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muniimyg · 2 months ago

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⋆꙳•❅ myg: true love ❆•꙳

in which you bring your boyfriend home to meet the entire family for the first time; aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews—everyone. only for them to fall in love with him almost as much as you have. in their excitement, they take all of yoonig's attention—leaving you all sulky and annoyed like the grinch

series m.list // taglist

note: lol ... idk (again)

warning: exhibition kink (they get caught... kinda)/corruption kink, kitchen sex, food play (yoongi licks/sucks cookie dough off her titties), standing/carrying position, doggy, dirty talk, ass slapping, yoongi cums on her face

you didn’t see this coming.

yet, it’s not like you expected this to be a disaster.

the laughter in the living room feels like a distant hum, the chatter of your family’s voices weaving together like a fanbase at their favourite artist's concert. yoongi is at the center of it all, effortlessly charming your relatives, cracking jokes, and sharing stories. his confidence has your aunties cackling, and even your dad—who rarely laughs at anyone’s jokes—has a grin tugging at his lips.

it’s like they’ve known him for years, and you watch, your heart swelling with pride but tightening all at once.

as the day drifts on, yoongi’s laughter fills the house, a constant undercurrent to the flow of conversation. but with every minute that passes, you feel further and further away from him.

he’s a crowd pleaser—so naturally, everyone’s drawn to him.

your mom asks him about his music, your cousin insists on showing him her latest dance moves, your brother talks to him about his gaming setup, and your nieces and nephews hang off his every word like he’s the coolest person in the world.

it should feel good, watching him shine.

but it doesn’t.

it feels awful. it feels dark and annoying. it feels… not very merry.

not when he’s not looking your way.

not when he hasn’t even noticed how your heart sinks a little more whenever someone else steals his attention.

it should be yours.

by the time the house quiets, everyone finally settling into their rooms to sleep, you find yourself alone in the kitchen, the soft glow of the overhead lights casting long shadows on the countertops.

you should feel relieved.

you should be happy he’s fitting in so well with your family. but instead, you’re pulling flour and sugar from the pantry, your fingers moving mechanically as you mix the ingredients for cookies.

it’s a way to pass the time, a way to keep your hands busy so they don’t shake from all the fucking jealousy.

you sigh, glancing at the clock.

it’s late, and he’s still not back.

the truth is, he’s probably helping your brother with the kids. but why can’t you stop yourself from thinking about it so bitterly? he rather help your brother put his kids down than to be scraping dough into perfect little balls and placing them on the tray with you? you try to push the feeling of abandonment away, but it keeps pressing in, an ache in your chest that only grows with each passing second.

“i’m gonna break up with him,” you murmur under your breath, your heart tightening when you realize how badly you want him beside you. “next christmas.”

you hear the soft thud of footsteps behind you, and for a second, you think it’s just your tired mind playing tricks. but then you feel it—his presence.

he leans against the doorframe, his eyes dark in the low light, a frown pulling at his lips when he notices you.

“you’re still up?” he asks, his voice rough like he’s just woken up from a deep sleep.

“yeah,” you reply, your voice a little too sharp. “baking.”

he steps into the kitchen, his gaze never leaving you. his movements are slow, deliberate, and when he finally reaches you, he doesn’t say anything else. he just wraps his arms around your waist from behind, his chin settling gently on your shoulder.

his breath is warm against your neck, and you almost want to pull away, the tension in the air thickening the closer he gets.

“what are you making?” he asks, his voice quiet now, almost teasing.

“cookies,” you mutter, trying to focus on the tray in front of you. you move the cookies to the cooling rack, but you’re aware of his every move behind you. “for santa.”

“not for me?”

“ask literally anyone else in my family to make you cookies. i’m sure they’d love to feed one to you too.”

his fingers brush lightly against your arms, just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“hey,” he says, his voice softer now, like he’s sensing something isn’t right. his lips press gently to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “what’s wrong?”

you swallow, your throat tight as you try to keep your voice steady.

“nothing.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of your face, his expression concerned but unreadable.

“did i do something?”

your chest tightens.

the tears sting the back of your eyes, and you feel that lump form in your throat again. you try to force the words out, but they catch in your chest.

“it’s nothing. sorry, i know i have an attitude right now. go to bed. i’m gonna finish up here—”

“no,” he states. “tell me what’s going on, baby.”

you hesitate.

then, you give in.

why should you hide it anyway? you know him. he won’t let you go until he knows what’s going on in your head and until it’s resolved enough for him to feel some sense of peace. yoongi can’t go to bed if you’re upset.

“it’s just… everyone was… you were with them all day, and i just—” you break off, feeling the words slipping from you now. “i just felt like you forgot about me. like you were… everywhere but here. and i don’t know why it feels like this, yoongi. i don’t know why it annoys me so much. i’m so glad everyone loves you—but hello? i love you too. why’d you have to ditch me all day? it’s christmas in 20 minutes and this is the longest we’ve talked all day.”

you’re near tears, your voice cracking with the weight of it.

his arms tighten around you, pulling you back against him, his chest warm against your back. you close your eyes, leaning into the comfort of his touch, but the ache in your chest doesn’t fade.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to your neck. “i didn’t mean to make you feel that way. i got caught up. i didn’t realize i was leaving you out.”

his voice is low and thick with something you can’t place, and when he tilts your head to face him, the look in his eyes makes your breath hitch.

“you’re all i want, okay?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away the first tear that escapes. “just you. i was getting along and getting to know them for you. you know that, right?”

“i do,” you sigh. “i’m mad at myself too. i don’t know why i’m so greedy when it comes to you… but i can’t help it.”

he leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours, gentle at first, before deepening the kiss, pulling you closer, if that was even possible.

the world outside the kitchen melts away, leaving only the sound of your heartbeat, his breath, and the weight of the moment.

“that’s okay,” yoongi comforts you. “i’d feel the same if our positions were switched.”

“really?”

“absolutely,” he chuckles. “i don’t think i ever told you this… but that day you met all my friends and kept laughing at jin’s jokes? i went boxing with jungkook the next day to get all the anger out of my system.”

your eyes widen.

“you went boxing?”

“yeah.”

“that’s really hot,” you deadpan. “show me proof.”

he smirks. “why? does it turn you on?”

you scoff at him.

“duh.”

yoongi’s smirk lingers, like he knows exactly what’s happening to your heart rate right now, but he doesn’t give you a chance to protest.

in one smooth motion, he pulls you into him, lifting you effortlessly and placing you onto the kitchen counter. the cold surface of the counter sends a shiver through your body, but the heat radiating from him—his hands on your waist, his body pressed against yours—quickly warms you.

he leans in, his lips brushing over your ear as he teases, “you’re like the grinch when you're jealous, you know.”

you pull back slightly, glaring at him. “the grinch?”

“yeah,” he chuckles softly, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a slow, teasing kiss that leaves your lips tingling. then, he places his hand on top of your left breast. he squeezes it and chuckles; “hey… your heart’s about to grow three sizes... i can feel it.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“oh, i know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jawline before dipping down to place soft, lingering kisses along your neck. “but don’t worry. i think i like my grinchy little girlfriend.”

his breath is warm on your skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to feel the smoothness of your skin. you shiver again, not from the cold this time.

“you’re annoying,” you mutter, but it’s hard to keep the edge in your voice when his touch has your mind scrambled. “and i’m still irritated.”

“i know,” he says, a low chuckle vibrating against your skin. “but if it’s any consolation, i think you’re pretty damn cute when you’re all possessive.”

“i’m not possessive,” you argue, even as your heart beats faster, as you shift a little on the counter.

“uh-huh,” he smirks, his lips brushing over yours in a quick kiss. “that’s not what it looks like.”

you glare at him, half annoyed, half amused.

“you’re the one teasing me about it.”

“true,” he says, his gaze turning playful, his thumb running over the curve of your waist. “but i think i’d let you get away with anything, even if you did steal my presents or throw snowballs at my friends.”

“you’re pushing it,” you warn, but there’s no real heat in your words, not when he’s looking at you like that—like he knows exactly how to push your buttons and make you melt all at once.

he leans in, his lips brushing yours again, this time slower, the kiss deepening in a way that makes everything else in the world seem irrelevant. you press into him, hands sliding up to his neck, your fingers threading into his hair.

“maybe i should keep pushing,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and husky. “i’ll make it worth your while.”

you pull back, breathless, meeting his eyes with a mix of amusement and desire.

“you’re insufferable.”

“and completely yours.”

you huff at him. “shut up.”

he just grins, his hands resting on your thighs, pulling you closer until your lips are just an inch away. “you know you love it,” he teases, kissing you again, slow and teasing.

“i might,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper against his lips, “but i’m still the grinch.”

“yeah, you are,” he agrees with a smile, his lips brushing your cheek. “but you’re my grinch.”

you sigh, shaking your head.

“you’re lucky i love you.”

“i know,” he says, his tone smug, his hands sliding down to your hips as he pulls you even closer. “i’m very lucky.”

yoongi knows how to handle you.

you and your attitude.

he knows just how to kiss you and how to fuck the grinch in you away.

but, like he said; he doesn’t mind it. he loves it when you get possessive. he loves it when you sulk. he loves it when you react the way you do because it reminds him that you have real and big feelings for him.

“miss my cock, huh?” he hums in your ear, as he spreads your legs.

you’re still sitting on the kitchen countertop. yoongi stands in between your legs and he’s pushing your panties to the side. before you can answer, he spits on his cock and shoves it inside your tight pussy.

“m-mhmm,” you moan, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he moves closer to you, biting your shoulder.

yoongi begins to thrust in and out of you. he fucks you, panting in your ear as he goes.

“f-fuck,” he grunts. “so tight. is that why you’re being such a bitch, baby? needed to cum all day? should’ve just pulled me aside.”

you moan.

“f-fuck me where? in my childhood bedroom? you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” you mutter. “you and your corruption kink. w-what now? you’re fucking me in my family kitchen… what if they come downstairs? all your hard work of trying to impress them will go to waste when they see you fucking me like this.”

he hisses. “like what? like you’re a dirty slut? aren’t you, though? took you like 5 seconds to get wet the minute i fingered you.”

you huff at him.

“so w-what? nnghh, you’re fucking me and acting l-like—oh my g-god—like you don’t love this.”

he bites your shoulder.

“i do love this,” he admits. “i love you.”

"love you too."

as yoongi fucks you, you begin to moan a little too loud. before you know it, he covers your mouth with his hand and scolds you to shut the fuck up.

then, when you quiet, he turns to the side and eyes your cookie dough. he scoops a bit with his fingers before spreading it over your tits. he leaves a plop of it on your nipple. you giggle from the texture and because you know what’s to come.

yoongi dips his head low and begins to lick the cookie dough off.

he sucks your nipple, taking his time. as he swallows, he moans from the sweetness. your fingers get lost in his hair. you throw your head back from the sensation—the warmth of his tongue against your nipples, the way he tightens his lips and tugs at them… everything. he’s so good at this.

he’s so good with your body.

“delicious, baby…”

“yeah?”

he kisses you.

as he kisses you, he lifts you up. keeping his cock inside you, you wrap your legs and arms around him, helping him carry your weight. yoongi is strong, has always been… he loves this shit.

yoongi thrusts and you help by meeting him halfway. you pull yourself up and down. you bounce and he grunts from how hard your bodies slam into each other. as he rides the high, he places you back on the countertop. he lifts your leg and puts one over his shoulder.

with a clear view of your pussy, he uses his other hand to play with your clit.

“ohh..” you whimper. “y-yoongi…”

you feel every curve of his cock inside you. as it throbs, your walls tighten and he feels it. it excites him.

“you like doing this to me?” you moan. “you like fucking me like this, baby? you like fucking me while my entire family is asleep upstairs? are you sick in the fucking head? you want them to find us like this, don’t you?”

“shut up,” yoongi grunts. “fucking naughty girl… you deserve this.”

“yeah?” you ask sweetly. “i guess that’s true… but you’ve been mean to me all day. i think i deserve you like this. deep and on the verge of being caught. maybe they should find us. that way they can hate you a little. maybe they’ll think you’re disgusting for fucking their precious ___ in the kitchen—”

“shut. up.”

yoongi then pulls himself out and grabs you by the waist. he puts you down, roughly turning you over. he then shoves his dick back inside you, hitting you from behind.

he slaps your ass and you let out a whimper.

“they’re gonna wake up,” you tease him. “slap my ass again, baby. i’ll scream and they’ll come running down—”

“___, i swear to god—”

“fuck me harder, daddy.”

yoongi loses his mind.

he slaps your add and grabs your neck. he tightens his grip around it as he fucks you. he fucks you sloppy and fast. he’s lost in his own world of pleasure, not giving a fuck if it’s too much for you.

it’s not.

you love it.

he fucks you hard, rough, and fast.

as he reaches his climax, he pulls out and pushes you down. you follow and get on your knees.

yoongi cums on your face.

he lets out a shaky moan as he pumps himself. you stick your tongue out, waiting for the very last drop. just as you’re about to swallow—

“yoongi?”

yoongi’s head snaps towards the bottom of the staircase. his eyes widen at the sight of your brother. he’s rubbing his eyes.

“s-shit… hey. what are you doing up?” yoongi clears his voice, trying to play it cool. he shifts his body, hiding you. it’s a good thing the kitchen lighting is dim enough to help hide you and that he has a robe on.

“just came downstairs to turn up the heat,” then, he peers over. “are you baking?”

yoongi chuckles.

“___ is… she went to the washroom.”

your brother laughs. “did you guys get into a fight? she only bakes at this hour if she’s upset.”

yoongi laughs awkwardly.

“think we’re all made up now.”

finally, after what feels like an eternity, your brother laughs one final time before bidding yoongi goodnight and merry christmas. still, yoongi holds his breath for a second, waiting for the sound of footsteps retreating. then, when he’s sure he’s alone, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

“holy fuck. that was too close,” he mutters under his breath, turning just enough to give you a look. his eyes meet yours and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something—maybe a little amusement, maybe a little guilt.

yoongi’s hands hover for a moment before he helps you up, his fingers brushing over yours with a tenderness that surprises even him.

you stare at him, your eyes wide with amusement, and for a split second, it almost feels like time slows down.

he feels his chest tighten, his breath catching in his throat. his throat feels dry, like he’s trying to swallow down the guilt that’s suddenly creeping in.

then, out of nowhere, you burst into laughter.

the sound is bright, full of life, and it hits him harder than he expected. his stomach twists, and for a moment, it’s like his heart stops. his face stiffens, eyes narrowing slightly, the feeling of almost being caught hanging heavy between you.

arms crossing over his chest in a defensive motion, but there’s a subtle shift in his posture too—a little hunched, shoulders tight, like he’s trying to hide the nerves still buzzing under his skin. he presses his lips together.

“it’s not funny,” he says quietly. “i could've been kicked out. your family would have had very valid reasons to hate me.”

“relax,” you say, your voice soft, teasing, and then your lips are on his. "my brother is blind without his glasses."

the kiss is light, a quick peck that softens him, like a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. he freezes for just a second, feeling the warmth of your lips, the way you fit against him. you pull back, your eyes meeting his, and there’s a softness there that he wasn’t expecting—something that makes him feel like maybe he doesn’t have to carry the weight of this on his own.

"still..." yoongi murmurs.

“they love you… and i’m grown.”

but still, he’s not entirely convinced.

yoongi looks at you again, his expression softening, just the slightest hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes.

“never letting you convince me to fuck you in a shared space ever again,” he mutters, voice still rough but softer, the playful tone slipping back into place.

he doesn’t want to dwell on the mess.

he never does.

instead, he takes a step closer, letting his hand rest on the small of your back, pulling you closer as if to remind himself that no matter how much chaos there is, this—you—are his calm.

you're his one true love.

“it was easy, though,” you tease him. “you and your exhibition kink.”

he sighs. “i know, but—”

“they love you. i love you.”

yoongi’s gaze softens.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you say, as he kisses the top of your head. you look up at him and smile. “merry christmas, baby. let’s get to bed. i brought a santa hat for you to wear cos i want you to cum in my chimney.”

#bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi boyfriend #bts boyfriend au #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi x yn

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jackiepackiee · 10 months ago

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I have a request! Can we have atsushi, dazai, ranpo, chuuya (+yasano, if desired you can cut out some characters) with a fem!ballerina s/o

ex: does big roles, (giselle, black swan, clara) and their opinions about her profession. ty!

𝐵𝒮𝒟 𝓍 𝐵𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒶! 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲/ 𝒜𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾, 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾, 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓅𝑜, 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒴𝑜𝓈𝒶𝓃𝑜

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - 𝒩𝒶𝓊𝓇

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

Atsushi Nakajima

Whipped

You’re dating for a bit, and he’s seen your practice

But when you invite him to the stage door for a quick good luck kiss before his first show, he’s in AWE

Your costume?! He almost dies

You’re perfect!

(His fav is Sleeping beauty when you’re Aurora)

So when he finally sees you on stage, music and lights and dance

He almost passes out

If it wasn’t for the fact he had to watch you, he would’ve gotten some air

He’s just so in love

He loves to come to rehearsal

So well behaved, completely silent

Just watching you the entire time, in amazement

He doesn’t have money to offer for costumes or lessons, but he will be the biggest supporter in your life

He is however confused by everything

He isn’t very artisticlly intellectual…

And when you first break in your shoes, he screams

He thought you were wasting money and destroying them… if only he knew

He’ll give you massaged each night after shows, especially if you also had a matinee

Dazai Osamu

He is no longer as serious, but he will become the most reserved and mature gentleman you know when he sees your shows

People will think he’s a regular at these events, and everything will look at him with awe

And his attention will only be on you

Obviously he’s going to look at the other performers, but his eyes are glued on you

Secretly bored when you’re not on stage

He’ll see you, but after that he is childish again

Picking you up into his arms, probably coughing from the smell of hairspray in your hair

“Gosh, I can’t breathe! Your hair is perfect, but this is too much.”

And if the ADA happens to be there too? Don’t be surprised

He is always talking about you when work is boring

Atsushi thinks it’s the coolest, and is looking at your like you’re a goddess

(He’s like your son, and he looks up to you. Dazai loves that)

Back to ballet, he will kiss your cheek

But nothing else, he hates to ruin your makeup

And when you come home after?

He holds you all night after a show

He’s a master at anatomy and will massage you your body in every place needed

Before show texts “break a leg, but not actually! Cant wait!”

Overall? A fan, but more of a lover

Ranpo Edogawa

Most people think Ranpo has no attention span, and they’re mostly right…

But! He is fully able to focus on your performance

Loves your darker roles

But that’s mostly because he thinks that darker characters have more depth

This man is a thinker, and while he loves your dancing he prefers the story

And adores the way you are able to tell a story or send a message by your body movement

He loves more feminine roles too, but he appreciates your beauty more than he can focus

That’s the only reason he can stand the shows

Because he can obviously tell the entire story before the first dance sequence is over

You shine on that stage, and he’s infatuated

His eyes are OPEN

After your show, he’ll smile like a little kid

That maturity he had at the show? Gone, he’s himself again

Loves the shows about mysteries

This guy will ask Poe to write a show, and have him hire a choreographer to make a new shoe just for you to star in and for him to enjoy the story

His childish behavior is love, and intense affection because he’s so happy with how well you did

He praises you, so take it

He doesn’t do that for anyone else

Chuuya Nakahara

Classier than ever

Goes to each show with a box seat, sitting alone or with Koyo

Everyone thinks “oh, that guy is so mysterious”

Thinks you’re literally a light in his life

A bright beauty in his dark world

And when you walk onto that stage, he is focused on you like a hawk

Not scary, but such attention to detail that his stare is unbreaking

Not looking at a single other performer, unlessss they are your friend and you tell him about them when you’re rambling about your rehearsals

He’ll give them a glance, but only because he wants to be ready for every single topic of conversation you may wish to have

And when you’re done? He tells you to come out to see him in your costume, even if your director doesn’t allow that

He’s Chuuya Nakahara, he gets what he wants from anyone

He wants to give you a kiss when you look like a doll, dressed up perfectly

He hugs you, and tells you every time

“You were incredible. Go get more comfortable darling, I’ll wait outside the backstage. We will talk in the car. Maybe a little treat is waiting?”

The treat is always exactly what you want

Necklaces? Dress? Tickets to something? It’s there, at the moment you would love it most

Always helps you wash your hair when you get home

Running warm water in his fancy shower, hands making quick work on your hair and all the products that held it together

Will buy one of those high tech foot massagers for when you’re done

He hates how you’re in pain

And will do anything to make you feel better

Because you’re perfect, and he loves you

Yosano Akiko

Brags to each and EVERY member of the agency

Makes all of them attended at least one show

(Her favorite is black swan, you’re just sexy in that one 🤷🏻‍♀️)

If you could see her from on stage while you’re preforming (obviously you can’t) you’d see her paying more attention to you than she has to anything in her entire life

You’re the dainty and sweet girlfriend, and she’s your badass man-killer woman

She is incredible at anatomy, and gives you the best tips on warming up

Best ways to strengthen and grow your muscles without getting larger

Ugh, she’ll put her hands on your waist while teaching you how to twist and turn to stretch a certain way

You know how she loves shopping?

She will make at least one date a month a shopping date

Making sure to buy the most high tech and recommend leotards for practice

New shoes that need breaking in?

She owns at least 14 hammers

Nails? Gone. Foot board? Snapped into shape.

Thinks you’re PERFECT but is the best shot talker of the others?

The girl who thinks she deserved the lead, but didn’t get it so she hates on you?

Yeah, a glass of wine and Akiko will tear that girl to shreds with insults

But she’s supportive!!

Pretty girlfriend x sexy girlfriend life

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severus-snaps · 8 months ago

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can you imagine if severus had lived and went on teaching at hogwarts? everyone would think he was the COOLEST TEACHER EVER.

helped save the wizarding world by defying voldemort. dark and mysterious past so any number of rumours could arise. known tendency to do good deeds and not tell anyone, providing scope for the evillest rumours to have some 'greater/secretly good' twist aspect. supposedly brutal death, survived. got the scars to prove it broody, distant personality and will never discuss anything but the work with students, no matter how much they ask.

this is fertile ground for school rumours, the most fertile you've ever seen. when i was in school there was a physics teacher who (rumour had it) used to be a guard at a diamond mine in south africa, and he supposedly had a bullet wound scar - and ignoring the ethics of that for a moment - the girls adored him and thought he was the hottest teacher ever, the guys thought he was so cool, and not a one of us gave a shit about physics

the snape rumours change every day. there's five variations on each one. there's snape lore in the school that you have to brush up on as a first-year. the kids are DESPERATE to get a scathing snape burn in class. when he's cruel and demeaning, the kids' faces LIGHT UP and he's furious that that doesn't work any more so most of the time he gives the class the silent treatment

harry's shouted out everywhere that Sev did it all for Lily, and so the girls and single mums (and some not single mums) think he's the god of romance. suddenly sev finds himself the new Lockhart, and he LOATHES IT

he receives firewhiskey and care packages from thankful parents for the first few years, so much that he has to start re-gifting them in the staffroom, and he even gains a little bit of weight from all the chocolate cauldrons. he stops attending breakfast for the first few weeks, because all the owls with letters of thanks were disruptive

he asks one time in class if anyone had any questions about the cure for boils and EVERY hand goes up. he pauses, surveying the class. "are there any questions about the potion" he says, and every hand goes down - but one.

"did you ever use this potion defeat Voldemort"

he considers resigning in that moment, but at least hogwarts keeps him away from his #1 enemy - media attention. kids are easier to keep in line than journalists. unfortunately the other teachers think all of this is hilarious, and give him a daily run-down of their favourites in the staffroom

eventually Sev starts putting out his own far-fetched rumours via staged, easily overheard conversations near students with minerva - just to be a little shit about it. [edit to add: @redabeline wrote a fic!!]

#severus snape #pro snape #snape #professor snape #snape headcanon #snape fandom

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mariswxt · 8 months ago

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that’s my man (and my woman)

Summary: Your kids are curious little buggers. Asking questions about everything and anything under the sun. So there comes the complications of when your kids ask you if you’ve fallen in love before. How will you explain everything? Time to put your imagination to use.

A/N - I’ve been putting out a lot of sexy fics recently. Why not some fluff?

Song Inspo: Style - Taylor Swift and Perfect - Ed Sheeran

It took so long just to get two human beings to eat breakfast.

“Charlie, Sam, breakfast!” You called up the stairs, sighing after you did. Your hands were on your hips in true mom fashion, and disbelief and faux-regret was your adrenaline high this time as you wondered why exactly you had kids. That you loved to death despite their poor eating schedule. “Come on, I made pancakes.”

The thundering of little feet on the stairs told you that you had two incoming hurricanes.

Your seven year old boy, Sam, and your five year old girl, Charlie, appeared at the bottom of the stairs with broad smiles, crashing into you for a bear hug that knocked the wind out of your sails. You laughed as you hugged them back, giving a few pats of their head each. “Hey, there. Ready for breakfast?”

“Is there syrup?” Charlie asked eagerly, running and hopping into a high chair, grabbing her plate of pancakes and bringing it to her with a familiar lick of her lips and happy, twitchy grin. Sam had gotten his father’s hair, while Charlie had gotten yours. But the eyes were swapped around, and it was always a point of laughing. Not one child could be more like one or the other.

Arguably, both kids had their father’s dimples and smile. So yes, he could stake his claim.

“And whipped cream?” Sam added with a toothy grin.

“Raspberries?”

“Blueberries?”

You shook your head with a chuckle; such chatterboxes. You opened the fridge and a cabinet, getting out the maple syrup, whipped cream and strawberries. “Not too much, ok?” You passed the toppings to them, and with a chorused ‘yes, mom’, they proceeded to completely disregard your orders. It made you shake your head again, huffing out a breath when all sense of scolding them disappeared once you saw the golden morning light hitting their little heads as they squealed and laughed.

Kids. You loved them to bits.

“Mom,” Charlie asked through a bite of pancake and whipped cream that smeared over her mouth, “have you ever loved someone before?”

The question startled you slightly, but you grabbed a kitchen towel, cleaning her lips with a soft smile as she shied away with a shriek of delight, little bunches waving about wildly. “Course I have, sweetie. But only once.”

“Ooh, tell me, tell me!” She giggled, while Sam cringed a little, muttering a small ‘gross’ that got a sharp glare and pout from Charlie. Out of care for his little sister, he shut himself up.

You took a slow breath in to give yourself time to think, leaning on the counter and putting down the paper towel. “Well, it started a long time ago. When I was twenty six, all young.”

“That’s old.” Sam wrinkled his nose in confusion. You scoffed lightly, because it damn wasn’t, but he was just a kid.

“Behave, Samuel.” You ruffled his hair with a laugh. “We met at my old job. 4th October, 2006. He had his brother with him. Now, I thought he was trouble. He had a leather jacket and one of those really fancy, loud cars and he was very popular with girls.” You reached out to tickle Charlie’s side, which had her squeaking. “But he was likeable, and charming, so I wanted to bump into him more often.”

“Was he cool?” Sam perked up, suddenly very interested. “He sounds cool.”

You pinched his chin affectionately. “The coolest. But our job was very tiring. We went through a lot of big stuff, like I told you in your bedtime stories. There would be vampires and werewolves and fairies of all kinds, but he and I would always save the day. And if we didn’t, we’d save the next day.”

“You saved the world!” Charlie exclaimed, making an aeroplane with a pancake bite on her fork. The action sent a flutter of warmth and love through your chest. For your family. Something you thought you’d never have.

You nodded, guiding the bite to her mouth gently before your hyperactive child sent the fork flying. “That’s right, gumdrop. We saved the world.” It was like telling a story, of you and your prince. “I couldn’t help but love him. He’d call me sweetheart and hold me tight. He’d look at me with a wide smile on his face, just for me. And he told me I was the one he was looking for.”

“That’s corny.” Sam piped up, but he also had a wide, goofy, dimpled grin on his face. He leaned forward. “So, where is he now? Did you two leave each other?”

“Well, he-” The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the house, followed by soft padding steps and heavier ones not so far behind.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” A familiar voice called, the deep one which always had your stomach doing flips. That you heard murmuring sweet nothings in your ear every damn day. “C’mon Miracle, stay still- attaboy. Such a good boy.”

“That would be your father.” You sighed, not in a disappointed way, but a lovesick teenager way because hearing the word ‘sweetheart’ from your husband’s mouth never got old.

Your husband. Damn, you didn’t think you’d make it to that point. Not when Chuck was still a threat. Or even that rebar that Jack saved him from.

Your kids shrieked happily and practically flew off their high chairs, sprinting towards their dad, who was busy taking off his jacket in the hallway.

Dean Winchester. All 6’ 1” of flannel and denim, but this time with burden-free smiles and lit up looks.

When he saw his two munchkins, the jacket was off in a flash and he’d bent to one knee in order to absorb the impact of two koala hugs. “Aw, hey, squirt number one and two. Hope you didn’t give your mom much trouble.”

It felt so much better than the impact of a punch. Indescribably better.

“Dad!” The two giggled at the same time, accepting two kisses on the forehead each while being smothered by their dad’s strong arms. Warm and comforting and no longer instruments of destruction.

They’d always be somewhat like that, Dean thought in the back of his mind. The seed of doubt sowing in again.

Then Dean saw you in the hallway, and his brain forgot to work, doubts forgot to sow and crept into the dark corner it came from. You, his wife (he never got tired of the way that word rolled off his tongue), Mrs Winchester, standing there all pretty looking at him with those eyes of yours that always saw through his crap and often jackassery.

Dressed up in his undershirt, your sweats with the last few winks of sleep yet to go from your eyes, but still working yourself to the bone to make sure your kids had a good meal. A far cry of the days where he’d look up, see you covered in blood that wasn’t yours, adrenaline-pumped with that sexy fire in your eyes, machete in hand instead of that ring he bought around your finger.

He preferred this look on you. It meant you were safe.

Dean watched as you gave Miracle an idle scratch before ushering the kids into the kitchen, then walking up to him and wrapping those gorgeous arms around his neck, gorgeous eyes twinkling and your gorgeous lips stretched into a smile.

The whole nine yards, apple pie and picket fence of gorgeous and it was all his. All his personal heaven.

“Mrs Winchester.” He murmured, nudging your nose with his as his arms circled your waist, drawing you in and gripping your hips with both underlying possessiveness and a tender glow in those emerald eyes. Your soul soaring and low, warm vibrations in your body increasing until it was at the frequency of his. Syncing you both.

“Mr Winchester.” You giggled softly as you let your lips meet his once, pulling back. Then you couldn’t help yourself, letting them meet in holy matrimony again. And again. And again, over and over until you were both mentally and physically restraining yourselves due to your children being in the next room.

“We have to stop.” Dean chuckled, his hand tangling in your hair as the other inched down from its place on your hip, taking yet another hit of your honeyed lips.

“We do.” You whispered back, meeting his ministrations with the slow massage of your thumb against his scalp from where your fingers ran through his hair, your other hand on his chest.

Over his heart.

“Hard to when y’looking so pretty, darlin’, and you know it.” He huffed, nuzzling your nose before dipping to press a slow, hot kiss to your jugular. “Wearin’ my shirt too, hardens the bargain. And these sweats, god, you know what they do for your ass.” As if to punctuate his point (and sentence), he gave a quick, firm slap to it. “Ain’t makin’ it easy for me here, baby.”

“Dean!” You squeaked, giggling. “Our kids are in the kitchen.”

“Lil’ buggers. My sex drive’s arch nemesis.” He groaned against your neck, but listened anyway, taking his hand off your ass and cupping your cheeks, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, then hairline. “C’mon.” You two made your way to the kitchen, where Miracle then padded over, rearing on his hind legs to paw at Dean’s jeans for attention. He obliged, bending down to ruffle Miracle’s golden coat.

“Hey, boy.” He whispered, fingers doing good work to give Miracle the love he was whining for. “I love you a lot, ok? But I’ve got a wife, a very sweet, very sexy…” Dean gave you a once over with a lick of his lip and a quick bite of the bottom one, “wife. And I wanna get her in bed today, so don’t ruin this one for me. All respect given. Alright?”

A small whimper of affirmation.

“Attaboy.” Dean gave Miracle a quick scratch behind the ear before straightening up.

“C’mon, mom, tell us what happened to the cool guy!” Sam insisted, which had Dean raising an eyebrow at you in question. Cool guy? Who, what, when, where, how, why?

“Yeah, the one that stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes!” Charlie added, making a heart with her tiny hands.

Dean smirked, leaning against the counter by his hip. “Oh? Who stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes, honey? Do tell.”

“First of all, I did not say that.” You chuckled, raising a finger.

“You don’t have to. It’s all here.” Charlie pointed to her own eyes with an intense stare at her finger and a cute pout. It almost had you melting. “But tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You rolled your eyes playfully with a laugh, then took Dean’s hand and kissed the battle-scarred knuckle.

The gesture making Dean internally melt and externally making his eyes fill up with hearts and his lips twitch into a warm smile.

“I married him.” You said softly, your eyes mirroring the same look.

“Damn right.” He chuckled, leaning forward and meeting your lips in a sweet, slow kiss. Free from the stress of an Apocalypse or a battle. That tasted like coffee and toothpaste rather than beer or whiskey and had no rush. His hand cradling your cheek while yours gently cupped the back of his head. Breathing in his body wash that wasn’t low grade anymore. You still had the unlimited credit cards, so you had more time for things like these. The little things.

You became absorbed in everything Dean, the kiss not as passionate as when he’d dipped you and took your breath away in front of a crowd of hunters on your wedding day but still had the same meaning. The whispers of the vows you two had choked out through tears. He became absorbed in you, in the sweet taste of a croissant on your tongue and your floral scent dizzying and overwhelming his senses in a good way. It was you he was feeling. It felt like you, so real, so safe. It felt like home.

“Ewwww!” You were interrupted by Sam and Charlie, and you broke apart, foreheads pressing together with a soft laugh coming from the both of you.

His hand on your waist, yours carding through his hair. Comfort, assurance, something you both had been deprived of for fifteen straight years. You wouldn’t let being Mrs Winchester go. Not now, not ever.

Mrs Winchester. Never got old.

I’d appreciate a like, comment and/or reblog! Make sure to do this for all your favourite writers so they get inspiration!

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

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@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

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@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester x you #spn masterlist #dean x you #dean winchester fluff

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runninriot · 2 months ago

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Santa's Secret

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 23

prompt: hot chocolate | rated G | wc: 998 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve Harrington

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+bonus epilogue)

Eddie can’t wait to get out of the suit that’s been suffocating him for the past three hours. He’s still sweaty and his hair is a mess after wearing the wig and fake beard combo for so long but he feels better once he’s changed back into his regular clothes.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Eddie stops for a moment. He looked so different dressed as Santa, could’ve been fooled by his own reflection wearing that costume. There’s no way Steve actually realised it’s him. Maybe what Eddie thought he saw in Steve’s eyes wasn’t recognition, but confusion.

They haven’t seen each other in years and apart from that, it’s not like they’ve ever been… close. Sure, Steve probably knew of him – they’ve both been somewhat popular in high school, although for very different reasons. But still. It was silly of Eddie to think the smile he gave him was one of familiarity. More realistically, it was just a silent thanks for how he handled the little girl’s nervousness, brought a smile to her face by playing into her childlike wonder.

And that’s okay.

In the end, Eddie did have a great time pretending to be Santa for a while. He’ll never tell Wayne, though, unless he wants to hear his old man tell him ‘I told you so‘.

With his shift done, Eddie strolls around the still brimming main hall of the community centre, looking at a stand with wooden figurines where a beautifully carved dragon caught his eyes.

He’s so fascinated by it, that he doesn’t notice the person coming up to him, until a hand taps his shoulder lightly.

When he spins around, he finds Steve standing next to him.

“So, what brings you back to this shithole?“ he asks through a laugh, casual, like it’s normal for the former King and King of Freaks to have a conversation.

“I, uh,“ Eddie stammers, staring at Steve a little star struck and maybe a little more in love because there’s that smile again and it’s blinding like the fucking sun and this time, he doesn’t have the Santa suit to blame for the fucking heat spreading in his face.

God, grow up Munson. You’re an adult. Behave like one.

“I’m visiting my uncle.“

“How is Wayne? I was a bit worried when I realised that-“ Steve leans closer to whisper in his ear and Eddie’s heart stops for a moment. “-Santa sent someone else to cover for him.“

There are a million thoughts running through Eddie’s mind – since when are Steve and Wayne on first name basis? So Steve did recognise him? And why’s it so fucking hot in here?

“You were great, by the way. I’d have lost it at some of the parents. They can be worse than their spoiled little brats sometimes.“

Eddie chuckles nervously, shrugs his shoulders and waves a hand at Steve who moves back slowly but stays close, so close Eddie catches a hint of his cologne, mingling with the Christmassy smell of oranges, and cinnamon, and apple tea, and it makes him dizzy but not in a bad way.

“Robbie wouldn’t shut up about Santa,“ Steve winks at him, “said he’s the coolest, even cooler than the tooth fairy. And let me tell you, that’s a real compliment.“

They both laugh and it feels so light and freeing; Steve makes it seem so easy to fall into conversation with him.

“She’s a sweet kid and she loves you a lot, I can tell.“

Loves you so much she’s wasting her Christmas wish on your happiness, Eddie thinks fondly, biting his tongue not to accidentally spill their little secret.

“Yeah, well. She doesn’t have much choice. She’s stuck with me, since her mother decided to-“

“Dad!“ a voice calls from somewhere behind them and when they turn, they see Robbie running up at them.

“Speaking of the Devil,“ Steve sighs amused before opening his arms to catch her.

“Who’s your friend?“

“This is Eddie. We’ve been to school together. He’s grandpa Wayne’s nephew.“

Grandpa W-hat?

Eddie must be having a stroke. Or maybe something’s wrong with his hearing because… WHAT?

Steve must realise something when he notices Eddie’s confusion, because he suddenly blushes a deep shade of red and smiles awkwardly at him.

“S-sorry, I thought you knew that, uh-“ Steve takes a deep breath before he continues, “Your uncle has been helping me out a lot when I moved back to Hawkins a few months ago. You know, uh, setting up the house and watching Robbie when I had to go to interviews and couldn’t find a babysitter. He, uh, he’s been a real help. Robbie’s obsessed with him. Aren’t you, baby?“

“He’s awesome! And he makes the best hot chocolate in the world! With little marshmallows and sprinkles on top!“

Eddie feels like he’s been hit by a truck, feels betrayed by the man he’s been looking up to his whole life.

Wayne Munson, you son of a potato farmer, are living a secret life where Steve’s daughter calls you grandpa?

Oh, Eddie’s going to have a field day confronting him with that.

“Right?! The best hot chocolate ever! I always have mine with whipped cream on top,“ Eddie answers equally enthusiastic, doesn’t even have to pretend despite his inner turmoil because that little girl’s smile is infectious.

While listening to Robbie’s happy babbling, Eddie watches Steve from the corner of his eyes. He still looks a bit like a kid caught stealing cookies, but slowly relaxes, and that’s good, but-

Wayne definitely has some explaining to do. His uncle has always been a fucking saint, can’t not offer his help when he feels like someone’s in need of it. But it being Steve of all people, really messes with Eddie in a weird way he can’t really explain.

He needs to know more.

“How about we all go to Wayne’s together? I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you. What do you say?“

#eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington #single dad steve #steddie #steddie fic #steddie holiday drabbles

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augustinewrites · 2 years ago

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“i sent a text,” you mutter to yourself as you push and hold the door open with your foot. “and yet nobody came down to help me with the groceries.”

you push the door shut with your elbow, turning around to see why exactly no one had answered your text. the three of them are sat at the dining table. megumi’s staring at the table, tsumiki’s staring at a painting on the wall, and satoru's glaring at the pile of phones in front of him.

“what is going on?” you ask, setting your bags on the countertop.

“family meeting,” satoru answers, still glaring at the phones.

“really?” you ask, pulling out your chair to join them. “last time you called a family meeting, you wanted to discuss whether or not you could pull off an earring.”

“that was a short conversation,” megumi quips.

“hey, i’m still confident that you’re all wrong and i’d totally rock an earring,” he tells you. “but that’s not what this is about. this is about tsumiki.”

“oh,” you say, surprised by this turn of events. “i thought megumi got in trouble at school again.”

“he did.”

“i did.”

figures. you’d address that later.

“and that’s why i was at their school, where i saw tsumiki about to skip class with - get this - with her boyfriend, who none of us knew existed.”

you exhale a heavy breath. “oh…”

but your reaction must be too mild for your fiancé, who sends you a funny look. “‘oh?’ that’s a little light. she has a boyfriend that none of us knew about!”

an uncomfortable silence falls over the table. satoru looks at megumi, who looks at tsumiki, who looks at you.

you actively work to avoid his gaze, further incriminating yourself.

“wait…do you know something?”

“can i talk to you for a second?” you ask, nodding your head toward the kitchen. he follows you over, but not before telling the kids not to touch their phones.

“how are we handling this?” he asks, pacing back and forth with a deeply conflicted look on his face. you don’t think you’ve even seen him look this serious about something before. “‘cause i know i’m usually the fun parent and you usually bring the heat when it comes to punishments, but i’m already there, babe! she’s grounded. phone, gone! food, maybe! and she is forbidden from seeing this boy for– till– till she’s in college.”

“satoru–”

“i can’t believe she didn’t tell us she had a boyfriend,” he mutters, not finished yet. “who is this kid, anyway? her boyfriend?” you roll your eyes when he even gags on the word.

“okay, okay,” you laugh nervously, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. “do you promise that you’re not going to freak out if i tell you something?”

“no.”

“fair enough,” you agree. “uh…i met her boyfriend.” his eyes widen, but you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything. “hold on! she only told me a couple of days ago because they just started dating two weeks ago. she was going to tell you, i promise.”

“but she’s too young to have—”

“satoru, keeping apart kids that are in love never works out for the people keeping them apart.” you loop your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. “imagine if someone had told you that you couldn’t date me.”

“yeah, i know,” he grumbles. “i guess i’m just hurt that she didn’t tell me right away. we have a connection, you know. like you and megumi. last week when we went out for our weekly ice cream gossip session, she didn’t say a thing!”

“you guys have weekly gossip sessions?”

“uh, yeah. as if you and megumi don’t talk shit about us illiterates whenever you go to the bookstore.”

“i think we’re getting off track,” you deflect with a huff. “what are we going to do about the situation at hand?”

_____

at the sound of a knock on the door, tsumiki bursts out of her room. “i’ll get it!”

“be cool,” you tell satoru, who scoffs as he fixes his hair.

“i’m cool. the coolest. i’m like ice.”

“i’m serious,” you grit as tsumiki pulls the door open. “do not be weird right now.”

you smile as tsumiki introduces you both, taking the bouquet of flowers that her boyfriend offers you.

“dinner’s almost ready, so make yourself at home in the meantime,” you tell him, filling a vase with water.

“in the living room, preferably,” gojo adds stiffly. where tsumiki shoots him a look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “we’ll be in the kitchen, you’ll have plenty of privacy.”

“the kitchen and the living room are the same room,” she mutters.

“then you can pretend that we’re not even here,” he says, tone light. then, after a moment. “but remember that we will be here. the whole time.”

“okay, you need to take all of that and put it away,” you tell him sternly, handing him a stack of plates to put on the table. “welcome to the real world, babe. this is what raising teenagers is all about.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

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thewertsearch · 1 month ago

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Anonymous asked: just read through your entire liveblog and wow. what a place to catch up. do you have any predictions about what the postscratch versions of the guardians will be? what about the guardian versions of the kids?

So.

Mom Lalonde, Grandpa Harley, Nanna Egbert, and Bro Strider, reborn as the story's protagonists, and thrust into a Playerdom I never expected them to bear. The consequences of this reveal are likely to kick in on the very next page - and since that's a page I'm clicking on tonight, this is my last chance for some blind speculation.

There are an absolute mountain of angles I could potentially cover here, and it's impossible to address all the implications of this twist, so I'm just going to touch on a few key questions that Act 6 will need to answer sooner rather than later.

Without further ado, let's dive into our first question.

Who, exactly, is raising these kids?

The simplest solution, of course, would be a one-to-one exchange between each Player and their Guardian. That certainly seems to be the case for Jade and Grandpa, who have been directly swapped. This would imply that Rose raised Mom, Dave raised Bro, and John might have raised Nanna. (More on that later.)

Still, that's not the only possibility. There's no reason why Dave couldn't raise the adolescent Mom instead, for example, with Rose adopting the younger Bro in his stead. That particular configuration has a lot of character potential, actually, because Bro Lalonde would undoubtedly be an unholy terror, and Mom Strider might just be one of the coolest characters I've ever conceived of.

This aesthetic, with those shades? Come on.

...all that said, though, I'm fairly sure we are just getting a one-to-one swap. That's how it appears to have worked for the trolls, and the one post-Scratch Player with a confirmed Guardian already matches this pattern.

Plus, swapping the kids with their own parents is just so interesting, on a character level, as it'd add a whole new dimension of analysis to the fucked-up relationships between Bro & Dave, Mom & Rose, and Grandpa & Jade.

Seeing how they all treat each other, now that the roles have been reversed, would be incredibly illuminating, and might shed some light on the thought processes of the pre-Scratched Guardians, as they were raising their own respective charges.

Anyway - now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about each individual family.

The Egberts

Astute readers will notice that I only mentioned the Guardian-Player parallels for three of our Players above - and that's because when it comes to the fourth, there's a slight complication.

Namely, Dad Egbert no longer exists.

This means that Nanna's home life can't parallel John's, because the man who raised John was never even born. It's possible, then, that John will simply raise Nanna himself, as her grandfather.

Honestly, that's the scenario I'm hoping for, here. Out of our four original Players, I think that John would be the best parent by far - he's sweet, resilient, and has a natural talent for nurturing the positive qualities of the people he loves. If a baby lands in his backyard, he's going to rise to the challenge, octogenarianism be damned.

...now, here's where I'd speculate a little about Nanna's personality, but she's the one post-Scratch Player I can't really get a bead on. We only ever interacted with her Spritesona, whose personality was obviously corrupted by the presence of the jester doll.

As a result, I don't really have a clue what Nanna will be like. The only thing I'm sure about, if John's the one raising her, is that she'll be loved.

The Striders

First of all, I have faith in Dave.

I think he's more or less guaranteed to be a better Guardian than his brother ever was. Granted, I don't think Dave would be particularly paternal, but I also think he'll be able to refrain from beating Bro's ass with a puppet, which is progress.

I think Dave would be a laissez-faire type of guardian, who allows the younger Bro a lot more agency and autonomy than other kids his age, but also struggles to be the adult in the room when his kid needs guidance. He's not going to be as traumatized as his younger self, but I bet it's still borderline impossible to have a serious conversation with him. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Kid Bro turned out to be the more mature of the pair.

In a nutshell, Dave was born to be a cool uncle, but was forced unwittingly into a parental role instead. He's doing his best.

Quite frankly, I'm very worried about Kid Bro.

If we assume that every Paradox Clone keeps the same Veil item as last time - and there's no reason why they wouldn't - then Bro will be coming down with Lil' Cal, the cursed puppet created by Gamzee's Chucklevoodoos.

I'm still convinced that long-term exposure to this abomination was the main reason Bro was so batshit insane, and while the younger Bro won't have been around it for quite as long, he'll still have thirteen years of an evil Juggalo's Rage miasma being beamed into his brain.

I think Kid Bro will be a little batshit, but not completely batshit. We'll see a child with the potential to become the deranged ventriloquist who tormented Dave, but one who can still be saved, if we can just get that hell puppet away from him.

Separated from Cal, I still think Bro will be a memelord, and I'm sure not all his interests came from the puppet. I think this guy was always destined to be a pretty bizarre dude - but with luck, this iteration of him will be a little more pleasant to be around.

The Lalondes

Rose... could go either way, honestly.

Just like Dave, I don't think she's the type who'd willingly choose to be a parent. Rose doesn't want a baby, she wants a library full of cursed tomes, a coven of witches to scheme with, and to live in an enormous gothic castle with her wife, Kanaya Maryam. Her ideal lifestyle couldn't handle a kid, and I think she's self-aware enough to know that, and adopt a hundred mutant kittens instead.

That said... if she had to raise a daughter, I think she'd try her best to do right by the girl. I think some part of her would absolutely resent the fact that she's a background character in someone else's life - especially if, like the Sufferer, she remembers being a Player - but she'd do everything she could to keep that resentment to herself.

Rose would be an alright mother. A little cold, maybe, and more than a little distant, but she'd still love her Roxy.

As for Roxy, I can only assume she's a gigantic fucking badass. Even among the Guardians, her barehanded combat feats were always astounding, and I think she and Kid Bro will be the primary combatants of their session.

I also think she'll be one of the most analytical, scientifically-minded Players we've ever seen. Her adult self was experimenting with Ectobiology even outside of Sburb, which suggests to me an intense curiosity about how all this shit works, which isn't present in most of our other heroes. Like Rose, she'll be a researcher, and maybe even a Seer - but while Rose searched for the truth via magic and mysticism, Roxy's research will be entirely scientific.

Honestly, the most exciting thing about finally meeting Roxy is the milestone it'll represent. I'll finally, finally have encountered every character I knew about prior to starting the comic.

The Harleys

Grandma Jade was still the Witch of Space, and was clearly aware of that fact.

This tells us that:

John, Rose and Dave also retained their Titles, even if they don't know it.

Grandma Jade was probably aware of Sburb and its secrets, especially if she was living near the Frog Temple.

Grandma Jade was the Witch of Space. She's gone.

...and I have a theory about what happened to her.

I think that when Grandpa was a baby, Jade travelled to Anachronism Island, just like her predecessor did - but this time around, it wasn't Bec who greeted her at the Temple.

No, I think Jade had a fatal encounter with the new First Guardian of Earth - a corrupted First Guardian, spliced with the same HONK code that created Scratch. Kid Grandpa clearly survived whatever happened next, and I think it's horribly plausible that the new First Guardian is a pseudo-Guardian to him, the same way Becquerel was to Jade.

In other words, this kid might be completely compromised, manipulated by English's servant since infancy. Let's not forget that he's the one who suggested making the bunny to Jade, which is the reason Jack was able to ascend in the first place...

...but someone suggested it to him, first.

Anyway, those are my high-level thoughts about the new timeline's key players. We'll be starting Act 6 in an hour or so, and I've got a feeling that we're about to see Nanna standing in a very familiar room.

After all, it just so happens that today...

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #asks #theories

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ckret2 · 5 months ago

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@marsupials-of-mars submitted:

I was planning to do maybe a fic and more doodles of this but now I'm busy with school so I might as well show what I did do!

Based on how the goldilocks fic seems to posit that Bill at his best is a silly professor who loves to teach his own way

Introducing Professor Locke!

Things about this idea:

-post redemption, however that will go. I'm calling it an AU because I imagine it is not your plan for what happens after lol, but currently canon-compliant.

-Bill is at first not very on board with the idea of working in the higher education system. It's a scam and it's dumb that they tell adult people how to think.

-He's eventually convinced to bless Backupsmore with his tutelage, on the grounds that they're less stuck up there, they seem to care about giving their students opportunities despite their backgrounds, and the kids there care about learning rather than going to college just because their parents said they should.

-Ford uses his academic connections to vouch for Bill even though he is very mysterious and has no academic records. This is another reason why they picked Backupsmore: i's a little more lax when presented with a shockingly smart mystery professor. Bill gets an interview and charms the pants off the university president.

-He teaches "astrophysics" in theory (that's the job description) but he ends up teaching a little bit of everything.

-He's one of those professors you either adore or despise. He's very loud, often outright mean, and if you're too shy to speak up in class he does not give a SHIT about you. You gotta want it!

-However, his class is notoriously easy. He thinks homework and tests are facist, but he's required to have a curriculum, so his "quizzes" are like a few true or false questions and then a short answer where he asks something he thinks would be funny or wants to hear about, like "what's the dumbest thing another student has said in class since the last test and why was it dumb" or "fashion advice: what's the coolest thing I wore this last week? Extra credit: draw something cooler I SHOULD wear."

-as a result, students who have completely unrelated majors will take his class. If they end up being interested, he deems them worthy. If they're just there to be lazy, he will bully them into dropping out.

-Mabel buys him stickers to put on people's tests when they pass, or to just hand out when they something he likes. He gets along most with the college kids who know how to appreciate a classic gold star.

-He really wanted a big pretty lecture hall, where his voice would echo and he could point at a big chalkboard. But all Backupsmore could provide was a cinderblock and linoleum basement classroom. The lights buzz very loudly and it smells musty. They have stools and folding tables. Bill finds he enjoys the more intimate environment where he can walk between the tables and also sneak up on people.

-He's broken multiple folding tables by trying to do the cool professor thing where you hop up onto your desk and cross your legs and talk all casual. He is able to do this on his own desk thankfully. It's aluminum.

-Ford gets a bit nervous if he did the right thing when bill tells his school stories at the dinner table, so he finds an excuse to accompany Bill to a campus event where he can meet some of his students.

-His fears are quickly assuaged when he sees how beloved Bill is and how well he gets along with the kids. When he eventually joins in on one of these conversations, one of the students asks if he's Sixer. The students are excited by this. Bill tries to shut them up, to partial success.

OK I guess I just ended up writing the fic more or less so enjoy I guess lol.

Aww, this is adorable! Thank you! (And the fact that you're imagining a future for Bill makes me so happy.) He's absolutely be the weirdest professor in the school and he'd ADORE having a crowd full of trusting impressional minds whose parents are paying him to change the way they think. Talk about playing to his strengths.

Your idea is so wholesome, meanwhile the moment I saw "Professor Bill" I went,

#submission #marsupials of mars #fanart #bill goldilocks cipher #my art #(i call his aesthetic Dork Academia)

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asapjens · 11 months ago

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FANGIRLING

PJO: perseus jackson x fangirl!reader

CATEGORY: flufff & kinda cringey

SYNOPSIS: percy and his girlfriend being fangirls

WARNINGS: mentions of taylor swift, twilight, one direction , fangirling, fandoms, annabeth and grover. soooo i pretty much wrote a percy jackson x me one shot.

WORD COUNT: 297

You, yes YOU, are dating the heartthrob Percy Jackson. And guess what? You're a total fangirl for all type of things girly. Like, you're the ultimate Swiftie, 1D superfan, rom-com enthusiast, and Twilight saga devotee. And you're not shy about it – you talk about it all. the. time.

At first, Percy was like, "Whoa, my girlfriend is like, really into this stuff." But you know what? He thinks it's the cutest thing ever.

Seeing you light up and gush about your fandoms? It's like watching a kid in a candy store. Percy can’t help but be charmed by your excitement, and honestly, who wouldn’t be?

So, here's the thing.

Percy starts getting into all the things you love. At first, it's just to bond with you, but soon enough, he's singing along to Taylor Swift songs, discussing Team Edward vs. Team Jacob (he's totally Team Edward, by the way), and obsessing over One Direction's reunion rumors. And get this – he starts gossiping about it with his demigod pals.

One day, Percy’s chatting with Annabeth, and Grover, and he's all like, "Guys, did you hear about Taylor's latest album announcement? I totally can’t wait!"

And they're like, "Dude, you sound just like y/n." And Percy’s all, "Heck yeah, I do. Isn’t she the coolest?" His friends are low-key shook, but you know what? Percy couldn’t care less. He's head over heels for you and your hyper fixations.

And the best part? You and Percy are now the ultimate power couple. You chat, laugh, and fangirl/fanboy together, and honestly, it’s the kind of relationship goals that make even Aphrodite jealous. You and Percy – the hero and the fangirl – taking on the world.

So yeah, that's how Percy became the ultimate fangirl boyfriend. Who knew demigods could be so into mainstream stuff, right? But hey, love knows no bounds, not even when it comes to fangirling.

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mountainsandmayhem · 11 months ago

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Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

Part Three (Spicy Version)

DBF!Joel x Female!Reader - 18+

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (Soft Version)

Summary: Joel Miller caught you working where you shouldn't be after you promised to quit. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. Word Count 5.7k

CW: DBF!, Dom!, SoftDom!, use of nicknames (baby, sweet pea, baby girl etc.), Sub/Dom, DD/LG, use of toys and a riding crop. no use of y/n. no description of reader except for piercings. Praise, degradation. After care.

AN: THANK YOU for all your love on parts 1 and 2. This is the spicy version of the third part. I'd love to hear which part you liked best!

“Hey, buddy. It’s Joel.”

“Joel?” You can hear your dad’s muffled and panicked voice through the receiver. “Where’s my daughter? Why do you have her phone? It’s 5 am!”

“Remember that time Sarah ran away to your house and you told me that one day I might be doing the same for you?”

Your dad is silent for a while, a distorted higher pitched voice filters through before you hear your dad again, “It’s alright honey. She’s with Joel.” He lets out a deep sigh before adding, “I thought we skipped the rebellious phase with her.”

“She’s a good girl. I think she just needs some time to cool off.” Joel says, his voice is friendly and light.

You squeeze your thighs together and nuzzle deeper into Joel’s throat. You know what you need, and it isn’t to cool off. He and your dad have been friends since the day he moved in down the street. You were seven and Sarah was eleven, you thought she was the coolest person on the planet. Wonder what she’d think of you now, cuddled up against her dad after he just edged the fuck out of you after spanking you in an alleyway. You’re lost in your thoughts as Joel talks with your parents for a while.

A sane person would stop being so turned on right now. Fuck, I need Joel. So badly. Maybe I should rile him up some more.

“I’ll come by this afternoon,” Joel hugs you tighter, bringing you back to the conversation. “Ya, if she wants to, I’ll bring her. She’s ok, just never seen her more - frustrated.”

You squeeze his side, knowing he’s smirking about how frustrated and needy you truly are right now. He hangs up the phone and brings his lips to yours, kissing you harder this time. You moan into his mouth, hands roaming up his body to tangle in his hair.

Holy shit, Joel Miller is kissing me.

As you run your nails along his scalp he lets out a pleasurable sounding gasp and a small shiver racks his body. Oh, he likes that, he likes that very much.

Got ya, you think to yourself.

He pulls away to see you smiling at him. “This is why I usually tie naughty girls down,” his voice is completely different from how it was just moments ago; deeper and more commanding. It reverberates through you - right to your pussy. “Because they think they’ve found spots that will get them what they want. Let’s go home now, darlin’.”

The front door hasn’t even closed before Joel is hoisting you over his shoulder roughly, kicking the door closed as you squeal, his calloused hands gripping the back of your thighs as your stomach rests across his broad shoulder.

Fuck his ass looks good from this angle.

“You know I’m not done punishing you yet, right?” He growls, toeing off his boots and taking you to the basement.

When Sarah was old enough, she’d occasionally babysit you. You remember there being a locked room in the basement, she said she didn’t know what was in there, but you were obsessed with finding out. You asked Joel mercilessly what he was hiding back there and he never responded in more than a grunt or a sarcastic comment like “that’s where I lock up kids who don’t shut up.”

Joel grabs a key off the holder at the bottom of the stairs and heads straight for that mysterious locked door. The key scrapes against the door knob, you crane your neck to see as he flicks on the light.

Holy. Fucking. Shitballs. Joel Miller has a sex room.

“Watch your mouth,” he grumbles as he drops you onto the large metal framed bed.

Did I say that out loud?

He stalks away from you towards a large black cabinet, rolling the sleeves of his button up flannel to his elbows. It’s almost concerning how much that simple action turns you on. Maybe you should go back to church, your mom would be so proud.

You’re intrigued to look around, curious as to what else is around you in this large room, but everything about Joel’s presence draws you in. Freezes you in time. You belong to him, or so he implied when he said he was your Dom now.

He slides the door of the large black cabinet open just enough to reach in. Your curiosity is bubbling to the surface and just as you’re about to ask he looks at you darkly.

“Did you come on the drive home?”

Every bump on the drive home had you twitching. You tried your hardest not to gasp and moan but the combination of the gravel road, your insane state of heightened arousal, and the lack of underwear in your stiff denim shorts were all working against you.

“No, Joel.” Your eyes dance around his hands, trying to see what he took out of the cabinet.

His jaw flexes, “It’s Mr Miller. Not Joel.” His chin juts towards the corner of the room across from him as he says, “go kneel in that corner. Face the wall and don’t move.”

You practically leap off the bed and scramble to the corner as Joel mumbles, “So fuckin’ eager,” under his breath.

On your way to the corner you see all sorts of ropes, chains, paddles and whips hanging from the walls. There's a large wooden x with cuffs leaning against another wall and beside the corner he’s told you to go to there’s a strange looking bench, almost like a gymnastics horse, that also has cuffs. You might be way in over your head here.

You kneel down in the corner, the carpet is soft and luxurious under your knees as you rest your bum down onto your heels.

“No, on your knees. Hands above your head on the wall.” Joel barks, making you jump and your pussy flutter. Joel opens and closes some more doors, you hear things being moved around and just as your hands start to go numb above you, you feel his heat at your back.

“I’m going to finish your punishment now little one,” he rasps. “Have you ever been a sub before?”

“N-no. Mr Miller. I’m sorry,” you voice trembles. Nervous and excited energy are battling inside you for first place.

“Don’t be sorry, babygirl. What do you say if you want me to stop?” His strong hands grip your hair, gathering it up in a low ponytail before tying a long ribbon around it.

“Umm..” you rack your brain. Before his sadistic little countdown he told you to say something if you wanted to stop.

“Cowboy,” you finally say, slightly uncertain until he hums a sultry ‘that’s right’ behind you, his hands grabbing the hem of your shirt before pulling it up and over your head.

The cool basement air hits your exposed skin and you find yourself arching your back towards Joel’s warm body. Your nipples turn to stiff peaks at the combination of the temperature shift and the anticipation of what’s coming next.

Your hands fall back to your sides as your shirt glides past your fingertips. Without missing a beat, Joel hits right below your shoulder blade gently with a riding crop. The sound of the soft black leather end against your skin is louder than the pain, but it still burns slightly as you gasp and your arms fly back up to the wall.

“Don’t be stupid, baby. The more you don’t listen, the more I will hurt you. And you are already here because you didn’t listen.” He trails the riding crop around the pink mark forming on your back. “Stand up, but keep your hands above you.”

You plant one white slip-on van on the carpet and drag the toe of the other as you stand, hands sliding up the red satin wallpaper that lines the room. The soft leather of the crop traces down the black strap of your lace bra, across the back band and then up the other strap.

“Use one hand and undo the clasp, sweet pea.” You drop your right hand and bring it behind your back. Popping the metal clasp open with a shaky thumb and forefinger. Before you can put your hand back, Joel grabs your wrist and places the crop in your fist before raising it back up above you. His rough fingers graze your back, goosebumps line your skin as your head falls forward and you hum out in pleasure.

His hands glide around to the front of your body and trail up, pushing under the cups of your bra to squeeze your tits. He stops dead as they land heavy in his palms.

“Holy fuck, drop the crop and take this bra off right now. Let me see them,” his voice is thick with arousal at what he’s found.

You do as he says, the crop hitting the soft carpet with a thud. You spin and let your bra fall from your arms. Showing him the golden barbells, and the thin golden hearts that surround each nipple.

Joel practically snarls as he dives in to kiss you, his tongue parting your lips and making room for him to devour you. “Are those healed?” He asks through the kiss.

“They’re sort of new,” you say into his mouth. “Six weeks ago.”

“Fuuuuck, you’re gonna kill me,” his hands hurry to the buttons on your shorts. He rips them down your legs, kneeling in front of you to slide off your shoes. His face is now level with your achy cunt. It’s been throbbing since he spanked you and now he’s so very close.

He stops to stare at it, then gently uses his thumbs to pull your soaked lips again. He clicks his tongue, “too bad you didn’t listen. She looks swollen and sooo wet,” his thumb barely grazes the wet flesh before he looks up at you as he sucks off the juices. “Mmm - and sweet. But bad girls don’t get rewards.” He lays a quick slap across your clit and you nearly collapse at the sensation.

The pain.

The heat.

The pleasure.

He smirks down at you as he stands. You crane your neck to look at him, gasping for breath as the pleasure ebbs between your legs.

“You like pain, don’t you?” He asks.

A sly closed lip smile crosses your face as you nod quietly. You do like pain, but you’ve never had someone as experienced as Joel before. He spanked you harder than you ever have been before, pushing and testing your limits. While you enjoyed it, and can’t fucking wait to do it again, you aren’t sure if you can handle all these whips, crops, canes and ropes.

Cowboy. Just say cowboy.

He steps away, leaving you completely bare in the corner. He stops at the foot of the bed, the things he’s pulled out of the cabinet rest flat on top of the sheets but you can’t make out what’s there. He slides his flannel off and drops it to the floor. You swallow hard at the way his tight shirt hugs his body, you swear you can see every muscle that lines his chest and abdomen through it. He doesn’t leave you guessing for long, one hand reaching behind himself, grabbing his shirt by the nape of the neck before peeling it from his hard body. You squeeze your thighs at the sight of him.

Joel Miller: Greek God.

He leans against the tall post at the foot of the bed, crossing his thick arms over his chest. His biceps bulge and suddenly you find it hard to breathe. He is fucking beautiful.

“Crawl to me, and bring the crop,” his voice is rough as he commands you.

You get onto your hands and knees and look over at the crop and then back towards Joel, looking up through your lashes. “Think about it for a second,” he says.

You bend down and pick the crop up with your teeth. “There’s my smart girl,” he praises as you crawl. You’re so wet that your thighs slide effortlessly against one another. You stop in front of him and he reaches down to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. He’s looking at you with an immense sense of pride, you’d do anything to have him look at you like that and when he throws in a warm ‘good girl’ you’re done for. His. His brat. His good girl. His submissive. Just his.

He takes the crop from your teeth and then walks behind you. “Arch your back,” he presses the leather end into your lower back, guiding you, teasing you, showing you what he wants and how he wants it.

“Spread your legs, babygirl,” he whispers, again gently pressing the crop to your inner thighs as you spread for him before he slowly drags the soft leather from your clit to your backside. You whimper at the much needed attention. “Good girl. See how much better it is when you listen.”

You relax your head, letting it fall as you moan. Close. So very close. The leather meets your chin next. “Eyes up, I need you to stay like this for me. Ok?”

“Yes Mr Miller,” you gasp, holding your head high, looking straight ahead at the metal bed frame that’s lined with hooks and rings. “Anything for you.”

The riding crop trails down your neck and spine as he walks back behind you. “That right, darlin’?” He says, almost afraid to admit how much those three little words have affected him. You. Offering him anything.

You let out an agreeable moan before he strikes you twice, each snap of the crop hitting the exactly same spot.

Joel Miller: Greek God and Accurate Riding Crop Sniper.

Ok, you’ll have to work on the name.

The sting takes a bit longer to turn into that pleasurable tingly heat that you love than when he spanked you. Keeping your back arched and head up is already proving to be a challenge, and then he traces your cunt and asshole again with the leather and you’re practically shaking. Closer. Much closer.

He does it again. Striking one cheek, then the other, quickly followed by a quick slap to the back of your thigh. You cry out in pain, until the leather slides over your soaked clit and the sounds turn downright pornographic.

“Why am I punishing you?” He demands, tapping your clit lightly and rapidly.

“I - mmmm - I didn’t q-quit,” you moan.

“Wrong,” he hits you again. Five quick, sharp snaps, alternating between ass cheeks. Then he slides up and down your folds again.

Pain

Pleasure.

Sparkling burning heat.

“M’gonna come,” you mumble and Joel pulls away. You cry out in protest as he lowers himself to the floor, a large warm hand gently rubbing your sore cheek.

“You come when I say,” his lips land on every spot he’s hit you, but not the spot you need him the most. “Now why am I punishing you?”

Your mind is mush, overrun by the overwhelming need to orgasm. You didn’t quit. He wants you to and you didn’t. That’s why he’s hitting you.

“I don’t know Mr Miller,” you whine. His hand trails up the soft skin of your inner thigh, your legs tremble under his touch and you fight against your shaking arms to keep your body how he wants it.

“No?” He says with a smirk. “On your elbows, forehead on the floor.”

“I’m sorry,” you say as you get into his new required position.

“You should be,” he stands and walks towards the bed. Leaving your ass up and on display. “You lied and snuck out, then after your spanking tonight you stayed at work for another two hours. You also used my marks to make money. You, my sweet girl, are a brat.” He’s practically growling by the time he finishes, settling himself behind you. “That’s why I’m punishing you.”

Deep down Joel knows he should stop. Not for the obvious reasons: best friend's daughter, twenty years younger, four years younger than his own daughter. But because he hasn’t had a real conversation with you yet about your hard and soft limits. Didn’t even ask if you wanted to be his sub. But your smooth little ass is up in the air, pussy glistening in the dim light of his sex room and nothing but your pleasure matters anymore.

You swallow hard, “I’m sorry for being a brat, Mr Miller.”

“I don’t think you are,” he says and you hear the distinct sound of a cap of lube opening behind you. “I think that you have enjoyed yourself so much that you’re going to be back on that corner waiting for an Uber to take you to work tonight. You want me to come after you. Because you are a little slut with a very greedy pussy.”

Something cool presses against your soaked entrance and you cry out as he continues, “so I’ll tell you what. You can go to work tonight, but you’ll have to do it my way,” slowly that cool something slides inside of you, filling you slightly but it’s not enough. “Fuck, practically sucked it in, babygirl.”

You can feel it, a hard ball that’s pushing right against your g spot, a slender piece staying outside your body for easy removal. “That is going to stay in until I take it out. It vibrates, and if you don’t behave…I will turn it on.”

His large, rough hands grip you by the hips and pull you back so your ass is flush against his body, his cock stiff as nails under his jeans. “It’s time to get some sleep, sweetheart. Get in the bed, please.”

“But…” you pout into the plush carpet. “Please, Mr Miller.”

“What did I say? Bad girls don’t get rewarded. Come on,” he taps your hip. “Bed.”

You stand up on shaky legs, thankful that the best is only two steps ahead of you. But the toy inside of you has you feeling like a powder keg on the edge of exploding. Joel pulls the covers back and climbs in with you, pulling you in to rest your head on his chest. His arm drapes around your body, the other resting behind his head.

“How are you feeling after tonight?” He whispers, using an app on his phone to turn the lights off.

“Horny,” you whisper, burying yourself deeper into his neck.

“I know. But you know I can’t make you come, right? I can’t reward you for this behaviour.” His lips fall to your hairline, two light lingering kisses melting you further into him.

“What can I do, Mr Miller?” The moment the last syllable of his name leaves your lips the vibrator comes to life inside of you. “Oh god - thank you. Thank you.” Your body twitches against his, your leg coming to drape across him as you subconsciously hump and grind into his hip.

“That feel good, baby?” He asks, holding you tighter against his strong body.

“Yes. Yes. Hnnnng, yes.” You grind harder, your arousal coating his hip and leg, your clit sliding along him with ease now. “Joel, please.”

Shit. He should punish you for calling him Joel but you’re so goddamn beautiful as you start to fall apart and he can’t hold back any longer. He’s let other subs go days without an orgasm, he’s gotten off to them begging and crying for relief. But you. You sound so damn sweet to his ears and he can’t stand to see you like this anymore.

He has you flipped onto your back, trapped under his weight before you can even register what’s happening. He’s kissing you deeply, tongue taking what it wants as your legs kick and shake under him.

“Please!” You cry between kisses.

His thick fingers sliding between your puffy folds before grabbing the end of the vibrator, you scream out as he pulls the toy from you.

“Shhh…just a little bit more. I’m going to make it better now,” he says gently, kissing down your neck, swirling his tongue around each nipple piercing.

“Please. Please. Pleeeaase, Mr Miller. Please. It hurts. I need it, please.” You’re a mumbling mess and the words leaving your lips are practically incomprehensible.

“I know. Relax baby. Breathe.” He says between kisses down your sternum, his tongue tracing your curves. When he finally settles in between your thighs he swallows hard, he wants to dive right in, make you drench his face as you come. “Look at me, darlin’.”

His warm breath hits your pussy and you fight your hips from bucking up to his face as prop yourself up on an elbow and try to focus your eyesight on him. You didn’t know it was possible to be so turned on that you practically had tequila vision.

His voice is serious yet calm as he says, “I’m going to make you come using my fingers and my tongue. Is that ok?”

You nod your head and a faint ‘yes’, leaves your lips. He doesn’t want to ask permission, and next time he won’t. But right now he needs to know you’re ok with this.

“Can I lick and touch both the outside and inside of this beautiful, weeping, pussy?”

It starts to hit you that Joel Miller would never do something you didn’t want and that sets your soul on fire. He cares. About you. Only you. Wants to do things for you. You are not a burden here.

“Yes, Mr Miller. Please. Touch me.” The room suddenly feels twenty degrees hotter, you can feel sweat beading on your skin.

“That’s my girl,” he says, sliding his ring and middle finger around your desperate entrance. You cry out, dropping your body to the bed.

Pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure.

“No no baby girl, eyes on me.”

You somehow muster the strength to raise yourself onto shaky arms. His two strong fingers slide deep into your heat with minimal resistance and you immediately start gasping.

Pleasure. Life altering, heart stopping pleasure.

“Fuuuuck. Baby. So tight. Have you ever squirted before?” His cheeks are flushed with need. He might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breaths. You shake your head and moan out a ‘no’.

He smiles down at your dripping cunt, “I can feel it. Gotta relax for me. Just breathe and let it happen.”

Nerves flutter in your stomach and then he curls his fingers forward, putting so much pressure on a soft spongy spot that you didn’t know existed until today. On instinct, your knees try to close but his wide frame keeps you open. You yell his name to the ceiling, as all the air whooshes from your lungs.

“Breathe baby,” he says as he curls his fingers once, twice, three more times. You can hear how wet you are and the pressure becomes unbearable. Stars start to blur your vision, the walls of your pussy squeeze tightly around his fingers and then it’s just a blur. A blur of all consuming pleasure and you turn into a boneless, mumbling mess.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Come for me. Soak me. Good girl,” Joel’s free hand pressed down on your mound as a wet heat leaks all over you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Let go for me.”

You’re not sure if you’re screaming or not, all you hear and feel is Joel. Everything is Joel. Strong hands, deep gravel voice, warm vanilla smell. He’s everywhere and you never want it to stop.

“Keep going. That’s it. You look so beautiful,” he says, licking a long stripe up your fluttering pussy, drinking and slurping up your juices. “Oooh yeah - gooood giiirrll”

Almost immediately after your orgasm crests it becomes too much. You’re so overstimulated that it hurts and your moans of pleasure become cries of pain. You forget your name, where you are, you even forget your safe word. But Joel knows, he always knows.

He stops pumping his fingers and says your name, “look at me sweet pea.”

You blink slowly, you’re wrecked, barely able to keep your eyelids open, almost convinced they’ve been replaced with steel. You’re sucking in air, did you not breathe that entire time?

“Breathe baby, you’re ok.” He says, stilling his fingers until you’re ready.

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I know I called you Joel. I won’t do it again.”

So fucking cute. “It’s ok, darlin’ girl. I want you to let loose when you come.” He places a few light kisses along your thighs. The sheets and his bare chest are soaked. “I’m gonna pull my fingers out.”

You fall back to the bed and fist the sheets to ground yourself as he slides his fingers out. “You did such a good job,” he praises as you whimper at the loss of his fingers inside of you.

He crawls up your body, placing his strong forearms beside your head, moving any hair that has escaped the ribbon from your face. “I’m so proud of you, babygirl.”

“Fuck me,” you mumble.

He grins down at you. “That’s my little slut,” he says darkly, ripping his jeans and underwear off, kissing you hard and rough - just how you like it. His hard cock lands heavy on your clit and you cry out into his mouth. “You sure about this?” He says cockily.

“Fuck me, Mr Miller. Please. I need your -,” he slams deep inside you, hips flush against yours. He’s so deep you swear you can feel it behind your navel. The girth of him giving you a painful but pleasurable stretch, “oh god. I’m gonna come again.”

“Squeeze me, baby. Yell out. Show me what I do to you,” he hooks your knees in his elbows to get deeper. Hips grinding and slamming into yours. “So goddamn good. So tight. Give it to me, little one.”

The heat in your belly snaps as you come apart for him again. Every muscle goes limp and pliant as he folds you in half, knees practically behind your head like some sort of tantric pretzel. The walls of your pussy clamp down on his dick as cry out in pained moans. Before your orgasm has even tapered off he’s slipping out of you and flipping you around.

“Hands and knees, like you were on the floor.” He practically yells it at you, like a drill sergeant.

You don’t have the cognitive ability to even know what your arms or legs are, lying on your belly down in the puddle you created earlier.

“Can’t,” you moan before the sharp snap of the riding crop hits your ass. Adrenaline spikes as you start to find your arms, bringing them beside you to push up. Another three quick strikes hit your backside. “Fuck. Stop, Joel. Please.”

He strikes you again. You most definitely do not want him to stop and you already know that he loves when you beg. “It huuuurts,” you gasp as you bring yourself up to your knees. Your all wobbly limbs, like a newborn giraffe, and panting breaths as he hits six quick strikes down your thigh. Crying out with each one, “I’m sorry. I’ll be good. Please just stop.”

“You should see how your pussy clenches with each hit, my little masochist,” he praises, moving to punish the other thigh in the same way he did the other one. “You could come from this, couldn’t you?”

“No. It hurts. I’m sorry, daddy.”

Joel stops. The word daddy suspended in the air between you. Fuck, it just slipped out. You’ve never said it to a man before and now you wish you could just crawl into a little hole and die alone.

“Oh babygirl,” he says proudly, coming up behind you and rubbing his dick up and down your wet pussy. “Do you like that? Calling me daddy?”

“It slipped out. I’m sorry Mr Miller,” you desperately want to bury your face in the pillows but you keep your head held high, just like he wants you too.

“Tell daddy to fuck you,” he says, his hand grabbing the base of your tied back hair.

“F-fuck me, daddy,” you say in the sweetest and most innocent sounding voice you can muster.

With one snap of his hips he’s fully inside of you, his hand pulls at your hair. You scalp tingling and burning, only adding to the pleasure building again in between your legs.

“You like it rough. Don’t you, little one?” You moan out in agreement, “like it when daddy fucks you this deep. Like it when daddy is in your belly. Don’t you?”

“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” It’s like you’re a broken record, unable to come up with anything except moans, cries and ‘oh god’s’.

Joel’s hand moves from your hair to between your shoulder blades and pushes down. A silent command for you to rest your chest on the bed. You do as he says, “good fuckin girl. You want me to fuck you while I use the crop? Is that what you want my little pain slut?”

“Yes please, Mr Miller,” you gasp, hands fisting the sheets, muscles clenching as you prepare for what’s about to happen.

The pace at which he’s fucking you continues. He’s fast and rough, his balls slapping against your pussy with each trust. The crop hits the bottom of one of your feet first, then just to the right of your left shoulder blade.

“Not gonna stop until you use that safeword. Brats don’t get rewards,” He fucks up into you a few more times as he swats at the front of your thigh.

Blinding heat and pleasure start to course through you as you come again. “My little masochist,” he says again, pulling back to slap at your ass as you come on his cock. Tears blur your vision, you want to stop but you want to make him proud. You feel his dick getting harder, twitching slightly.

Just a few more minutes, you think to yourself. Until he strikes you harder than all the other times. The sound of leather on your skin fills your ears and you pull away from him, “COWBOY!!”

You collapse into the sheets as Joel turns away, unable to stop his orgasm and wanting to be respectful of your need to stop. He cums into the sheets with his hand, biting back your name from leaving his lips.

He turns to find you facedown, red and purple marks already forming. “Baby,” he whispers, his hand coming to caress your lower back. You flinch under his touch.

Fuck, I went to hard.

“Shhh, relax. It’s over now. Let me take care of you.” He sees you visibly melt into the mattress, and why wouldn’t you. His voice is soft and gentle as his fingers trail up and down your spine. “I’m so proud of you for using your safeword. Can you roll over for me?”

You do as he says, using any last ounce of energy to roll over. He shuffles himself to sit on the edge of the bed, lifting your upper body to help you prop up in some pillows, your eyelids are impossibly heavy. He reaches into the small mini fridge that’s disguised as a bedside table and takes out a bottle of water.

“I need you to drink this, honey. Then I will put some coconut oil on those marks. Ok?”

You open your eyes as he cracks the water. He looks wrecked. Beads of sweat line his hairline, curls sticking to his forehead, but fuck is he beautiful.

Joel Miller. Sex God.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he slides his boxers back up his leg, his still half hard cock pressing against the fabric.

You’re suddenly unable to stop from giggling. You feel giddy and drunk as you down the water and say, “I feel fucking amazing!”

Joel shakes his head and lets out a little laugh. “Good,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. He pulls makeup wipe out from the bedside drawer and wipes the mascara that’s run down your cheeks. Then he finds himself doing something he’s never done with his other subs. He grabs the coconut oil and reaches a hand out to help you off the bed.

“Let’s go get some sleep,” he says. Steading you and leading you up the stairs to his room. This is dangerous territory, but he needs to wake up with you. Cherish you. Care for you. Other subs always slept down here. Never in his room and rarely with him. But certainly never ever in his room.

You follow with shaky legs and nearly collapse onto his bed when you get there.

“Can we do that again?” You ask as he rubs oil on your tender backside.

“Fuck yes. But before we do that,” he taps your side and you roll over so he can oil your thigh. “You need to fill out some paperwork.”

You groan and he lets out a deep laugh. “I promise it’s fun paperwork. Hard and soft limits. Things you want to try.”

He looks up at you with adoration, mirroring the looks you’re giving him. He nods towards your pierced nipples, “I like those. Very sexy. As soon as they’re healed we are gonna have some fun.”

You blush, “thanks. You’re - umm, you’re actually the first person to see them.”

“That right?” He says proudly, lying down beside you and pulling you into his chest.

“I have an appointment at the piercer next week. Any requests?” You say teasingly as you nuzzle into his chest. Your appointment is to get a second hole in each ear lobe, but may as well have a little fun.

“Hmmm,” he hums, lips grazing your hairline with little kisses. “Belly button.”

“Oh, I was thinking of doing my clit.” You glance up at him through your eyelashes, bottom lip between your teeth.

“Fuck me, baby. You tryin’ to kill this old man? I’m gonna have to leave the goddamn continent while that heals.” He pulls you in tighter, pulling the blanket up around both of you. “Get some rest now, we have a big afternoon.”

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