#heart divider by saradika
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general:
¤·彡minors are not allowed to request anything, as i do not feel comfortable interacting with minors. you must be 18+ in order to get a request filled.
¤·彡requests can be turned down for any reason.
¤·彡please give me more than a month to complete your request. i may also need more time depending on what it is you're requesting.
¤·彡 hate of any kind is absolutely not tolerated here. you will be blocked <3
¤·彡 if you wish to vent, my private messages are always open. but please do not vent in my inbox.
¤·彡 proshippers do not interact with me!!!
writing:
¤·彡the only fandom i write for is aot. i prefer to/primarily write for eren. i can also do general f/o requests.
¤·彡 writing requests will be approximately 200-400 words, though i may write more depending on what the subject is about.
¤·彡 as of right now, only fluff and mild/slight nsfw is allowed
¤·彡 please do not request: cheating, abuse of any kind, or sexual assault. i will not write about these subjects.
¤·彡 i write for gender neutral and female reader.
drawing:
¤·彡 you can request any fandom for drawings, it doesn't have to be aot.
¤·彡 i will only accept drawing requests of official characters. unless we are friends, no oc's or self inserts.
¤·彡 i can also draw ships. any ship that doesn't involve eren is fine.
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artwork | edits | commission info
#updating my bloog yet again.#hehe#but yes rqs are open!! request away#.txt#rules#request rules#writing requests#aot#attack on titan#snk#shingeki no kyojin#heart divider by saradika
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Where The Ocean Whispers
Happy Rafayel's Day!
𓇼— The Lemurians use special seashells to transmit messages from their heart to one another. Would you like to try?
𓇼— Soft fluff, birthday fluff, confession
𓇼— Masterlist
𓇼— Request a fic
The waves brought layers of white foam to the shore, erasing the intertwined footprints, sand arches and tiny seashells covering two pairs of bare feet almost touching each other. Then, as if to wash away every worry, the cold water faded, leaving behind nothing except a sense of calm and coolness, with a sense of longing for the next wave. The crimson sun glistened well below the horizon, akin to a priceless ruby gradually sinking to the ocean floor.
"Look over there. The sea is swallowing your sun!”
A long finger of his gestured forward. Your gaze followed as you smiled. He was still reminded of the narrative you told about your childhood when you thought that every night, the sun would sink into the sea and rest.
“Now the whole ocean will be warmed, in red and orange, right?” You replied. That was what he said after hearing your story. He seemed so happy and content that you could still remember it and recite every word.
“Maybe we can't paint the sea the color of the sun,” your voice continued, “But we can do this…”
All of a sudden, you hurled water high with your foot. The cool water reached him, splashing a bit on his white shirt. He rolled his eyes at you.
“So you do enjoy being playful like this?”
He bent down, gathered the entire ocean in his hands then flung it in your direction. Like a very gentle wave, seawater fell on your hair and light garment.
After the celebration was over, he and you raced outside to catch the sunset over the sea, leaving your coats and shoes behind. Both of you were drenched.
"That's not fair!" You gave a loud shout. “Did you do that on purpose?”
With a big chuckle, he answered, "That's what we refer to as the blessing of the sea." You have to accept it all.”
“You are the birthday boy. Here, take it all!”
You kept splashing him with saltwater. He persisted nonetheless. Before long, your entire bodies was soaked.
“That's enough, Rafayel. I give up!”
You surrendered by raising both hands. You felt a bit chilled by the breeze. Rafayel hauled you right up to the shore. You had no idea when he had a big towel ready there. He wrapped it around you.
“Hurry. Dry yourself.”
You obediently did as told. Then you gave him another glance. Water dripped from his dark purple curls, framing his small, flawless face. You couldn't take your eyes off the damp shirt that adhered to his body, exposing lines that made you flush. Rafayel took one look at you and immediately covered himself with both hands.
“I'm aware that my beauty can stun others. But if you keep staring at me like that, it would not be proper anymore."
You hid your embarrassed face behind the cotton towel. With a smile, Rafayel enquired:
"So? Do you want to go back inside?”
You gave him a firm shake of your head. “I want to stay here a little longer.”
Not that Rafayel objected. He accompanied you on your beach stroll. You remained quiet. You did not want to go back partly because you could not bear to see the day ended.
It was Rafayel's birthday. You had carefully prepared for an intimate party, with only a few people from his studio and family members attending. You personally made the cake for him and prepared everything yourself. But your heart was still restless as you kept carrying the feeling that this was not enough. You had yet to give him what he truly needed.
You continued to ponder. Rafayel needed what? He was wealthy and famous. He was exceptionally gifted, and he may have lived an extended lifespan. Giving something to someone who has had everything is impossible. If you could give him your heart, you would do so. In a symbolic sense.
Between you and Rafayel was a feeling without a name.
You started off as merely his reluctant bodyguard, someone to take care of his errands. You were not sure when exactly, but the image of him planted roots in your mind like the way he frequently appeared in front of you, provoking you. He was adorable and obnoxious all at once. Although he posed a threat, being around him gave you a sense of security. But you never, ever dared to speak it aloud. Perhaps you were afraid. You feared that the relationship would fizzle out like sea foam the moment you began seeking to give it a name. You made an effort to suppress that emotion, but it kept returning, much like waves finding their way back to the shore.
"What's off?" Rafayel enquired. He came to a stop. His expression was undoubtedly showing concern.
"I'm alright." You dismissed him with a shake of your head. Your heart raced whenever you were close to him. The feeling of being on cloud nine, at the same time realizing that a bottomless black hole was waiting at your feet made you about to lose your mind. You hated this feeling, yet also addicted to it. Like the way you were addicted to his very existence. Perfect like a dream.
His cool hand was placed on your forehead. He frowned and said:
“It seems your temperature is a bit high.”
You retreated a step, rejecting his touch. It was as if there was poison from his body that would seep into your heart, and you would drive yourself to a slow death if you could not touch him again.
“I'm fine.” With a resolute reply, you took a seat on the sand, a little wet from the waves. “I'm just a little tired… Let me sit here for a bit…”
Rafayel looked at you with a puzzled expression. He was curious to know what else you were planning to do. But you hid your face in the white towel. He sighed.
"I'll go fetch you some exquisite seashells then. Maybe it will make you feel better.”
You gave a little nod, glancing at Rafayel's back as it absorbed the last bit of sunlight on a peaceful day. This scene was a bit familiar, like the first time you had by chance met him on the street.
Rafayel knelt to get something that the waves had just carried. He held it tenderly in his palm, studied it for a moment, and then came over to you.
“Look what I've just found.” A fairly large shell weaved together in shades of orange-red and ivory-white was what he held out in front of you. You had never seen a shell with such a special hue like this before.
"So beautiful!" You exclaimed as Rafayel plopped down next to you on the sand. Your heart raced again as he sat so near.
“You know, the Lemurians often use shells like this to transmit messages to each other.”
He twisted it in his hand to examine it more closely before placing it in your palm.
“Do you want to give it a shot?”
You raised the shell quite a bit. Its hue was nearly identical to that of the horizon's sunset. You said:
“Show me how to do it.”
“Just tell the seashell what you want to say the most right now.”
“Is that all?”
“Yup. That's all. But what you say to it must come from the heart. It will find the person whom you want to send this to, no matter where they are.”
You looked at Rafayel. He appeared so honest, but this story was too much of a fairy tale and not very realistic. You did not know if he was just making this up to tease you. Then again, you once thought the Lemurians never existed. But here he was, sitting next to you.
You put the seashell to your lips, gave him another glance, and then murmured something to it.
Once you were done, you gave it to Rafayel.
“It's yours.”
His lips curled into a dazzling smile, as though he knew you would give it back to him.
“Hmmm.” Rafayel took the shell and leaned it close to his ear. He gestured as if he was concentrating hard to listen. Then he said with disappointment evident on his face: “I don't hear any message.”
"What? How is that possible?" You were impatient.
“Do you want to try again?”
He returned the shell to your hand. This time, you took a deep breath and looked at him while whispering your thoughts.
“Still nothing.” After listening to it for a second time, Rafayel said. “Are you sure you sent the message with all your heart?”
You replied sullenly: "Of course... Maybe since I'm not a Lemurian, I can't make it work."
Rafayel held your hand and put the shell in it. “Try it once more?”
"I doubt that anything will be different this time around." You gazed at the shell in your hand with boredom. “I was just going to… give you one more gift to make your birthday special…”
“My day is already quite special.” Rafayel's bright smile made the distant sunset dim, and suddenly you caught his warmth. “Thank you so much, for organizing a party for me. To be honest, though, I don't like partying as much as going to the sea with you like this."
Listening to his words, you found yourself smiling. You took off the towel that was wrapped around you, letting it fall freely onto the sand. You held the brilliant seashell in your hands, this time determined to let him hear your heart out.
Rafayel nodded and smiled at you as encouragement. You closed your eyes tightly, and lips slightly parted. You had a feeling that it could read my thoughts whether you said them out loud or not.
I really like, really like, really like Rafayel.
I like the way you concentrate when holding a paintbrush, as if the whole world is spread out before your eyes.
I like your terrified look when surrounded by cats.
I like it when you overdo things or act like a drama queen just to get my attention.
I like the bright colors you paint in my sky when it's gray.
I like the way you tease and then comfort me.
I like how your gentle touches are enough to keep me up at night.
I like everything about you.
Maybe, I love you, Rafayel. So much.
The shell was brought towards Rafayel, but halted midway. You wavered. Once he knew your feelings, would he still be by your side? Or would he throw this shell into the ocean along with your heart, letting it dissolve into bubbly white foam?
Rafayel looked at you and smiled. Even though he had laughed many times, you'd never seen him as happy as he was at that moment. There was an increased shine in his eyes, as if pearls were rising to the surface and ready to burst out the corners of his eyes. Happiness. You had never captured such a genuine moment of pure happiness like this.
He took the shell from your hand, but there was no need to listen to it anymore. He leaned closer to you and whispered:
“The words from your heart have been received by the person you wanted to send them to… You have no idea how long he waited just to hear those words… I love you too. So much."
When you felt soft lips touching yours, little did you know; that Lemurian man had heard what you said the first time he put his ear to the shell. He merely wanted to hear it one more time, and another. He wanted to hear you confess being able to confess to you; this day, the day after, and the day after that...
Until the ocean runs dry.
#rafayel's birthday#fanfic#fanfiction#love and deepspace#heart hunters series#moments with rafayel#rafayel x mc#rafayel x f!reader#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#love and deepspace fanfic#dividers by cafekitsune;#divider by saradika;#lnd#l&d#lad#qi yu#homura#qi yu x reader#homura x reader#love and deepspace rafayel#lad rafayel#lad x reader#lads x reader
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the road not taken looks real good now [669]
gn!reader, exes to ?, hopeful ending, light angst, a tribute to the piece i wrote in 2022 inspired by tis the damn season and hometown loves
He doesn’t ask you to stay, no matter how badly you wish he would. And no matter how bad the words linger on the tip of your tongue, you don’t ask him to wait.
The thought of him like that, wrapped up and in love with someone that isn’t you, makes your stomach turn cruelly, but still you say nothing. Bit by bit, you pack up the life you’ve always known – how do you manage to fit years into a single suitcase, you wonder bitterly. It seems like a condemnation – a sign that you were always meant for something else, something not Gotham and her grey, or the tourmaline eyed man who watches over her.
Jason sees you off – puts you on the train like it’s one of those old war movies and stays on the platform until you can no longer see him, the carriage pulling suddenly into the dark tunnel that’s meant to carry you to your great destiny. It sits in your stomach, bitter and mournful.
He doesn’t kiss you goodbye. You don’t ask. Neither of you say a thing, but the seconds count down, closer and closer to your departure. The station is busy, thrumming with a restless energy that isn’t entirely your own. You watch over his shoulder as a woman rushes, laden with bags and clutching a small child’s hand, into the open doors of the same train you need to get on. Another man shoulders past a group of teenagers, a phone clattering to the ground and a chorus of yells going up.
Somewhere in the chaos, his hand finds yours. It’s a pitiful replacement for all the words that go unsaid, and you can feel – not for the first time since you’d decided to leave – your heart cleave painfully, another fragment falling to the greying tiles at your feet and shattering. At this rate, you’re unsure how much of it will be left by the time you get to where you’re going.
The seconds flip closer, closer. A squeeze, and then your hand is falling away. Come home. I love you. I miss you already. Don’t go.
He says nothing, and you wish he would.
Jason watches you go.
You stay away for a year. A year turns into two and somehow, despite it all, the years continue to pass. You’re twenty six the next time you set foot in Gotham, bundling into the back of your dad’s car when he picks you up outside the airport.
It feels strange, driving down these roads. The cold bites, even through the rolled up windows and blanket that’s been in the backseat since you were five. You clutch it closer, eyes gazing out. You think if you stare hard enough, you’ll see the ghosts of your youth.
At street corners, under awnings and under lamp posts flickering to life – they’re everywhere. You don’t dare to breathe old names, but you’re suddenly eighteen once more, tired old heart beating once more for the one that haunts every memory. In dreams, in constellations and first kisses – there he remains.
And then, when you walk into that damn dive bar, address flashing on your phone and confirming that yes, this is where your friends had wanted to meet –
All roads inevitably lead back to him. This is a truth he must have known, you think, when you lock eyes with the ones that have haunted you for more than half a decade and they crease at the corners in pleasure.
Jason rounds the counter.
“You’re back,” he says. You, dazed, dizzy, anguished and lovesick, can only nod. Blue-green threatens to swallow you whole – to keep you, forever. Fingers you’ve not touched in an age tangle with your own and warmth blooms through your fingertips.
“Will you stay,” he asks, adding, belatedly, “for a drink?”
You squeeze his hand. The ache in your chest mellows – real, it whispers. Real, and here, and – yours?
“I’ll stay,” you murmur and his mouth curls into a shadowed smile, quietly pleased.
it always leads to you in my hometown is one of those fics i think about a lot for no damn reason. i don't particularly consider it one of my best works but it's so dear to me and i think the reunification of love, the return home and the bitterness of parting is just so….it does my head in (in the best way)
i got to see the song that inspired this fic (and others that provided the soundtrack to SO MANY of my fics) live a few weeks ago and it was such an incredible experience. i don't know, folklore and evermore are just so precious and dear to my heart. i love the stories in those albums and it made me so inexplicably happy being able to see the songs that inspired these fics live and thinking about jason and the memories i've made writing these silly little fics.
anyway i hope you enjoyed this little piece, i hope you're doing well and eating well. i love you
#jay my heart#jasonsmirrorball#divider by saradika#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#x reader#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic
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hiyaaaa
I am obsessed with the black hearted dividers so I was wondering if u could please do a lilac version!!!
thank you smmm
ur a star <333
hello! 💜🪻 I would be happy to - thank you so much! I picked 3 different shades, for variation:
[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!
Please like or reblog if you use 💕
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self-shipping
please talk to me about them, I love screaming about us! the bolded ones are the ultimate ones I think about the most!
toji x minx
shiu x minx
toji x minx x shiu
katsuki x minx
draken x minx
kento x minx
satoru x minx
levi x minx
eren x minx
armin x minx
yelena x minx
mikasa x minx
reiner x minx
rin x minx
ran x minx
baji x minx
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Masterlist.
⋆.˚⭒⋆.˚ welcome to the one, the only, the famed and world-renowned h&c book club!
⟶ hyssop's masterlist
⟶ catchfly's masterlist
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in general, all my writing can be found here.
for more specific results:
☁️· CHARACTERS
¤·彡 eren
¤·彡armin
¤·彡other characters
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return home | byf/dni | about me | request rules | tag list
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artwork | edits | commission info
#.txt#dont mind me just updating my page#aot#attack on titan#snk#shingeki no kyojin#fluff#eren#eren jeager#eren yeager#eren jager#armin#armin arlert#erwin#erwin smith#sasha braus#mikasa ackerman#jean kirschtein#connie springer#hange zoe#levi ackerman#heart divider by saradika
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ryomen sukuna
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ SERIES
adagio for strings
╰┈ (i.) → (ii.) → (iii.) → (iv)
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ DRABBLES & FICLETS
youth
╰┈ (i.) → (ii.)
fugue requiem
╰┈ (i.) → (ii.) → (iii.)
strawberries, cherries, and an angel's kiss in spring
╰┈ (i.) → (ii.)
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ NSFW CONTENT (MDNI)
pound town
╰┈➤ (i.)
pepsi cola
╰┈➤ (i.)
miscellaneous headcanons
⋆✮ sick season
⋆✮ your wedding day
⋆✮ living in the heian era
⋆✮ your boyfriend is who??
⋆✮ his plan for valentine's day
⋆✮ he subscribes to your onlyfans?!
⋆✮ average off-screen interactions
⋆✮ it's buzzcut season, anyway
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one night, you were born [918]
cw: afab reader but no mention of pronouns/gender specific names, children, childbirth but no graphic description, parenthood angst, fluff ? jason reminisces about the night your daughter was born
Your baby girl is born on a winter's night. She comes into the world squalling, little face wrinkled and a little slimy until the nurses clean her off, swaddling her in the baby blue blanket the shade of which her uncles had fought over until they'd gone similarly blue in the face.
(Periwinkle wins, much to the smug pleasure of Dick – determined to win her affection despite the fact that she won't be capable of that for much longer.)
Jason, closely approaching the end of his twenties, thinks about the moment he'd been handed her.
He'd remained in the room with you, not leaving your side for a moment, nerves shot to hell. His brothers give him hell for it now, laughing about his near removal from the room when he’d snapped at the doctor after you’d winced – only slightly, in minor discomfort, but it had been enough and he’d been biting out a warning before he could rein it in, your fingers clutching onto him in assurance.
Baby, you’d gritted through your teeth, cautioning. Stop. I’m fine.
Don’t make me go through this myself, goes unsaid and he feels the fight leave him unthinkingly, sagging. The nurses had stifled a giggle at his compliance, standing down and directing his attention to smoothing a thumb over the back of your hand. Sorry. I’m here.
His heart grows tenfold by nightfall, when his girl is placed into his arms. She’s tiny, is the first thing he thinks, terror gripping his heart. There she is, another piece of his heart laying outside his chest, and he wonders, how am I supposed to live now?
Her fingers are barely long enough to curl around his pinky, nails even smaller and he finds himself lowering into the seat by the bed, throat closing up with thick affection. You lean over the rail of your bed, tired eyes spilling forth your own happiness openly. Crystalline tears splash down the apples of your cheeks, a sob caught in your throat as you lean a shaky hand forward to run a finger over her crown.
The photo of the three of you, taken by the nurse, is printed several times. The first, and original, lives in your bedroom where Jason has framed it so it’s the last thing – second only to your face – that he sees before sleep claims him. Rare visitor that it had been in his youth, these days he finds himself slipping into unconsciousness not long after his head meets the pillow, lucky to kiss your brow before he’s out. Fatherhood keeps him busier than ever, and he finds himself wondering if, before, he’d ever troubled Bruce the way his girl gives him a run for his money. The others are scattered about Gotham: his brother’s apartment, Bruce’s wallet (he’d bitten back his heartache at that), a page in an album in Damian’s room.
Four years pass quicker than he expects them to, and the grief of time passing never gets any easier. His girl is still a small thing, but a far cry from the bundle that had been placed in his arms that winter night. Four years old, she squirms away from both of your arms, little face crinkling as she giggles and twists out of his hold when they’re visiting the manor, too eager to go play in a house far bigger than your modest home. He ignores your knowing, amused grin when he has to bend to set her down, annoyed squeals of “Daddy!” when he pretends to squeeze her tighter, playfully threatening not to let her go. A replica of your eyes stare up at him, narrowed, his nose on a smaller face wrinkled as she attempts her best intimidating glare.
He heaves a breath, rolling his eyes back at her before he puts her down. The both of you watch her go careening down the hall almost immediately despite your combined warnings, “Don’t run!” “No running!”
You sag into his side.
“At least one of my girls loves me,” he jokes, tugging you closer until you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist.
“Silly,” you mumble, kissing his chin. “Don’t worry, she’ll come back when it’s time to go home and she’s too tired to walk to the car.”
He snorts, hearing Dick in the next room laughing as your daughter chats a mile a minute. “I feel so used. I’m the one who cuts off the crust on her sandwiches and this is what I’m reduced to?”
“You love it.”
He sighs into your neck, grinning when you squirm under the tickle of his breath. “Yeah, guess I do.”
True to your word, when night falls over the manor and she toddles over towards the end of the night to curl up in your lap, it’s Jason that she insists on carrying her to the car.
“You want Daddy to carry you?” you murmur, tucking her curls behind her ear and she nods, nestled against the crook of your elbow and the arm of the couch. Your eyes flick up to Jason, already alert and waiting, something in the curve of your mouth that whispers, told you.
There’s a moment when he slips his arm around her back to cradle her to his chest, that Jason feels 25 again. Something about your daughter’s weight, the baby softness of her cheek against his, arms clinging loosely around his neck – it reminds him of that very first night, and something in his chest settles.
Outside, the snow falls.
one of the lines for this was inspired by an ask sunnie @fic-over-cannon sent in way back when we were talking about dad jason, and children being pieces of your heart walking outside your body. the words came out without my even thinking, they've stayed with me that long. thank u sun <3
the title is also inspired by a real children's book that i haven't read but made me feel so tender when i saw it - i was choking up at work over a silly little book title because it was so loving and i think kids deserve so much love and it makes me stupidly emotional to think about. anyway. this is unedited sorry if its bad lol
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I’m sorry I didn’t mean it to sound rude.
hello, I would like to request black hearted dividers if that’s okay with you. Thank you and please take your time, it can wait :)
thank you for this, anon. It’s okay and I appreciate it! I have a couple heart & line dividers for you 🖤
[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!
Please like or reblog if you use 💕
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main: @luminouslotuses
miscellaneous photos via instagram posts/stories; ccs, artists, etc. updated sporadically!
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secret santa
dbf!joel miller x f!reader
summary: your parents throw a christmas party every year, and this is your first time in the “adult” secret santa exchange. the last few times home, you’ve found joel, your dad’s friend, staring a bit too long, flicking away when he’s caught. for the game, of course, you get joel’s name. and you’re going to make sure it’s the best gift he’s ever received.
rating: E
wc: 5.6k
warnings: daddy kink, age gap (sorry folks but i did want to try my hand at dbf!joel lol i pictured him around 50, reader around mid-late 20s), alcohol consumption, mentions of food, distant relationship with parents, party, christmas, gift giving, secret santa game, bit of deception on reader's part just to get joel alone, lingerie, body worship, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, restraints (using clothes/undergarments), daddy!joel, soft!dom joel, praise, a few instances of degradation, dirty talk (as always)
a/n: (images in moodboard do not convey what reader looks like, only the vibe! no descriptions of reader) my first dbf!joel…milestone moment lol <3 hope y’all enjoy my take on the dbf trope! and tysm to my babies for beta-ing @northernbluess and @kiwisbell love you both 😚
dividers by @saradika
Twenty years. This same godforsaken party has been happening every December for the last twenty years of your life, full of overserved middle aged parents, and never has it been less enjoyable than since you’ve been an “adult”. An adult still treated as a child, chastised, fawned over, always told to follow the golden rule. No, not treat others as they wish to be treated. Your family’s golden rule was speak only when spoken to.
And your father was the enforcer. Always required you home for the party, even away, out of state for college, away for the semester studying abroad halfway across the world. You were flown home and called upon to do the heavy lifting — groceries, liquor runs, cleaning the house, decorating to make it all feel magically festive.
At times, it felt like Cinderella had nothing on you. At least she had a prince.
The only time that this party has ever been remotely improved was when Joel Miller moved into the neighborhood. He’d snuck in under your radar due to the fact that it happened the few months you were living abroad, but coming back for the party and Christmas break, you were quickly introduced to him by your father. His new “best friend”. One among many. Each serving a unique purpose to get your dad ahead.
Upon meeting Joel, you were drawn to him immediately. Skeptical over the fact he found company with your dad, but much to your surprise, he was different. Maybe lonely and looking for a friend; you’d found he was living alone, his adult daughter, Sarah, in her final years at the University of Chicago — a choice that was hers but Joel admittedly feared, you learned. He only encouraged her, regardless of the fact he was anxious about losing his kiddo.
Not the same sentiments your dad had when dropping you off to school in the farthest, cheapest corner of the country you could find. He was nearly jumping up and kicking his feet together in glee to get you out of the house.
Joel, though, Joel was kind hearted and patient. He was curious and caring, asking you about school, work, your life every time he saw you over the years. Warmth radiated from him despite his more shy demeanor. Comfortable. You felt so comfortable with him.
Which is what made the smallest of lingering glances or the slightest of smiles turned smirks that much more exhilarating.
Maybe you were being naive or projecting your burning desire for him onto every interaction, but as you stitched yourself tighter into Joel’s life over the years, you haven’t been able to help but notice him checking you out at times or slipping a subtle flirty comment into conversations between the two of you. You would give it right back, and that would usually pump the breaks, bringing things back to surface level.
There was one time this past summer, after a neighborhood barbecue that your parents left early from, that you and Joel really had a moment. It was loud, music drowning out the back and forth you were having to the point where you couldn’t quite make out every word, and Joel must have felt the same because he made sure you heard his next words clearly — “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”
Agreeing immediately, he pressed his large hand into the midpoint of your back, guiding you out of the confines of the party and to the open air of the street. He led you to his place and around back, pulling two lounge chairs next to his pool closer to each other.
That night, thanks to the alcohol buzzing in your system, you confessed more about your home life and your feelings around it. Joel was surprised, given the picture-perfect image your father paints for everyone, but he was comforting as always. Even as far as offering you his spare room if you ever needed a break.
That’s when you knew you were done for. Never in your life had you wanted to just kiss someone that badly. Let alone all of the thoughts that came along with it.
Harboring this crush for your dad’s friend, fifty plus and a father himself, you attempted to keep things growing closer when you came back. Friendly, polite, reciprocating any amount of flirty banter he threw your way. Even initiating it yourself.
You were so incredibly into Joel Miller. And returning home this time, you decided it was high time you acted on those feelings.
The noise of the bustling party dies down enough for your dad to introduce the game, as if the attendees haven’t been participating for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. But your dad loves the attention on him, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes while everyone else gives him a laugh. Always so focused on himself. How everyone else sees him. Image obsessed enough to forget to assign anyone as a Secret Santa to his own daughter but not forgetting to give her someone to gift to.
Granted, you weren’t that upset about who you’d drawn.
Watching from afar, you see Joel survey the empty space under the tree, only the deep cherry red skirt laid out on the hardwood. Nothing for him. Everyone opens their presents, laughter and excitement bubbling across the room as the point of the game begins. Partygoers start to guess their gifters, hoping to nail down their Secret Santa in one go. Conversations are struck up as people meet their pair, ‘thank you’s exchanged along with the gifts. Joel observes from his spot with a few of your neighbors, also friends with your dad, and the sight of him shifting his weight on his feet is enough to draw up the courage to approach him.
Crossing the room, flashes of him checking you out, lingering in conversations with you about work and your new apartment in the city, seeking you out each time you visit home flood your mind, reassuring your choices the closer you get to him. The closer you get to completely jumping into the deep end, the last few steps teetering you at the edge.
Slowing to a stop next to him, a finger of yours gingerly taps his strong shoulder a few times, pulling his attention away completely. Joel turns his body to face you, away from others to solely focus on you in front of him. The subtle sign of his attraction to you has your nerves tingling, clearing your throat when he speaks up in greeting.
“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’alright?” he asks, eyebrow raised. Always so goddamn sweet.
You sigh, a tinge dramatic but attempting to sell the dismay and toying with the flute glass in your hand. “Lame surprise, but I’m your Secret Santa and I stupidly left your gift upstairs. It’s a bit obnoxious to bring down so d’you mind coming up to open it and you can grab it at the end of the night?”
Joel agrees with a jolt of nervous excitement down his spine. Shuddering out the feeling subtly, he clears his throat and nods, awaiting your lead. He thinks he catches the slightest drag of your eyes up and down his body, lingering at the expanse of his shoulders and the sliver of his chest that is exposed from the two undone buttons of his red flannel.
When no one’s paying attention, you bring Joel upstairs into your old room that you’re staying in while you’re back in town for the holidays. He stands around a bit awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb with his broad shoulders stretching his red flannel, thick thighs straining deliciously against the perfectly worn material of his Levi’s. Stark against the frilly softness of your room, with its bright white furnishings, and feminine touches. He’s all man. Nothing like the guys your age who think they’re like him.
Joel glances about the room before he asks, “So, what was so difficult to get under the tree, sweetheart? You didn’t have to get me anything so major.”
“I wanted to. I mean, noticed you eyeing what I got you for a while so figured the least I could do was give it to you…” Joel’s face twists up in confusion, perplexed by the riddled clue before you’re standing in front of him, reaching to the side of your plaid skirt and dragging down the zipper. Joel stutters out nonsense at your actions, lifting his hands in surrender.
“Doll, I think—you don’t—” His mumblings die in his throat when you drop the material to your ankles, revealing red satin panties. When you turn around, a bow sits at the top of your ass, tying up the material to stay on your hips while elasticated bands run along the outline of your cheeks to connect to the crotch. Very little of your bum is covered, showing off the supple flesh to Joel. He’s rendered speechless, averting his gaze after a second too long of staring, the mumblings starting up again.
“S’not a good idea, shouldn’t be up here right now…” Joel looks around, looking over his shoulder toward the door. One of your hands reaches up to gingerly cup his chin, turning his flushed face to yours again. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. Your own gaze flicks down between the two of you, smirking at the bulge growing at the crotch of his jeans. So desperately trying to fight against what he really wants. Even when you’re serving it up in a pretty little package.
He makes no movement toward the door, which you take as a sign of letting go of at least some of his apprehension. Fingers grip the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, discarding it on your carpet along with your skirt.
Matching red satin material, the bra you’re wearing has a similar structure to your panties. Held up with straps and the usual clasps at the back, the front is a large gift bow, pulled tight when you tied it earlier this evening to push up the flesh of your breasts. One tug at the tail end of both the ribbons, the one at your chest and at your ass, would fully expose you to Joel. Something you’re desperate to propose to him.
“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, Joel?” Picking up each of his hands in yours, you guide one to your lower back and one to your chest, coaxing his fingers to wrap around the ends of the bows. “Or do you not like your gift? I thought you wanted this…”
“No, no, no. I like it. I really fucking like it, sweetheart, I just…Everybody’s downstairs and—”
“I can be quiet. I’m a good girl, Joel.”
That flips a switch in him, hearing those words from you. His eyes darken further, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. A burning stare combs over you, head to toe, alighting flames in your gut that lick against your insides. Heat crawls across the back of your neck, pooling in your collarbone, and craving oozes between your ribs and between each of your vertebrae. Joel’s right hand lifts from his side, skating up the length of your left arm and leaving goosebumps rising in its wake. Fingertips ghost over the strap of your bra, down to the center of your collarbone, and sitting there. That lasts only a second before his long, thick fingers wrap around the base of your throat, raising his loose grip to settle underneath your jaw.
The silence is heavy, airy breaths the only sounds passed between the two of you. His hand at your neck coaxes your head to tip back, staring up at him looking down at you. A flicker to your lips. A low, curious hum. Arousal pools in between your thighs as you wait with bated breath for something, anything to happen.
“You’re dangerous, doll.” His whisper is coated in lust, his gaze greedy as it drinks you in once again.
“I’m a gift,” you correct sweetly, feigning innocence as a smirk grows on your face at his dark chuckle.
“A gift that keeps on giving?” he questions. His hand twists to allow his thumb to find your bottom lip, dragging across its glossy, cherry surface.
“I guess you’ll have to find out…” Your mouth stays open after speaking, tongue slipping out to lick the tip of Joel’s thumb. He presses his finger further, pushing between your lips as you welcome it, sucking gently. Joel sighs, shoulders relaxing while his eyes flash with need.
“Christ…” he hisses under his breath, shaking his head subtly before clearing his throat. Speaking sternly, unwavering, he says, “Can I unwrap my present, babydoll?”
His thumb leaves your mouth with a quiet pop, hand finding its place again at the slack of the bow at your chest, other arm wrapping around to find the bow at your ass. A gentle tug moves the satiny smooth material a few centimeters, not enough to pull it fully undone.
“All yours, Joel. Picked out ‘specially for you.” Joel smirks at your candied reply, eager to give him exactly what he’s been wishing for. What you’ve caught him staring at the last few times you’ve come back home. What you have been wanting for just as long, if not longer.
“Such a sweet girl. Beautiful girl.”
The words send a tingle down your spine, stoking the flames inside of you. Your eyes stay trained on Joel’s face while his fingers draw the bow at your chest undone, the lengths of material hanging at your sides and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of your pebbled nipples, rolling out a stifled groan from his chest.
“Fuck, baby…S’pretty.”
Joel’s hands fan across your lower back, holding your hips against his, pressing his bulge into your covered mound. His broad frame folds forward, draping you backwards in his arms as his mouth attaches to your chest. Humid, open-mouthed kisses are littered across your skin, nips taken at the tender flesh of your breasts. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, he sucks strongly, pulling a whimper from your throat.
“Thought you could be quiet, doll?” he rasps, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you from your sternum.
Nodding furiously, you pout your lower lip out, whispering back, “I can be, I will be. I promise.”
“You promise? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” Joel stands up straight, pulling you with him to press against his torso. Catching your lips in a deep kiss, Joel breathes a sigh into your mouth, melting his tongue against yours and drinking in the taste of you.
Dripping with saccharine sugar. Coated with syrupy goodness, plump and succulent like a maraschino cherry. A toothache, or maybe even a heartache waiting to happen.
He’s fucking screwed, but damn if it doesn’t feel good as he nails himself to his own persecution from whoever may find out about this.
Handfuls of your undulating curves fill his palms as he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he grabs at the swell of your ass. Silky satin brushes against his hand, reminding him of the other part of his present to unwrap. Pulling away from your mouth with one last lick of your candied taste, he has the mind to imagine what the rest of your flavors all across your body might be.
Joel turns you in his arms, back flush to his chest as he grinds his bulge against the lustrous fabric, smirking to himself as you whimper quietly, so hushed he can barely hear it over his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Lips coast over the shell of your ear, nibbling your lobe before pressing a kiss right below.
“Can I undo your other pretty bow, babygirl? Unwrap the rest of my present?” Joel nips again when you breathe out consent. He walks you closer to the bed, hitting your knees against the frame before he takes one step back, touch still lingering on your skin. From behind you, he sighs appreciatively as he drinks in your form, licking his lips as his eyes devour you.
Pinching the ribbon between his thick fingers, he flicks it against your skin, satisfied with the way you react with goosebumps raised. One gentle tug unravels it all, exposing your cheeks to him fully and with the drop of the material from between his fingertips, your panties fall to the floor. One hand wrapping around your thigh, Joel coaxes you to step out to the side with it, kicking the fabric from your ankle.
He kneels behind you, pressing his lips against the swell of your ass. Flooded with the scent of your skin, vanilla and cinnamon, the smell of Christmas. Nose smashed into the supple flesh, teeth sinking into the curve, a gentle bite stealing another taste of you. A curse is mumbled against you, a sweet kiss pressed on the tiny birthmark on your ass, tongue tracing into the fading bite mark.
“Joel…” you whine above him, hand reaching back and nimble fingers tangling into his messy, gray curls.
“I know, doll. Got lost there for a second. You’re so perfect…”
He sighs again, standing up with a quiet crack in his joints. A blatant reminder of the difference between you two. Young versus old. Sprightly versus verging on doddering. Even if he is eager, there’s no denying the difference.
There’s no doubt in your mind that Joel’s about to be more of a gift to you than you are to him. The way he’s touching you, delicate worship before he’s even gotten to what he truly wants, taking his time despite the pressure of the party downstairs. Serves as a reassurance that he wants this as much as you do, wants to take his sweet time if this is going to be his only chance.
You pray to god it isn’t. Even before you’ve even laid eyes on his cock, you just know. He’s going to fuck you senseless. Ruin every other man for you.
In a blur, he guides you to fall forward onto the mattress, hooking fingers to remove your panties from your other ankle while you scoot toward the center. He finds solace between your legs, propping your hips up into a kneeling position to give him easier leverage.
“Think this might be my favorite present I’ve been given, doll. So fucking gorgeous. Looking delectable…Can I have a taste, darling? You as sweet as you seem?”
Your head is turned sideways, laying against the plush comforter, opening your mouth to whisper to him in the same moment he swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning into your inner thigh before he dives back in, working to devour you like a man starved, quenching his thirst on your arousal. Flicking his tongue against your pearl, coated in your translucence, suckling at it with pure need. Turning to press the front of your face into your bedding, it muffles your moans and whines, raising in pitch as he fucks your tight cunt with his strong tongue, lapping at you with the same fervor he’d lick the color from a candy cane.
“Fuck, Joel, fuck fuck fuck!” you shout in a scouring voice, scratching your vocal chords together with a strain. Curling your fingers into the softened, washed fabric, you gasp when one of his solid fingers slips into your walls. He groans, holding back his louder reaction to your gripping walls, hypnotized by the way you even stretch around his fingers when he adds another.
Head against your thigh, he studies the way you take his middle and ring fingers, the velvety slick of your pussy, and the spongy spot he finds, curling his digits to press into it and watch you squirm helplessly from the sensitive pleasure.
“Talkin’ all well mannered and pretty. So quiet and polite all the time. With your ‘yes’sir’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. You think about saying those to me while you’re under me like this?”
“Yes, yes’sir. All the fucking time. Every time I—I looked at you, felt myself…felt myself gettin’ so fucking wet. Was always dripping around you, waiting for something to happen. For you to take me so I can be a good girl for you, sir,” you confess, obedience and need sitting every word so prettily into his ears. “M’so—Fuck m’gonna come, Joel.”
He nods slowly, taking last looks at your cunt before he moves his fingers in and out quicker, dipping his chin down for his mouth to find your clit against, lapping at your dripping wetness and sucking hard. At the next press of his fingers against that spot inside of you, your vision grows blurred, white haze painting everything with a dreamlike filter. You bite into the linen fabric of your comforter, gagging yourself to keep quiet as you come, digging the balls of your feet to the mattress to push yourself away from Joel who continues to work you through it. He grabs at you, tugging you back to get his fill until you sob, overstimulation drawing tears up to the corners of your eyes.
“All kept and composed and ladylike. Been taught to behave, haven’t you? Bet you fucking love to be such a little slut. Anybody ever let you? Such a dirty girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Joel’s voice sounds distanced at first, senses falling back into place in your body as you come down completely. His work-worn hands coast over your body, roughening against your soft skin like sandpaper moving with the grain. Little resistance but catching in places it favors.
“Just—Just for you, Daddy.” It slips out smoothly from your mouth, the weight of the title heavy against your tongue in the same way you imagine his cock would feel. Filling. Satisfying.
Joel rises slowly from where he’s bent behind you, letting one leg fall behind him as he stands, the other propped on the bed. His eyes narrow in on yours, lips parted and tongue darting out as he replays what you said.
Daddy.
First, you’re already on his mind and years younger, yet he couldn’t stop picturing you in this exact position. Next, you’re the one to make the first move, dragging him away from this Christmas party and presenting him with a Secret Santa gift that feels way out of the budget. You’re priceless. And now, you’re laid out for him, already nearly at the level of fucked out from him only using his mouth and fingers, and you’re fucking calling him Daddy.
Best Christmas of his goddamn life.
“Now, darlin’, were you saving that to be the cherry on top of the cake? ‘Cause that’s just about the sweetest thing. My pretty lil’ babydoll saying she’s Daddy’s dirty girl,” he scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head while his fingers work his button open on his jeans, dragging the zipper down against his throbbing bulge. “Gonna have to be quiet, yeah? Gotta keep your sweet mouth closed while Daddy fucks you, doll.”
“I’ll be quiet, promise. Please, Daddy.” Your pleas widen Joel’s smirk, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once again. He pushes his denim down with his cotton boxers in their wake, sighing softly when his hard cock is fully freed. His tip is aching and red, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on his underwear. With one hand, he starts to slowly stroke himself, holding in a moan enough that it leaves his lips as a soft exhale.
“Good girl…” he mumbles, studying your form. “Move back toward me, babygirl. Hands behind your back.”
Complying with his direction, you inch back until Joel places a hand on your lower back. At that, you lay forward again, the side of your face pressing against the duvet as Joel steps back from the bed and searches the floor. A dribble of drool drips from the corner of your lips as you watch him, one large hand around his cock, spreading his precum along his length. Part of you has the mind to beg for him in your mouth, to completely disregard the need pulsating your cunt at the moment, and to feel his warm spend coating your throat as he finishes fucking it.
But you’re fucking selfish. This is also a gift for you, so win-win.
Pressing your wrists together at your lower back, you observe as Joel locates what he is looking for, standing up with a devilish smirk. Your panties.
He towers over you again when he steps back to you, one hand coasting over the curve of your ass, a gentle smack delivered that makes a quiet yelp escape from your lips. The same hand skims back up your skin, easily grabbing both of your wrists in his long fingers and holding them closer while he slips the silky material behind. In a quick motion, he has your arms tied together with a bow, a content smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you.
“Wrapped all up again, babydoll. Such a pretty gift for me.”
“Well you’ve got a pretty package, Daddy,” you reply with a mischievous giggle, earning a breathy chuckle from Joel behind you. He grips the knot of your makeshift restraint, tugging taut to arch your back and pull your hips closer. His other hand wraps around the base of himself, dragging the head of him through your drenched folds, circling your clit, and chuckling again at the jump of your thighs.
“Please, Daddy, I need—” you start pleading, muffled into linen before you’re cut off by the stretch of Joel’s cock filling your tight hole, a gasp escaping your lungs with a punch. Your mouth is stuffed with the duvet from your bite down, nursing your tongue against the material as he slowly presses into you, inch by inch. There’s an ever-so-slight pain candy-coating the pleasure, melting away to get to the gooey, oozing center that spreads over your entire body.
Pausing when he reaches the hilt of himself, Joel sighs, rolling his head back as he internally thanks whatever Christmas magic must be out there for this moment.
“So fucking tight, baby.”
Your dampened whine shoots a wave of intense need throughout him, growling low as he holds your restraint tighter, dragging his hips back before he starts a punishing pace. Control escapes him, desire taking over his actions as he starts to properly fuck you. His cock teaching you how to take every single inch of it.
Messes of his name and your moans are stifled and stuttered into the comforter gagging you, chest hovering over the mattress as Joel holds tight to the knot in your panties.
“Can’t hold back any longer, baby, jus’—fuck—jus’ gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” The only precision remains in the soft cracks of skin on skin, not loud enough to draw any attention from the party downstairs. Poppy carols play faintly in the background, the only other soundtrack being the vulgar mumbles slipping from Joel’s lips.
Drawing you closer and closer, the edge is tasted on your tongue, so close but barely in reach as the man behind you rocks his hips, the tip of his hard cock brushing that same spongy spot inside of you that he managed to reach with his fingers, bruising into your cervix with each snap.
At the next drag-out, Joel pulls away from you completely. When you whine with protest, he’s tugging you to stand up on your knees, whispering in your ear amid his quick movements, “Need to see your face when I make you come all over my cock…”
Before you can be left with any thoughts to a response, he’s flipping you onto your back, hands tied still, and tugging you near again. He steals a pillow from the top of your bed, shoving it under your hips to lift your pelvis, gifting himself the perfect angle to thrust into you again from the height he stands at.
The new angle punches out moans from your chest, Joel’s name littering the empty room as you try so hard to remain quiet.
“Shh, I know, doll, I know. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Y’love bein’ Daddy’s little slut.” Nodding furiously, another louder moan leaves your mouth, brows knit together with worry as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge.
A large palm moves to cover your mouth, shaking his head slowly to remind you of your promise to be his good girl, his quiet girl.
“Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy…” He feels the vibrations of your voice against his hand, the words muddled into slight nonsense from pleasure clouding your brain. Joel holds onto one of your legs, pulling it up to hook onto his shoulder and press forward to get deeper inside of you. The switch has you screaming into his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you squirm under him.
“Eyes on me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”
Joel’s hips pound into you, chasing his own climax. Your eyes snap open at his instruction, mouthing at his hand and moaning loudly behind it, nodding your head furiously. Your tight walls squeeze around his hard cock, his grunts held back to keep quiet despite the noise of the party downstairs growing in volume.
“Come on, doll. Come on my cock…Fuck, you gonna let Daddy fill up your pretty little cunt?” The quick, speechless nods answers his question, both of you toeing the edge.
There’s a moment when both of you seize up, muscles tense and eyes burning into each other’s. It only lasts a split second before it explodes with a pop, at the same second a champagne bottle pops downstairs. Joel breathes out your name, over and over, mingling with your whimpers of his name and Daddy switching back and forth in your mind. Interchangeable to you.
Pleasure fizzes over your bodies like bubbles in the flutes being filled, the bubbling aerations trickling up up up to your head, making you feel lighter than air as pure bliss overwhelms you. Tingles aftershock across your nerves, a shiver sent down your spine as Joel pulls out.
Quietly, he groans as he watches his excess spend drip out of you, mixing with your come and glistening against your folds. One thick finger swipes at the spot, pushing the swirl of you back inside of your walls.
A soft whimper slips from your lips and Joel’s eyes meet yours in a flash, a gentle smile stretching across your face. He coaxes you to sit up and unties your hands behind your back, slowly massaging your wrists with his thumbs and kissing where the skin rubbed against the fabric. The tender touches accompany the soothing, comfortable silence.
Redressing you, Joel attempts to tie the bows of your bra and panties, huffing softly in frustration. You giggle when he’s working on your bra, taking his chin gingerly between your fingers and turning his head to look at you. Leaning in, his lips catch yours in a sweet, sugary gumdrop kiss.
It’s another moment before both of you are fully dressed again. You study yourself in the mirror above your dresser, smoothing your hair down. Joel steps up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder through the knit sweater. He turns you around to face him again, grinning shyly as his eyes comb over your face.
The two of you share another kiss, his calloused hand cradling your cheek when he pulls away.
“You gonna be under my tree again on Christmas day, doll?”
“Depends…Were you naughty or nice this year?” you counter, earning a quiet laugh from Joel as he shakes his head.
“Think what just happened has put me on the naughty list for a long time, babygirl. And you, too.” He shoots you a cheeky wink and you laugh, shaking your head as you lock your fingers together in front of you.
“I did actually get you something though…” you admit shyly, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.
Joel grins, eyes flicking down to your anxious hands. His thumb brushes against the skin of your cheek, eyes meeting yours again as he replies, “You have another gift for me? Didn’t need to do that, doll.”
“I mean…Kinda needed a backup plan if this whole thing didn’t work out.” A chuckle is shared between both of you before you continue, “Sorry for spoiling the whole guessing game of Secret Santa.”
“Darlin’, you could spoil any games for me if it ends up with this kinda surprise.” Joel smirks before stealing another quick kiss, pulling away when you step back to fish out the small, meticulously wrapped giftbox from the top right drawer of your dresser.
Handing over the square package, Joel’s eyes glitter with boyish excitement. The corner of his mouth pulls up to one side while his thick fingers slip under the creases of the paper to rip the tape, undoing the festive wrapping to reveal the lidded giftbox that he opens quickly. Inside, Joel studies the contents. Small triangles with rounded corners made from thin nylon plastic. A deep emerald green, all sitting like precious gemstones. His initials are branded into one side with gold paint, the flip side emblemed with the silhouette of an owl.
“Sweetheart…Thank you. These are real nice…” he speaks softly while he picks one up between his index and thumb, turning it between the tips of his fingers. “They’re perfect. Gonna be sad if I end up losing one of these like all my other picks.”
You smile sweetly, stepping closer again and resting your hands on his biceps, “Guess you’ll have to take good care of ‘em.”
As he looks at you, he mirrors your smile, sharing one more gentle kiss before whispering against your lips, “Can think of another something I have to take good care of.”
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