#so I don’t want to encourage it too much

[tojisteddy]

Overstim with the 141

John is full of encouragement. His large hands caressing and pulling you in the most divine ways. He’ll hold you close, slowly thrusting into you during your second orgasm, forehead to forehead.

“So pretty honey, know you can give me another.”

“Love you so much, just fuckin- fuck- made for me, fuckin proud of you.”

He’ll plant such tender kisses on your lips, you can’t help but melt and shudder around him. He’ll continue praising you after, cumming himself just from getting you off.

Simon on the other hand, he’s getting that orgasm out of you whether you think you can or not. A bully. Rubbing your puffy clit till your withering and sobbing on his dick. Might stick a finger in your stuffed heat for good measure. He’ll suck on your earlobe, then make his way down your jaw. Finally creaming all over him just how he wanted.

“See? Wasnt that fuckin hard, was it luvie?”

“Pretty little cunt just needed a little guidance, huh birdie?”

Gaz, just has to talk you through it. Dirty talker at heart. Wont shut the fuck up. Definitely has your arms pinned behind your back, enjoying the perfect view of of your cheeks rippling every time he drags his length out and then rams it back in your sopping walls.

“Shit, sweetheart, look at how well you’re taking me. Pussy wont let me go, needs me right, here, yeah?”

“Shh, shhhh, listen angel. You hear all that? That’s allll you, fucking soaking me to my balls. You can give me another, show me how good you are.”

Soap, the idiot, will overstimulate himself while overstimulating you. You’re fucking shaking, telling him to take a fucking break but he’s pussy drunk. So pussy drunk, that even the idea of him pulling out of your tight pussy makes tears well up in his eyes, rambling, whimpering, pleading—

“Cannae get enough of ye bonnie, god, ‘nd ya want me gone? Not like this lass, ma ears ‘re shot. I can’t- ungh- why are ye suckin me like this, Christ-“

“Soo good- hnngh- too good- need you dove. Please, please cum, just once more! I swear, I promise-“

The fool, fucking you both dumb till he’s shooting blanks, cum leaking out of your overstuffed cunt, leaking down his thighs and he’s passed out, still inside you. Don’t worry! He’ll do it over again tomorrow :)

a/n: good morning, sluts, countryfolk, and working babes— lend me your ears!!!

most recent masterlist

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | dts moments

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : how they would react if you were featured on drive to survive with them

୨ৎ : word count : 1070

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : these headcanons have become one of my favorite things to do in my free-time ugh i just love how simple they are but so real >.<

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

tries to act chill but lowkey watches your interview segments like they’re race replays

gets very territorial when they show another driver being even remotely flirty

“why are they zooming in on your face like that?”

begrudgingly admits you looked hot in the paddock footage

pretends not to care but checks your social media comments at midnight

yuki tsunoda

instantly comfortable with cameras; pulls you into frame constantly

brings you snacks during confessionals like "babe, tell them about baku!"

swears once and it ends up in the final cut — becomes iconic

pokes fun at your “serious face” in interviews

wants joint merch after your segment goes viral

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

preps you beforehand like it's a media training boot camp

wears matching outfits on purpose so fans “know you’re his”

gets adorably flustered when you’re shown hyping him up on the pit wall

gives the producers a “we’re a great team” quote with heart eyes

proud boyfriend mode activated when you’re trending

kimi antonelli

pretends he hates it but secretly gets smug seeing you support him

“whatever, just don’t say anything embarrassing” (blushes when you do)

gets a little shy in couple shots but stands close the entire time

whispering jokes in italian while cameras roll = your shared love language

starts calling you “netflix star” to mess with you

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

camera loves you two — like, full soft-focus couple montages

gives your hand little squeezes when they film to calm his nerves

talks about you once and social media explodes

gets a bit pouty when your fanbase rivals his

looks at you like you hung the moon during your confessionals

lewis hamilton

total professional but insists they showcase your advocacy/work too

“if she’s going to be in it, show the full picture”

takes you to glitzy events and makes sure netflix captures the glam

wraps you in his arm during chaotic press moments

posts a soft pic the day your episode drops — “my peace 💫”

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

encourages you to be chaotic on camera with him flirts with you mid-interview just to see if they’ll air it “they’re gonna cut this, but i love you, btw” fans call you the mclaren power couple and he lives for it insists on watching the episode premiere together — popcorn, blanket, the works

oscar piastri

tries to act like it’s no big deal, but gets bashful when they show you laughing at his jokes

his dry humor + your reactions = editing gold

“this is oscar’s girlfriend—” cut to you roasting him for his socks

won’t admit it, but checks reddit reactions

keeps a screenshot of your joint confessional like a proud boyfriend

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

entire segment is him being smug while you keep him grounded

“you see her? smartest thing i ever did.”

glares at the camera crew if they cut away from you too fast

gives a mic-drop quote about love and competition

ends up soft-launching your anniversary mid-season

lance stroll

doesn’t like talking about his private life but lets you be front and center

smiles more when you're around and fans notice

will 100% take you biking in the mountains and let netflix follow

looks at you in the background of shots like you hung the stars

accidentally gives a whole monologue about how much he values your support

ʚ・williams

alex albon

teases you nonstop on camera — “she’s the boss, really”

holds your hand under the table in interviews

your fashion gets its own b-roll montage

lowkey lives for the fan edits of your scenes

netflix producers love him for giving the perfect blend of silly + sweet

carlos sainz

makes sure you're filmed doing something elegant, like wine-tasting

drops a smooth line in spanish that leaves fans feral

secretly coaches you on how to pose for the camera

talks about “balance” and then gives you all the credit

gets a little smug when fans say you outshone everyone

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

nervous at first but relaxes when you make a joke on camera

accidentally goes viral for blushing when you kiss his cheek

shows you around like it’s your paddock too

netflix makes him the golden retriever boyfriend of the season

proudly brags about how smart and grounded you are

esteban ocon

calm and composed until they film you cheering for him

gets a little camera shy if you say anything affectionate

holds doors for you like a gentleman every time the crew follows

talks about your support like it’s his secret weapon

fans swoon when they see how gentle he is with you

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

makes goofy faces at you between takes

lets you sit in the garage while he does interviews

producers catch him mouthing “love you” before a race

shares snacks with you during down time, says it’s “team bonding”

viewers call you the surprise fan-favorite couple

isack hadjar

completely chill until they start asking about you

“oh, her? she’s everything” — cue flustered look

lets you borrow his team jacket on camera

posts a behind-the-scenes photo of your filming day together

doesn’t realize he smiled the entire time you were interviewed

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

total flirt — smirks at the camera when you're near

refers to you as “my sunshine” and the internet implodes

pushes for a date night scene to make things spicy

winks at you during press and fans catch it

still gets butterflies when you walk into the paddock

jack doohan

gets super shy at first but grows more confident with you around

you’re the reason he’s smiling during every talking head

talks about you like you’re his whole world

shows you off in the most lowkey, sincere way

gets adorably pouty if they don’t include enough of you

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

veteran energy — teases you and the netflix crew

“why don’t you interview her? she’s the interesting one.”

always makes sure you have a headset during quali

gives a rare soft moment when talking about how far you’ve come together

keeps you close during chaotic scenes — protective without saying much

gabriel bortoleto

baby driver energy — gets giggly when you're around

tries to act cool but full-on blushes when you wave at him

you jokingly call him “netflix’s golden boy” and he never lives it down

will drop everything to fix your hair or mic

ends up being everyone's new favorite young couple

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[rafesangelita]

♡ bsf!rafe finds sheep!reader’s diary..

warnings: cnc (you’ve been warned), dirty talk, fingering, orgasm denial, suggestive ending

a/n: read more sheep!reader + cnc here !

as your best friend, rafe knew you all too well. he knew when you were sad, and he knew when you were holding something back from him, but lately he couldn’t figure you out and it was frustrating the living hell out of him. you hadn’t answered any of his calls or messages, you kept a safe distance from him whenever you two were together, he couldn’t help but feel like he had done something wrong to make you less comfortable with him around, and he was determined to find out what it was.

waiting until you left for your regular visit to the thrift store, rafe used the spare key under the welcome mat to open the front door and slip inside your house. he knew that if you weren’t telling him what was wrong, you were indeed telling the little diary you had hidden in your nightstand. grabbing the floral notebook out of the wooden drawer, rafe briefly flipped through its contents before settling on an entry from a couple of weeks ago.

04/26/25 — oh, i just don’t know what do!! today rafe carried me over his shoulder and slammed me down on my bed like i was one of those old rag dolls my grandmother used to make me. he’s just so strong, i started thinking about other things he could do. i shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts, but i can’t help it. we spend so much time alone together, it just makes me wonder about the manpower he has over me. he can do whatever he wants to me at any point in time, and while that idea should scare me, it makes me get butterflies just thinking about the possibilities.

rafe was rendered speechless, his curiosity getting the best of him as he flipped a few pages over.

4/30/25 — i can’t look at rafe without being reminded of everything i’ve been daydreaming about over the past few days. i feel so ashamed when he gets near me and i have to move away from him out of guilt. he’s looking at me like he did something wrong and i feel so bad. how can i tell him that i’m imagining things a ‘friend’ shouldn’t? maybe i just need to stop seeing him for a while…

now it all made sense. the sitting far away from each other on the couch when usually he’s spooning you, the way you look more embarrassed than usual when he’ll say something suggestive to tease you; it was because you were already fighting off dirty thoughts about him. rafe swallowed thickly as he tossed your journal to the side, his jaw ticking as he reflected over your words. ‘he can do whatever he wants to me at any point in time.’ — to know that both of you wanted this was all the encouragement rafe needed to hide away in your closet once he heard the lock of the front door click open.

you had forgotten your coin pouch, a sigh leaving your lips as you hastily made your way to your room to look for the little thing. upon entering, you immediately knew something was off. there was a dip print in your sheets as if someone was sitting there when you knew for a fact you left your room pristine. just as you caught a small whiff of rafe’s cologne, you screamed when you were suddenly yanked back with a heavy hand over your mouth. dragging you in front of your vanity mirror, rafe wanted you to see that it was him and not a stranger.

you stopped thrashing against him when you saw that it was rafe’s figure towering over your own. now you stood confused as he slowly removed his hand from your mouth and wrapped his fingers around your neck. “w-what are you doing?” you let out a shaky breath, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as rafe’s arm snaked around your waist, your backside flushed against him. “you’ve been ignoring me..” he started, your eyes widening as his hand slipped underneath your dress, “so i had to come over here and find out why.” you gasped when he cupped you through your underwear, his lips finding the underside of your jaw.

moving your gaze over to the notebook on your bed, you felt your heart drop to your stomach when you realized he must’ve read it. “with how innocent you are i would’ve never guessed that you were thinking such things,” he said through gritted teeth, the gruffness of his voice sending a chill down your spine. “now i’m going to do exactly that and there isn’t shit you could do about it, doll.” rafe dipped his fingers between your folds, your knees giving out on you as he held you up by your hips. “saying’ how you want me to overpower you and do whatever i want to you.. just know that you asked for this.”

you didn’t get a chance to take in what he meant when you felt his digits plunge into you, a squeal sounding out from your lips as you reveled in the delicious stretch of his fingers. dragging you over to your bed, rafe forced your thighs open as you gripped his hand, attempting to push him away with a cry. pinning your wrist above your head, you writhed underneath him as you felt an unfamilar tension beginning to build in your core. your bottom lip trembled, the mixture of both pleasure and pain wracking through your body as rafe thumbed your sensitive bundle of nerves.

your pastel nails clawed at the soft cotton of your comforter, your eyes screwing shut as the words ‘please stop..’ softly fell from your mouth. rafe forced your eyes open so you could confirm if you really wanted him to stop his ministrations, but once he caught that mischievous glint in your gaze, he chuckled, wrapping a fist in your hair and tugging so that you could watch his fingers curl inside of you and hit your sweet spot. your back arched up from the mattress, your chest caving in as rafe brought you to the edge and held you there.

“i’m not letting the first time you cum be around my fingers,” he slipped his digits out of you before popping them in his mouth, his hips slotting between your thighs, “i wanna feel this pussy clenching around my cock when i get you crying for it.”

thank you for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[lotusapple-xia]

Caleb's 5 Love Languages

Caleb is a lover boy and he expresses his love for you in many ways ft the five love languages

Caleb x reader

Some headcanons about how Caleb loves you. Struggled a bit with words of affirmation but I hope it’s good 🤞

🪷Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!🪷

Boyfriend Caleb who loves quality time.

Caleb loves to build model planes or Lego sets with you. You both sit on the living room floor with soft music playing in the background while you chat about your lives. When the model or Lego set is complete, he displays it on his shelf, soft, domestic memories flooding his mind whenever he looks at it.

Caleb loves listening to you yap about your new interests. Gazing at you with pure love while humming intermittently to let you know he’s still paying attention to your lore dumps. However, sometimes he gets huffy when you rave too much about a fictional crush, “What do they have that I don’t?”.

Caleb lets you put face masks and serums on him. You recognise that he doesn’t take care of himself when he’s not with you, so you love to spoil him with self-care, which he happily encourages. After realising that his skin is glowing the same as yours, he takes it upon himself to have regular self-care dates at home.

Boyfriend Caleb who loves physical touch.

Every morning when Caleb wakes up, the first thing he does is to reach out to you and plant a soft kiss on your forehead. He squeezes your sleeping body closer to him to feel your warmth while the morning sun washes over your bodies. Caleb’s head nuzzles into yours, breathing in the scent of you.

When waiting for the noodles to boil, Caleb picks you up to sit you on the kitchen counter. He stands between your legs, listening to you ramble about your day. Stroking your back in a gentle caress when he can tell you’re getting to the bad parts of the day and rubbing your thighs as he listens to the good events.

When nights get hot and heavy, Caleb presses steaming kisses down your neck and the length of your body. His strong hands gliding across your sensitive chest as he presses his weight into you. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes watching yours, smirking as the way they flutter in pleasure.

Boyfriend Caleb who loves acts of service.

When you’re sick in bed, with a pounding migraine and a numb throat, he makes you hot ginger tea and dims the lights in your bedroom. He sits by your bedside, gently singing a lullaby from your childhood to ease you into sleep.

Caleb gathers your laundry, washes and folds them on your days off. He knows that your career as a Deepspace Hunter is physically demanding and can drain you of energy. He wants to take the burden off you so you can focus on resting in clean clothes.

Cooking is one of Caleb’s favourite hobbies. Not only is it relaxing, but he can ensure you’re well fed too. No matter what you’re craving, whether that be his signature braised chicken wings or a completely new cuisine, Caleb is always glad to cater to your whims. He doesn’t care how much you eat, he will always feel better knowing you’re satiated and satisfied.

Boyfriend Caleb who loves giving gifts.

Caleb loves spending money on you. Ever since he was a kid, he’d use any money he earned to buy you whatever you desired. You’ve been his spoiled pipsqueak since you were young. Now that he’s the Farspace Fleet Colonel, money comes in abundance. He gets you new clothes you’ve been eyeing in magazines, new food while window shopping, and video games on your to-play list.

Caleb takes immense pride in winning you plushies at the arcade. Even if he spends an egregious amount of money, seeing you smile as he hands you your plushie makes it all worth it. And he’d do it all again, even use his Evol to ensure you get what you want.

Caleb often is the one who does the grocery shopping in your household. He always gets the essential products and ingredients for the house but will always get a little something extra. Whether that be your favourite snack or new hair accessories.

Boyfriend Caleb who loves words of affirmation.

Whenever something has upset you, whether that be work or life in general, Caleb is always there to lend a listening ear and words of comfort. He’ll always praise you after a rough day and make sure to cheer you up. “It’ll be ok honey, I’m sorry you’re goin’ through this.”

After any achievement, no matter how big or small, Caleb is always there to hype you up. Praises fall from his lips like summer rain. “Great job pipsqueak I knew you could do it!” he beamed with a dimpled smile. Caleb wants you to know that he will always be proud of you.

Caleb waxes poetic about how much he loves you. Whether it’s date night or driving you both home from work, he always says, “I love you,”. His sincerity and soft eyes gaze upon your face with the utmost affection, hoping to convey the depths of his love through words.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Future Fest | b. f.

Bob Floyd x teacher!reader

High school recruitment isn’t usually on the short list of things to do during the day, but it is today.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

Author's Note: I don't even know what possessed me but here I am. Also, the feral things the students say in this are actual quotes from my actual students.

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

She really needs to learn how to say “no” when people ask her to do things at work.

It’s a bad habit –a combination of the incessant need to be liked by everyone and genuinely caring about what the students would want–that she just can’t seem to break. 

Today, it’s Future Fest. The very first event of the year where any student sixteen and older can ditch their regularly scheduled classes and come down to the gym to talk to different college representatives, explore career choices, and interact with military recruiters. About 75% of those students are there to actually get an idea about what they want to do after high school –that other 25% are there to get out of class.

Not that she blames them, of course. She probably would have done the same thing if this had been a thing when she was in school. 

The college and career counselor at the school had asked her to help out, since most of her students had signed up to go anyway (and unfortunately for those who didn’t, they got to go anyway because of her). It’s all hands on deck when it comes to these sorts of events, just to ensure that things go smoothly and none of the kids act like fools. Plus, she’s getting paid for “covering” a class three periods in a row –not a lot, but it’s certainly better than nothing. 

Her task is to just walk the aisles and keep an eye on things. Talk to some of the representatives, thank them for coming to the school, encourage kids to talk to them too. It’s easy enough, and she jokes with many of the representatives that she’s getting her steps in today.

“Miss!” One of her students practically screams, running up to her and grabbing her arm. A gaggle of sophomore girls are trailing behind, carrying pamphlets for the Navy. “Have you seen the military guys?”

She peers over the heads of the students, towards the back of the gym, where the recruiters are. She can sort of make out their faces, but she’s not truly all that interested.

“I haven’t made my way over there yet,” she offers, pulling her arm free from the girl. “Why?”

“They’re hot.”

“You know, normal teenagers don’t tell their teachers when they find people hot,” she points out, rolling her eyes.

She’s suddenly surrounded by teenage girls, and she wishes for a moment that the kids didn’t like her half as much as they did. Boundaries are important, and teenagers have no idea how they work. They tell her things she truly does not want or need to know –though it’s a double edged sword. For all the weird, practically feral comments they make, they tell her things that are important to know. How their lives at home are, if they need help, if they’re struggling. She reminds them that she loves them, but they need to remember they’re not friends.

“Yeah but we’re not normal and you’re our mom, so like…it’s fine.”

They call her the school mom, which is…better than being their friend, she supposes.

The girls are insisting she go and talk to the recruiters, or at least look at them, so she throws her hands up and heads over. But she tells the girls they have to talk to three college representatives if she does that –they agree quickly and hurry off, though they’re watching to make sure she actually goes over there.

Rolling her eyes, she holds her hands behind her back and strolls down the aisle until she sees the banner for the Navy –then below it, a sign advertising the United States Navy Strike Fighter Tactics Instructor Program. She thinks that’s a mouthful, though also knows the program is highly sought after by many of the students at the school. Being the closest high school to the naval air base will do that, though.

As she approaches, she can hear two of her students talking to the recruiters –one tall, blonde and holding a helmet that’s labelled “Hangman.” He’s confident, and he’s cute (she’ll give him that much), but she doesn’t particularly like how he’s talking to the boys in front of him. Beside him is another pilot, she assumes, since she’s wearing her flight suit and the helmet in front of her says “Phoenix.” She’s trying to cut in, but Hangman seems to be more interested in bragging than anything else. She catches the tail end of their conversation, something about their call signs and what they are. 

Beside Phoenix, however, is someone who looks too sweet to be in the military. He’s talking to a junior, showing him something on a tablet that looks like blueprints. But he’s smiling ear to ear, seemingly enjoying whatever he’s talking about. His glasses are slipping down the bridge of his nose, but he’s too caught up talking to the student to notice. 

He, she thinks, is cute. And he’s nice to the students, which is important to her.

She steps around the student, standing to the side as she waits for them to finish up. From this angle, she catches the name on his tag –Floyd –and makes a mental note. However, it’s Hangman who finishes up first, and approaches with an award-winning (and cocky) smile.

“Well hello there,” he offers, extending his hand. “Lieutenant Jake Seresin, at your service.”

She takes his hand politely, shaking it, and introducing herself. “Nice to meet you, lieutenant. I was just stopping over to thank you guys for coming out. It means so much to the school.”

His colleague Phoenix, extends her hand next, smiling as well. “Lieutenant Natasha Trace. It’s not a problem –we love coming out and doing stuff like this.”

“So you’re all pilots?” She asks, motioning towards their helmets. 

“Me and Phoenix are –Bob over there is a Weapons System Officer,” Lieutenant Seresin explains, though he’s smirking some as Natasha –Phoenix –elbows Bob to get his attention. 

Bob looks up, as if suddenly realizing she’s not a student and she’s an adult, and he turns a bit pink in the ears as he sets down his tablet.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am,” he offers, then extends his hand to her. “Lieutenant Robert Floyd, though most people just call me Bob.”

She takes his hand and offers a real smile –not that she wasn’t smiling properly to his colleagues, but Bob seems sweet and it's hard not to offer him a proper one. She reintroduces herself one more time.

“It’s a pleasure –like I was saying, I just wanted to thank you guys for coming out and doing this. Future Fest is our big thing and the kids really love it. Having you guys join us is a big deal.”

“Oh, I love doing stuff like this,” Bob offers, and the smile on his face just hasn’t gone away.

She’s a bit distracted, caught up in just how genuinely interested he seems to be in the whole thing. Most people aren’t terribly excited to spend their day talking to high schoolers –but Bob actually seems to mean it. And she appreciates that, because she’s someone who also enjoys working with the students (though it would be a shame if she didn’t, given she’s a teacher). It helps that he’s got the prettiest blue eyes she’s ever seen, and he’s got some sort of accent that she can’t place but it’s nice to hear. 

Was it weird to flirt at school? She vaguely remembers her mom saying they used to flirt with the firemen when they came to her school, so it can’t be terribly inappropriate. It’s not like she’s doing anything lewd –she’s just talking. And smiling. 

“So what does a Weapons System Officer do, Lieutenant Floyd?” She asks, both because she’s interested and because she wants to keep hearing him talk. 

“Here we go,” Hangman says, rolling his eyes but Phoenix elbows him as they turn their attention to a student who approaches.

Bob beams at the chance to explain, taking up the tablet again and holding it out to her. “So WSO’s –that’s what I do –are responsible for manning the weapon systems of the F/A-18F Super Hornet strike fighter from that jet's aft seat. That’s just the back,” he explains, pointing to where he must be stationed when he’s in the plane. “Depending on the mission, when designated as the mission commander, I’m the one responsible for all phases of the assigned mission, especially if there are multiple aircraft involved.”

“So you’re in charge?” She asks, leaning against the table and zooming in on the inside of the plane. Though truthfully, she has no idea what she’s looking at. It’s just a lot of buttons and numbers she doesn’t quite understand. She’s certain, however, if she asked, he would explain it step by step to her.

“Like I said, it depends on the mission,” he offers, pulling the tablet back in front of him to show her something else. 

She must be staring, because from a few feet away, she hears her name being called, a handful of giggles and then,

“Ooh, miss! Get it!”

She blushes. Bob blushes. Hangman and Phoenix are paying attention suddenly and laughing.

“Savannah Johnson, you absolute menace,” she scolds, standing up straight. She turns to Bob, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry about that, Lieutenant Floyd. You’ll have to excuse me; I need to go remind the kids that they can’t be unhinged in mixed company.”

“Only in mixed company?” He jokes, but the blush has spread from his cheeks down his neck.

“I keep a running list of all the things they say in class all year,” she offers with a laugh, and she’s very aware that she’s being watched now but can’t help it.

“I’d love to see it,” he says and she really can’t help it now as she picks up a business card with his name on it.

“This your cell phone or your work phone?” She asks, holding it up in front of him. 

Bob swallows hard and shakes his head, but takes the card from her and a pen from his shirt pocket. He scribbles his number on the back and hands it back to her, almost timidly.

“I’ll send you a few when I go to lunch; then you can decide if you want the whole list.”

“Sounds great, miss.”

She turns on her heel to walk away, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks, as her students practically scream at her. She shoos them away, telling them they need to act better if they’re in public. 

The bell rings for lunch, and she’s waiting for the students to exit the gym, when he approaches her this time. She turns and smiles when she sees Bob, standing just a few inches taller than her, with a shy grin on his face. 

“Sorry to bother you, miss. I was just…,” He hesitates but she just smiles, waiting. “I was just wondering if you would like to have lunch with me? Phoenix and Hangman went off campus, but I brought my lunch.”

She bites her lip and nods some. “That sounds nice, actually. I usually eat in my classroom, if you want to go up there with me.”

She’d have to tell her velcro kids they need to go elsewhere today, but they would understand. Or they’d sit outside the door –either way. Bob nods and they make easy conversation as she leads him through the hallways of the school. She explains little things that he asks about –murals, artwork on display, awards. Everything he asks is tinged with actual interest and it makes her heart pound. 

There’s four or five kids sitting outside her door when they get upstairs, and they all look up at her in confusion as she opens the door. Bob waves at them politely.

“Sorry guys –I have a guest today,” she explains, though she still motions them inside. “Grab a snack and off you go.”

They huff and puff but grab whatever they need from a drawer at the front of the room, then leave with a flurry of goodbyes and thank you’s. Bob watches them for a moment before taking a seat at a desk. She leaves the door open –if anything because she doesn’t need anyone assuming the worst (and the kids will). Then she grabs her lunch from the mini fridge in the corner, setting it on a desk in front of him and turning it around.

“I haven’t sat in one of these in a long time,” he chuckles, taking out his very neatly organized meal. It makes her thrown together lunch look kind of sad, honestly. “I can’t imagine sitting here every day again.”

“They hate them, but I’m hoping I get some grant money to get something better next year.”

“It’s a shame you have to get grants just to have decent things in the classroom.”

“Well, all that military spending does make a dent in the education fund,” she teases, and she’s grinning at him playfully as she does it.

“Ouch,” he puts his hand over his heart, wincing some at the jab. “I don’t know what to say outside of I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she reassures him, taking out her phone and opening her notes app. “Okay, you ready to hear some of the feral things high schoolers say when they’re way too comfortable with you?”

“I don’t know,” he laughs, leaning back in the seat. “It can’t be that bad, right?”

She gives him a look of warning, then scrolls down…and down…and down…

“That is…a long list,” he comments, peering over the top of her phone. He almost sounds concerned.

“Oh, it is,” she promises, then stops to find her favorite so far. “‘Laws are temporary but friends are forever.’”

Bob chuckles through a bite of his sandwich. “That’s not so bad.”

She puts her finger up. “‘His parents are getting divorced. I hope neither of them want him.’”

“Oh my god.”

“‘I’m going to be a legal pot dealer after college.’”

“What does that even mean?”

“He wants to be a pharmacist,” she explains with a laugh. “I’m just happy he isn’t dropping out.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” he concedes, motioning for her to continue.

“‘I learned the other day that my dad looks up goth girl ASMR online.’”

She pauses and looks at Bob, who's trying not to choke on his sandwich. Setting her phone down, she leans back and opens up her bag of grapes with a laugh. For a few minutes, that’s it —they’re eating and laughing. When they stop laughing, she reads another and they laugh again. This goes on for most of the lunch period, up until her alarm goes off to warn her she has three minutes before the bell rings. 

“Oh shit,” she says, quickly packing up her things. “I have to actually teach now. I didn’t realize what time it was —,”

Bob quickly stands and packs his own stuff up, then flips the desk around with ease for her. She stares for a moment, watching how his arms flex as he lifts the desk without issue. Oh dear. 

“I don’t want to be too forward,” he says as students are trying to trickle in. He quickly shuts the door, looking down at her. “But I…I would really like to take you out on a date, if you’d let me.”

Kids are peering through the little window, knocking on the door. She waves them off a bit, looking up at him with a soft smile. 

“I would really like that.”

He nods, opening the door now. Kids are pushing through to get settled in, but he’s awkwardly standing in the doorway with a boyish grin and a blush. She pushes him gently out the door, but follows him out as she waits at the door for stragglers. 

“I’ll text you after school.”

“I look forward to it.”

She waves him off, smiling dreamily as she watches him walk off. He turns and walks backwards for a moment, waving at her before finally disappearing out the hallway doors. 

When she shuts the door and returns to her classroom, her students are staring at her with wide eyes. 

And then the chaos ensues.

[meanderingwistera]

Saint

Summary - After your ability to heal others was discovered you were taken to a monastery high in the mountains. The monks raised you in their ways and their beliefs. Once you are old enough you begin to offer your healing abilities to people who need it.

Soon enough you attract something you never intended too and he won’t give you up now that he has found you. Pairing - Kitsune!Suguru Geto x Saint!Reader

Content - Smut, Somno, oral (fem receiving) some fluff, religious imagery, no specific religion stated, afab!reader, Dark Content, violence, manipulation, mental conditioning, dubcon, baby trapping, obsessive behavior, isolation, stalking, deification, slight horror elements if you squint, the relationship starts out somewhat healthy then spirals from there

Word count- 7.1k

A/N - This was a lot longer then I expected lol

Banner credits - @cafekitsune

There is a rumor of a Saint living in the halls of a mountain top monastery.

They are said to be benevolent and heal others without thought. Rumors say they are ethereally beautiful and are sent by god to the world to remind them of his teachings.

Suguru wants to laugh at the idea.

He knows that humans like to make up pretty little lies. They give meaning to meaningless things and try to name things that are nameless. It is how they get through life and Suguru finds it pitiable. Why delude yourself into thinking that something is looking down at you from the sky? 

It won’t keep humans from the darker sides of themselves. Sometimes it can encourage that. Many men of faith use religion against other humans for their own gain. So why humans even bother with it in the first place confuses Suguru but he lets them have their meaningless delusions.

As a spirit Suguru has lived for many years, he is older than the systems that humans have in place. He has heard his fair share of fairy tales from the mouths of humans. Sometimes they are amusing, others are just ridiculous, much like the one being told right now.

“The Saint up there really can heal you!” A man says and holds out his wrist, “They healed my broken wrist.”

The other man looks amazed, his eyes are wide and his mouth is agape.

“Really? My wife has a bad back, do you think they can heal that?” He asks desperately.

Suguru tries not to laugh as he walks by the two men. How stupid do humans have to be to believe that a Saint exists. There is no higher power so someone sent down by them is a ludicrous idea.

But the idea sticks in his mind. It lodges itself in the back of his head as he moves through the village. He rolls the idea of a saint around in his mind. They would most likely be a scammer and they seem to run a good scam if the word has gotten this far.

A look into this “Saint” couldn’t hurt.

Suguru finds himself in the middle of a huge line a few hours later. His leg aches with the self inflicted wound he gave himself. The people around him are in various stages of pain. Some only have light cuts, others have broken limbs. 

The line moves slowly and most people come out looking better than before, which intrigues Suguru. Soon enough he is next in line and is ushered into a huge room. 

The dark wooden floors are a contrast to the paper shoji doors that line it. The monk escorting him in bows to the person in the middle of the room then exits. 

Your white robes catch his eye, the white color signifying innocence and godliness. They are rather modest in make and design, as if to muddy your appearance to make you more approachable. Suguru wants to laugh at this play to get him to trust you.

The white veil over your face is something he hadn’t expected. Maybe it was to give an air of mystery to you that will draw people in. The white thin fabric falls just short of your lips in a taunting show of skin.

Suguru doesn’t wait for you to motion him forward and walks up to you. You don’t even flinch as he stops only a mere few inches from you. 

“What ails you?” You ask with a small smile.

“My leg.” He replies to you, a sceptical tone to his voice.

Suguru is ready for you to be a fraud.

Someone peddling to the masses for offerings. What Suguru is not prepared for is to be wrong. He has never been wrong about humans before. They are fragile and somewhat stupid creatures but as your hand fits in his and a warmth fills his body he is proven wrong.

The warm feeling spreads throughout his body. It mends his broken leg and soothes slightly sore muscles from the walk up here. A soft sigh leaves his lips. When you retract your hand he almost doesn’t let you.

He had never cared for religion or anything of the sort. It was a waste of his time. He doesn’t know if a higher power exists but he now knows of your existence. You who heals the sick with a kind smile, who uses this gift to give to others with no reservations about it.

You are an angel- a divine being sent down to this terrible world by some higher power. He had read a few religious texts in his younger years and had been intrigued by the idea of saints but now that he sees you he is not intrigued, he is addicted.

Suguru stands a bit taller now that his leg is no longer broken and you have to look up at him. It gives him satisfaction that he could engulf you in his arms to hide you from the other undeserving people who come to steal some of your light.

“I wish you a safe trip down the mountain.” You tell him in a cheerful tone.

“Thank you.” He responds and walks away from you. As he leaves Suguru wants to laugh at your statement.

Because now that he has you he won’t be leaving this mountain for a while.

Your life is a peaceful one. 

The monastery is a place of tranquil reflection and you bask in the peace it offers you. You are safe in its walls and with the monks. And You usually feel at ease while walking through the halls. 

But there is something watching you.

You feel its eyes baring into your back. And every time you turn to try and catch what is watching you you see nothing. 

Your subconscious mind keeps telling you to run from the thing that has attached itself to you. You feel haunted- no, hunted by it. You feel like a rabbit being chased by a fox. A rabbit ready to flee at a moment’s notice. The heart in your chest is beating so loud you feel it in your ears as you look around.

The feeling of being watched never truly goes away. The eyes follow your every move and nowhere in the monastery is safe from them. Even when you are praying or healing others you feel your subconscious telling you to run from whatever is watching you.

You don’t fully understand the thing’s aim. It hasn’t tried to hurt you but it hasn’t put you at ease either. So you are in a constant battle with your fight or flight instincts. After weeks of keeping this feeling from others you can’t take it anymore.

“I don’t know what to do.” You say and hug yourself tightly, curling in on yourself. “I am constantly feeling eyes on me.”

The Head Monk, Eiji, hums in understanding, “We can perform a cleansing ritual for you, it could help.”

You nod numbly at his words.

“The wards here are strong and can keep spirits out. You are safe here.” He says and takes your hand in his.

You give him a small smile, trying to channel your usual happiness. Eiji doesn’t look convinced by your smile and sighs. 

“I will have the monks pray for you as well,” He says and gives you a hug.

You feel safer in his arms. Eiji had raised you since you came here when you were ten. He taught you everything you knew about God and everything else. His opinion matters to you and his words help to soothe the worry deep in your chest.

Hopefully the ritual will free you of your fear.

The monastery you live in doesn’t have very good wards. They are old and let him walk in and out as he pleases. What that old Monk told you was laughable, the wards are like spider webs that can easily be pushed aside.

It is so easy to watch you, to find out everything about you. Suguru keeps an eye on you from the shadow of the trees that line the monastery. You spend most of your time wandering the halls or healing people. His eyes trace your outline and he commits it to memory.

The monks are always around you or the maids that attend to you. He may not like that they are near you but he does makes a note of how they attend to you. Suguru will need to know how to take care of you to keep you happy when you are his.

The more animalistic part of his brain urges him to take you now. To keep you safe from the people who take your light for granted. It takes his years of experience with patience to keep himself at bay. 

Suguru doesn’t want to scare you, he wants you to be comfortable with his presence.

But tonight he can’t stand this distance much longer, so Suguru makes a bold move. He walks into your set of rooms, he wants to make you comfortable but Suguru can’t stay away from your orbit for long. He longs to worship you the way you deserve. 

As he walks through the dark halls he checks to make sure that everyone is asleep. Your maids are all in their beds and sleeping soundly. His footsteps are the only sound in the hall as he walks to your door. 

The door is slightly ajar and he slips into your room. He quietly makes his way to your bed. Soft sighs leave your lips as he creeps closer. 

Your sleeping form is peaceful and he craves to curl around you. Your body would look so beautiful in his arms or under him. 

You don’t stir when he gets closer to the bed. Suguru chuckles at how deep a sleeper you are. He is so close to you but you are still asleep and unaware of him.

Suguru leans over you and takes a deeper look at you. For the first time he can see your face. Soft features scrunched slightly in sleep are illuminated by the moonlight. Suguru understands why they would hide your face from others. 

He feels like he has seen the face of god. This is why god’s face can’t be looked upon, people would go mad with just a smile from you. Wars would start from just the shape of your lips alone, whole countries destroyed with a flutter of your eyelashes. And he would fall to his knees to worship you if you just asked.

Suguru decides that he can no longer hold back from you.

After you take a break from healing people and the monks purify your spirit you feel better. The eyes that you once felt on your back have vanished. 

Your steps are lighter as you walk around the monastery. You feel the cheerfulness that was drained from you deep back in. It is the best feeling in the world to be free of whatever was haunting you.

On one of your regular walks through the expansive halls of your home you bump into someone. You have never seen him before.

“I am sorry for bumping into you.” He apologizes and bows to you.

Blinking in surprise you put a hand on his shoulder in a plea for him to stand back up.

“Please don’t bow,” You say quickly, “I am a normal person like you.”

When he stands up to his full height your eyes are immediately drawn to his eyes. They draw you in. Their lavender color slowly fades into bright violet near the edges, they are a color you have never seen before. 

You barely register him talking to you as you are preoccupied with his eyes.

“I am the one at fault.” He repeats himself with a fox-like smile on his lips.

“You are fine!” You respond with both embarrassment and intrigue.

He joins you on your walk after that. 

You learn his name, Suguru, and how he came to be here. He is very knowledgeable about many subjects. It is a shame you think to have him here and not out in the world with the amount of knowledge he has.

Suguru also asks many questions about you that you have never really been asked before. The Monks are not really talkative so you mostly talk to the people who visit you for healing or your maids. And even then you don't talk about yourself much so it takes you some time to think about some of his questions.

A week later the daily walks with Suguru become routine.

Suguru has managed to work his way into your life in a matter of weeks. The time he walks beside you makes the time spent in the company of the monks worth it. As you grow closer to him he slowly coaxes out more about you that he couldn’t learn from just watching you. 

He is very surprised to learn that you are very timid for your position. 

You rarely talk about yourself, choosing rather to focus on him and your faith. He feels a twinge of jealousy when you whisper god’s name with such reverence. You shouldn’t be so reverent to something that could never rival your divinity. 

But he feels better when he sees you blush at his complements. Your cheeks heat up at the slightest hint of compliment or touch. It is adorable how easy it is to fluster you. Your reactions are more addictive than any drug he has come across.

Sadly you always are pulled away from his conversation and gentle teasing, whether it is by your own accord or someone calling for you. His hands twitch with the urge to hold you to him so you can’t leave every time you walk away from him. 

Suguru doesn’t want to restrain you, he wants to protect you. Something divine like you needs to be safe from those who wish to use you for their own selfish desires. 

More often then not it is the head monk who steers you away from Suguru’s company. You, none the wiser, follow him as he steals you from Suguru.

The Head Monk has proven to be a great obstacle in his plan to get to you. His remarks towards Suguru are sharp and his glare even more so when you are involved. He can see through Suguru’s act in a way he has seen for a few centuries. Suguru would respect his intuition if it wasn’t getting in his way. 

So he needs to get rid of him.

Suguru waits for the Head Monk to come into his office at the end of the day before he attacks him. The sun is set and the room is dark except for the candles that are flickering in the dark. Suguru is hiding in the shadows of the room, the usual mask of humanity gone.

The Head Monk sweeps into the room with a weariness to his features. He practically slumps into his chair with a sigh. His guard is down and Suguru seizes this opportunity to kill him. It is easy to tap into the more violent part of his nature. To let his claws rip through flesh and bone, to let blood stain his robes and splash on his face. 

Suguru allows himself to utterly destroy him. He revels in the mangled bloody mess he makes. The Head Monk puts up a fight at the end. A last burst of adrenaline from a dying man. Most humans fight at the end, trying to use their last bit of energy to get away from what is hurting them.

When Suguru is done the monk is an unrecognisable heap of a body on the marble floors. You can’t tell his brain matter and internal organs apart from one another. The white and tan robes he wore are stained with his own blood.

The body is easy to get rid of. Suguru scatters it around the mountain, never letting too much of it be in one place. The animals will feast on his scatter remains.

He cleans up the mess he made before dawn. His hands are scrubbed clean of all blood before the sun creeps above the trees. And the floors look clean enough that you would have never guessed that he murdered someone last night.

Now nothing will stand in his way.

Over the next few days people begin to worry when the Head Monk is nowhere to be found. Everyone scrambles to find him but they come up empty handed. 

The effects shake the whole temple. People try to figure out who will take his place and if there should be a mourning period for him first. Everyone is either in a panic or in mourning.

Suguru is the main candidate for head monk. Even if he has only been in the temple for a few months his personality and piety are revered by the whole community. He sees this as a wonderful opportunity to get closer to you so he takes the job. 

You, of course, are devastated by what happened. Suguru knows that you saw that man as a father but he feels no remorse for the murder. He can see the tears that stain your veil as you pray for his soul. He gently takes you into his arms to comfort you. 

“I am sure he is safe in the lord’s hands.” Suguru murmurs softly to you.

He made sure of that.

“Thank you Suguru.” You pull back to thank him with a sad smile on your lips.

He suppresses his shiver when you say his name. It is so sweet from your lips. Maybe that is the way it is supposed to be spoken but he hasn’t heard it that way before. 

“Don’t thank me, I just hope to live up to his legacy.” Suguru says with a fake sense of uncertainty and lets you go reluctantly.

“You will do great.” You reassure him and to his surprised delight you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. Suguru leans into your hand with a sigh, melting into you kind touch. You giggle softly at his reaction. 

“Don’t doubt yourself, god will guide you.”

“He will.” Suguru agrees through his teeth. “But I would also like your guidance from time to time.”

You blink up at him in surprise, your pretty lips parted slightly. 

“I don’t think that I will be of much help.” You look down, trying to downplay yourself.

Suguru’s heart aches when you try to discount yourself this way. He takes your chin in one of his hands and lifts your face gently up to look back at him. 

“You are sent by god, your voice matters above all others.” He tells you.

Your face heats up as he holds you face up. Just the smallest bit of contact has you this flushed and he would love to see how you would react to all the things he wants to do to you. You pull away with a nervous laugh and smooth down your kimono. He almost coos at your reaction.

Suguru has all the time in the world now to help you become accustomed to his touch.

Suguru becomes more present in your day after he becomes head monk. He will drop by to see how you are doing or to just talk something over with you. His attention makes you feel important and you can’t help but flush when his hand brushes yours.

You dream of him. The crescents of his eyes and the soft curve to his lips follow you even in sleep. 

The dreams always leave you wanting. His hands trace the hills and valleys of your body. His lips are pressed to your neck as he works you open. You ride his fingers as he coos at you with praise for doing so well. You get so close to release then you wake up.

“Are you sleeping well?” Suguru asks you one day, all softness and concern.

You can feel some fatigue from your constant waking up in the night and the sleeplessness that comes after but you can’t tell him. 

“I am fine!” You deflect and wave off his concern. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Suguru seems to debate what he wants to say. Your footsteps and his are the only sound in the empty halls. You have realized that you haven’t seen that many monks today. 

“I have heard that sleeping with someone in the same bed can help that.” His comment breaks through your line of thought.

You look away at the thought of sleeping in his arms. He would be warm and maybe the dreams would stop if you were in his arms. 

“But who would want to sleep in the same bed as me? I don’t think I could do that if it wasn’t someone close to me.” You explain your concern to him.

“I will offer up my bed to you anytime.” Suguru says and his usual fox-like grin is back in full force. Your heart beats loudly in your chest.

“Maybe I will try that.” You admit softly.

“Will I see you tonight then?” He asks in a teasing tone.

“Yes.”

Later that night you pace back and forth nervously in the hallway. Your hands smooth down your kimono in a soothing manner. It doesn’t bring your nerves to heel thought.

You have never been this intimate with another person. Your position as a Saint kept you far away from others' physical contact. There has always be a thin veil between you and the world. So now you don’t know what to do now that you have been invited to touch another person.

The only light in the dark hall is the flickering lamps in Suguru’s room. You can’t really see him but you can see an outline of him in the lamplight. Finally schooling your face into something less terrified you open the shoji door slowly. 

Suguru is sitting at a low desk with a book open. He is the picture of serenity as his eyes skin the pages. His kimono is rumpled slightly, exposing more skin then most would bare. You can’t help but trace your eyes down his exposed neck, collar bone and chest.

“Ah,” He says with a grin, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his honey sweet tone. You feel the sudden urge to flee to some place safer. It is a contrast to your growing attraction to the man in front of you. 

“I didn’t want to disturb your reading.” You say and he closes some of the distance between you.

“You could never disturb me,” His hand reaches behind you to shut the door, shutting you in. “I enjoy your company, no matter what I may be doing.”

Suguru’s hands are gentle as he walks the two of you to his bed. His hands are soft and practically envelop yours. He directs you to sit on the bed as he blows out the candles.

In the dark you can’t see him but you hear his footsteps as he approaches the bed. You tense up as he sits down on the opposite of the bed. For a brief moment you swear you feel that pair of eyes again. 

Then Suguru’s warm touch guides you down on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat and feel the rise and fall of his chest. You make yourself comfortable, still keeping your head on his chest.

“Is this okay?” You whisper to him.

His chest rumbles softly with a chuckle.

“If you are comfortable then I am.” Suguru murmurs to you.

His hand begins to run up and down your back in a soothing manner. It feels good if not a little foreign. You have not been touched in this way for years now so you are both melting and tensing at his touch. 

Finally your body melts into his embrace fully. You sink into his chest and he wraps his other arm around you. It is peaceful like this, it is a peace you haven’t experienced before. For the first night in weeks you fall asleep almost instantly.

Suguru watches you sleep with barely concealed lust. 

You fit in his arms the way he has been imagining for months. Your body is beautiful pressed against his like this. His eyes are better at seeing in the dark then a regular human’s so he can see how your lashes flutter in your sleep and your softly parted lips. 

Suguru needs to feel you against him fully. He needs to know how you would taste on his tongue. 

You stir a bit in your sleep, thighs squeeze together around his thigh. Desperately you grind on his thigh chasing your high. He smiles to himself, you must like the dreams he has given you. 

He knows it’s cruel to deny you realise for weeks on end but the way you squirm is too pretty. Your soft moans and whines are a symphony to his ears. You are so helpless like this and Suguru likes you that way. You only need him.

Careful to not wake you he reaches a hand between your legs. You are already so soaked for him, your cunt so ready for him even if your conscious mind still pulls away from him. He runs a finger along your folds slowly, you shudder at the contact. 

“How cute.” He coos at your reaction and pushes a finger into you.

Your grip on his kimono tightens as he retracts his finger then pushes it back in. Once he is sure you won’t wake up he picks up his speed. He adds another finger and your cunt clamps down on both of his fingers. You are grinding down on his fingers to chase your orgasm. 

You arch as he finds your g-spot. 

He can feel you getting close, “Come on, you can cum for me, I know you can.”

It only takes a few more pumps of his fingers before you are spilling all over his hand. Your breathing is still even as he raises his hand to his lips. You taste so sweet on his fingers and he might get addicted to you.

You have never felt better after a week sleeping in Suguru’s bed. It is a vast improvement from the previous weeks of little sleep. You are certain that he is magic because of how easily he can get you to sleep.

More and more of your days are spent with Suguru. It must have been a week or so since you have left the wing Suguru’s room is in. You have practically moved into his room, most of your things are there since you spend your nights in his bed. He also takes great care in helping you with your nightly routine.

Suguru helping you get ready for bed started out gradually. At first he would just brush your hair for you. Then it slowly grew into him helping you dress and bathe. You had been skittish about the idea of having him see all of you but he had shushed your concerns and told you that he just wanted to help. His touch as he helps you is soft and gentle, almost reverent. 

He will trace circles on your back as you sleep so you fall asleep faster. Sometimes when you need it he will work out a tense muscle, you don’t get them much anymore because less and less people are coming for healing. It was perplexing how you rarely see a visitor or a monk anymore. 

You had stopped seeing visitors because the only ones that came were to visit the shrine and not to see you. The monks as well never really came to see you anymore. And your maids have seemed to have left you in Suguru’s care. 

But you don’t mind because Suguru is good company.

“I think I am going to take a walk around outside the monastery tomorrow,” You say with a yawn as you settle into bed, “I have been spending so much time with you that I haven’t seen another person in a while.”

“Of course.” Suguru says and there is something off in his voice but you just chalk it up to you being on the verge of sleep.

You fall asleep on his chest a few minutes after. 

Suguru is devastated that you are trying to leave him. You want to leave the wing of the monastery that he has carefully reinforced the wards to keep you in and safe. He has tried so hard to make you happy here and you want to leave.

He needs to let you find out what can happen if you try to leave him. He doesn’t want to let you get hurt but you have to learn to not slip away from his safe embrace.

Before that he wants to tie you to him in a more permanent way. It needs to also make you happy, he would rather die than make you feel upset. His only wish is to protect you and make you happy. Looking down at your soft sleepy expression he comes up with a way to keep you with him forever. 

Suguru has never thought much about kits. Most Kitsune mate then go their separate ways, it is strictly for reproduction. Kitsune are not monogamous so they can have multiple partners over their long lifetimes. And the kits grow up fast under the care of their mothers so he never bothered with it. 

But humans are different, human children take years to mature fully. And humans only have children with someone they marry or settle down with. If you have a kit or two of his then he can keep you with him for life. And even after this life he will find you in the next.

Suguru can just imagine you with his child. The children would have your eyes and his smile. You would love the baby since it is yours and you would have someone here that Suguru wouldn’t be worried about taking you away from him. As if you approved of the idea you nuzzle into his chest with a sleepy sigh. 

He flips the two of you so your back is on the bed and he hovers over you. The only sign that you may have noticed him moving you was a flutter of your lashes. You don’t stur as he lowers himself between your thighs. Suguru needs to prepare you for him and what better way than worshipping you in this way?

You are still sleeping soundly as he kisses your inner thighs. His instincts urge him to bite and mark you as his. He wants to claim you body and soul so there is no doubt that you are his. You are his Saint, you are his everything.

You are his God.

Suguru lets his head dip down between your thighs. He has gotten a taste before but this is so much better. Suguru has dreamed of being in between your plush thighs and now he is experiencing the heavenly reality of it. 

Your legs are starting to close around him. He can see your face scrunch in confusion and pleasure at the same time. You must be waking up finally.

Suguru continues on but keeps his eyes up to watch as you flutter your pretty eyes open. He sees you groggily look around before a moan escapes your throat. 

You fully wake up and look down at him, “What are you-?”

“You were just so needy and I wanted to show my devotion” Suguru says and puts your right leg over his shoulder to get his face closer to your dripping cunt.

You moan, high pitched and whiny, as his tongue grazes your clit. His hands grip onto your thighs, holding you to his face, as you begin to arch into him.

You gasp as he swirls his tongue around your clit. It was too good and you were already so sensitive. The waves of arousal wash over you as he plays with your clit. You won’t last too much longer, so he speeds up.

“Too-” You don’t really know how to finish that sentence. Everything is simultaneously too much and too little. 

“Take what you need from me.” Suguru offers you and you whine at how wrecked his voice sounds.

His tongue makes you dizzy. Too far in the haze of pleasure you begin to grind down on his face with your hands in his hair. You pull his hair for some form of leverage against your close orgasm. 

Suguru groans as you do, the vibration going straight to your core and you come undone. You reach climax and your thighs try to close but his grip keeps them in place as you twitch and arch. He groans as your cum oozes out of you onto his tongue. 

Your moans are so sweet as he eats you out through your orgasm. He holds you in place as your body subconsciously tries to get out of his grip. But he won’t let you go, not now that he has tasted heaven in between your legs. 

He lifts his head out of your cunt to watch your chest rise and fall as you catch your breath. The sight of you, post orgasm with your head nestled in his pillows, turns him on so much that he cock is straining against his robes. 

Suguru lets you catch your breath as he strips his clothes off. He can’t stand being in these robes anymore. They are just another thing holding him back from you. He catches you staring at him and stops undressing.

“Can I have you- all of you?” He says and runs his hand down your cheek.

“Please Suguru.” You ask him so nicely.

“Whatever you want lovely.” Suguru gives you a kiss as his hands open up your kimono with practiced precision.

You have never wanted to be worshipped despite your position as a saint. It was ridiculous to think that people would dedicate their lives to you because you can heal others. You always just wanted to help others and coexist.

But Suguru might change your mind if his worship is like this. 

His lips are so soft on yours. The softness in his touch conveys his emotions to you. The press of his lips to your skin is a promise of love. The heat of his hands on you speaks of his devotion to you. You could drown in his worship and you just might.

Suguru works you open in the same practiced way he did with opening your kimono. You gasp into his mouth as his fingers curl and hit that one spot in you that makes you see stars. His fingers pump in and out of you in a slow yet steady rhythm.

Finally he deems you ready to take him. You try not to squirm from the overstimulation of him sinking into so soon after your first orgasm. The stretch is painfully sweet as you feel all of him deep in you. 

“So good.” He murmurs to you as he lets you adjust to him.

“Kiss me again.” You ask breathlessly, needing him as close to you as possible.

“You are demanding tonight.” He teases you with a smirk. “But who am I to deny my Saint?”

Suguru’s lips are on yours as he begins to move. His mouth greedily swallows all your sweet whines. You feel so enveloped by him, he is all over you and it feels so good.

He pulls back to look down at you.

You look up at him through your tear stained lashes and he kisses both of your eyes tenderly. He can’t help but be captivated by how graceful you were even when you were overstimulated like this. Suguru finds your g-spot again and he aims for that sensitive spot every time he thrusts up into you. 

“Oh god- oh god-!” You ramble as he fucks you.

“God isn’t fucking you, call out to me instead.” He tells you.

You nod and bury your face in his neck as he picks up his pace. Soft moans of his name fall from your lips as he fucks you.

Suguru tries to be gentle, you are precious, but you just feel too good. You are so tight and he feels himself getting closer to his orgasm. He groans as your nails claw at his back. That will leave marks but he doesn’t mind that you are staking a claim on him. 

He was yours from the moment he first saw you anyway, and now you are his. 

“I love you.” Suguru murmurs into your hair as his thrusts get more and more sporadic.

“‘love you too Sugu-” You get out before it is cut off by his lips on yours.

His mind can’t wrap around something divine like you loving someone like him. But he won’t question you, your words are laws as far as he is concerned. You are his god and he is just a humble devotee.

Suguru groans as your words and how tight your cunt is send him over the edge. You are not too far behind, your body spasming as your second orgasm shoots through you. 

He holds you through it and keeps his cock inside of you to make sure it takes. Suguru can’t take any chances that he won’t get you pregnant. He whispers to you of how good you took it and how he loves you. You cling to him like a lifeline as the aftershocks of your high quiet down.

“Was I too rough?” Suguru asks, concern on his face as you look up at him, your eyes more seeing then before.

“No! Just I-” You pause, trying to figure out what to say, “I am still learning how to accept a lot of touch.”

“I will help with that.” Suguru vows and kisses your forehead. 

“Thank you Suguru.”

You look at the long hallway of Suguru’s wing of the monastery. It is peaceful here, the rushing waterfall next to the open air corridors gives you a sense of serenity. 

Suguru had told you that he had decorated this part himself after the last Head Monk had passed. You walk past a long tapestry of a swirling mountain range. It is a beautiful painting and you are still in awe of it after a few weeks of residing in this wing.

The main hall of the monastery comes into view, people bustling through the hall. You smile wide and walk faster. It has been so long since you have talked to someone besides Suguru. The thought excites you as you approach.

You pass the threshold only to find yourself a few feet back from where you originally were. Perplexed, you walk forward again, attempting to walk past the end of this hall. 

It is the same outcome. 

You try again and again and again. 

The same outcome happens every time. 

You are starting to get frantic as you try for what feels like the millionth time. Frustrated tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as you find yourself back at the threshold.

“What are you doing?” Suguru’s voice comes from behind you.

You turn back to him, “I can’t leave! The hall isn’t letting me leave.”

Suguru looks concerned and walks over. His arms envelope you as you cry into his robe. You hug into him for comfort as you try to understand what is going on.

“It’s okay,” His hand runs up and down your back. “You don’t need to leave.”

His words run through you like ice cold water.

“What?” You fight out of his hold.

Suguru looks completely relaxed as he reaches out for you.

“You don’t need to go out there, it is much safer here.” His voice is soft.

“But I want to-” You argue but he is looming over you in an instant.

“It is dangerous out there.” He takes your hand in his, a reassuring smile on his face. “But I have made sure that you are safe.”

You wretch your hand out of his and run for the end of the hall. Panic has a hold of you as you attempt to leave again. You feel like you did all those months ago, watched, hunted. Your heart beats in your ears as you cross the threshold only to be placed right back where you started. You are trapped. 

Suguru’s arms wrap around your shoulders, his body engulfing yours but not in the way you felt last night. This feels overwhelming, heavy, as he wraps you in his arms.

Looking up you see Suguru staring back at you. Something is different about him. His eyes are darker, more predatory than it was before. His gaze feels exactly like what you felt before he came to the monastery.

It hits you like a ton of bricks that Suguru was the thing watching you.

His grin widens and you see fangs. To your horror his canine teeth are sharper than before. He isn’t human, that is something that is apparent now. Suguru always was an inhuman type of beautiful but you never guessed he wouldn’t be human.

“What are you?” You whisper.

You attention is drawn to the fox ears that you now see on his head. They are a dusty red color and twitch slightly as you gasp. You have been told about Kitsune before but they are supposed to be just myths. 

Something to scare children from traveling too far into the woods. 

But Suguru is all too real.

“I don’t- I don’t understand!” You say and attempt to get free.

Suguru turns you around to look at him, “It’s okay, all you need to do is stay with me.”

You look up at him in fear, his face drops in response as if you were rejecting him and not just trying to go outside.

“Fine.” His mask of hurt falls away from his face. “I really didn’t want to restrict you but I can’t have you running from me.”

Without warning Suguru picks you up in his arms. You struggle against his chest as he walks back to his room but it is no use. He has an iron grip on you, like a rabbit trapped in a snare or in the jaws of a fox.

“Stop struggling or I will tie you down.” He is firm with his reprimand.

With a small hiccuping sob you stop trying to struggle against him. He looks down at you with sadness, his ears flat against his skull. His heart hurts as he sees your pain. But you have to learn.

“This isn’t permanent.” Suguru says, trying to soothe you and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Just until you learn that you aren’t leaving me- ever.”

[midnightmisty]

too sweet - chapter 1

masterlist | ao3

18+ !no outbreak joel x f!reader Summary:

“Joel—are you su—” “Let’s go.” Ten minutes ago, you were sitting in a freezing police station with no phone, no money, and a record waiting to happen. Then Joel Miller—your daddy's ex best friend—walked in, spoke six words to the cop, and took you home like you already belonged to him. Now you’re in his house. Wearing his shirts. Sleeping in his spare room. He buys you a brand new phone, stocks the fridge with things he knows you like, leaves cash on the counter like it’s nothing.

In which Joel Miller ends up being your sugar daddy who absolutely ruins you.

author's note: hi, this is my first time publishing fanfiction to tumblr. (please tell me if i'm not doing something right.) i've only been an ao3 author(bridgerton/stranger things). so here is sugar daddy joel. now, it's not full on. it's not he's buyin' her expensive stuff — think practical sugar daddy? i'd like to thank my bff karina for encouraging me to try another fandom out.

tags: content warning!! blowjob, male orgasm, dbf!joel, joel miller x f!reader, lots of smut, slowburn on romance, dom joel, alternative universe - no outbreak, !light sugar daddy, sugar daddy/sugar baby, joel is bad at feelings, age gap, joel is 50s x reader is 26-27.

word count: 4.2k status: ongoing.

chapter 1: i'm starvin', darlin', let me put my lips to somethin'

I think I'll take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three you're too sweet for me

The police station ain’t exactly the best place to be on a Thursday night. 

It’s cold. The bright lights are flickerin’ on and off giving you a headache that rings in your skull. You sit there, arms crossed, eyes on the dirty tile like it might somehow make the time pass a little faster. 

How the hell did you end up here?

Well, that’s easy. Your dad. 

Fraud. Money Laundering. Stolen Cars. 

Stealing cars? Yeah. That included the one you were driving home. 

Figures. 

The lobby’s dead. Cold air blowing in from the doors, buzzing lights, and the smell of someone’s dinner filled the air. Nobody wants to sit at a police station unless they have to. Fuck, you just wanna go home. 

To make matters fuckin’ worse, you lost your phone. 

You had the cop call Tommy—your dad’s friend, well sort of. The only one who might answer and not make a huge scene out of all of this. 

That was over an hour ago. 

Were you going to be stuck here forever?

The officer walks over, bored expression and a small note pad in his hand. “Tommy answered,” he says. “Said his brother’s on his way.” 

He looks down at the paper in his notebook. “Joel, I think his name was.” 

Fuck. Joel.

Joel was your dad’s best friend. Well…before all this.

Told him not to get involved in all that messy shit. Warned him somethin’ bad was going to happen. Said it to him straight, like he always did. But your dad…he didn’t listen. He never really did.

You grew up around Joel around. He was there–almost every barbecue, every holiday. Always showing up with a six pack and that quiet look that always said so much more than your dad’s drunk yelling ever did. After your mom left, he stuck around. Checked in every once in a while. Fixed your car when your dad was too drunk to. Made sure your dad didn’t drink himself stupid. You’d watch his daughter, Sarah, she was younger, always tagging along like a little shadow. 

He was always around. 

That’s what made this worse. 

You sigh and stare down at the checkered tile, the kind that somehow looks dirty even when it’s scrubbed clean. You’re just waiting now. For this mess to be over. For a way out. 

The front door creaks open. Heavy boots echo across the lobby floor.  You don’t even have to really look up to know who it is. 

It’s Joel. Rugged. Grey streaks in his hair. Worn denim and that damn tan jacket he’d had for years. Jeans. Boots scruffed. That look on his face—the one he wore when someone around him did something stupid. Like this wasn’t the first time he had to clean up someone else’s mess. 

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, casually, like you’re not sitting in a fucking police station. 

“Hey,” you mutter back, quietly. 

“Y’they lettin’ you go?” Joel asks. 

You shrug. Been there for hours at this point and honestly, no one’s told you shit. 

“They won’t say much,” you say. “Talkin’ to me like I’m five.” 

Joel doesn’t say much. Just walks over to the cops, starts talking in that low voice that somehow makes people listen. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him. Between work and part-time classes, life just… got in the way. 

But Joel?

He hasn’t really changed. He’s always had this way of making you feel—calm. Safe, maybe. Even now. Joel handles shit the way men are supposed too. Not like other people who’d just talk too loud and make things a thousand times worse. 

You find yourself staring. Too long. Watching him as he talks to the cop, his voice low, hands in his pockets like he doesn’t have a worry in the world. Like he’s got everything handled. 

Joel walks back over, his expression unreadable. 

“Get your stuff,” he says. 

“–Joel—are you su–” 

“Let’s go.” 

You grab your backpack, sling it over your shoulder, and follow him out. 

He’s already at the truck, passenger door open, just waiting. It’s newer, bigger, and cleaner. You can smell the leather and sawdust as you climb in. 

Your dad had mentioned the construction business was doing well. Said Joel had a crew now. Jobs lined up for months. You’d seen it too; last year at the neighborhood barbecue, when he showed up in a clean shirt and boots that didn’t look like he’d been wearing them for a decade. 

He shuts the door and doesn’t look at you. Just rounds the truck, climbs in, and starts the engine. He doesn’t say a word as he drives. Neither do you. 

Feels like Joel don’t even know what to say. Truth is, you don’t either. He just picked you up from a goddamn police station. You were so fucking close to being tangled up in your dad’s mess. 

“Where ya stayin’?” he asks finally. “Dorm?” 

You shake your head. “No…I–uh.” 

School wasn’t something you could afford anymore. Had to drop to part-time. Scrape by. Make payments late and hope the university didn’t send you notices. Your dad was paying for it. 

Until he wasn’t. 

“I’m crashin’ at a friends,” you mutter. “Just ‘til I find somewhere.” 

“Your dad said you were livin’ in the dorms,” Joel says. “Or was he payin’ for that?” 

“He was.” 

Joel just nods. Doesn’t say nothin’ else for a while. His eyes fixated on the road. 

“You’re comin’ home with me,” he says. 

“Joel…” you sigh. “It’s fine. I’m good, really, I promi–”

“You’re stayin’,” he says, sharper now. “Got the space. You don’t gotta figure this shit out on ya own.” 

You nod, slow. “Ain’t forever,” he says, looking over. “Just ‘til ya get settled.” 

And you can’t help but wonder— Is he just sayin’ that ‘cause you’re his friend's kid? His only kid. “Ya eaten anythin’?” Joel asks. 

You shake your head. “No.”

Before you know it, Joel’s pulling into your favorite fast food place. Doesn’t ask. Just knows. 

Maybe–just maybe–this won’t be so bad.

Stayin’ with your dad’s best friend? Can’t be the end of the world.

Right?

🎀🌟🎀💫🎀✨🎀🌸🎀💖🎀🌟🎀💫🎀✨

You wake up to the smell of bacon. Don’t know what time it is. Don’t even remember falling asleep, really. First night in a new place–well, not new. Just unfamiliar. Same floors, same creaky hall, different energy. 

You slept in a baggy T-shirt Joel gave you last night. Soft, worn with a hole in the bottom of it, it smelled like fabric softener. You stretch, muscles feeling stiff, hair a fuckin’ mess, then slip out of bed. The house is quiet as you wander downstairs, your feet brushing against the cold hardwood floors. The clock in the living room blinks:12:30. 

Fuck. 

You step into the kitchen, Joel’s at the stove, back to you, flipping something in a pan. He looks over his shoulder, shakes his head at you. 

“It’s past noon,” he says. “Whole damn mornin’ gone, sunshine.” 

“I don’t ‘member what time I fell asleep,” you mumble through a yawn. “Hard to sleep.” 

Joel doesn’t say anything. Just keeps working at the stove, like he hears you, like he understands what you mean. You sit down at the table. The chair creaks loudly under you. It’s strange being here. Still not yours.  But it’s quiet. Feels like something solid after years of nothing but mess. 

It was quiet for a while. Just the sound of the pan and the clock on the wall ticking. Then he moves, walks over, grabs something from his bag. A small box. Black Bow. 

He sets it down in front of you. 

“Ain’t like not bein’ able to reach you,” he says, firmly. “Use it. Set it up how you want.” 

You look down. It’s a phone, a brand new one. You’re speechless. You’re not even sure what to say to him. Joel doesn’t look at you. “Didn’t ask what color,” he mutters. “Don’t bitch.” 

“Joel–you—” you start. 

He cuts you a look, a look that was sharp. You know better than to argue with him. 

“Thank you,” you say, quietly. 

He sets a plate of breakfast down in front of you, still hot. He writes something quickly on a different piece of paper, then he grabs a scrap of paper and a pen from the counter. 

“I’ll grab your stuff later,” he says. “Write the address.” 

That’s it. No offer for you to go with. No questions. You just do it. 

Used to bite people’s heads off who told you what to do. Your parents, they constantly told you what to do. Exhausted you with it.  But with Joel? You don’t. You just listen. 

“You sure you don’t want me to come?” You ask, quietly. 

“Quicker if I do it myself,” he mutters. 

You write the address. Slide it over and he grabs the paper, grabs his work bag. Doesn’t say nothin’ else. Just leaves. 

Now you’re alone. In Joel’s house. 

You look down at the box, phone still laying neatly inside.

He bought you a phone. Just like that. No big talk about it, no strings attached. You’re sleepin’ in his spare room. Eating his food. Staying here “until you figure shit out.” 

And he’s not asking for a damn thing. Why does that feel so fuckin’ strange?

That he’d just do this. No questions. No rules. Just–here. 

You finish up your breakfast, scrape the plate, head to the sink.  There is a note. 

Home late. 

Order Pizza. 

–Joel. 

Twenty dollars sitting on top of it. That’s it.

🎀🌟🎀💫🎀✨🎀🌸🎀💖🎀🌟🎀💫🎀✨🎀

It’s been almost two weeks at Joel’s. 

Feels longer. Feels like nothing. He’s barely home. Out before you wake up, back late. 

You get rides to work. Keep your head down mostly. Classes are on break ‘til spring, not that you’ve paid your tuition bill at all. You’re not even sure if you can. 

Joel doesn’t say much. But he does things. 

Keeps the fridge stocked. Leaves a clean towel on the counter for you to shower. Bought you face wash last week–just left it by the sink. No note. No comment. Just there. 

You never asked for any of it. You keep wondering what he gets out of this. 

It’s not like you’re doing anything. Not helping. Not giving him a reason to keep getting you things. You just exist in this house. Taking up space. Most likely annoying him.  You’ve started thinkin’ maybe you should cook dinner.

Something simple. Just…something. Feels like the least you could do. Joel’s never been picky. Not that you know. But cooking feels like a way to give a little back.  It’s been quiet though. He works all the time. But not the bad kind. 

The kind that makes you feel safe, but drives you mad. Still, you’ve found yourself lying awake more than once, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he’s doing just down the hall. If you knocked on the door; if you asked to just sit with him. Would he let you?

You don’t. 

There’s a line. 

Should you cross it? No. Yes.  No. 

Today, you got home later than usual. Picked up a shift at the restaurant  for a friend. Didn’t mind it–kept yourself busy to keep out of your head. You take a quick shower when you get in. Let the water rinse the entire day off your skin. Let yourself feel clean again. 

You head downstairs, barefoot. Hair still damp, dripping down your back. Thin tank top. Shorts. Should be fuckin’ freezin’, it’s winter. But Joel kept the house warm for you. 

You round the corner and see him. 

Feet kicked up on the coffee table. One hand wrapped around a half-empty beer. TV playing some old black-and-white western, the kind he’s probably seen a hundred times. He doesn’t look away from the screen. 

Just says–

“C’mere.” 

You do. No hesitation. 

You walk over, eyes landing on the screen. “What’s on?” 

Joel doesn’t look over at you.

“Nothin’ good,” he mutters. 

You sit beside him. Close, but not too close. His arm draped around the back of the couch. Casual. Calm. But it’s there. 

He smells like cedar soap. The kind you saw in the shower earlier. And underneath that–sawdust and a little bit of sweat after a long day. 

After a while, he speaks. “Work was a bitch.” 

You look over at him. His head leaned back, eyes on the ceiling. Then his hand drags down his face, slowly. He looked tired, completely worn out. 

“Delivery truck didn’t show,” Joel mutters. “Big job. Had me on the damn phone all day with some fuckin’ kid who didn’t know shit.” 

He shakes his head and takes a slow slip of his beer. 

“Bein’ in charge just means cleanin’ up everybody else’s fuckups.” 

It’s the first time he’s ever opened up and said anything about work. Or when you think about it, his day. 

You reach out to him, slowly. Hand resting on his arm–just above the elbow, your touch so light and careful. Your thumb moves softly over the fabric of his shirt. You’re nervous. You shouldn’t be. 

But you are. 

Your fingers keep fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

You look up at him. “You do a lot,” you say. “You…deserve to relax.” 

He tenses, shoulders shift, like he’s a little caught off guard. You freeze–should you stop? But…he isn’t pulling away. Doesn’t move at all. So, you leave your hand there. Fingers dancing along his arm. You’re not trying to push, just trying to be there. A quiet way of showing that you care. 

He continues to watch the movie, keeping his eyes on it like nothing’s changed. You feel the change in him, the tension, the stillness. Like he’s holding his breath and doesn’t even realize it. 

The movie keeps playing, slow, pointless background now. You’re used to the quiet now, used to him. Joel’s never been a man who needed to fill the space with words.  You don’t even realize how much time’s passed. Not ‘til Joel shifts. Subtle, just barely. Then his hand finds your knee. He still doesn’t say anything, just leaves it there.

A minute later, it moves. Slow. Steady. 

Fingers drifting up, stopping just shy of the hem of your shorts. He squeezes your thigh lightly. Then his fingers slip higher, pushing your shorts up a little, settling on the bareskin. Like it’s nothing, like he’s just mindlessly doing it. 

Your breathin’ practically stops. He just keeps watching tv, and doesn't flinch. Doesn't look over at you. Maybe he didn’t notice. Or maybe, he did. He just keeps watching the screen like nothing’s changed. 

But…something has changed. 

🎀🌟🎀💫🎀✨🎀🌸🎀💖🎀🌟🎀💫🎀✨🎀

Joel’s been on your mind for weeks. 

Won’t leave your head. Not when you’re awake, not when you’re dreaming. You know it’s wrong–thinking about him like that. Wanting him so fuckin’ bad it keeps you awake. 

Imagining what it would feel like for your lips to be on his, him on top of you. Imagining what it would be like to knock on his door in the middle of the night. But you don’t. You stop yourself…every time. 

After that night on the couch, movies became your routine. Evenings where he wasn’t workin’ late, you’d sit together on the couch, watching whatever you’d bicker about puttin’ on.

Somehow it was just…easy. 

Money left on the counter without a word. A new pair of headphones when you complained that yours stopped workin’. Always buyin’ your favorite snacks. One afternoon, last thursday, he dropped you off at the mall–handed you his credit card. 

Said, “Get what you want.” 

Still, somehow, didn’t ask for anything back. 

But no matter what, you settled nicely into this routine. Nights with Joel. He’d sit beside you on the couch, he’d rub your leg with that hand of his, like he didn’t even realize he was doin’ it. You’d lay against him sometimes, feel his chest through that old flannel, watchin’ whatever movie he picked–usually some western, sometimes an action flick that had low ratings. 

One night, you talked him into Friday the 13th. 

He just grumbled about it being total nonsense. 

But he still watched it all the way through. 

You wanted to cross that line, needed to. Every night, it got so much harder not to. But you held back. 

Until now…

You woke up late. House was quiet already. Joel was gone… at work. 

But when you walk into the kitchen, there’s a box on the counter. Wrapped, a bow on top of it. Joel’s thing he did with his gifts for you. 

You recognize it before you even open it—the necklace. The one your mom gave you. The one that snapped last week when it got caught on your sweater. He fixed it. Didn’t say a word. Just left a little note folded under the ribbon. 

For you, Darlin’. 

—Joel. 

You’ve been tryin’ to get used to the gifts. 

To the way Joel leaves things for you without a word. Pays for what you need. Asks for nothin’ back. You don’t know if it’s guilt over your dad bein’ locked away—or if he just likes takin’ care of you. 

There’s a part of you that wrestles with it. That still wants to earn it somehow.

But there is another part. One that secretly loves the idea of being taken care of. 

You made him dinner tonight, even he was a little shocked. He ate in silence, like he asked. You left him there while you showered. Now you’re headin’ back downstairs. Back to him. 

Back to this new routine. 

You’re wearin’ one of his shirts–big, warm right out of the dryer. You took it from his drawer a few weeks ago, he didn’t notice. 

But he’s seen it on you. 

“We ain’t watchin’ another one of them damn horror movies,” Joel grumbled, settling back on the couch. “Last one was fuckin’ terrible.” 

You roll your eyes as you sit down next to him. “Fine,” you mutter. “You pick, then. Since I’m so awful at it.” 

He picks some older movies. Lettin’ it play in the background, more noise than anything else. You take a small sip of beer he put out for you. 

“How was work?” you ask softly. Joel just huffs. Doesn’t look over. “Long,” he says. “Tired of dealin’ with people who don’t know what the hell they’re doin’.”

He seemed a little better when he walked through the door. A little less stressed out. You wonder if it’s the movies. The silence. Just sittin’ together. 

You lean into him, slow, like you always do. And he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t shift away from you. He’s gotten used to it.

You watch him. Not sayin’ a word—just takin’ in the way his jaw stays tighty, the way he grips his beer a little too firm. Eyes on the TV, but not really watchin’. He’s so wound up. You can see it. The movie drags on, just background noise between the two of you now.  You debate it. Talk yourself out of it. Then back into it. Then out again. 

And then his hand moves. To your thigh, fingers slowly grazing your skin. Like he means it this time. 

Fuck it.  You slide off the couch and down to your knees. Settle between his legs–spread wide and lazy where he sits. 

He looks down at you. Eyes dark. Jaw tight. 

“What’re y’doin’, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low. 

You don’t answer at first, just reach for his belt; your fingers trembling, eyes locked on his. “Helpin’ you relax.” 

Joel doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t flinch. Just exhales through his nose.  You tug the belt free quickly. Pop the button, fingers slippin’ to the zipper–but he gets there first. Reaches down before you, grabbing it. 

Drags it down himself. The sound cuts through the room. Then he pushes his jeans and boxers down to his thighs, stopping just under the muscle. Hard. Already waiting for you. Joel leans back into the couch. One arm thrown over the back like he’s settlin’ in. His eyes are on you, just watching. 

You pause. Just for a second. Because he’s there–thick, swollen, and the tip of his cock is glistening with pre-cum. 

You swallow hard. 

“Go on, princess,” he mutters. “Ain’t the time to get shy on me now.”

You reach out, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. A low groan comes from his throat when you start stroking him.

“Fuck,” he says, jaw tight. “This’ a bad fuckin’ idea.” 

 But he’s not pulling away. Just lets you keep going. 

You stroke him, feel him twitch in your hand, just a little. Then again. You do it just to tease him, you hear him moan, strained, quiet, fighting that need to thrust into your palm. Leaning in, you lick a slow line from the base of his cock to the tip. Draggin’ your tongue over the thick vein. The taste of him–salty–spreads across your lips. Then your mouth wraps around the head of his cock, tongue swirling. 

Joel’s hand moves fast–right to the back of your head and his fingers knot in your hair, firmly. Holding you. 

You open your mouth wider, taking him in slowly. Let him guide across your tongue, inch by inch, until your lips are nearly at the base and your throat tightens around him.

“God—fuck,” he breaths. “That mouth... Been thinkin’ about this. Thinkin’ how good it’d feel.” 

You set a rhythm, steady, wet and he lets you for a minute. Just watches. His cock disappears into your mouth over and over, until your chin’s slick and his cock’s shining with spit. 

“You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” Joel mutters. He grips your hair tighter, it hurts a little. 

“You hear me?” 

You moan around him. You’re drooling now, a filthy fuckin’ mess and he’s lovin’ it. 

His hands lock in your hair now, fingers twisting deep as he starts to move. Not sloppy. Not rushed. 

Controlled. 

He knows what he’s doin’. Knows how to use your mouth…how long to keep you right there on the edge. Just enough to drive you crazy. Just enough to make you fuckin’ need it. 

“Just like that, baby,” he groans. “Goddamn–y’know what you’re doing, don’t you?” 

You gag, just a little, when he pushes deeper and he grunts, breathless. “Easy,” he says, even as his hips roll forward. 

“Don’t choke, sweetheart,” he breaths. “Ain’t done with you yet.” 

Your spit is all over his cock, your throat is raw, eyes glassy, tears threatenin’ to spill. Joel watches, doesn’t miss a thing. 

“Look at that mess,” he groans. “Drippin’ down your chin. So fuckin’ pretty like this.” 

He holds your head steady and starts to thrust harder into your mouth. Your hands dig into his thighs, bracing. Your jaw burns–but you don’t stop. You take it, like you’re supposed to. 

“Shit,” Joel growls, voice cracking. “The way you suck my cock–princess, fuck.” 

A deep moan.

“Makin’ me lose my fuckin’ mind.” 

He’s breathing is ragged now. Not gone…not yet…but close. Right on the edge. 

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he asks. “Wanted me usin’ that mouth like this.” 

You moan around him and his cock twitches on your tongue. 

“Baby,” he breaths. “You keep doin’ that–I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.” 

But you don’t stop. You moan again–on purpose. Throat tight, lips wrapped, tongue draggin’ slow along every thick inch as he fucks your mouth. 

Joel moans, louder this time. 

“Jesus–fuck—you’re takin’ me so good,” he pants. “So. Fuckin’. Good.” 

You can feel it. The way his thighs tense up. The sharp jerk of his hips, the rough sound of his breathing. “I’m gon’ cum,” he growls. “You ready for it? Gonna swallow for me, huh?” 

You nod–best you can, mouth full, eyes up. He pushes you down deeper onto his cock. 

“That’s it,” Joel groans. “That’s it–God—don’t—”  Then he spills into your mouth. Thick, hot, endless. You try to swallow every drop, but he’s still twitching, still pulsing, and it leaks past your lip.

His chest heaves, breath ragged. 

And then—

Buzzzzz. Buzzzzz.

The phone on the coffee table goes off.

Joel exhales hard, like the wind just got knocked out of him. Then carefully, he pulls out of your mouth, stands up, pulls up his pants and grabs the phone off the table. You’re still on your knees. Panting. Lips swollen. His cum at the corner of your lips. “Yeah?” he answers. 

A pause. 

“I’m home.” 

His eyes drop down to you. He reaches out and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. Smears the cum away with one slow drag. “Tommy,” he sighs. “Was workin’ on somethin’.” 

Walks into the kitchen like nothin’s changed. Pulls his zipper up, belt clicks as he threads it back through. Phone still pressed to his ear. 

He leaves you there. Kneeling. Swollen-lipped. Messy. Wet. 

And you don’t know what’s worse. That he walked off like nothin’ happened–like everything’s still the same. Or that you’re just kneelin’ there–cunt throbbing, soaked, mouth wrecked from takin’ him. Wanting more. 

🎀🌟🎀💫🎀✨🎀🌸🎀💖🎀🌟🎀💫🎀✨

[blacktofade]

Etho calling gem to say sorry about calling her "homely" in the REPO gaming, it develops into a confession

I slipped and wrote a thing.

---

Gem’s barely ended her stream and closed out of Steam when her Discord starts to jingle with an incoming call.

In all honesty, out of everyone, she expects it to be Grian. Probably still wide awake, needing someone to annoy as he gets ready for bed. But she blinks at the name on her screen.

“Did you misclick?” she asks as she answers the call.

“What?” Etho says with obvious confusion in his voice. “No, I meant to call you.”

She stares at the screen, brows pulling down into a frown. She’s worked with him for years, but she’s still no closer to understanding anything about him — including why he’d feel the need to call her right now.

“Were you missing me?” she asks. “It’s been a whole thirty seconds since we last spoke.”

“I — no,” Etho says with a barely-there laugh. “I just — ”

She doesn’t interrupt, letting the silence stretch as she waits for an explanation from him, knowing he has to crack eventually.

“I didn’t know that’s what it meant,” he says abruptly, and Gem blinks.

“What?”

“Homely,” he clarifies. “I looked it up after everyone — I don’t think you’re ugly.”

There’s a tightness forming in her stomach, a knot of anxiety that grows with every word Etho says.

She waits an extra beat before saying, “Okay?”

“That’s why I called,” he continues, and then falls silent, letting her turn over the words in her mind.

“You called to tell me you don’t think I’m ugly.”

“Yeah, you — I don’t think you’re homely.”

It’s one of the most bizarre interactions she’s ever had with him. Including the time he flat out asked her in the middle of a Hermit Meeting what an ethogirl was. And she’d had to explain the concept to him in front of twenty of her much older peers.

“Thank you?” she replies, adjusting her mic, staring at where his icon flickers, picking up sounds — maybe his breathing — though she can’t hear anything. “You could’ve just said that earlier.”

“I didn’t want to make the game awkward.”

He doesn’t offer anything more than that and Gem purses her lips.

“So, this is an apology,” she says and there’s a long beat where he doesn’t answer, like maybe he nods before realizing she can’t see.

“Yeah. I thought — ” Etho could probably explain his thought process until he’s blue in the face and she still wouldn’t get it. “ — to clear the air.”

“There wasn’t really anything in the air,” she tells him. “I didn’t take it personally.”

“Oh,” he says quietly. “You sounded upset.”

“I was surprised,” Gem admits. “I expected it from Skizz, but not you.”

She laughs, but he doesn’t follow suit, and it feels like she needs to offer him an olive branch.

“Say the magic words,” she tells him, “and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

She wants to hear him say I’m sorry. She could be the first person ever to get a genuine apology from Etho and she’s not going to miss the opportunity.

“Magic words,” he echoes, and she finds a little joy in watching him struggle to understand.

“Those two little words,” she encourages. “I want to hear you say them.”

There’s a heavy silence from Etho’s end of the call.

“What?”

His voice is weaker, not as boisterous as it usually gets when he’s joking around, trying to rile her up. He’s struggling to keep up, losing her line of logic.

“We were just talking about it,” she presses. “I want to hear you say it. Just for me. No one else has to know.”

She smiles as she hears him pull in a heavy breath, and it’s clear he’s overthinking — whatever it is that’s buzzing around in his mind, he’s twisting it into knots.

“I — ” he starts and then stops. “You’re hot.”

He says it in a rush, almost too quick for her to decipher the words, but then she freezes.

“What?”

“If I’d known what homely meant, I wouldn’t have said it,” he carries on. “But I think — you’re very attractive, Gem.”

Silence fills the space between them and in the corner of her screen, she sees the time tick up by another minute.

“Are you still there?” he asks eventually and Gem finally blinks.

“I meant I’m sorry,” she says with a heavy exhale, her whole face burning as her hands clutch at the edge of her desk. “The two words: I’m and sorry. I wanted to be the first to get an Etho apology.”

She draws in a ragged breath and the silence grows heavy again.

She has no idea what to do with the information, and she’s not sure what’s worse — Etho thinking she’s plain, or Etho thinking she’s hot.

“I — I’m sorry,” he says and she hiccups out a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

“Oh my god. It’s a little late to say it now, Etho,” she tells him. “I actually think I need another one.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and he sounds so earnest that Gem can’t even make fun of him for it. “I didn’t — I thought — ”

He’s going to tangle himself in his own thoughts and find a way to never talk to her again if she’s not careful.

“You thought I was asking — why would the magic words ever be you're hot?”

“I don't know,” Etho starts. “I — are you mad?”

“No,” Gem says quickly, and it's the truth.

The EthosLab just admitted to thinking she's hot. She's not mad at all.

“I think it's a little unfair,” she tells him, taking a breath, and he pauses.

“Why unfair?”

She adjusts her mic again out of habit.

“I don't know what you look like,” she says, “so I can't comment on your appearance at all.”

“Oh,” he replies carefully. “Maybe that's for the best.”

“Are you homely, Etho?” she asks, unable to stop her smile, and she knows he must hear it in her voice because he lets out a breath that's almost a laugh.

“I think I deserve that one,” he tells her gently, and Gem's smile widens.

“I think so,” she agrees. “Though you could always prove me wrong.”

She's pushing at boundaries she never would normally, but she has a feeling his guilt is eating him up inside and that always tends to work in her favor.

“I don't think I could.”

“Still camera shy?” she asks and Etho lets out a breath.

“No, I could show you my face, I just don't think it would prove you wrong.”

She laughs outright, head tipping back, and after a beat, he joins her with his own familiar, breathy laugh.

“That's better than any apology,” she tells him when she finally collects herself again and he hums quietly, not quite an agreement.

“I'm sorry,” he says, and his tone is even and careful — he means it.

“I know, Etho,” she sighs. “Thanks.”

It falls quiet between them, the silence not as awkward as before, but when Etho doesn't try to break it, she knows she has to.

“I appreciate the confidence boost,” she tells him, “but I actually do need to go to bed.”

“Sure,” he agrees, and then after a beat, adds, “Sleep well.”

She can't quite keep the smile out of her voice when she says, “Goodnight, Etho.”

She ends the call, quickly logging out and turning off her computer before anyone else can think to message her. She's had enough surprises for one day.

When her monitor finally goes dark, she leans back in her chair, blowing out a heavy breath.

Her cheeks are still hot with her flush when she brings her hands up to her face, and she can't help but let out a laugh, high-pitched and slightly manic.

Etho thinks she's hot.

She'll be riding that high for a long while.

Carefully, she pushes herself to her feet, stretching out the aches from sitting for so long, and on her desk, her phone dings quietly.

For a moment, she thinks seriously about switching it off, too. But with a sigh, she grabs it and opens her notifications.

It's a DM from Etho on Discord.

“One apology was enough,” she mutters to herself, wondering if he's decided she needs it in writing too.

But then the message opens and she realizes it's not another apology; it's a photo. A photo that's been marked as a spoiler.

Gem's stomach flips as she stares, but after a second, she taps the screen to clear the filter.

It's dark and blurry as hell, but there's no doubt it's a man's face.

Etho's face.

As she stares, their chat shifts and a new message from Etho appears.

Homely? he asks, and Gem's jaw drops.

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to an older s/o

Request: Hi, Celeste! Just gotta say, it's been months of me following you, and I absolutely live for your content! 💜 I just came across your "Younger SO" for SVT, and I was wondering if you can do the opposite: SVT with an older SO? Thank you for considering!

A/N: Whether it’s a few months or a few years, these boys would absolutely thrive with a ‘noona’ s/o who has a little extra life experience + I think they're very cool with both younger and older s/o. Also, hi hi!! Tysm, I’m so happy you enjoy the content and stuck around this long.

Seungcheol: He is a leader with so many members to handle, so being with someone who’s just a bit older, gives him a sense of calm. Loves when you guide him through decisions or offer wisdom, but also gets adorably sulky when you tease him for being younger. “I’m still oppa in this house,” he’ll say while reaching for your hand in public.

Jeonghan: You being older? He’s using it. Teasing you? Constant. “You should take care of me~” He lives for the dynamic. Always playing it up, but deep down he respects the maturity and insight you bring to the relationship. Plus, he finds older s/o's incredibly attractive; something about the confidence and experience just does it for him.

Joshua: The “age is just a number” kind of guy [ahem, que that fancall]. He’d love having deeper, mature conversations and would appreciate the emotional intelligence you bring. He’s probably calling you “baby” just to balance the dynamic a bit, but when things get hard, your ability to stay grounded makes him love you even more.

Jun: I don't think he actually doesn’t notice the age gap. You’re older? Oh. Cool. Jun is too much of a vibes/personality-first person to really care. He’s charmed by your poise, but also still drags you into pillow fights. If anyone points it out, he’ll just blink and say, “So?” Because to him, your soul feels like it matches his.

Hoshi: He jokes that you’re “the boss” in the relationship, but he adores it. He’s all about affectionate teasing, spontaneous affection, and showing off for you. He also really wants to impress you and is always a little extra excited when you praise or encourage him. You bring out the more grounded side of him without dulling his sparkle.

Wonwoo: He’s so so soft for someone who brings emotional clarity and maturity into his life. He’s not the type to care about age gaps at all, but he’ll note how soothing it is to be with someone who has a stable energy. Will 100% ask for book recommendations and sit with you in peaceful silence like it’s love language gold.

Woozi: You being older makes him feel a little relieved, he doesn’t have to over-explain his workaholic tendencies or emotional blocks. He values how self-aware you are, and he absorbs your perspectives like a sponge. Plus, he finds the way you handle conflict so hot. If anyone comments on the age thing, he gives them the death glare.

Dokyeom: He’s all giggles and heart eyes, older s/o or not, but he definitely benefits from your emotional maturity. When he gets overwhelmed, you know how to help him reset. He’ll call you “Noona~” in the most singsong way, but still treat you with total love, babying and respect.

Mingyu: Will still insist he can carry all the groceries himself. He’s a bit extra about wanting to prove himself, especially if you’re accomplished or confident. Loves it when you guide him but also wants to be the one taking care of you. Over time, he realizes you don’t need “taking care of,” and starts just enjoying how easy it is to be himself around you.

Minghao: Old soul meets old soul 😌😂 He goes the best with someone older anyway. He’s all about mutual growth, and an older s/o is often more emotionally steady, which suits him perfectly. He appreciates the lack of drama and the introspective conversations you bring. He’d never flaunt the age gap, but he would brag about you non-stop.

Seungkwan: At first, he might be shy or overthink things, wondering if he’s “enough” for you. But once he’s reassured, he’s in. Loves having someone who can match his emotions but handle them a bit more maturely. You make him feel secure and loved, which is everything he really needs.

Vernon: To Vernon, age doesn’t equal power; energy does. If you match his energy and give him space to be himself, he’s head over heels. He’ll appreciate that you’ve probably figured yourself out more, and he finds your confidence very attractive. Bonus: he never forgets your coffee order or how you take your ramen.

Dino: He loves older s/o's but can get a little flustered about proving he’s mature enough. You’re a source of motivation for him, so he wants to meet your standards and show you he’s grown. Will occasionally pout if you “Noona” him, but secretly loves it. Your stability + his ambition = power couple.

[miyamiwu]

Previously, I talked about Shang Chao’s and Xia Qing’s contrasting ideologies on what kind of hero Yang Cheng should be. Gist of that post is that to Xia Qing, Yang Cheng and E-Soul are different people. But to Shang Chao, there is no difference between them; Yang Cheng is E-Soul and vice versa.

So isn’t it just interesting that on the night Yang Cheng became a hero, Xia Qing—despite actually already knowing that it was Yang Cheng under the mask, as revealed in Episode 6—she called out the name E-Soul instead. Meanwhile, Shang Chao, who has only just learned the truth, called Yang Cheng by his real name with no hesitation.

It’s small moments like these that really convince me that Shang Chao is the right person for Yang Cheng. He’s just so naturally in sync with what Yang Cheng needs, and at that moment, Yang Cheng needed acknowledgement of himself as a person. Sure, he just did some superhero stuff, but the name Xiao Youzi called out back then was still E-Soul. That Trust point may have given him the boost to defeat his enemies, but it didn’t really do much to raise his self-esteem.

It’s just like that time he got asked out by Xia Qing while in his E-Soul costume. He also didn’t feel good about that:

So Shang Chao’s presence at the end of Episode 6 was very timely.

On the night Yang Cheng became a hero, the first person to call him by his real name and acknowledge that it was him, Yang Cheng the person, who did all those stuff, was Shang Chao.

Not the kid he saved. Not the girl he’s always had a crush on. But Shang Chao.

And what’s more affirming than being personally acknowledged by someone whom you think is superior than you in every way?

Xia Qing is nice, but she pays too much attention to Yang Cheng’s weaknesses instead of his strengths, and that doesn’t really help our Yang Cheng, who already has low self-esteem. Pity is the last thing he wants from her.

Shang Chao is different. At this point, he doesn’t know much about Yang Cheng. He only sees the diamond in the rough, while the people closer to Yang Cheng are being too careful with the dirt around it. But Yang Cheng doesn’t need to be reminded of the dirt; he knows that himself all too well. What he needs is to be made aware of the diamond within him. Shang Chao’s verbal encouragement and proactive support help with that.

This becomes clearer as Yang Cheng starts cooperating with Shang Chao:

Xia Qing is a realist who will point out the cons, while Shang Chao charges ahead optimistically in spite of the difficulties. His wealth and privilege allows him to do so, and by extension, it also gives Yang Cheng the resources he needs to give things a try. But more importantly, it also gives him the courage to dream:

Before he started working with Shang Chao, Yang Cheng didn’t even have any plans for the future:

But Shang Chao took him by the hand and opened his eyes to what he is capable of:

He gives him concrete steps on how he can act like a hero.

And also outlines a clear future for Yang Cheng.

At surface level, it may seem like Shang Chao is just imposing what he wants on Yang Cheng, but I don’t think that’s the case.

Yang Cheng had zero trust points his whole life. Nobody really expected anything from him. So Shang Chao clearly stating what he wants from him and fully believing that he can do it, although new and confusing, should be not unpleasant.

Because at last there’s someone who believes in him. Someone who isn’t just a random number on his wrist. Someone who actually sees him and supports him every step of the way with concrete actions.

Shang Chao is exactly the person Yang Cheng needs.

[moonriseoverkyoto]

(mdni, suggestive content, +18) Dirty Dancing AU! Ghoap x reader

Author's note - yk that once scene where Penny is leading Baby's hips as she dances with Johnny, here, and then skip to 1:15 for after Johnny spins reader

Music - Johnny's Mambo from Dirty Dancing for if you don't know the tune of Mambo. I love Mambo so much.

Warnings - suggestive content, Simon's a bit mean, Johnny's a flirt, what's new with Ghoap.

Requests are open! / Masterlist

Simon's left hand clasped your own firm right as your eyes held each other's gaze. Your joined hands keeping your arms firm as your left hand clasped onto his right shoulder. You could feel the taught shoulder muscle ripple under your fingertips.

The deep thrum of the Mambo filled the room. The striking percussions, and the combination of brass instruments.

As your feet moved in tandem with your partner in front of you. Simon's hands weren't the only one touching yours. But your mind was too worried about correctly staying in rhythm and tandem then actually moving freely with your partners

"Breathe, gotta loosen up these muscles right here." Johnny cooed as his hands found a home in your hips and his feet fell quickly in-line with yours and Simon's.

You could almost burn under Simon's fiery gaze and Johnny's warm praises. Both of them moving you like a malleable figurine between them.

"I told you, Si. All she needed was a little guidance, right Baby?" Johnny purred in your ear. A scoff left Simon but he didn't disagree.

The blaring trumpets combined with the deep pangs of bongos. It was lively. It was beautiful. It was more than a dance between the three of you.

"Respond to Johnny when he speaks to you." Simon said gruffly as he pulled his muscles even more taught to keep you in his dance space while the scotsman behind you tried to tug you into his instead.

"Yeah just a little guidance." You mumbled as your mind was starting to numb between the two hulking giants. Johnny and Simon's cologne mixing in your nose as your frame began to weaken under your lead's gaze.

"Atta girl" Johnny purred as his fingertips trailed down to your hips and began to caress. Suddenly, Simon released you as Johnny spun you by your hips and now your hand found their place upon Johnny's as your pushed onto each other's palms for tension.

Simon took to sitting on the dance floor to watch you both dance. Something swimming in his eyes as he watched you both. Your eyes flickered to Simon on the floor

"Don't look at me. Look at Johnny, he gets jealous and we don’t want that, do we?" Simon said to correct your behavior. A soft blush coming upon your cheeks at Johnny's next works

"Good girl, Keep those pretty eyes on me" Johnny praised you with a smirk as he slowed down the dance slightly. His gaze ravenous upon you as you shifted weight between your feet with each tiny step back and forth.

"Keep tension in your shoulders, stop letting your arms fall." Simon spoke again, his critical voice cutting through Johnny's praise.

"You're doing great, baby." Johnny whispered with a wink.

"Again." Simon barked out as he flipped the record to start over again.

This was going to be a long night before you could even begin to get the Mambo down. Between Simon's scrutiny and Johnny's praise, you don't think your weak knees or drenched panties were going to make it much longer.

Author’s note - big thanks to @jesivene for encouraging this ghoap idea, I’ll expand on this later when I’m feeling frisky or if I get a request idk

[goodqueenaly]

I was pondering the Iron Islands, as one does, and came up with a doubt: how do you think Asha Greyjoy was being educated as a child before the Greyjoy Rebellion? As a proper courtly lady, expected to be married off for her house's benefit? As one of the rare (but present) warrior women of ironborn society? Already as a son, because manly man Balon would rahter have only sons or something? A mix of all the above? Something else?

It’s difficult to say, given how little we understand of Asha’s pre-war childhood, much less the typical childhood of an aristocratic ironborn girl. With two older brothers alive during this period (not to mention younger brother Theon), Asha certainly would not have been looked at as a would-be heiress; still, I don’t know that that fact alone would have hampered Asha’s education significantly, as I tend to think that on mainland Westeros aristocratic boys and girls receive fairly similar education, at least up to a certain age. Yandel also states in TWOIAF that Balon did not drive the maesters from the Iron Islands as “they had proved themselves too useful to forsake”, so I think it’s fair to say Asha received some level of a maesterly education (and indeed, her obvious literacy and familiarity with history reflect, I think, at least some “classroom” education). It’s possible that Asha’s parents anticipated that she would marry in the future (of course from among the ranks of the ironborn aristocracy, as they themselves had), but I’m not sure they would have had anything specific in mind toward this end when Asha was still a young girl.

All of that said, I think Asha even at a young age likely showed a preference for the sort of often (but by no means exclusively) male ironborn lifestyle she would pursue as an adult, and was almost certainly encouraged to do so. When Victarion tells Asha that he remembers her playing with her doll as a little girl, Asha cheerfully reminds him that she had “played with axes too”, participating in the finger dance so beloved of ironborn. Asha also tells her uncle Rodrik that “[m]y mother raised me to be bold”, and while the statement is general enough, her declaration to Tristifer Botley while both were still children (though after the Greyjoy Rebellion) that “‘I don't want to have a dozen sons … I want to have adventures’” certainly suggests that Asha was raised to have a sense of independence and confidence ill-suited to a sheltered nuptial pawn. Again, Asha was not completely breaking with tradition here: Theon himself notes in ACOK that “[t]here were women on the Iron Islands—not many but a few—who crewed the longships along with their men”, a point GRRM himself reiterated (saying that “[t]he ‘Old Way’ of the islands encouraged almost all men (and some women, like Asha) to take up raiding”) and which we see reflected in the main novels via Hagen’s (unnamed!) daughter, as well as of course Asha herself. So I could very much see where Asha may have been raised, especially by a father Aeron would later say “saw himself in his wild, headstrong daughter”, as, if not quite yet the Greyjoy heir, with all the freedom of the ironborn ruling class (in a society which literally separates everyone into either the divinely chosen race of the ironborn or the entire rest of the world, destined to be conquered and enslaved by the ironborn).

[lilypadlys]

Mushy May 2025 Day Thirteen - Playing With Their Hair

Ship: Rain/Phantom

Word Count: 438

Read on AO3 or below the cut

----------

“Uh…hi?” Rain frowns as Phantom crawls up onto the couch with him, and unabashedly knocks Rain’s phone out of his hand. The quint just grins cheekily and flops his whole body weight onto Rain’s chest. “Ough Bug can’t breathe.” Phantom just nuzzles into Rain’s neck with a purr. “Okay then...”

Rain just drops his arms over Phantom’s back with a sigh. He’s not really annoyed, always loving cuddles from Phantom, but the quint sure does pick the most random times to get all clingy. Rain just stares at the ceiling for a while, rubbing Phantom’s back, until Aether comes into view overhead.

“I see the snuggle bug has claimed another victim.”

“Aeth help.” Rain half heartedly reaches for the older quint but Aether stays stubbornly out of reach.

“Nuh uh. I just had to evict him from my lap so I could shower and head to the infirmary.” He’s indeed dressed in scrubs, his work bag slung over his shoulder.

“But what if I have to pee?”

“Take that up with your living weighted blanket. Okay, I’ll be back later.” He heads off and Rain returns his attention to Phantom.

“Is that it? Aeth kick you out?”

Phantom huffs. “Not my fault he has to work.”

“Don’t you have work to do too?”

“Shhh don’t worry about it.”

Rain just snorts. “Alright.”

His hands find their way up to Phantom’s perpetually messy hair and begin to comb through it. The quint somehow melts into Rain even further, encouraging the water ghoul to continue. He begins to section out some strands before weaving them together. Phantom’s hair, just below shoulder length, is too short to gather into one big plait but thick enough to support many small braids dotted all over his head. Even without hair ties the braids stay well enough if Phantom doesn’t shake around. It helps that cuddling is one of the few times he’s not chugging along like the energizer bunny.

And that’s maybe Rain’s favorite part about cuddling Phantom, how patient he is to having his hair played with. It gives Rain somewhere to direct his own occasional fidgety energy. Rain has all the time he wants to truly have Phantom’s whole head covered in braids sticking out in all directions. And it's always fun after when he leaves them in for the rest of the day much to everyone’s amusement.

Like usual, Phantom turns into a little purry puddle, kneading at Rain’s chest and looking absolutely adorable and this time Rain can’t help but squish him a little.

“Mrrep?”

“Just too stinkin cute Bug. Can’t help it.”

Phantom just smiles and purrs louder.

[starweaversguidetothehazbinhotel]

A silly prompt for Pride month that I don’t have the energy to actually write. Feel free to borrow if you need inspo.

————

While the hotel (and most of Hell) are gearing up for pride month, Alastor learns that both Husk and Lucifer are Pansexuals.

Now; as a man who doesn’t even know he- himself is Ace….our poor deer completely misunderstands and takes the “pan” part literally.

This misconception is prompted/further encouraged by Angel. (who thinks the entire thing is f*ckin hilarious). In order to stir up extra shit, the pornstar tells Alastor aallllll about the kitchen items and ingredients he’s had to use in films before. Even with a permanent smile, it’s impossible for Alastor to mask his horror. Angel’s impromptu lesson in “pan-sex” leaves him shaken and filled with revulsion. Seriously- how unhygienic- he might be a cannibal, but he has standards! This entire time they’ve ALL been eating off those dishes!

Thoroughly convinced that Husk and Lucifer have a depraved fixation with kitchenware. Alastor, begins his crusade.

All the old pots and pans are thrown out and new ones purchased on Al’s dime. With Nifty’s help, the kitchen is scrubbed and bleached top to bottom and twice over. Finally- Alastor bans the king and his thrall from setting a single foot into his kitchen.

This… doesn’t not go over well. Especially where Lucifer is concerned. It’s not Alastor’s kitchen, it’s Charlie’s kitchen. A kitchen HE created and gifted to her (along with the rest of the building)

Of course Charlie tries to mediate but finds Alastor unwilling to share the reason behind his actions. Eventually, he confesses being concerned about cleanliness when preparing meals for everyone, but he refuses to elaborate any further. (His mama raised a gentleman after all. Discussing sexual depravity with a young lady would be uncouth… Especially in regards to her own father.)

Husk heeds the ban without hesitation. He’s still getting fed and it gets him out of dish-duty so he doesn’t really care. (And with the collar around his neck? It’s not like he has much of a choice.)

But Lucifer? Oh. He goes by the kitchen every chance he gets. That prissy deer want to act like Lucifer is unsanitary? Well- welcome to Hell b*tch. He uses pans and doesn’t wash them. He purposefully leaves crumbs on the counter. He opens cabinet doors and doesn’t close them. Lucifer even goes as far as to reorganize the spice rack by sent profile.

In response- any dishes or ingredients Lucifer used unsupervised are thrown out. And soon after, voodoo based wards are put up. Meticulously crafted to inflict pain on those who go further than chaste hand-holding within the kitchen’s bounds. Yet- despite his many visits to the kitchen - Lucifer never triggers the wards. Something that is absolutely baffling to Alastor… was the king really just cooking? Or was he just biding his time now that he was being watched?

It’s hard for the Overlord to say because it wasn’t long before someone someone else discovered the spell on the kitchen.

A innocent good morning peck on Charlie’s cheek and suddenly the former exorcist’s hair is on fire.

Aaananndd. Now Charlie is calling an emergency meeting. The kitchen situation has gone too far. The wards need to come down, and staff members need to clean up after themselves. Turns out, Lucifer leaving dirty dishes and crumbs has been attracting roaches to the hotel. Which means Nifty is manic and extra stabby.

With everyone in agreement. It leaves Alastor with only one card left to play. If he can’t guarantee himself sex-free kitchenware. Then he is no longer willing to cook for anyone in the hotel. They can survive off of pancakes and takeout.

This threat is effective. Warm home-cooked meals have been one of the perks of living with the radio demon. Nobody wants to go back to cold-cut sandwiches and melted popsicles.

————

That’s all I got. Honestly, I’d like to see the misunderstanding resolved. Alastor learning more about his own sexuality…and maybe some soft radioapple.

But my brain is tired and I have no idea how to get there. Again, feel free to play with this idea or make suggestions.

[asoftsighh]

Hi Liz! Love love looove your fics and I have a tasm!peter fic request for ya! What if fem!reader is very oblivious to flirting whenever it’s from someone she’s interested in. She just chalks up Peter flirting to him being friendly and it gets to the point where he literally has to spell it out for her lol

tasm!peter parker x reader

you’re oblivious to peter’s flirting

1.2k words

a/n: thank you so much for requesting angel!!

By seven o’clock, the words from your physics textbook start to blend together. Every time you blink through heavy lids, your concentration moves further and further away from you. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes and, with a defeated sigh, close the textbook. 

The noise gets Peter’s attention, who is sitting criss-crossed on the rug beside his bed, an absurd amount of papers spread around him. His glasses sit high up on the bridge of his nose, his hair slightly askew as if he had run his fingers through it too many times.

“You good?”

You ease your sore back by stretching out diagonally across his bed, your feet dangling off the edge. “No,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut. “If I have to read anything else about physics tonight, I will rip out all my hair.”

His laugh is soft, the way it is when he’s tired, but happy. The mattress dips down with his weight as he settles beside you, criss-cross. “Aw, I like your hair,” he says, tilting his head down to look at you as you open your eyes. His glasses are off now, left somewhere on the floor, you figure. 

You groan again, hiding your flustered smile by throwing your arms over your face dramatically. “Then expect me to bomb tomorrow’s test, because I am wiped. Completely, utterly wiped.” Finding your textbook with your foot, you push it off the edge of the bed, letting it fall to the floor with a loud thud. 

Warm fingers wrap around your wrist, peeling your arms away. Peter’s expression is soft and open, like you could ask him anything and he’d answer you honestly. He’s always been like that, though, always looking at you like he has a million things to tell you but can’t figure out where to start. A warmth spreads in your chest that you choose to ignore. 

“You are going to do just fine. We can study in homeroom, if you want.” His smile is kind and encouraging, and you don’t even realize how he leans down closer to you, or the way his eyes linger on you longer than they should. His tone is sympathetic when he speaks again. “Don’t stress about it too much, babe. You’re one of the smartest in the class.”

You sigh softly, crossing your arms across your chest loosely. It’s hard to stay stressed when he talks to you like that. You push that thought out of your mind almost immediately.

“Thanks, Pete,” you say, patting him on the arm, pretending that you didn’t feel the firmness of his bicep through his sweatshirt. “Now let’s talk about something else. No more physics.”

His smile widens like that’s exactly what he wanted to do. He runs his hand through his hair, causing it to stick in even more directions than before. He drops down on his back beside you, shoulder brushing yours. “Wanna go see a movie? I bet we can get some tickets for that new one you like. With the aliens and stuff.”

You hum, turning your head towards him. “Woah. You really know how to win a girl over, Parker.”

His smile grows exponentially, eyes still on the ceiling fan, spinning lazily. “I try my best, you know that.”

There’s a small silence, but it’s not uncomfortable in any way. He folds his arms underneath his head, and you try not to focus on the sliver of skin that appears above his waistband. From the corner of your eye, you see him mess with his hair again, like he needs something to do with his hands. 

“But, um… only if it’s just you and me.” He sounds hesitant, not even looking at you. 

You tilt your head up to look at him, ignoring how the sharpness of his jaw makes your heart race, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I figured. No one else I know likes that sci-fi stuff.” 

He laughs, but it’s a little too quiet for him. “I meant, like a date.”

“Oh.” 

He looks down at you now, biting his lip. Whether in nervousness or to hide a wider smile, you’re unsure. “Yeah. Oh.”

Like a deer in headlights, you freeze, with wide eyes, and pink-tinged cheeks. “Like, a date date?”

He doesn’t bother holding back his smile this time. It stretches across his face, all teeth and dimples in the dimmed light of his room. If you were to touch his cheek, you’d feel that they are as warm as yours.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want to. If you don’t, it can just be two friends watching aliens blow up and stuff. I just thought that maybe..”

You’re still staring at him, a million thoughts racing through your head. Had he really said that? Does he really mean that? You open your mouth and then close like, like a fish.

“Wait, really?” you ask, begging your brain to catch up so you don’t embarrass yourself even more.

“Uh-huh.” He nods, his comforter scrunching beneath his cheek with the movement. From this close, you can see the outer ring of green in his mostly brown eyes, and the way his lashes curl up to his brows. Beautiful, you think. When you don’t say anything, he adds quietly, “I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, actually.”

Your heart is racing, and for the second time tonight, it’s not from exhaustion or stress; it’s from the way Peter is looking at you, his eyes so clearly full of longing. It was like his emotions were being laid bare in front of you, nothing hidden from your gaze. 

“Oh,” you repeat through a soft sigh. 

He laughs nervously, ringing his hands together. Then he sits up, shifting to face you, knee brushing your thigh. “We can forget this ever happened,” he rambles quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just thought that you knew I liked you-”

“How would I have known you liked me?” you interrupt, sitting up to face him. 

He blinks at you like you’ve asked an outlandish question. Maybe you have. “How?” he repeats, incredulous. 

And now, it all comes back. He walks you home from school everyday, even if it puts him further and further away from his own house. He gives you homework answers, or simply does it for you when you aren’t in the mood. He learned your breakfast order, watched all your favorite movies and read all your most treasured books. Oh, indeed.

“I thought you were just being… nice,” you say with a shy shrug. 

His smile turns soft, almost sad, like he’s not sure whether to be flattered or defeated. “I am nice. But I’m not like that with everyone.”

Your lips part slightly as you look at him, like you’re about to say something but it doesn’t come out. Instead, you look at him, really look at him, like everything is new and fresh. Like you’re finally seeing what he has been trying to show you. 

“I really didn’t realize.”

He gives you a boyish smile. “Well, now you know. Better late than never, right?”

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆˙

[chrystal-ink]

Shadow x GN reader

Everything’s going to be alright

Warning: mentions of a depressive episode, hurt comfort.

Note: very self indulgent comfort fic, it’s just been one of those days. This was supposed to be just a mini but I got too invested lol.

-Enjoy

Shadow watched as you lay in bed the covers pulled over your face. This was a more common occurrence in the recent months. Stress from work, plus emotional restraint had been building up and it all just became too much for you to handle most days.

You came home, ate, and collapsed under the emotional exhaustion. He saw the light fade from your eyes as you forced your way through your daily routine. You were sleeping but it wasn’t restful evidenced by the eye bags that you tried to disguise with makeup.

“It was fine” you always responded when he asked how your day was “same as usual” and then you’d come here hide from everything. You weren’t doing much in your cocoon, either scrolling on your phone, or just staring into the darkness waiting to feel something.

He was really worried about you and he needed to take action before things really got bad. He understood the state you were in, you even helped him out of it most often then not. He memorized what you did for him hopefully it was enough for you as well.

Shadow approached the bed lifting the covers revealing you to the world.

“Scoch over I’m joining you”

You wordlessly obeyed shuffling along the bed, he climbed in wrapping his arms around you holding you close to him.

“I know you’re going through something, and you don’t have to talk about it right now but let me be here for you. Don’t hide away in here by yourself.”

You were quiet for a moment, so quiet he wasn’t sure if you had heard him.

“I just want to feel something.” You finally spoke your breath shaking at the weight of the words, as if you admitted a heinous crime.

Shadow pulled you closer as soft sobs fell from your mouth.

“I know, you’re doing too much right now.”

“But it wasn’t too much before.” You argued

“Things were different before, you need to adapt for your own sake. that doesn’t mean you have to give something up forever, just until you can get your bearings again.”

“But I’ll feel like a failure”

“I promise you won’t be. I understand that you want to be the best at what you do but you can’t get there by overwhelming yourself and skipping out on sleep.”

Shadow turned you around taking your face into his hands. He looked into your eyes and gently spoke

“everything is going to be okay I promise you.”

“But-“

“No, I don’t want to hear it. If you need help I’ll help you, I could never look at you and see you as anything less than the amazing person you are. I am so lucky to have you in my life and you will never be a burden to me.”

Shadow wiped the tears from your eyes kissing you on your forehead. He let you cry into his chest for as long as you wanted and stroked your head.

Once you had finished he picked you up and lead you to the bathroom sink grabbing a washcloth to clean up your tear stained face.

“Let’s go on a walk to clear your head okay?”

You nodded some fresh air would do you good.

As you two walked through the twilight you felt the breeze cool your still hot face. You exhaled the stale air from indoors and replaced it with the crisp clean air from outside.

The two of you ended up wandering into a field you used to go to often at the beginning of your relationship.

Shadow sat encouraging you to lay on his lap. You obliged resting on him as he stroked the soft fur on your ears lulling you to a relaxed state.

You proceeded to tell him everything, your stress, the dislike of your job, the desperate need for change, and how it had impacted your mental health.

He listened reassuring you that you would make the right decisions about what you needed to do and that he would support you no matter what.

The conversation lasted hours, but it was worth it, you felt the weight lift off of you with every passing moment.

The conversation finally ended as you nodded off in Shadow’s arms finally sleeping for longer than four hours for the first time in months.