you. It throbbed in front of you as you sat in your chair, the proximity allowing you to see the thick, pulsing vein that ran from base to near the tip. It let you watch as that fat, mushroom tip leaked a viscous, sticky precum. It lets you inhale that delicious, heady musk, intoxicating your mind and sending it reeling. 

It was almost too much to process. Almost.

You were far, far too eager to begin sucking on the fat shaft. Who could blame you? People would pay good money to get a taste of a cock this perfect. 

Fuck, the taste! A salty, somehow indescribably masculine taste, that flooded and overwhelmed your mind. It felt like you were at risk of addiction. Nothing had ever or would ever taste this damn divine. The copious amounts of thick, even saltier, precum being pumped into your throat was an excellent, equally addictive addition.

Even though it hurt and strained your jaw to stretch that wide and accommodate its length, the activity felt simply euphoric. If Henry would let you, you’d opt to do nothing more and nothing less than worship his cock, day and night. 

“That’s a good, good boy, Y/N. Lube up my cock.”

You always were one to follow Henry’s instructions. Always one to listen, to be a good, obedient puppy. Maybe that’s why you were his favourite. 

And, as he uttered praise and guided your head with a large hand’s firm grip, you certainly weren’t going to start disobeying now. With a hum of acknowledgement, you dutifully continued your task.

Once satisfied, Henry grunted and lightly tapped the back of your head. 

“That’s good, baby. That’s enough. Come, get off my cock now.” 

Part of you wanted to resist. How were you supposed to tear yourself away from his dick? It sounded impossible. But, you were eager for his praise, to hear him call you a good boy again. So, with one last deep dive down, your nose pressed into his hairy bush and your lips to the base of his shaft, you reluctantly pulled your face away and off of his delicious dick. 

“Good fucking boy. You’re a very, very good boy, Y/N.” 

Your cock throbbed with lust-filled need as you nodded with pure excitement. 

“You deserve a reward. Lay on my desk, Y/N, and let me take care of your now.” 

This was somehow the easiest instruction of the night to follow. You found yourself, now nude with your clothes having been folded just like Henry’s, laying on your back on his wooden desk. The surface felt cold and hard, but the feeling of a sturdy base comforted you. You knew that you’d need it. 

As you took deep, steady breaths. The first of the night, actually. Your mind was trained on one thing, one concern rather. 

How would you take his monstrous cock? 

The answer would come soon. Without warning, your legs were lifted by two strong hands. You looked down, seeing as Henry in all his glory set your ankles on his broad shoulders. He began pressing light kisses to your skin, beard tickling your skin, as he maintained unwavering eye contact. It caused you to let out a soft laugh, which he opted to respond to. 

“Your voice is beautiful, Y/N. Save it for me, okay?” 

You felt it then. His fat, throbbing, steaming hot cock was set beside yours, pressed between your dick and your thigh. He was slowly and subtly moving his hips back and forth, groaning at the sensational friction.

“You’ll let me hear you sing tonight, yeah? Let me hear your wonderful voice, Y/N.” 

His words were sweet like honey. It was almost enough to distract you from the prodding of his thick fingers against your tight hole. But, as you felt them push past your tight ring of muscle, your voice came out like the gates had been torn down, a moan resounding through the room. 

“There you go. Good boy… moan for me. Let me hear each and every one, okay?” 

You stared at him, eyes half-lidded, and nodded with an eager need to please.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Deep breaths, Y/N. Deep breaths for me now…”

How could someone so sweet cause so much pain? Henry was hunched over, his large, comforting hands on either side of your head as he hovered his face no more than four inches from yours. His heavy breaths fanned against your cheeks as he kept a steady, solid eye contact between you two. It was wondrous how much fire brewed within you from such a mundane act. 

“Are you ready? I’m going to insert the tip, alright?” 

He looked at you with such care and concern that it almost shocked you. He was a big, hulking man with a terrifyingly huge cock, but as it has come to be shown, a larger heart. It was so damn cheesy, wasn’t it? 

But that didn’t matter as you nodded once again, body unable to take the anticipation, the waiting, for him to shove his fat cock inside. 

…Except maybe it had to. His cockhead slipped inside with ease, but that wasn’t to say it wasn’t fucking painful. You let out a strangled half-moan half-scream, and within seconds, those large hands were patting the side of your head.

“Y/N? Is it too much? I’ll stop, okay? Should I pull out?”

Henry was kissing your forehead, your cheeks, the sides of your lips. He muttered small praises and comforts, every other kiss targeting a tear that had fallen from the pain. He kept true to his word; his hips remained still, his cock not pushing a millimetre further inside. It was from that moment of calm that, as you adjusted to the burning stretch, you were able to speak. 

“D-don’t. Just- give me a second to-“ 

You huffed out, desperate for air. 

“-adjust!” 

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. He tasted, somehow, better than his cock. It wasn’t quite something you could place, to be frank. It was a savoury taste, one with hints of candies you couldn’t identify and a tea whose flavour you couldn’t imagine. But it was entirely and wholly the delicious thing you’ve ever or will ever have. 

That was worth getting addicted to. And if Henry would let you, you’d chase that taste every single moment you can. Something told you that yeah, he would. 

“You’re doing so, so good for me, Y/N. So good, you feel so good…” 

Henry’s voice was low and comforting, just as much, if not more than his calming touches. He spoke in whispers between each kiss, and it led you to slowly, but surely, adjust to the pain. Before you had even realised, all you felt was the desire for him to push even further. 

“H-Henry, you can move now… please…” 

“Are you sure, Y/N?” 

Hearing your name roll off his tongue, so casual by this point, only cemented your enthusiasm. You nodded slowly and weakly, smiling the best you could. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful… Hold on to me, and tell me if I need to stop, okay?” 

Your cock nearly bounced at the praise. You eked out another nod as your hands came up to rest on his shoulders, leading him to return your smile with one of his own. And fuck, it was gorgeous. 

He kept his movement slow. It was torturous, but you could appreciate the time and the caution he took. His face watched yours, now scanning for any sign of pain or discomfort. At every wince or scrunch, he would stop, waiting for a nod or smile as your sign of readiness. 

“You feel excellent, Y/N. Being with you… I could get obsessed with this feeling, you know?” 

He leaned down to kiss you yet again. He kissed you, giving you yet another helping of that impossibly lovely taste: his taste. 

And then… then he brushed against your prostate, his cock like a mallet smashing into a button. Even slow, it sent a shock up your spine and a resulting heat through your nerves. Your loud, vulgar moans were taken with great joy and adoration from Henry, his smile only growing fonder. 

“You sound so good, Y/N. Let it out for me…” 

Perhaps you took it a tad too far as your cock, with the pressure to your prostate, burst with another spray of hot, sticky cum that painted both tour and Henry’s stomachs. Such a reaction was met with a warm laughter. 

“Not what I meant, but I’m not complaining. It’s good to know you feel good, baby.” 

He leaned in for yet another kiss and, in the hypnotising exchange, you just barely processed a large, encapsulating hand taking hold of your cock. Henry began to spread your cum across your own shaft, using it to pump your still-sensitive cock towards unbearable pleasure. 

“I’m gonna keep making you feel good, okay?” 

Sweat had beaded all over your skin now, streams running down your body as Henry’s own dripped down and onto your frame. He was pushing just a bit faster now—you almost couldn’t take the wait any longer. That once painful stretch had evolved into pleasure. It had evolved from a burning heat contained to your ass and spread into this resounding, unending warmth washing through you. In the process, it had devolved you into a writhing, moaning mess.

His cock was large, that was certainly clear. It was the kind of large that made your stomach bulge, the kind that you knew you wouldn’t ever be able to take with ease no matter how many times it had fucked you. And shit, you hoped that it would fuck you so, so many more times. 

But your composure only broke down further when his cock seemed to reach so impossibly deep inside, spreading your insides apart like it was trying to break you. Moan after moan fell out as your back arched involuntarily, only accentuating the bulge in your stomach. 

“Baby? Y/N?” 

You hadn’t even realised it, but Henry had stopped pushing himself deeper. Now, as he buried into what felt like the core of you and sent waves of electrifying heat with even the slightest twitch of his dick, his hips were flush against yours. He had bottomed out. 

“Henry…” 

Words other than the man’s name didn’t seem to be able to form. He, however, had so much to say. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing, Y/N. You’re taking me so damn well…” 

The hand not on your cock let go of your face and glided down your body, tracing lines down your shaking body, and stopped just over the bulging portion of your stomach. He brushed it gently, causing yet another crackle of electricity to wrack through you.

“Can… can I start to move?” 

Oh, you could’ve broken your neck with how fast you agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit, shit! You feel so damn good, Y/N.” 

Henry’s calm demeanour had taken a backseat. It was still there, in careful touches to your face and sweet caresses of your body. You could still hear it in every little praise he threw out, and every loving glance he gave your half-lidded eyes. 

His hips, though, had practically lost any form of restraint. 

He withdrew and pushed back in with speed and force, hips slamming with a harsh and sharp slap. Your ass felt sore by this point, but it was a warm, comfortable soreness when paired with the sheer, blinding pleasure of Henry’s cock. 

By the gods, the pleasure was insane. It was driving you mad, your vision going white. His cock, no matter how many times it was thrust into you, remained impossibly large and impossibly deep-reaching. It felt as though it only went deeper and deeper with each push, a result of your fractured state. 

But how could one stay sane when their body was being overwhelmed with such unimaginable pleasure. 

As drool began to spill and your eyes rolled back, Henry was quick to grab you by the chin and lock you into yet another kiss. Unlike the times before, though it carried the same sweetness, it was now heavy with a hunger, a need. He hungered for you, and he needed to fucking ruin you. 

And Henry’s a man who accomplishes his goals, isn’t he? He began thrusting into your harder, harsher than he had before. He thrust over and over and over again, his movements without a single missed beat or second of hesitation. 

His kisses remained constant too. His thick, strong tongue had shoved its way past your pretty lips and began to gnash against your tongue. It was a strange but nonetheless mind numbingly good feeling to have him invade your body even further. 

By now, his grip had transferred to and firmed on your hips. He kept you nice and planted in place on that damn sturdy desk of his, even as each thrust threatened its integrity. His pace was relentless, the wood starting to creak with his forcefulness. 

He drew back, saliva still stringing your mouth and his. 

“Y-you feel good, Y/N?” 

Who knew this man could stutter? But fuck, he made it sound hot. He sounded so lost in the pleasure, and even then, so firm in his every word. 

“Y-yes!” 

He gave a crooked smile at your words. 

“Good! Do you like the way I taste, Y/N? The way my spit tastes?” 

How vulgar was that? And how vulgar was it that, the second you tried to respond with a very clear yes, he decided to drop a fat glob of hot spit onto your cheek? He brought his thumb up to rub it into your skin and, hell, you were about to thank him for it. 

You couldn’t as he cut you off with yet another breathtaking kiss. You were left panting and unable to speak at all when he pulled away.

“You’re a whore, you know? A beautiful, obedient, whore.” 

His words carried no malice, only a heavy lust that he was just barely stopping from pushing him towards ruining your body completely. 

“But you’re my whore, alright? Don’t you ever fucking forget.” 

He slapped your cheek. It wasn’t one of anger, moreso just trying to snap you into focus. He wanted an answer and, as his best and favourite student, he knew he would get a reply out of you. 

“I-I’m your whore, sir!” 

It was a miracle you could speak, really. It was especially miraculous because the second he heard that, with one resounding slam of his hips into yours, you felt it. 

“Fuck, Y/N!”

In the moment, as you arched your back and let your mouth flow with moans at the highest possible volume, Henry’s cock pumped gush after gush of burning hot, viscous, cum. 

It felt like molten steel, an impossible extreme of everything that semen was meant to be. And as such, it brought the pleasure you felt from having your stomach pumped full of it to a high that you could never reach with any drug imaginable. 

And through it, his hips hadn’t chosen to stop. Every thrust was now being punctuated with a new load of cum filling your already full belly, each one followed then with another slap to your ass or lust-driven proclamation of love. 

“God, I love your tight fucking ass-”

You were screaming as you came at the height of the moment’s intensity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t sure when the night ended, exactly. It seemed that the man had fucked you for hours on end, until he had emptied his fat balls’ storage of cum and filled your belly with it. He had fucked you till your cock hurt, and each climax produced a dry orgasm due to empty tanks. 

He had fucked you till you were left unable to think of anything but his cock and the taste of his sweet, delicious lips.  

And now, he was buried deep inside you still, pressing kiss after kiss to your neck as you desperately gasped for air. 

“Did I go too hard? Are you hurt, Y/N?” 

Your body was, in fact, aching. It was this numb, almost muffled pain that was eclipsed—or perhaps even part of—this euphoric pleasure that continued to grasp you. Things no longer felt real, at this point, but a dream you’d rather not wake from. 

But things were very much reality, and that included a high-off-sex and full-of-affection Henry. 

“I apologise for the slaps, they were rather forceful…” 

You managed out a shake of the head to signal a no. The laugh that he gave, boisterous yet quiet, made your heart pound again. 

“I see. I suppose we’ll need ample time to explore what we both enjoy, hm?” 

The idea of more time with Henry, more time doing this, was certainly exciting. He didn’t need more than your dumb little smile, one you couldn’t wipe off your face even if you wanted or tried to, to tell you thought. 

“I can see you like the prospect, hm?” 

Another chuckle and another kiss. What bliss this was. 

“I’m going to pull out now, so that we can both get cleaned up, okay? Just breathe for me, Y/N, just like earlier.” 

You tried to follow, you really did. But as your hole was quickly left empty, gaping and clenching around nothing, you couldn’t help but whine unintelligible mutterings. Henry responded with even more pecks to your lips and caresses to your soft, delicate skin. 

Henry was certainly a gentleman. He had taken some tissues from the box he reserved for students with colds and used then to to clean the outer portion of your sloppy hole. His hands, as large as they were, moved soft and delicate, careful not to press against any overly sensitive parts. 

He had taken to cleaning himself—drying his cock, much to your dismay, with more paper towels. He had noticed your sadness and, with an admittedly smug smirk, said he’d allow you to suck his cock clean next time. It was still strange, even after the night you had had with him, to hear such lewd language uttered from the refined man’s mouth.

By the time he had dressed himself, your breathing had steadied. Your backside was still sore and leaking, but he had promised to help with that back at his apartment. 

Wait.

His apartment? 

“Ah, would you rather not? I can clean you up in the facilities here and-” 

“No, no! I’d-”

You coughed. All the sweat, mixed with what was now cool night air, had left your body just a tad sick. Well, that and the exhaustion from having taken on such an impossible task and cock. 

“-love to. I’d love to go home with you, Henry.” 

He smiled like he hadn’t heard anything quite as lovely before. You smiled back in return. 

He was the eager to tug on your boxers and wrap you in his suit jacket as a means of decency. He lifted you up bridal-style and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The man was strong and, with the ease that was carrying you, he even held your folded clothing in the hand supporting your butt. 

You even found the strength to be humorous in the moment, letting out a joking, “Ooh, strong guy, huh?” 

He graced you yet again with one of those pure, unadulterated laughs.

“I’m glad to have had this one on one session with you, Y/N. Certainly was productive, wasn’t it?”

THANK YOU to my lovely beta readers! There's a shit ton GAHAH

@inhumanshadows @worstwolverinesbf @darlingminjin @alatrysev @starboye @spermeboy @starrykie @sleep-0-deprived @slytherslvt @kurominis

Love you all :D you're all soooo nice and helped me finish this with your kind comments! Hope I didn't let you down with the end :>