#im just making observations and asking questions

[itchyandtwitchy]

I feel like the part where his husband just audits to watch is so crazy???? I need to know more about their dynamic. Also teaching with a tissue over the nose IS just crazy. I am eating this up!

IT IS CRAZY! I mean, its definitely practical but also the most distracting thing ever. Unfortunately, because I never took a class with his husband, Im not sure what he's like as a teacher. HOWEVER, allow me to ramble off a few dynamic obs about them.

Obs under cut

Having class with Russian professor then going to my internship with his husband gives me such insane whiplash. They work at two different colleges about 25 minutes apart and just hop between buildings during their breaks. Dont ask me how it works, I have no idea.

Not only are they nearly polar opposites of one another, Russian professor is insanely different outside of the class. He has a reputation for being critical and having unobtainable standards, I nearly failed his class my first year. His husband is the exact opposite, he still has that strict professor vibe but he's more gentle and understanding in his teaching. Again, not sure how he is in the classroom, but Ive been able to sit down and have an actual conversation with him on many occasions.

Anyway, SNEEZE TIME

Im often working with the husband late into the night; comparing notes, writing reports, updating databases, etc. This means that Russian professor almost always stumbles in while Im still there, makes himself some food (God bless that microwave), and pulls up a chair next to his husband. This is where the interrogation begins- 'how are you feeling? Still coughing? You take anything? You looked poorly during class, I have more tea and tissues on my desk'. Hearing my professor answer these questions is like taking multiple bullets to my soul. He goes so in depth about every symptom, PLEASE BE QUIET (keep going).

The even crazier part is he knows I know what theyre saying even if Russian isnt my first language or speciality.

But the ACTUAL craziest part is how much his husband tolerates while I'm literally right there observing all of this. One of husband's quirks is that he will catch professor's sneezes in a tissue. Like fully, if professor were to show any sign of sneezing (and they're obvious) his husband just holds a tissue to his nose and let's him use it. This is why Im convinced he is one of us, I cant be the only one going insane over this.

A few times when I was in his office at even later ungodly hours than usual, professor will sort of lay his head on his husband's shoulder while we work and turn to bury sneezes against his shoulder or neck. I just know hes lurking on this side of Tumbleweed. Do you understand my insanity? The worst part, even though Im a personal victim of his bad attitude, hes so docile when its just me and his husband. He doesn't talk much at all, but thats still a major improvement from how he usually treats my work.

Hope you enjoyed, these are so fun to think back on. I also might go back and expand on some of my asks with @empresskaze

[yuliangs]

you know myeong is not exactly a show stopping singer. he's pretty decent but yonghoon makes him look like a coughing baby half the time. this isn't to drag him obviously because I like him and I like his singing. and I think he's gotten very far because of his hard work. like I said he's even landed musical theatre roles. no my question is what's dongju's excuse?

[buwheal]

We saw your note, how did business go?

[planet4546b]

bad post ahead -> i like when people say that phoenix would not happily be accepting sugar daddy money from edgeworth and/or kristoph during the 7yg remember in like. 2 or 3 when edgeworth paid mayas bail or something idr and phoenix immediately was like im gonna ask him to pay my rent. walter white he is not. the personal isolation is for different and worse reasons he thinks taking money from people is great. sorry there’s a really big train going by did anyone hear all of that

[hearthoof]

thoughts on vegans who use savage as an insult?

dont know if this is like. bait or something (srry if ur being genuine lol) but honestly i think anyone who uses savage as an insult is.. iffy. its a word thats been too often used in a racist context so if literally anyone uses that word im a bit skepitcal of them. doesnt matter if theyre vegan or not.

dont get me wrong, the word savage isnt Only used by racists or whatever. just cus someone uses it doesnt mean theyre a bigot of course. i just feel there are better words to use.

also i wouldnt even know what context youre referring to assuming a vegan would call someone this. perhaps like, as a response to carnism or something? i get vegans being emotional, especially newer vegans and ones who care deeply for animals, but usually when someone starts calling others savages for killing animals it loses ppl n goes down hill fast. i dont really vibe w that anyway

[odietamox]

yeah no I'm just,,, I'm incapable of making conversation I don't know what to say- I've tried to observe how other people do it but me it's like my mind completely empties when I have to say something

[sacredglitch]

hang on NO WAIT PAUSE

Hang ON

OKay wait

hi, hello everyone passing by 👋 welcome to me rambling and gathering thoughts as I live blog things hence the rambles to the void tag, it's an adventure in there

This is the same episode where both Foreman and House know 13 is Bi...Is-

Is this trying to subtly hint that House realises the same thing with himself or am I not getting blood from this stone? (Don't bother answering I'm just grasping straws and AUs/Headcanons)

Because he makes too many sexually ambiguous remarks for him not to be somehow part of the fruit bowl

Of course in it's time a lead character couldn't possibly be bi or anything beyond a cis straight man that would be crazy /s

anyway I'm just stalling the inevitable continue scrolling

[gremlinhourz]

genuinely expecting to fail my first class in college!! and its like as much as i can get upset at myself for continuing the cycle of procrastination that ive been trying to break free from for years, i also feel like the reason im primarily upset is because i feel like im disappointing others and/or giving them a bad impression of me. like im not upset because i think i could have done more, im upset because i think other people will think i could have done more. when like honestly with school ive just developed an "it is what it is" attitude, like all i can do is try and try again, and if that means taking eng111, crashing and burning, but most importantly learning, then taking eng111 again, so fucking be it

[arminsumi]

tattoartist!suguru losing nonchalance when reader flirts with him?

im down bad for him holy hell

Oh, he's falling to pieces, got it bad for the girl he just met 'n he's gonna make a drunk little bet — y'think he's crazy enough to get your name tattooed on him? Or crazy enough to ink his name into your skin?

ㅤ★ wc; ~3k

ㅤ★ note; continuation of tattoo artist Suguru Geto!

ㅤ★ an; aaa!! you got my brain whirring like a laptop... tysm and i hope this makes u blush and kick ur feet as much as i did while writing!! 🍰✨

ㅤ★ tagz; @ohimsummer 💗@fairiesthrum💗 @heartofjasmina 💗 @kwonan 💗 @ghost-buddies 💗 @madamecorbie 💗 @mima0127 💗 @moggleatlife 💗 @natasaa13 💗 @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell 💗 @wakashudou 💗 @khaothick 💗 @candy-s72 💗 @creamflix 💗 @starriesworlds

ㅤ★ warnings; sum alcohol/drunkenness

“So, was she joking, or am I your type?” Suguru asks, black eyes staring right into your soul.

“Mm, well…” you hum, giving his form a look-over – god, if only you could feel how hard his heart’s beating when you do this. “Maybe.” You reply teasingly.

“Aw, just ‘maybe’?” he groans, now leaning his hip against the edge of the display case that housed the studs and gauge earrings.

“Yeah, just ‘maybe’ – I’m teasing. No, she wasn’t joking; I’ve always had a thing for the black hair, black nails, bad boy look…”

“The ‘bad boy’ look…?” he questions, recalling what your friend had said earlier about bad boys being just your type.

“Yeah, the ‘bad boy’ look.” You giggle.

His heart beats even harder, muttering a naughty little “Well, lucky me.”

“Nah, not so fast – I’m a smart woman.” You warn.

“Oh, are you?” he clicks his tongue in defeat, “Damn, would you believe that my type is smart women? No, no I’m serious… I’ve got a thing for smart women.”

Your cheeks grow hot, the heat spreading to your ears.

“I can assure you that the ‘bad boy’ look is just an aesthetic; I’m really an artsy dork making a living off doodling on people’s bodies.” He shrugs.

“Hm… maybe, maybe not.”

You rub your lips together. He briefly licks his bottom lip. You look him up and down. He looks you up and down. Body language open and alive with attraction, the both of you stand in this air of electric tension that Shoko spies from the other end of the room.

She watches as the two of you giggle like little flirts, observing how totally absorbed the two of you are in each other’s company. When you catch her eye, Shoko gives you a wink and points at her wrist, mouthing “five more” – fair enough, the two of you have promised to get pizza.

Pizza first, boys later, right?

Five minutes more go by – adding to the total of four hours spent at the tattoo & piercing parlor. But despite her discomfort and need for a change of scenery, Shoko decides to linger around just a little longer so that the two of you can indulge in each other just a little more.

But now you're getting nervous – Suguru has you breathless, holding you in a battle of who can flirt harder? which you're starting to lose.

He's captivated by you. This 6’3, tattooed, goth-grunge, slightly dorky man chuckles and smiles like he hasn’t had this much fun talking flirting with someone in years.

It's going well, then your smile trips him up. I know, it’s always the smile, huh? If you see enough of it, you slip… and that’s exactly what's happened to Suguru. He quickly grows obsessed with the way your cheeks look when you smile – the image burns into his memory without him even realizing it in the moment.

No, in the moment he doesn't realize the magnitude of your effect on him. He's just thinking about himself, about you, about —

“I’ve gotta go,” you say goodbye finally, “I don’t want to keep my friend waiting. But you’ll probably see my face here again… she loves dragging me along for these kinds of things.”

He stutters, “Oh! Oh… yeah – yes. Of course. Looking forward to it… maybe next time, you’ll be the one getting ink in your skin.”

“Yeah right.” You smile.

It’s your French exit that makes his heart throb in need.

No, don’t leave yet… I like you – don’t you ever wonder how many acquaintances in your life have thought this when leaving your company? And you’ll never even know.

Oh, Suguru was thinking so hard about asking you to exchange numbers or to meet up for coffee, but he didn’t want to come off as too forward – no, no… he had to maintain his mysteriousness. Or at least, he had to cling to whatever was left of it after revealing his inner dorkiness to you.

*****

After you leave, he wanders in and out of his studio, has small interactions with his co-workers, and doodles ideas for tattoos down.

Throughout all of these things, your face is at the forefront of his mind. Your voice echoes in his head as he recalls every detail of the conversation you two shared. Then he starts smiling softly as he applauds himself for being so gutsily flirty with you… a stranger, just someone, who he probably won’t see again…

A girl with no name.

God, why was he so slow? He didn’t even ask for your name. Suguru groans.

Yes, he probably won’t see you again… not unless your friend brings you along for her next visit. How long does he have to wait? Weeks? Months? That’s insane.

Suguru stops doodling, stares at the scrap of paper, and then looks up at the wall displaying his works. He rubs his fingers back and forth across his mouth.

I gotta.

He looks over to his phone. He reaches for it, takes it into his veiny hand, unlocks it, and scrolls through his list of contacts.

And then he dials his client’s number. Shoko Ieri.

*****

Now, it’s been just under an hour since you and Shoko left the tattoo parlour. She’s complained three times about the pain because exactly three times she has leaned back on the seat – squishing the fresh ink wound against her chair. You just cruelly laugh at how her eyes twitch in pain and each time.

The two of you sit eating pizza.

“He liked you. Why don’t we go back and you ask him for his number?” she teases.

“No way… he’ll think I’m too forward.” You shake your head.

Then three minutes later, Shoko's phone goes off. She reaches into her backpack. She looks at the caller ID, then at you, then at the caller ID, then –

“… is that him?”

“It’s him.”

“What’s he calling for! Me?”

“Absolutely he’s calling for you – I can bet gold on that.”

It stops ringing. She tells you she’ll text him back but guess what? She doesn’t even need to, because he calls again.

“Relentless.” She giggles. “I’m answering.”

“Pretend I’m not here!”

She winks at you and answers, “Hey, Suguru, what’s up?”

The two of you lean in until your foreheads press together – it’s still hard to make out every word.

“Yo.” You hear his smooth voice coming from the other side, “Sorry to bother you… (muffled)… your friend (muffled)… so embarrassed, so don’t tell her that I’m calling… (muffled)… what was her name?”

You clap your hand over your mouth when you hear those snippets.

She gives you a devious look before saying, “Oh! Well, she’s right here with me, actually, so you can ask her yourself.”

Mouth full of pizza, you freak out and X your arms to signal a fat NO WAY SHOKO! and fall to pieces all with the taste of pepperoni on your tongue.

But she just hands the phone over to you anyways, then proceeds to silently laugh as you spit out your pizza before talking.

“Hehlooo?”

“H-hey.”

You get right to the point. “My name’s Yn…”

“Oh… I like that… I’m Suguru.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Suguru. Suguru Geto.” He raises his voice.

Cheek hot against the screen of his phone, Suguru is silently freaking out at the tense silence. He can feel his stomach starting to flip. His mind blanks.

“Anyways! Um, that’s all.”

No. That’s not all. He has a novel’s length worth of things to talk about with you.

At this point, Shoko rolls her eyes at the two of you being so awkward on the phone and decides that she needs to take matters into her own hands.

So she snatches the phone from you.

“ – Suguru? Say, you wouldn’t be free on Saturday, would ya? Yeah, I’m going on a date with this guy… and I’d love to make it a double date with you and Yn if you’d like to –”

You hear him stutter out a yes, absolutely before Shoko can even finish her sentence. She grins.

Suguru can sense that the two of you are smiling and giggling. He can predict that the two of you are probably going to gossip about him being the 'dork from the tattoo parlor that called not once, but twice for the name of a girl he just met' – but he doesn’t care. He’s been presented an opportunity and taken it.

To hell with seeming too eager.

When the call ends, Suguru blows out a breath through his lips. Then he promptly texts his best friend. Dark strands of hair slip out of his sloppy bun as he puts his face over the screen, thumbs swift and eager.

Toru 🤞😜 lol bravo... but i thought u said she was out of ur league??

Sugu i mean... yes. she's way too pretty and smart for me. but i'm not gonna pass up this opportunity

Toru 🤞😜 still can't believe u called ur client just to get her friend’s name... lol

Sugu you would understand if you met her ok

Toru 🤞😜 damn she must be something else

Yes, yes you are something else — Suguru can’t even begin to describe why. Translating his thoughts into words isn’t his thing; he translates them into art.

****

It's later in the day. You're lazing around Shoko's apartment.

She confirms the time and place of the double date, and cackles on her couch while kicking her feet, teasing you for being so crazy about a guy you just met – her tattoo artist.

You just couldn’t stop talking about Geto Suguru.

“Shiiit, should I even let you and a bad boy like him be alone in a room together?”

“I can control myself.” you assure her.

She slowly shakes her head at you.

“Yeah right… but can he? I don't trust neither of you... miss crazy and mister crazy... you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”

You giggle to yourself, biting your thumb. “Maybe…”

“Oh girl…” she groans, causing you to giggle into yourself, “You’re gonna be licking the tail of his dragon tattoo by the end of the date tomorrow.”

“H-h-he has a what? And where?” you stuttered, lashes quivering.

She shakes her head at you. “God, you’re screwed…”

*****

It's Saturday night. The bar's more alive than ever.

You've learned that Geto Suguru does, in fact, have a dragon tattoo inked up his toned arm – and a tight-fitting black tank top that shows it off along with his martial artist’s physique, too.

He’s got a glint of the devil in his black eyes. Softly-delivered dirty jokes ready to roll off his pierced tongue. A habit of tilting his head and looking hungrily at your lips and neck.

“Martial arts, huh?” you ask with stars in your eyes.

“Mhm, I could teach you a few things.” He purrs in reply.

Your stomach starts squeezing and flipping – that’s got to be the flirtiest 'mhm' that you’ve ever heard in your whole life.

“You think so?” you purr back.

Now it’s his turn to feel that squeezy, flippy feeling in his stomach.

Fuckfuckfuck is all he could think when he looks into your eyes.

I’m gonna fall to pieces. You’re gonna be the death of me.

“Uh…  do you two need some privacy?” Shoko teases.

Oh. It’s a double date. How could you forget? Shoko is literally sitting beside you at the bar with her date. But for a second there, it really felt like it was just you 'n this deliciously tattooed bad boy.

“Maybe.” Suguru chuckles coyly.

“There’s a hotel just next door…”

“Shoko!” you scold, playfully shoving her arm.

She giggles into herself, sipping down her cocktail innocently as if she didn’t just electrify the air between you and Suguru. His throat’s tensing, foot’s tapping up and down on the bar stool – boy’s got long spider-legs, huh?

Now after that, Suguru grins wider – showing off his pretty canines – his posture assuming something self-soothing; he holds his elbows, arms squished against his ribcage, which just makes his biceps more pronounced. Oh why, why did he have to wear a tank top like that? Surely he’s aware of the effect it has on girls. Or maybe he’s oblivious…

Nah. He's not.

*****

“Did it hurt?” you ask, trying to blink out the tipsiness from your love-drunk eyes but you’ve got three cosmopolitans surging through your veins.

“Not really… I’ve got great pain tolerance.” Suguru replies.

“Oh really?” you blink up at him again and his mind goes blank.

“Look at that...” He murmurs softly, not breaking eye contact with you. Where’s your friend and her date? Who knows. It’s just you and him now – and that’s all he wanted.

“Hm?”

“Not every day I see eyes like that…”

You widen your lips into a smile, “You’re laying it on thick.”

“Am I? Sorry – see, this is what happens after you feed Suguru too much rum. I just can’t keep my mouth shut.”

“That’s terrible… need someone to shut ya up?” you flirt.

He tilts his head at you, loose strands of hair shifting across his cheek. His left brow quirks up – he’s so taken aback by your forwardness but he falls right into it.

You just giggle flirtatiously after making that comment and pull the straw of your drink between your lips, sucking the remnants of a cosmopolitan into your mouth as sensually as you dare to in front of a bad boy who’s got bedroom eyes on you.

“I think I could do with some shutting up…” he admits.

“Mm,” you hum, “y’think by our third date you’re gonna snap and kiss me hard like we’re in a movie?”

Suguru smiles bashfully and looks down into his drink, swirling the melting ice cubes with a straw – slowly, round and round, they clink. Then he draws his gaze back to you, catching you with a sultry side-eye, and now it’s not just the ice cubes that are melting.

“Nah-uh…”

“Nah-uh?” you question.

“… I think it’s you who’s gonna snap first.” He says.

“Wanna bet?” you tease.

“Sure. What’ll be at stake?” he asks.

He keeps his sultry gaze on you as you look off to the side in thought for a moment. Your friend’s joke echoes in your mind.

“… you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”

Then you look back to him – his heart throbs but he’s trying to keep it together here, pulling his straw to his lips to get a sip of whatever rum still exists in his glass.

“Loser gets a regrettable tattoo?” you suggest.

He looks at you with a little bit of disbelief at your boldness.

“How regrettable?” he questions, one eye squinting shut in suspicion. He's wondering just how wild you actually are.

“Like my name on you? Or vice versa.”

He covers his mouth and lets out a chuckle hearing this. “You want me to tattoo my name on ya skin?” he teases. “Sure, I’ll bet on that.”

You can’t believe that he’s matching your crazy.

You stutter, replying only after a lingering moment of hot eye contact, “… there’s no way I’m gonna snap first…” you say boldly, proceeding to pop the cherry of your drink into your mouth and eating it right in front of the poor boy’s eyes. “ ‘m gonna have you walkin’ around with my name on you.”

Eyes glued on your lips, his breath catches in his throat.

“Yeah?”

Ooh, there it was. That feeling. That body singing electric songs feeling… that tummy-tightening, blood-rushing, skin-flushing feeling – it hit him all at once. He knows that if he were standing, his knees would have buckled now for sure, or at least he would have felt the tremor of your words under his feet.

He’s unsteady – smiling uncontrollably, looking dishevelled and softly drunk. Those rouge lips are begging to be kissed.

The bar grows quieter and quieter.

You’re hardly able to call each other anything more than strangers, and yet you’re leaning into him, closing the distance.

The tips of your noses are just inches apart now. You’re in each other’s air. He eyes out your lips, feels your hot, liquor-scented breath tickle his face.

But when you try and close the distance, he raises his hand and presses his thumb against your soft lips, stopping you.

“What happened to that bold statement, huh? Keep it together, baby; the bet’s on.” He feathers against your face.

*****

Tumbling into Shoko’s apartment after a night out drinking, you smile and giggle into the pillows of her bed.

She’s letting her hair down and swapping out her tight dress for jammies when she looks at you in your gleeful state.

“Someone’s in love.” She teases, coming over to tickle you.

“I’m not in love!”

“Oh, quit the act; I saw how the two of you said goodbye – you could barely hold yourself together. Drunk or not, I ain’t seen two adults giggling like that before.”

“Sh!” you swat her, “Not! In! Love!”

She takes a look into your eyes and observes your smile, then shakes her head. You're drowsy, so you make a dive into her bed and fall asleep almost instantly.

Shoko pulls a blanket over you, affectionately ruffling your hair.

“Madly in love, at the very least.”

[okwonyo]

CAN YOU SEE ME？ IM WAITING FOR THE RIGHT TIME ..

──── 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇.

bsf!enhypen x fem!rea 7OO non-idol au fluff potential future relationship ૮(^﹏^ ! skinship jealousy 【 MUSÉE 】

じや wrote this in a rush ! enjoy 🎀

rbs ✶ comments please + daily

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 ｡ ｡ watches you from a distance. with his eyes wide as a deer caught in the headlights, he doesn’t say anything or does anything about it— he just watches. he can’t help but observe your movements, the way you laugh or how you tuck your hair behind your ear while you talk to the other man. he studies you, sadness in his eyes, trying to find out if you are interested in someone other than him or not. “what?” you ask him when you see the grimace on his face. instead of answering, he questions you too, “do you like him?” relief washes over him in a wave when you shake your head, “i thought we were just talking but he wanted more,” then you add, “i’d rather spend time with you”.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

𝐉𝐀𝐘 ｡ ｡ is always near you. in any circumstances, in any sort of place. if you are near, he is too— almost as if he was your bodyguard or, you as you prefer to say, guardian angel. any person that approaches you, approaches him too and needs to get approved by him to even talk to you. therefore, there is no need to explain that when a guy tries to talk to you, they get hit by a presence impossible to ignore right behind you. the menacing glares can make anyone pale and stumble over their words in front of you. and the funniest part, is that you are well aware of that but decide to act clueless— always shooting a fake confused look at him before smiling sweetly when yet another man runs away from you.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 ｡ ｡ as your known best friend, many people come to him when they wonder if you are single and try to find a way to ask you out. unfortunately for them, he is not only your best friend but also desperately and irrevocably in love with you. so, in lieu of giving proper answers and advice, he assures them that you are already taken, by no one else but him. and to be completely honest, it works quite well. he even likes to, just for the sake of the silly little lie— of course, be really clingy in front of others. you don’t mind, he has always been like that, and it makes him happy to touch you for a second and be your lover. even if it’s through everyone’s eyes but yours.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 ｡ ｡ he has a special radar for whoever has romantic interests towards you. i mean, he would know how having a crush ok you feels like. since he has been in love with you since primary school. so, where are both around someone who seems to like a you a little bit too much, he starts his extra-clingy and affectionate best friend act. draping his arm on your shoulders, talking to you nonstop and asking for your attention as soon as your eyes go on anywhere else but him. “are you drunk?” you laugh all of the time, not even annoyed in the slightest. he is drunk, drunk in love.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 ｡ ｡ he is unable to control his face when a guy comes to talk to you. he stares at him with a disgusted and utterly offended expression on the surface of his face. as soon as romance is being involved, he tugs you close without thinking— the petname ‘sweetheart’ even slip out. you don’t seem to mind, you only excuse yourself to your other interlocutor before focusing fully on your best friend. when you don’t look, he shoots to the flabbergasted man a very proud grin. he loves to be your favorite.

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 ｡ ｡ he is flabbergasted, took over by immense disbelief and utter shock. he just watched the cashier shamelessly flirt with you— right in front of hom, without decorum. yes, he is not your boyfriend, but come on! he believes that the cashier should have been a little bit ashamed at least. “please,” he pleads as soon as you get out of the shop. “don’t tell me you are going to go out with that guy.” you immediately smile, a teasing question already tingling your tongue, “why? are you jealous?” his heart drops, his face reddens and he starts walking as you chuckle.

𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 ｡ ｡ uses all his strength to try to not be jealous— alas, he fails as soon as he even thinks about you and that ‘nobody’ together. he looks at you with sad eyes and a frown, as if he was a kicked puppy, whereupon you tell him you got asked on a date by the stranger. “wouldn’t you rather spend time with me?” he asks you, and you giggle. “what? this guy will be boring in two weeks but, i will be fun forever.” this idiot isn’t even able to contain his happiness when you tell him that he is right, that you will stay with him tonight. he is so happy that he hugs you, tight.

𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open & network : @sgz-net

[sexhaver]

okay so you know how living with autism means having frequent mind-blowing realizations about seemingly contradictory social norms that allistic people learned as children and consider obvious, like "you're probably not actually expected to show up exactly at the listed start time of a large house party" or "you're pretty much expected to lie in job interviews and also the questions the interviewers asks are looking for specific amswers"? ive got this half-baked theory based on observations on this site that there are two main ways for autistic people to resolve this

the first, most common way is to get mad about it, because none of it makes sense and nobody is saying what they actually mean. "if you invite me to show up at 5 im showing up at 5" mentality. i do sympathize with this school of thought, because it's objectively correct and i would love to see what society would look like if everyone said exactly what they meant, but the attitude wears on you after a few years and eventually becomes grating

the second way that i seem to have settled into is feeling relief, because, like, you already navigate through social scenarios the same way the guy in the Chinese Room thought experiment "speaks" Chinese: blindly consulting reference material you don't understand but know is correct. learning a new social faux pas is therefore just more reference material to consult. the fact that it doesn't make any sense is irrelevant because none of the other social norms you've been following make any sense either, and they've served you just fine. and crucially, because you have no personal attachment to any of these social norms, you can just abandon them whenever they become too inconvenient OR if it would be funny. this is the kind of autism that produces stuff like Nathan For You

[bratseung]

⭒ keychain — jake sim (teaser)

synopsis. determined follow through on his new year’s resolution of being more open-minded, jake sim finally pays a visit to ‘Tsunset Boulevard’ — a brand new, themed restaurant in which, unbeknownst to jake, the staff goes out of their way to humiliate their customers.

upon meeting you, his new favorite waitress, he discovers there’s a lot he didn’t know about himself; more importantly that he likes when girls are mean to him. really, really mean.

pairing. jake x fem!reader

genre. strangers to lovers, humor, smut

est word count. 15k / teaser word count. 500+

teaser warnings. reader is mean to jake but he’s into it, swearing, jake might have a mommy kink.

est release date. uhhh idk ... let's aim for june 30th and see what happens (don't get mad at me if that's not the case pls im just a girl!)

Jake is enjoying this way more than he thought he would.

The way you roll your eyes whenever he asks a question, how you manage to slip in an insult whenever you speak to him; something about this entire experience ignited a fire within Jake that he hadn't felt before. He'd had his fair share of mean girls in the past, but this was completely different.

Jongseong, who had been observing Jake for the past five minutes, finally breaks his silence. "You're sweating, man. Don't tell me you're actually scared."

"I'm fucking terrified," Jake admits, "but I'm into the fact that I'm terrified. I think I like that she scares me; is that weird?"

Jay awkwardly clears his throat, looking away from Jake as he gathers another forkful of food. "I think we've reached the point in our friendship where we know too much about each other. Also, aren't you due for a refill?"

Jake glances at his empty glass of iced water that he downed within the first fifteen minutes of arriving. His skin felt entirely too warm whenever you looked at him, and he was practically breaking out in sweat when you'd speak to him. The beverage only provided temporary relief before he was back to being a hot, sweaty mess.

He shrugs, confused as to where Jay was going with this, "I guess."

Before Jake is able to process what's happening, Jay is beckoning you over from across the room, a wicked grin on his face as Jake goes completely still.

"What?" You ask, voice laced with venom as you approach their table.

"Sorry to bother you, Y/N, but I think my friend would like a refill. Wouldn't you, Jake?"

On the long list of things Jake would like from you, a glass of water is at the very bottom, but it'll do for now. He nods silently, anxiously chewing on his bottom lip.

"Well, ask for it." You respond, arms crossed as you stare down at Jake.

He clears his throat, "Uh, may I have a refill?"

"What's the magic word?"

"...Please?"

"'Please', what?"

Your exchange with Jake is enough to make even Jay feel intimidated, slouching slightly in his own seat as you take a step forward towards his friend.

Jake glances at Jay for guidance, who only gives him a useless, sheepish shrug in response. "Please ... miss?"

You shake your head, stealing a curly fry from his plate and dipping it in the container of ketchup, "Not quite, try again."

Jake learned his lesson from trying to get guidance from Jay, and doesn't even bother looking in his direction before he replies. "Please ... ma'am?"

Scrunching your nose, you stuff the fry in your mouth in one go. "Ew, I'm not that old. Try again."

A beat of silence passes before Jake and Jay realize what exactly it is you're aiming for him to call you — now it's just a matter of seeing if you could actually get him to say it.

He tilts his head at you, "Please, mo..." he trails off, testing the waters to see if he actually found the word you'd been looking for.

The evil smirk beginning to tug on your lips answers his question: yeah, you were really about to make him call you ... that. In public. In front of his best friend. All for a glass of iced water that you were probably going to spit in — if he’s lucky.

Jake can't even begin to fathom how long he's gonna get off to this once he's home.

[incloudcity]

could you write a fic with quinn where he's dating a reporter but they keep the relationship in secret specially because of her carrer but accidently in a post game interview he slips a "thanks princess" or any other cute thing, while they are on live, n that makes her blushes and suddenly the whole hockey world knows they are together

off the record | qh43

requests are open

a/n: guys i’m sooooo sick i think im dying so this is all you get for tonight. hopefully i can catch up on drafts and requests in a little bit once im better

You’d been covering the Canucks for just over a month when Quinn Hughes became your problem.

On camera, he was a dream for a reporter — short answers, eye contact, always polite. Off camera? A menace. Quiet, smirky, and way too comfortable leaning just a bit too close.

“Nice question,” he said under his breath one night, handing back your recorder. “You practice in the mirror, sweetheart?”

You arched a brow, lips twitching. “Do you actually answer the media’s questions, or do you just flirt with them until they leave you alone?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Depends. Is it working?”

You walked away without replying.

He caught up with you later with a cup of coffee, one you hadn’t asked for, in his hand.

“Two sugars, no cream, right?” he asked.

You stared. “That better not be a guess.”

He just smiled, leaned against the hallway wall like he had nowhere else to be. “I’m observant.”

“Uh-huh. And completely unprofessional.”

He tilted his head. “So are you saying you want me to stop?”

You took the coffee. Didn’t say thank you. But you didn’t say no, either.

Over the next few weeks, the game continued. Quinn made it subtle — he never crossed the line where someone else might catch on. But you noticed. The playful jabs. The way he’d tap the table once for everyone, then twice more just for you. When you asked something tough in a presser, he’d sigh like you were personally attacking him — but always with a glint in his eye.

“You’re ruthless,” he said once after a particularly pointed question about power play production.

You smirked. “Maybe stop turning the puck over and I’ll go easier on you.”

“Ohhh,” he groaned, clutching his chest. “Brutal. And you still won’t go out with me?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re exhausting, Hughes.”

“You’ll miss me when I stop trying.”

“Looking forward to it.”

But you weren’t. Not really.

The night you finally caved, it wasn’t a grand moment. Just a quiet run-in after practice, late, both of you tired. He looked at you for a second too long. You looked back. No one else was around.

“You wanna grab something to eat?” he asked, softer this time. No smirk. No show.

You hesitated.

“Just dinner,” he added quickly. “No pressure.”

You should’ve said no. Should’ve reminded him that if anyone found out, you’d both get torn apart.

But you didn’t.

After that, everything changed — and nothing did. You kept it private. No one knew about the way he pressed kisses behind your ear when you were brushing your teeth. Or how he’d text you “media availability just got way more interesting” before games.

He never said anything on the record. Until he did.

It was a standard post-game scrum, packed with reporters. You were in your usual spot, notebook in hand, asking about third-period adjustments.

Quinn glanced at you, gave his usual answer — then added, too casually:

“We adjusted in the third, like you said, babe.”

Babe.

It was a split second. One syllable. But it echoed.

Your pen paused mid-sentence. The PR guy blinked like he’d misheard. A few reporters looked around.

You didn’t flinch. Your voice was even. “Noted. Thanks, Hughes.”

But inside, you were screaming.

Later that night, Quinn was pacing your apartment like he was being traded.

“I can’t believe I said that,” he muttered. “I’m so—so sorry. You’re gonna get in trouble. Shit, I didn’t even think. It just—slipped. Like an idiot.”

You sat on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, watching him spiral.

“I literally train my whole life to stay calm under pressure and I blew it with one word—”

“Quinn.”

He froze. His face glazed over with panic.

You stood, walked over, leaned against the counter, and gave him a slow once-over.

“I’m not mad.”

He blinked. “You’re… not?”

“No.” You cracked a grin. “But you should be. Twitter thinks you’re engaged now. You’re a whole meme.”

He groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “Oh my god.”

You pulled out your phone. “Someone edited your post-game quote over a Bridgerton clip.”

“I’m never showing my face again.”

“You’re adorable when you panic.”

He looked up at you, exasperated. “Why are you not freaking out?”

“Because if you think I didn’t screenshot the second it happened, you don’t know me at all.”

He groaned again — and this time you reached up, pulling him in by his hoodie.

“I’ll handle PR,” you said, brushing a kiss over his jaw. “But you’re doing media training again. Just in case.”

He smiled, finally, against your mouth. “Worth it.”

[cyber333angel]

HATE SEX WITH RAFE !

you and rafe had been arguing for about three days now, huffing and puffing whenever you saw each other and slamming doors around the house. however today, you really wanted to piss him off and get back at him. it was around 8 pm where you were putting the finishing touches to your pretty little outfit, layering your jewelry and picking out what delicious scent you would smell like tonight.

you grabbed your purse and started to head down the stairs where rafe sat on the couch occupying himself with his phone. as he heard the click clacks of your heals he looked up from the screen, observing the way your tits bounced with every step and how the volume of your hair sprung up and down, overall how absolutely gorgeous you looked. a loud voice interrupts you as you reach the last step, “where the fuck are you going dressed like that?” unfazed by the hostility, you answer. “a party.” you give him a short response, purposely to tick him off and you see rafe spring up from his seat, walking towards you. “a party with who?” he says while nodding his head and biting his thumb. you look up at him annoyed. “with sarah and kie, why do you care anyway?” you break eye contact with him and you start walking to the entryway, almost at the door handle. mumbling under your breath quietly, “so annoying like..get out of the fucking way.“

you knew better than to talk to your boyfriend like that, realizing it when suddenly your throat and hand that was reaching for the door, are held in a tight grip from rafe. “don’t ever fix your mouth to say some shit like that to me again, you hear me?” startled by his sternness you decide to push him more, just to see how far he would go. “fuck you rafe, your not the boss of me.” rafe twists his head at you, since it seems like your not knowing who your talking to. “yeah, im not the boss of you?”

..your now on the bed, your coily hair held in rafes hand in a tight grip as he abuses your cunt. he bunched up the dress halfway up your spine, panties lost at the end of your ankle as your knees pressed into the bed. your ass ricocheted off his pelvis from the brutal pace, and your eyes went half lidded from the pain and pleasure. “got some fuckin nerve thinking you could talk to me like that.” he had been fucking you for what seemed like hours at this point, his cock buried in your pussy leaking out white liquid. “mmm daddy m’so-sorryy! won’t do it again i swear!” you beg, your soaked hole becoming sensitive at every harsh thrust he makes you take.

rafe ignores your pleads, letting it really sink in and make you think of the way you acted earlier. “nah but you weren’t sorry before when you wanted to go act like a slut at some fucking party.” he bends down close to your ear, pulling your hair to level your face with his. “huh sweetheart? what happened to all that fuckin talk? i thought i wasn’t the boss of you?” you could only answer with sobs and cry’s from how rough he was being. your wet skin smacking together, sweaty from how good he was making you feel. his cock dragging in and out of your cunt making your head spin, “hngh..slo-slow down rafey!” he grips the fat of your ass and relaxes his pace, fucking you slowly as he runs his hands through his hair straightening his back. he ponders, opening his mouth to ask you a question. “where’d you learn to speak to me like that hm? never spoke t’me like that before so what happened, you needed some dick?” he waits for your response, still rocking his hips back and forth slowly.

you shake your head, “d-didn’t want to argue with you anymore daddy.. im sorry nd ill be good now promise!” whining at him, rafe coos at you, knowing you only did this to end the useless bickering between the two of you. “t’aw s’okay baby i know your sorry, i know your a good girl. daddy doesn’t like to argue with you either alright?” you nod frantically, happy that your little squabble with your boyfriend was over. “go on and cum on this dick sweetheart, just like that..” he admires you from above, watching the way you squirm as you cream on his cock. rafe put in a last few thrusts and pulls out, cumming on your back where your dress was bunched up at the top. it was a shame though, you really did look good in that dress.

[illbegottenfaith]

stuck with u

you get stuck in the Room of Requirement with a not-so-distant acquaintance and realise there's no where else you'd rather be (theo nott x reader)

all this loving you, hating you, wanting you...

a/n - ahh my first entry for hogmarch! I can't believe I'm finally writing a trope I used to devourrr as a (younger) teen and although 'stuck' tropes aren't my absolute favourites I like that I went for a little unconventional take on it :D I decided to blend the week 1 & 2 themes since im wayyy past the week 1 timeframe oops (midterms...) anyways this was so so fun to write cuz even 5 years on I love love loveee stuck with u ARGHH its so good so enjoy :)))

tropes/warnings - mutual pining, friends-ish to lovers, fluff, happy ending <3

word count - 2.5k

taglist - @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf

You’d never been one to stick around - not when it came to people.

You had friends. Plenty of them, in fact. You’re easy to get along with, know how to fill the silences with laughter. But close friendships - the kind where you let them actually know you, the kind where you let them in, let them see something real - those have been few and far between.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of people. You just didn’t trust easily.

Most friendships, to you, felt temporary. People drift in and out of each other’s lives all the time, and you’d never seen much use in pretending otherwise. You kept things surface-level, just enough to be friendly. But the moment someone gets too close, asking questions you don’t want to answer, you pull away. Create distance before they can even get the chance to disappoint you.

But then there’s Theo. And, for some reason, he’s the only person you’ve never managed to push away.

Not that you haven’t tried.

In your first year, when you tripped down the last few steps of the dungeon staircase and sent your books flying, it was Theo who had crouched beside you, silently gathering them up, not a single snide remark on his lips as 11-year-old boys were prone to hand out. No, all you got was a faint smirk as he handed them back to you without a word, all while you gaped gormlessly at him.

In your third year, when you missed a week of classes after a particularly vicious stomach bug, it was Theo who had slid his notes across the table in Potions, muttering “don’t ask me to explain any of it” out the corner of his mouth. All the same, with every mildly incoherent word in his slanted, cursive handwriting, he was surprisingly cooperative in deciphering it for you.

In your fourth year, when you got hexed in the middle of the corridor and spent the entire afternoon with bright green hair, it was Theo who had walked you to the Prefects’ Bathroom, rolling his eyes as he mumbled something about how he “might as well supervise” before you inevitably made it worse.

And this year - your last year - he’s always there.

You don’t understand it. You don’t have the kind of friendship where you confide in each other, where you talk about things that matter. But somehow, Theo always seems to be around when it matters - watching with those observant, calculating eyes of his, offering help without making a big deal out of it, like he knows you wouldn’t take it if he did.

It’s a running joke now - one you always throw at him with a grin. You just can’t get rid of me, huh?

And every time, he huffs a quiet laugh. Apparently not.

The next time you get stuck with him is over spring break. Naturally, all your friends wanted to do was laze around the Common Room, half-dozing. Eventually, someone proposed the brilliant idea of fetching a game for a little intellectual stimulation, like Uno. Unfortunately, no one wanted to actually get up to get it other than you and Theo.

“This isn’t going to work,” you said. You and Theo were standing in an empty corridor on one of the higher floors, one where the Room of Requirement was rumoured to appear. He shushed you impatiently, his eyes still screwed shut as he thought long and hard about a deck of uno cards.

You sighed, waiting for him to get this over with. This close, you could see every individual eyelash of his, all of which were unfairly long. Really, it was a waste of a beautiful feature on a perfectly mediocre boy.

He finally opened his eyes, which almost immediately found yours. You hadn’t realised you were standing so close to each other. For a brief moment, you were struck by how pretty his eyes were - marbled, watercolour eyes that lent a softness to his otherwise strong, harsh features. Momentarily speechless, you looked away, following his line of sight over your shoulder.

Well, I’ll be damned, you thought. A door. An actual door.

Sure enough, it opened to a narrow, cavernous room filled to the brim with every board game you could dream up. The two of you wandered in, weaving in and out of stacks upon stacks of games. Once you picked out a suitable deck of Uno cards, you both meandered back to the entrance. Or what was the entrance.

You turned the corner of a stack, back to where the entrance was, only to see Theo standing with his back to you, his face hidden, fingertips ghosting a blank stretch of stone.

“Theo,” you started, stating the complete obvious, “why is there wall where the door is supposed to be?”

"I don't believe it," you heard him mumble disbelievingly under his breath. "It was here just a moment ago."

"You lost the door?" you cried out. He was starting to look a little green around the gills, his eyes darting to the other walls. He gave a weak, unconvincing laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous."

“Do something, Theodore!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Theo winced. “Quit yelling, would you?”

You sat down, slumped against the opposite wall, dragging a hand across your face. “Great. This is just perfect. We’re going to grow old and die and shrivel up in here and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault? If you had just waited by the door like I asked - ”

"You didn't tell me the door was going to disappear!"

"Yeah - well - it's never happened before." Theo dragged his hand out of his hair, now wildly sticking up in all directions, fingers trailing up the wall as if trying to feel for a hidden door. You scoffed.

"I told you we should have gone down to Hogsmeade to buy a deck, but no, you didn’t want to walk all that way.”

“Unlike you, I actually know how to work the Room.”

Theo turned just in time to dodge the Monopoly figurine you had hurled at his head.

"Then work it. Get us out of here."

--------

"Stop chucking things at me."

Grudgingly, you paused your assault. Half an hour ago, you had been ready to climb the walls and tear them down to get out of this place. Now, the craze had passed, so you settled for pelting Theo with all the tiny games figurines you could get your hands on while he paced wearily, trying to think of a solution.

“I’ll stop when we have an exit.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Theo turned back to the blank stone wall, muttering something under his breath as he pressed his palm against it. When nothing happened, he shoved both hands through his already-ruffled hair and swore under his breath.

Your eyes tracked his movements critically. “You have no idea how to get us out of here, do you?”

“Of course I do,” Theo shot back, a little too quickly.

"Right."

Five minutes later, he finally admitted defeat. He joined you where you were slumped in a corner, unsuccessfully trying to juggle the chess pieces. To your credit, you didn't say it, but your whole body language hummed with an undercurrent of I told you so.

"The Room's going to let us out when it wants to let us out," he said finally. "All we can do is wait till it feels like it."

He sounded so defeated you were starting to feel a little bad for being so hard on him. You sighed.

"I just can't believe we're stuck in here when everybody else is...you know, out there."

“Yes,” he said drily, “because there’s so many better places to we need to be. Merlin forbid we fall behind on our couch-rotting hours.”

You grinned as he picked up the deck of cards on your lap, starting to shuffle them.

"Might as well make the most of it while we're stuck here."

You raised your eyebrows as he started expertly manipulating the deck.

"Shuffling's the newest panty-dropper, eh?"

The corner of his mouth ticked upwards as his eyes remained fixed on the deck. "You'd be surprised."

You can practically see him puffing out his chest on the showier tricks he does with laser-focused concentration. It makes you want to laugh, his almost childish need to be impressive. To impress others. To impress you.

But, for reasons that eluded you, you were impressed. Not once had Theo ever let you down. It was as though he was incapable of it. You didn't exactly rely on him, but when he was around, his deep, self-assured voice was guaranteed to soothe your frazzled nerves. Even now, when all you wanted to do was bitch and moan about how you were never going to see the light of day again, he somehow managed to distract you, amuse you. Theo always knew how to turn a bad situation around and, well, to someone as catastrophic as you, what could sound more appealing?

Game after game, time began to blur. The cards whispered as they slid over each other in his hands, a hypnotic rhythm filling the silence between you. You let your head tilt back against the wall, exhaling slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little.

Your head lolled against your shoulder as you lazily watched Theo shuffle the cards for the umpteenth time.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you noted, tilting your head toward him.

He didn't look up from the cards. "A novel concept, I know."

You nudged him in the ribs and he gave an exaggerated wince.

"Watch it. There's no exit and I'm more than capable of beating your ass."

Theo laughed at that, openly and unabashed.

"You're going to beat my ass?"

"Just said I would, didn't I?"

Theo snorted, mumbling something somewhat affectionate under his breath. You turned away, hiding your grin. Your cheeks were pink and your eyes glittered with the thrill of being Theo's company - the only person who could keep up with you.

He continued shuffling the cards, a little slower now.

“I’m thinking.”

You looked back at him, once again interested. “Dangerous.”

He flicked a card at you without looking, and you batted it away with a grin. “Thinking about what?”

His shuffling slowed to a stop. “Nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something.” You leaned even closer to him now, your knees brushing against his thigh. “Something broody and dramatic, I bet. Come on, spill.”

Theo exhaled through his nose. “Drop it.”

“Not a chance,” you chirped. "Just tell me what it is. Unless you’re scared.”

That got him. His jaw ticked, fingers tapping on the deck.

“Didn’t peg you for a coward, Nott,” you goaded, bumping your knee against his. “You can tell me.”

Theo let out a slow breath, his shoulders tensing. He shuffled the deck once more, but this time, his movements weren’t just for show. They were measured, thoughtful, almost like he was buying himself time.

You covered his hands with yours, stopping him. He glanced down to where the two of you were practically holding hands.

“If I tell you something, you have to promise not to laugh.”

You nodded. "Did you kill a man."

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "No."

"Is it about the shuffling? Were you secretly roped into an underground gambling ring over the summer? Is that where you learnt all those tricks?"

You could tell he desperately wanted to smile but was stopping himself. "No," Theo said, his grip on your hand tightening.

"You started an underground gambling ring? Without me?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

You dropped your eyes to his crotch for a fraction of a second.

"Ach - not like t - that's not what I meant."

"I'm just messing with you." You ran a hand through his hair despite his desperate, one-handed attempts to bat you away. "Tell me already."

Theo hesitated. You became suddenly aware of how quiet the Room was. You felt an awful, sinking feeling in your stomach that maybe Theo was right. You weren't going to like what he had to say.

“I don’t mind being stuck here.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

He shifted beside you, tapping the deck of cards against his knee.

“I mean, yeah, it’s a bit ridiculous how we ended up here, but…” He trailed off, searching for the right words.

“It’s not the worst thing in the world. Being here. Being stuck here. With you.”

You stared at him. His eyes shone with that stupidly optimistic sincerity of his that you only saw glimpses of from time to time. He meant every single word.

His grip slackened. Wordlessly, you retracted your hand. How were you to bear this?

"You're right," you said in a voice thick with unshed tears. "That is absolutely ridiculous. It's downright - " your voice quivered. You brushed a hand across your eyes. "Downright laughable."

A sobering silence followed. You wondered if Theo was kicking himself for having opened his mouth in the first place. You wondered if you should say something.

"You really don't mind this?" you started hoarsely. You tilted your head to face him. "You don't mind me? I mean, I pelted you with Monopoly pieces while yelling abuse at you. I messed up your hair."

His mouth curved into that faint, breezy smile of his.

"'Course I don't mind it."

"Why not?" You should.

"'Cause it's you." It's you. It's always been you.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You felt the exhaustion of being trapped in here catching up to you. You rested your head on his clavicle. Hesitantly, he turned his head to press his lips to your temple.

"I have to be honest, Y/N," he muttered against your hair. "I don't know if we're getting out of here."

"S'alright." You pressed a tiny kiss to his shoulder. "There's nothing I'd rather than do, either."

It's what all this loving him, hating him, wanting him boiled down to. Interlacing his long, careful fingers with your own, you decided that yes, there was no one else you'd rather be stuck with.

[pedge-page]

Ok can I request something maybe out there. but sedation kink with doctor Joel. like I’m kind of into the idea of doctor/scientist prepping me for an exam or study and putting me under, reassuring and stroking my face because I’ve never been under anesthesia before and he wipes my few tears as I drift off. then he’s fondling me, putting my legs in stirrups, and observing my reactions to different stimuli like fingers, a brush, vibrator, mouth, putting cooling/tingly cream on my nipples/clit, etc., as I’m out and making notes and taking polaroids of my reactions like little twitches and noises, how wet I get, if my nipples react (if he can make me cum by just my nipples) edging me and im making little tired whines but eventually making me cum a few times while I’m out and he’s just watching what happens from down there and talking into his little mic that’s recording all this. then if I start to come to too early he tuts and asks if I want to stay under and I’m still out of it but drowsily say yes because I’m confused but feels good and he (safely) gives me some a little bit more of sedation just enough to keep me in that floaty place and starts fucking me so good that I actually come to while he’s inside and I fully come to as he’s removing the monitors and telling me how good I was for him and asking if it felt good and he’s giving me some water and kissing me telling me it’s okay to sleep because I’m still tired as he cleans me up so he can take us both home.

A Doctor’s Care

Doctor!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Nonny, you practically wrote this yourself. Please give yourself a massive pat on the back, because this was a fantastic idea. I've been foaming at the mouth about it for months (I'm so sorry It took so long!) Hope you're still around to read this!

Warnings : virgin!Reader, corrupt!doctor, corruption kink, sedation kink, non-con, oral, throat fucking, squirting, sex toys, nipple play, unprotected sex, kinda DDDNE-ish , groping, slight breeding kink, pussy pronouns, foot fetish, uhhhh please lmk if I'm missing anything

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“Now, you can start counting up to ten.”

You take a deep breath, trying you best to ignore the needle he had just inserted into your arm. “One, two, th-three, fooour, f-fi…”

He softly brushes your smoothed cheek, watching as your eyelids sag, the heavy lure of sleep washing over your entire body. Your muscles sink into the bed, eyes barely being able to close fully. You had never felt more relaxed. Up to this point, you were an axnious mess, but you knew you were in the good, trustworthy hands of Doctor Miller.

A stray tear wells up, threatening to spill. He smiles warmly and brushes it away for you. He doesn’t want to see you cry when you don’t even know why.

If you were a little more observant, you would have questioned why it was only Dr Miller moving forward with an anesthesia-induced operation. Typically there’s always more than one practitioner in the room. You would have wondered why nobody else was in the hospital at all.

 He told you he could make a special booking for your physical exam, just the two of you, to help alleviate any anxiety about the scary aura of a hospital, the sick people roaming around and watching, peeping in through the doors. He made sure you were the only one here today, to help you get comfortable and have nothing to worry about.

Of course, it is Sunday. Nobody operates on Sunday. The hospital was completely empty save for his office and this room.

Not only is this out of standard procedure, this was off the books.

This was illegal, and you had no idea.

“Dr. Miller, log 47,” he says into his little recorder. “Patient is sedated fully. Heartrate and breathing—“ he gently hovers his fingers rigor below your nose, his eyes scanning the beeping monitor next to you—“ normal and stable. Beginning examination.”

Maybe, if you were smart, you would have also questioned why you needed to be sedated for a basic physical exam. You didnt ask what a physical really entailed, which gave him the perfect excuse for... well. This.  

Joel had offered you some privacy before where he left his office to allow you to change your day clothing into the sterile gown. Such gentlemanly, professional attitude is tossed out the door as he doesn’t hesitate to unfasten the front, popping the buttons off one by one. He starts at your chest, exposing the silk smooth curve of your breasts. “Beautiful, healthy body,” he breathes. Every entimeter of your skin is observed closely. He continues, making his way down to your stomach, admiring your naval with his thick hand petting softly over your belly and unbuttoning down your hips. “I can already see excellent shape for reproduction, should she choose…”

He grins, now having you fully exposed to him under the bright light. Joel places his recorder in his chest pocket, leaving the mic on so he can continue to do his work with both steady hands.

“Fuck me,” he groans, the tent in his slacks already pressing against the cool metal table under you. He adjusts himself slightly, no concern for the perversion of his hard cock jutting out in the open as he brushes it against your legs and arms while circling you.

Dr. Miller was a practiced man. He'd lifted enough unconscious body parts throughout his career, being careful yet precise. It took him no time to hoist your legs into the cradled bend of the stirrups, spread wide and slightly elevated so that your core was exposed.

“Testing reactivity,” he says before pressing your feet with his thumbs. He massages your arch, feeling the tendons shift and resist. His lips ghost the ball of your foot. "Smooth here too. The skin of the feet haven't started callousing yet." Joel’s wet tongue glides along the crevice, thick and warm, before sucking on your toes, lubricating them with his tongue over and over again. He moans, closing his eyes and palming his bulge. You don’t seem to stir at all, but he does briefly catch the way your eyeballs shift underneath your lids, brows drawing then releasing.

He pushes the stirrups forward more, hands on the backs of your thighs until your knees are bent, as if ready to birth.

“Very healthy looking patient below the waist. I’ll need to taste more—test more before the insertion.”

Joel shifts along your side, and with no hesitation, grasps your tits roughly. He scrunches and squeezes tightly, pushing your nipples out until they’re hardened and swollen. He loves the way they feel in his big palms. It was last week when you let him do a breast exam, he was able to fondle them to his liking. He wanted to give them a taste then, but knew you weren’t ready for that.

Consciously, anyway.

A hot month descends upon your breast, and he glances up once again to see your reaction. He rolls your nip around and around before biting lightly. That receives a flinch. He smiles, sucking harder. They’re so warm and firm in his mouth, and he can’t help but suckle along them with fat suctioning sound each time he releases. “Very good potential for milk. Bet she’d make the sweetest milk.” He draws away, grabbing something from the table next to him. “Documenting …” he dabs some freezing cream directly onto your nipple and snaps a picture when your head jolts in surprise. Little sounds get lodged in your throat as he rubs it into your skin, kneading your mounds like dough. “Pretty thing…” he whispers seductively. 

He alternates between his hot mouth and the cold cream, watching your head toss slightly here and there. Your heartrate had also picked up, beeping a little more fervently. Nothing major, but a few beats per minute quicker than before. 

“We’re gonna stress her breathing next,” he sighs, moving up above your head. He feels your collar bone, working his hands up along your esophagus and underneath your neck. Pressing slightly to watch how much further your chest expands for air to ensure you’re still adjusting breath properly. 

Dr Miller unzips his trousers, his hard length falling free and slapping your forehead. He chuckles lazily, rolling it over and over, his tip nudging your nose and closed eyes. You’re so compliant like this. Not even a peep of protest as he nestles his balls overtop your sockets and pushes his head against your soft lips. 

“Seeing how well she can take …foreign objects…obstructing the jugluar.”

He presses in, your lips parting of their own accord to accomodate the intruder. “Ughhh,” he growls. His hands splay along the table, inching himself forward with a roll of his hips. Your jaw opens wider, forced to take the growing girth of his member. A strangled noise hiccups in your throat, and he immediately draws out. The monitor by your side beeps loudly before returning to a regular pace.

He aligns himself again and fucks your mouth, this time further than before until the mushroom tip is bulging in your throat.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” he moans heavenly. He pulls out, lets you breathe, then forces it deeper.  Again and again until you’re taking him for five seconds at a time, deeper and deeper, the table rattling with his incessant humps. “Fuck..you take that, swallowing my cock like a princess, you take cock so good little slut.”

He thrusts in and out until he’s on the verge of cumming. Slipping his cock out the final time, he grips the base, growling to keep his orgasm down. He’d been thinking about it a long time, where he’d defile you last with his seed. As tempting as your tight throat was, he knew there was better ways to make you his confidential patient, forever and always. 

Your vital signs were steady again, although more elevated than you started. Your head twitched to the side slightly, eyeballs rolling under your eyelids. Your body can sense something is happening externally, but cannot rouse itself to intercept. 

He smiles, stroking your spit stained cheeks. “You’re doin’ very well, sweet pea.” its one of his favorite things about these types of exams. Watching how much a patient's instinct tries to fight his ministrations. Yet failing under the sedation and trusting senses of its owner.

For the next hour, Dr. Miller plays with your body. He’s inserted a bullet vibrator up your vaginal walls, controlling its speed and intensity on the little device. With each change in setting, your body reacted differently. Your hips bucked involuntarily, head swayed side to side. Hums of pleasure bubbled in your chest and out your nose, straining to make a coherent noise. He watched, spreading your folds so your little clit was perfectly on display. She throbbed, swelling to an engorged state. So vibrantly colored, filled with blood as he sets her nerves ablaze. 

He’d press his warm lips to her before patching it with a cubed ice. Your body didn’t like that, stomach tensing and knees wanting to lock. He had to get the stirrups tightened around your calves to keep you spread open for him. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispers quietly against your thigh, his plush lips ghosting the inside. He’s left his mic on recording, giving himself the freedom to savor your goosebumps for himself. 

Dr Miller circled around you again, viewing your exposed chest. Your nipples were stiff, and he makes note about how erect they’d become since starting your test. He presses his mouth there, his fingers dancing south to come in contact with your drooping pussy. He’s got a little cup underneath your butt, to capture any of your juices that might leak from his ministrations. For extra (taste) testing in the future.

With his mouth on your breast and three fingers rubbing your clit in clockwise motion, Joel suckles and fingers you with deadly precision.

 “Trying to make the patient—“ his tongue circles over your nipple thrice before nipping at your nipple, sucking it to a point—“reach climax.” 

He spanks your pussy, rewarding himself with a quiver from your body. “That’s it babygirl, you feel that?” He slaps it again, your body jolting, but his teeth sink further into the flesh of your boob to keep your chest in place.

He removes his hand entirely, focusing solely on sucking your tits. There’s a little device wedged inside you, not unlike the bullet vibrator, but this one can sense contractions. It connects to a monitor across the room, recording the pulses inside your pussy.

“That’s it—I see it—she’s working up to it—“ he sucks harder on your tits, swallowing his own saliva, eyes desperately strained to see your cunt reflected back on him on the TV and the matching pulses growing next to it.

The lines reach their heightened point, and your body wreathes appropriately as you cum. Your poor little cunny, contracting around nothing as you orgasm from his tongue on your breasts alone. 

“I want to see if I can just—“ he slips his hand back down to your pussy, diving three fingers in at once and rapidly squelching upward towards that gummy part inside. 

Suddenly, you let out an audible yelp, knees folding inward as liquid gushes from your opening. 

“Oohhhh yes, that’s a good girl, that’s a good girl!” He praises, smirking as you continue to squirt all over his palm and splash onto the floor. The fucking cup wouldn’t capture all of it, an he’d have to really clean up. But he wasn’t expecting such promising results. 

“She’s well hydrated for sure.”

By the way you shake your head, eyes starting to peep over, it doesn’t seem like you knew you could squirt either.

“Shhhh,” he hums, putting his palm over your eyes to block the light. “Rest now, you’re in good hands. Do you want to keep sleeping?” He glances over at the IV bag, already dripping another extra droplet into your system. “You’re so warm and safe here. Let’s rest a little more.”

You let out a sigh, eyes closed and nodding slightly before falling to the side, back into a deep state of unconsciousness.

How pathetic you can’t even tell your lower half is soaking wet of your own doing.

He makes his way back to stand between your legs, kicking away the little rolling stool. 

“See how well this pussy takes a real poundin.’” He pumps his shaft along your slick entrance, dabbing it repeatedly and grinning at how wet it sounds. He’d been edging himself this whole time. Not just this evening, but the entire few months he’s been you ever doting, caring, overly invested doctor, waiting to get you right here, spread out for him.

“She’s still so soft, so tight,” he gulps with a pant. Your chest was inflating up and down more quickly, so he knew you could feel something happening. “You’re doin’ great, baby. Just—just a little more—“

He notches the tip along your weeping hole. “She’s so patient for me.” He wonders if you’ll feel this in the morning when you wake.

Sliding in the first inch, Joel opens his jaw in silent prayer, head tilted back towards the ceiling. He pushes in again, feeling the first bit of resistance from your walls. Shit, he knew you were a virgin. You had marked it embarrassingly during one of the first appointments where he intimately needed to know all your sexual activities. You’d admitted having masturbated, which he encouraged as healthy, though the truth was so that he wouldn’t have to try too hard to stretch you out at this exact moment. Luckily he had loosened you up pretty well with his fingers and tongue this good hour, so when the good doctor pulls out then thrusts half his length in one go, you can’t offer any more rebellion to it.

When he finally bottoms out, he lets out a satisfied whimper. His cheek turned upright into a selfish, wicked grin. “Fuck, your pussy looks so good around my cock,” he says loudly, taunting the fact that you couldn’t retort even if you could hear him properly. He hasn’t had any relevant, professional notes to take for a long while now, instead resorting to little ‘fuckfuckfuck’s as he thrusts his hips in and out of your now loosened cunt. 

He reaches for the wand vibrator, switching it on and positioning it right at your clit, against the base of his dick. Its whirs to life, making your whole body contract in on itself.

“Auuggghhhh fuck yeah—fuck that’s it sweet girl—just feel that—feelin’ it so good.” He continues to fuck you open, biting his tongue and watching you shift with each rut into your unconscious body. Your eyelashes flutter, instinct fighting to get you awake. Jesus he wants it—wants you to wake up right fucking now, see what he’s doing to you. The way your eyes would float, confused, coming into focus as the trusted doc is battering your once pure insides in the name of your health. 

You didn’t know he’d already been fired and relocated from 6 different hospitals across the country for this exact reason. Granted, most anyone could report was inappropriate behavior and groping. He’d have his way with girls like you, in this exact position before. If anybody ever fully caught on to this, he’d be strung up in jail by now.

Whines bubble up from your chest as he gropes your tit with one hand, swirling the wand around your nub with the other. It takes a few minutes of on and off before he feels you clenching around him and cumming. Your back arches slightly, gasping through your mouth. He has to steady himself with his hands flat on either side of the observation table, hunched over and ramming into you while you’re still squeezing the fuck out of him. He likes the way your juices splash down his thighs and balls with each puncture. He’s a good doctor though, making sure you wouldn’t bleed or tear throughout this rough ordeal. He’s a proper man when it comes to his practice.

“Shit, shit—babydoll—fuckyeah this pussy—I’m not gonna be able to give this one up--“ He hums to himself, eyes shut.

You barely register the fact that you’re coming to. Your eyes are slitted but the tunnel vision is still so strong. Foggy and muffled, you can feel your body moving but can’t bring your muscles to do anything about it.

“D-J-oel,” you rasp, eyes fluttering close again as you definitely feel something deep within your stomach. You’re still so out of it, half your senses fading and drawing while being stimulated, unable to fully reach your brain. Your body is screaming to wake up though despite the tempting lull back to sleep. So you open your eyes again, rollin them around you. Your vision becomes clearer, still blurring but able to make outlines and lights now. Still in the hospital, still with the bright lights, still with Doctor Miller—

Doctor Miller, standing between your spread, naked legs with his wet, hard and long cock disappearing in and out of you. Doctor Miller, cursing and staring at where your bodies join, oblivious to your aroused state. Doctor Miller, telling you sweet words like how he’s gonna take you home, he’s gonna keep you like this till you’re full of him, then he's really gonna watch you grow, none of it really making coherent sense to you at the moment.

But there is that feeling inside, deep within your core that’s growing. Everything feels so wet and hot at the same time. He’s incessantly rubbing something delicious, electrocuting your nerves to an awakened state so far more than anything else.

You let out a strangled moan, and his head shoots up, watching you roll your neck and look around. Your sounds get louder, jaw flexing to let them loose.

He's been caught, and he doesn’t stop. “Fuck-fuck babygirl that’s it—M’takin real good care of ya—watch…watch me…watch me when ya cum—“ he groans, gripping your hips and slamming into you almost abusively. 

“Ah-ah-ah-ah!” You wail, unable to tear your limited vision away from him as he ruts like a dog in heat, his hips humping your ass. 

He lets out a startled bark, stilling inside you all the way. That makes your eyes fly wide open, more awake now than before as you start to cum around him. You don’t know what’s happening, don’t understand it and yet your body only knows pleasure, and that’s what your brain releases all over your insides and out. He’s so warm inside, filling you with something hot and sticky. 

There’s a thin sheen of sweat on you, and even greater on him. He pulls out, mummuring some  praise at your pearly, pulsing slit. Your heart is pounding, but body exhausted, like you’d been at this for a while now. You can’t move your head, and your eyes feel heavy once again.

“Hey, hey,” he coos softly next to you. He cups your face in his big hands, bringing you to look at him. “Hey there, angel. How we feeling? You did amazing.”

He feels gentle, touching your fuzzy spots all over again like honey. “Mmm,” you nod. 

He smiles, beginning to turn off the monitors and unhook you from the sensors. “Did such a great job for me, never had a patient as good as you.” He kisses your forehead, long and comforting. now with the needle out, you still feel drowsy, but with his reassuring words and touches, you don’t feel the need to get up any time soon.

“Here, drink this—“ he hands you a little platic cup of water with a straw. You take a few sips, suddenly feel a massive, near painful pressure in your throat, like something had been lodged there not long ago. Coughing slightly, you give him back the cup, falling back against the headrest.

“Shhh, it’s okay. No need to fight it. You can keep resting.” He kisses you on the lips, silencing any protest. Your brain still feels so floaty, you don’t even question the way his tongue swipes along your teeth. You don’t care, enjoying the way he’s treating you so well after the procedure. He makes you feel safer than ever.

“Gonna clean you up now. Take you home.”

Of course, you don’t think about it, as he makes you feel so at home now. You quickly fall back asleep. Joel wheels you out of the room, down towards his un-registered truck and into the back where he whisks you away to your very new, very permanent, very secluded "home." 

- - - -

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