#“are you seeing each other in a new light?”

[trashytracktales]

ong yes!! lando gotta loveeeee doggy and taking her against a wall!! But imagine her on top for the first time and not knowing how to ride him and him teaching him and telling her what to do! im asking this to santa !!

kill me now!!

Oh, Christmas treat | LN ⁴

💌 INSPIRED by anon ──── Why ask Santa when I'm literally right here... enjoy 💋

⤿ We're yapping about this ask.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── It's a quiet winter night, and Lando notices that his girlfriend seems a bit distracted. After some playful coaxing, she admits a secret desire to try something new. With his gentle guidance, they explore new paths together, each step bringing them closer.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, fluff & smut, descriptive language, light teasing, themes of vulnerability, unprotected sex, reader's first time on top, bit of swearing.

𐙚 word count ──── 2.5k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 24, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I know this wasn’t a request per se, but I wanted to share this one-shot with you since it was already mostly ready to go. I’ve been dealing with some health issues recently and couldn't get myself to get anything done, so thank you for your patience. The rest of the requests are still on their (admittedly slow) way, but I promise they’re coming 🤞🏻 Wishing a very Merry Christmas Eve to everyone who celebrates, and who knows, I might have another little treat up my sleeve 👀

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE DAY HAD been nothing out of the ordinary, but that was exactly what made it special.

Lando had woken up late, groggy but grinning satisfied when he caught her padding around the kitchen in fuzzy socks and an oversized sweater, humming along to Christmas songs. She loves the holiday season, because she likes it when he's home, and Lando doesn't have to be anywhere but their own apartment. That's exactly why she can't get upset when he streams with Max for hours in the night, and ends up sleeping in the next day. The simple fact that he's there is enough.

Maybe she conditioned herself to accept that, but then she sees his sleepy face and thinks she'd accept worse in order to share her mornings with him.

It's Christmas Eve, so they’d decided to bake cookies, mostly because she insisted it was a winter tradition, and Lando, ever the competitive spirit, took it as a challenge to see whose decorations would turn out better. As expected, chaos followed. By the time the cookies were ready, the kitchen looked like it had been through a snowstorm of flour and sugar. Lando had a streak of frosting on his cheek, and she had somehow ended up with sprinkles in her hair. In reality, they spent more time laughing and teasing each other than actually baking, but that was always the way it went with them.

Now, their cookies sit patiently on the counter, forgotten as the two of them relax on the couch in the living room. The Christmas tree lights glow warmly in the corner, and a cheesy holiday movie plays on the TV. They’re snuggled under a thick blanket, her legs curled up and tucked into his side. Lando’s arm drapes around her shoulders, his fingers playing lazily with her hair. It’s peaceful and comforting, but somewhere in the quiet, she feels a sudden pull in her chest.

In all the time they've been together, she never took the lead — not willingly, at least — feeling more than happy to surrender. She's been thinking about it for a long time, but she's never had the courage to do it. She doesn't feel intimidated or inhibited by her boyfriend, but rather by how it could all go wrong for both of them if she, somehow, ends up doing something she’s not supposed to.

Suddenly, her arms tighten around him, her nose nuzzling into his shirt. There’s a weight in her heart, not sadness exactly, but something tender, something raw. It makes her extra clingy, but she doesn’t say anything. She just holds him closer, hoping he won’t notice.

But Lando always notices.

His fingers pause in her hair, and his brows furrow slightly as he glances down at her. “You good, baby?” he asks, his voice soft and curious.

She hums nonchalantly, her face still buried in his chest.

“You sure?” Lando insists, his tone teasing but gentle.

The girl freezes for a moment, debating whether to brush it off, but before she can decide, he tilts her chin up with his fingers, making her look at him.

“Come on, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” he asks, his eyes scanning hers.

Her cheeks heat under his gaze, and she sighs. “I don’t know. You just… feel extra nice to hold tonight,” she says quietly.

Lando blinks, then his grin widens, teasing again. “Didn’t know I had levels of cuddliness.”

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbles, hiding her face against his chest again.

His smile softens, and he wraps his arms around her fully, pulling her tighter against him. “Hey, you don’t wanna talk to me?”

She shakes her head and, at that, Lando stops pushing, knowing that whatever it is, she’ll come to him. Eventually. When she’s ready.

A few hours later, their movie marathon ends in a comfortable silence, the glow of the TV instantly muted by the credits rolling on the screen. Lando stretches, groaning softly as he shifts from the couch.

She gathers the blanket, folding it neatly before turning to him with a small smile.

“Bedtime?” she asks, her voice soft, almost reluctant to leave the warmth of the evening behind.

“Bedtime,” he agrees, though he watches her carefully as she heads toward the bedroom.

She moves through her usual routine, brushing her teeth and slipping into one of his hoodies, paired with sleep shorts. As she pulls back the covers and sits on the edge of the bed, he hears it again — the same quiet sigh that makes his chest tighten.

Lando leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, frowning in her direction. “Alright, that’s the second time tonight,” he says, his tone light but edged with curiosity. “Should I worry?”

“What?” she replies quickly, too quickly, as she gets ready to tuck herself under the duvet. “No, baby. It’s nothing.”

“Right,” says Lando, stepping closer, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to get it out of you another way.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Lando…”

Before she can finish, he lunges, playfully grabbing her waist and threatening to tickle her sides. She squeals, trying to wiggle away, but his grip on her is firm.

“Last chance, I'm serious,” he warns, his laughter bubbling up as she giggles uncontrollably.

“Okay, fine, stop it!” she pleads, breathless, her face flushed.

Lando stops, pulling back just enough to sit on the edge of the bed. Then, with a gentle tug, he pulls her onto his lap. His arms wrap loosely around her waist, and he tilts his head, watching her with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Now,” he says, happy that he managed to break her wall, “What’s going on?”

She hesitates, her cheeks turning pink as she avoids his gaze. Instead, her fingers find his curls at the back of his head, twisting them gently as she takes a deep breath. “You know, it’s not even a big deal. I’ve been thinking about something, but I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Mhm,” he nods, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her lips. It’s deep, slow, almost as if he’s trying to reassure her without words. When he pulls back, their foreheads touch, and he whispers, “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

She knows. Still, that doesn’t make it any easier. The heat rushes in her cheeks as she finally meets his eyes. “Look, I like when you’re on top. I mean, I really like it,” she says, stumbling slightly over her words. “But I was thinking, maybe, I’d like to, you know...”

Her voice trails off, and she looks away again, clearly embarrassed.

Lando blinks, letting her words sink in. His mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out as a flush creeps up his neck. Then, a grin spreads across his face, equal parts flustered and excited.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice soft, his hands tightening slightly on her waist. “You want to ride me, baby?”

She nods quickly, still twisting his curls nervously. “But I’ve never done it before, and I’m not sure I’d be good at it. It's just that—”

He exhales a chuckle, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “Slow down,” he murmurs against her skin, his tone so tender that it makes her stomach flip. “You don’t have to worry about being good at it, baby. If you wat to try it, I can guide you, and we’ll see what works for us as we go.”

Her cheeks flush as she processes his reassurance, the tender way he’s looking at her making her feel bold and seen. And listened to.

She smiles, shifting on his lap, searching for some friction, and the slight brush of her core against his growing hardness has her letting out a soft gasp. Lando notices immediately, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead, he lets her take the lead at her own pace, on her own terms.

She shifts again, this time deliberately pressing herself against him, and the soft sound she makes has Lando’s self-control slipping. “I suppose we can try now?” he murmurs, his voice thick with heat.

She doesn’t reply — at least not with words. Instead, she grabs his hoodie, pulling it over her head in one swift motion, leaving her in nothing but her shorts. Lando’s breath catches as he takes her in, his hands immediately coming up to palm her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. He's seen her naked so many times before, but somehow, every time she gets rid of her clothes she uncovers something new.

“So beautiful,” he mutters, leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. She tilts her head back, giving him more access, and the heat between them builds until she pushes him gently onto the mattress.

Lando goes willingly, a grin tugging at his lips as she leans over him to kiss him again. His hands move to her hips, holding her firmly as she presses herself against him, grinding slowly. He groans into her mouth, his hands sliding lower to grip her ass, then he spreads her slightly, pushing her down against his growing length, making both of them gasp at the feeling.

Her hands trail down his chest, and she tugs at his shirt. ���Off,” she breathes, and he obeys, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. For a moment, she just looks at him, her hands tracing the defined lines of his chest.

The tension between them builds rapidly, their breaths mingling as they press closer. It doesn’t take long before she’s tugging at the waistband of her shorts, her nerves creeping back in as she pushes them down. Lando sits up slightly, watching her with darkened eyes, and when she glances at him nervously, he reaches out to stroke her thigh gently.

“You’re perfect,” he says softly, his voice full of sincerity.

Her nerves ease at his words, and when he pushes his joggers down, freeing himself, her anticipation drowns out her doubts.

He sits up fully, pulling her closer until she’s straddling him again. “Alright, love,” he murmurs, his hands steadying her hips. “Go slow, yeah? Just sit on me first. Take your time.”

She nods, biting her lip as she lines herself up with him. Slowly, she sinks down, feeling the stretch as he fills her inch by sweet inch. Her breath hitches, and Lando groans, his hands gripping her hips tighter.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasps. “You always feel so good.”

She pauses once he’s fully inside, her hands braced on his chest as she adjusts to the feeling of being so full of him. Sensing her nervousness, Lando rubs soothing circles on her hips, letting her take her time.

When she finally starts to move, lifting herself up slightly before sinking back down, a soft, shaky moan escapes her lips. Lando watches her with a mix of awe and hunger, his hands guiding her gently.

“Just like that, baby,” he encourages her, “Easy. You’re doing so well.”

Slowly but surely, she manages to build a rhythm, her movements tentative at first. But as the pleasure starts invading her senses, she becomes bolder. She opens up more, craving all of him at once. Her hands slide back to grip his thighs for support as she leans back slightly, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

The taste of power it's rather interesting in this position, and she can’t afford to be shy anymore. Not when his cock feels so good inside her, and not when she decides how to take him.

“Fuck, Lando,” she breathes, her head tilting back.

She begins to move more rapidly on top of him, her hips following a predetermined path that she wasn't even aware of before. Lando watches her in amazement, feeling every pulse of pleasure every time she comes back for more, her walls hugging his cock so tightly that it leaves him breathless.

He groans, his hands sliding up to her waist to steady her. “That’s it, baby. Keep going. God, you’re going to make me cum so fast like this.”

The sight of her riding him, her body moving with such confidence now, nearly breaks him. Somehow, he resists the urge to thrust up into her, letting her stay in control, but his grip tightens as his restraint begins to fray.

He hears a silent cry, getting ready for every scenario in his mind, while his eyes study her frame by frame.

She whimpers, her movements becoming more erratic as the pleasure overwhelms her. “Lan,” she gasps, her voice shaky. “I can’t go—too much.”

He sits up slightly, pulling her towards him and pressing his forehead to hers. “Of course you can, baby,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the fire coursing through him. “I’m here. Just a little more, yeah? You’re doing so good.”

She feels his cock twitching inside her as she shakes her head weakly, “Lando, please…” her hands desperately clutch his shoulders, and that's when he understands what she needs from him.

Lando's hands land on her waist again, gripping at her firmly, and he starts to guide her harder on his cock while thrusting up into her simultaneously, meeting her halfway. The sudden change in rhythm makes her cry out, her nails digging into his skin.

“Yes,” she moans, her head dropping onto his shoulder as he drives her higher. “It’s so good, fuck. I’m—”

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

So she does, her body trembling as the pleasure crests and crashes over her. He follows seconds later, his movements growing erratic before he stills inside her, holding her tightly against him as they both ride out their highs, breathing each other’s air. They stay tangled together, bodies still pressed close as the intensity of their orgasms fades away.

Lando brushes a strand of her hair away from her damp forehead, his lips curling into a soft smile. “You okay there?” he asks, his voice a gentle rasp.

She nods against him, her body still warm and buzzing. “Mhm, ‘m okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

He grins, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “You did so well, baby. Made me proud.”

She lets out a breathless laugh, her head dropping back onto his shoulder. “Cheers,” she trails off, playfully groaning. “But that was so much work. My fucking thighs are on fire.”

Lando laughs, the sound deep and rich. “Oh, you poor thing,” he teases, stroking her back soothingly.

She swats at his chest, unable to hold back her grin. “I’m serious! It’s a full-body workout being on top.”

He hums thoughtfully, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on her skin. “So what you’re saying is…” he starts, tilting his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I get to be in charge again next time?”

She pulls back to look at him, her cheeks flushing, but there’s a playful sparkle in her eyes. “You won't hear me complaining,” she quips, biting her lip to suppress her laughter.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[norikuna]

THAT'S SO TRUE — toji fushiguro

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (e) and let the show begin !

prologue. → you vowed to yourself that you would rock toji fushiguro's world as a new year's resolution. but it's christmas eve already, and the year is almost over. by hook or by crook, you're gonna that gorgeous, buff older man in your bed tonight.

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader (reader uses she/her pronouns)

warnings. reader has never been chill a day in her life, áge gáp, dílf!toji, big díck toji (ofc), voyeurísm (sorta implied), másturbátion (f), jealous sèx, reader watches toji through binoculars, they match each other's freak, creámpíe, reader gets called 'slutty' and 'doll', orál (m and f. receiving)

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. that's so true — gracie abrams

a/n. incredible art by sakimichan 🍃 i had so much fun writing this 😁 reader is an adult!! i imagined toji to be 35-ish, and reader to be 22...? its christmas day for me so i'm a tad late 😩

mp3. bet you're thinking 'she's so cool' kicking back on your couch, making eyes from across the room. wait! i think i've been there too!

if your friends knew what you were up to right now, they'd skip the intervention and go straight to dragging you to the nearest police precinct.

forget a lecture, they would slap a pair of handcuffs on you first, citing charges of being horny to the first degree.

officer! she just can't keep it in her pants!

but did you care? not in the slightest.

you adjust the blinds, nudging them just enough to angle your binoculars a little lower. focus sharpened, lens zoomed in, and there he was. the object of your totally healthy, not-at-all unhinged plan.

the target in question? toji fushiguro.

your next-door neighbour, who also happened to look like he'd walked straight out of a naked biker calendar. leather jacket snug over his broad shoulders, a frame built for sin, and pectorals that were so sculpted, you often dreamed of bouncing walnuts off them. just to see if the nuts would crack.

months ago, you had made a new years resolution to yourself that you wouldn't end this year without bagging the man at least once.

yet here you were on christmas eve, a few days shy of the year's end, still plotting and scheming like a bond villain on how you could charm the socks right off toji fushiguro.

but you feared that tonight was beginning to deliver a cold, harsh slap of reality.

your heart suddenly gives an undignifed lurch as toji swings off his motorcycle in one fluid motion. but your smirk — yes, you had been smirking and you wouldn't deny that, vanished the moment your binoculars caught sight of her.

right behind him, a woman dismounted with all the grace and mature confidence that you wished you could summon on a good day.

you twist the focus knob, an unfamiliar figure sharpening into clarity. tall, polished, probably closer to toji's age rather than yours, and way too pretty for your scheming, heinous comfort.

she's hooking her arm through his like they did this all the time, and her cherry-sweet smile beams up at him like he'd hung the damn christmas lights himself.

and then, then! she leans in to press a kiss to his cheek, casual as a snowflake fluttering onto the concrete below.

your chest tightens oddly, though whether it was from jealousy or sheer mortification, you couldn't tell. and you didn't want to tell.

toji fushiguro, for his part, didn't seem fazed, at least, not outwardly. he turns his shaggy head away, smiling faintly with that gruff and polite expression he sometimes wore when someone cornered him into small talk.

not that it mattered. you couldn't stop the frown that tugged at your lips, watching the pair disappear out of view, the motorcycle keys still dangling from his thick fingers.

you sigh, setting the binoculars down with a little more force than necessary. tonight was supposed to be your night, the grand finale where you capped the year off with a big win in the shape of this six-foot-two man, with green eyes that could strike you dumb.

and you had even planned ahead! you'd been certain that there wouldn't be any pesky interruptions, particularly of the pint-sized variety.

not that you had anything against megumi fushiguro, he was a good kid — if a little unnerving with that brooding energy he carried around like a hefty backpack.

but still, you'd never really spoken to him much. call it morals or basic decency, but dragging a clueless kid into your schemes just felt a little wrong.

so when you had overheard toji casually mentioning that megumi was out for a sleepover with some friend, something about how nice it would be to have a night for himself, you had taken that as a sign from the universe. a green light.

fate herself waving you through the doors to make your move.

except now, traitorous fate had also thrown you a curveball in the form of the older, mystery woman who had been clinging to toji's back on the motorcyle. all expensive burgundy fur, and a darling blowout that was way out of a college student's pay cheque.

still, you're not the kind of woman who folds at the first sign of trouble. no, you think, squaring your shoulders. who would you be if you gave up now? perseverance is the backbone of triumph, or something like that.

the walls of this apartment are criminally thin, and you trust that the muffled thuds coming from next door are none other than toji fushiguro leading his...date up the stairs and down the hallway. the metallic jingle of keys confirms it, a sound that sends a pang of irritation prickling beneath your skin.

your gaze shifts to your desk, to the corkboard cluttered up with polaroids of your friends, random university flyers, and pinned up lecture schedules that you never follow. you press three fingers to your lips, in a respectful and solemn kiss, before tapping your photograph of aaron hotchner, in a promise for the near future.

"i won't give up, hotch," you murmur, the solemn, printed face of thomas gibson crossing his arms — gazing back at you, a beacon of motivational determination.

and with that, you grab a notepad and the first pen you can find, even though it's half-dried and it can barely write. you flip the pages open, and begin dotting down your back-up plan on how to score toji fushiguro tonight.

you're pretty sure it's been an hour since you started furiously scribbling on paper. five dried-out pens and a mountain of crumpled drafts later, each one titled with variations of how to get toji fushiguro in my bed, your notepad is starting to look like a pathetic manifesto.

you sip idly at your grape soda, the fizzy sweetness staining your tongue a violent purple. and listen, to be clear, you're absolutely a feminist. truly. you're not the type to believe in pitting women against each other. that's messy, unsophisticated, and frankly it's far beneath you.

but sadly, here's the other thing. desperate times call for desperate measures. and as much as you hate to admit it, toji fushiguro, your brooding and hulking neighbour with shoulders that eclipse the sun, has your resolve teetering right on the edge. the wanting and lusty human spirit is unbreakable, and the idea of losing is as appealing as licking sandpaper.

the sound of a low thud breaks through your plotting, as you drop the end of the pen out of your mouth. your ears perk up at the faint creak of a door opening. you recognise the gruff voice, muffled through the thin walls.

"damn heater's out again. 'm just gonna go check the switch downstairs."

uh-huh. that's what you thought. this was just act one of the stage play.

see, about forty five minutes ago, inspiration had struck. you'd realised you needed to get toji out of his apartment, and given his bear-like simplicity: eat, sleep, grumble, repeat, it wasn't exactly that easy.

but every man needed his rest, and no man could rest on christmas eve when the snow was sticking to the window pane from the cold.

so, you had snuck downstairs and flipped the heater's breaker to his apartment off, leaving the rest blissfully untouched. setting an ideal trap for the vast man.

you crack your door open, just enough to watch him lumber off towards the left staircase.

it's one of two routes down to the basement, and the fastest, if you hadn't intercepted fate. about twenty minutes into your plan, you had grabbed a handful of out of order signs (printed with comic sans, the true villain of typography) and plastered them halfway down the left flight of stairs.

you dart towards the right staircase, your knee-high socks skimming the concrete steps in a frantic descent. as you reach the halfway point, you hear the telltale grunt of a frustrated toji.

"damn management can't even warn people about closures," he's muttering to himself, heavy footsteps falling in line behind yours.

right on cue. by the time he reaches the basement, there you are, innocently peering at the big, clunky switchboard. like it wasn't you who had just broken into it to render toji's apartment a freezing chill.

your sweater's been strategically tugged off one shoulder, and you're pretending the icy air isn't slicing at your bare legs, left exposed by the shortest pair of shorts you own.

"what brings ya down here?" toji grunts, his voice low and rough like gravel underfoot.

you count it as a small victory when his eyes sweep over you, slow and deliberate, before the older man coughs and shifts his focus back to the switchboard. you sidle closer under the guise of curiosity, so close that the fabric of your sweater brushes his arm. the steel biceps flexing under the tight, black fabric of his tee.

"i don't know," you sigh, feigning innocence with a touch of melancholia, "it jus' got so cold of all a sudden." you cross your arms over your chest, pretending to shiver just enough to catch his attention without looking concerningly ill.

toji glances down at you briefly, his brow furrowing, "mhm. yeah," he mutters, before turning back to the labyrinth of switches, "can't believe how these clowns the place."

you watch as the man leans in, studying the panel like it's some kind of ancient artefact. his expression is set in that serious, furrowed way men always get when faced with the unfamiliar terrain of household maintenance.

cute. almost.

you, of course, had done your homework. a quick google search of the model number earlier had led you to the manual, and you already knew it was the purple switch on the top right. but why rush, eh? if toji fushiguro wanted to play handyman, who were you to deprive him? especially when you needed a little more time to set the mood, to give him some ideas.

every time his fingers hovered closer to the correct switch, you leaned in, cutting him off with casual chatter. enough to have the man's eyes drop over you once more, before flicking away before he could break the bounds of propriety.

"so, are you doing anything tonight?"

"what?" his gruff tone reverberates through the dim basement, bouncing off the concrete walls.

you flutter your lashes at him, meeting his sharp, verdant gaze, "i mean, it's christmas eve. got any fun plans?"

he straightens slightly, his hand falling from the panel as he looks right at you, "nah. just stayin' in." but toji tilts his head and throws the question back at you, "why aren't you?"

"why aren't i, what?" you tilt your head to mirror the man, feigning confusion, "staying inside? i was, but then i got cold. y'know, busted heater and all."

toji exhales through his nose, and you watch mesmerised as the scar twitches over his lip, "no, doll. i mean, doing something fun. you're young. got your whole life ahead of you to be old and boring."

the faintest flicker of a genuine smile tugs at the corner of your glossy lips. if only he knew. you clear your throat, "i guess," and you shrug, the movement subtle, but just enough to let your sweater slip a little further off your shoulder, "it's just not my...taste."

your gaze trails over him, deliberate but not obvious enough to tip the scales out of your hand. you hope that you're not wide-eyed taking in how his broad shoulders ripple, almost tense?

"ah." toji fushiguro, everybody. a man of great wit, and even greater vocabulary.

he's tapping a knuckle against the switchboard, frowning at the rows of colourful levers like they've personally insulted him. you take the moment to edge a little closer, peering up at him with a deliberate and doe-eyed expression.

"need help?" you ask, voice sweet enough to break through teeth.

toji snorts, "you? help me with this?" he glances at you sideways, one thin brow quirking up, "i've got this, doll," but he seems to sober up, remembering that he does not have this, "unless you even know what this thing does?"

"of course i do," you shrug, feigning nonchalance, "i'm pretty good at flicking the right switch."

and what a sweet, untainted victory when toji's movements still. he doesn't tear his gaze away from the switchboard, but his hands pause and you see his lips twitch, "uh-huh."

"you should probably head back upstairs," he says gruffly, his tone almost concerned, "basement's freezin' and you're gonna catch a cold in, uh," and toji's gesturing vaguely at your thin ensemble, clearly trying to be polite.

"i know, but i was just comfortable in this," you run your hands, pretending to tug at the hem of your shorts. ignoring how the goosebumps are practically beating your ass right now, and you're about an inch of a temperature drop away from hypothermia.

toji fushiguro mutters something under his breath, something about attitude and young people these days, but he doesn't move away when you sidle back closer to him again, the faint brush of your arm against his making the great man stiffen up again.

"so, no christmas eve plans at all?" you press again, cocking your head, "not even a little festive cheer? eggnog?"

"festive cheer?" toji scoffs, finally pulling the purple switch as the low hum of the heater continues to chug away. dusting his hands off like he's just solved a national crisis, like you couldn't have solved that ten minutes ago, "i'm not big on christmas."

"that's tragic," you sigh, "and i was gonna ask you to stand with me under the mistletoe." your tone is teasing, light enough to deflect any serious questions but you let your lips form a soft pout. just enough to teeter on the edge of innocence. the faint, almost-whine in your tone is carefully calibrated: harmless on the surface but laced with the kind of undercurrent that can plant ideas in a man's head.

"ya' got jokes tonight," toji's gaze lingers, a little longer than necessary. you don't miss the way his shoulders draw tighter together. how his jaw ticks, but the real prize for you is when his hand slides up to rub the back of his neck, fingers kneading at the thick muscle, like he's trying to shake something loose.

the corner of your mouth twitches again, oh. you've got him now.

"imagine going through life, so lonely on christmas. that's gotta do something to a person." you're so not seeing the pearly gates, but you've come to terms with that.

"yeah? like what?" toji huffs.

you tap a finger against your chin, pretending to think, "well. for starters, it probably makes you very grumpy."

"tch, 'm not grumpy," toji rasps, but his tone says otherwise, as he runs a hand through sleek strands of dark hair, "yer' something else, you know that?"

"i've been told."

tojo shakes his head again, and you don't miss the faint smile tugging at the corner of his thin mouth, "alright, kid. time to head back up before you freeze to death down here."

time's up on this charade. you puff out a breath, your coy bravado dimming just a little bit, "fine, fine. but i'm not a kid, y'know."

toji's green eyes flick to yours, like chips of sea-glass as he holds your gaze, before turning back towards the stairs, "yeah. i know."

you follow him up in silence, the soft patter of your socks suddenly too cold on the pavement. at the top of the steps, toji pauses, glancing back at you with an unreadable expression, "get some rest. and make sure no-one's messin' with the switches."

"why would they do that?" you say, a touch too quickly.

"no reason," toji says, just as abruptly, stepping back as though putting physical distance between you two would help, "but it's all fixed now. go on, back to your apartment."

you blink, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift, "what? no thanks for keeping you company."

"thanks," toji fushiguro says flatly, but his gaze isn't unkind.

"wow. don't get too sentimental on me now."

"goodnight," the man deadpans, swinging your door open for you, just for good measure. before turning on his heel, and heading for his own room.

back to the drawing board.

toji fushiguro is convinced that the universe has it out for him. some karmic retribution is surely circling overhead, just waiting to strike. because really, what other explanation is there for his constant predicaments?

his life had been fine, a little lonely, sure, but manageable. until you moved in next door, perhaps sometime last year. sweet, maddening, entirely too pretty for your own good.

what the hell was toji supposed to do with that?

he's still rubbing the back of his neck, pushing open the door to his apartment. his date, right, was still perched on the old couch, scrolling through her phone. she's looking up at him when he entered, arching a brow.

"hey, you were gone for a while," she lightly comments, tucking her phone away.

"yeah, uh, sorry 'bout that," he mutters, crossing to the kitchen, "this place has a habit of breaking down on me."

shui had set him up with this woman, insisting that toji needed to crawl out of his self-imposed hermit hole and start living a little.

"you're not getting any younger, fushiguro," shui had snarked, as if toji didn't already feel every year weighing on him. so, fine. he'd agreed, figuring one dinner with a woman way out of his tax bracket wouldn't kill him.

and to be fair, the date had been...fine. the woman was attractive, sharp-witted, and she didn't pester him with inane questions. the kind of woman that most people would be thrilled to spend an evening with. but toji just couldn't shake the strange emptiness that had settled in his chest.

still, he had told himself to quit overthinking. maybe he was just out of practice. or maybe shui oddly had a point, and he needed to stop letting life pass him by. so, he'd invited her back to his place, hoping another glass of wine and small talk would lead one things into another.

what he hadn't counted on was running into you in the basement. how your light voice would replay in his head, that teasing lilt burrowing under his thick skin and leaving him restless.

tojo shakes his head, reaching for a couple of glasses and the half-decent bottle of wine that he kept stashed away from megumi's prying hands. kid was at that age where he was too damn curious for his own good about everything. his brain, however, was still stuck in the basement, circling around you.

what the hell had you been doing there anyway? sidling up to him all close, sickeningly sweet perfume or some shit that made his jaw clench. batting long lashes at him, and teasing him about mistletoe kisses.

civility. decency. that was the bare minimum that he could give you, wasn't it?

"you've got quite the collection of, uh, things up there," his date's voice pulls him back, gesturing to the open cabinet with a polite smile. toji glances at colourful boxes of cereal, and the little plastic bowls with cartoon animals splashed all over them. megumi's favourites.

"yeah," he says gruffly, pouring the wine, "got a kid. just the one."

she nods, taking the glass he hands her, "that's sweet. how old?"

"six. he's...not here tonight."

before his date can reply, catch the insinuation that he's thrown out, another sound filters through the paper-thin walls. a giggle, a sweet laugh followed by a voice he knows all too well.

"i know, right! he was like, totally into me!"

toji freezes, the wine bottle hovering mid-pour over his second glass. he sets the bottle down with a little more force than necessary, pretending not to notice the way his date glanced toward the wall, clearly having heard you too. fantastic. as if the universe hadn't done enough to torment him today.

his teeth ground together as your voice floated through again, a singsong lilt that made his chest thump, and irritation flare all at once. what were you even talking about? who the hell was 'totally' into you?

"uh-huh," you had been laughing, your voice carrying through the wall, "and then, he asked me out!"

toji's grip tightens on his glass, wondering who on earth managed to pull you into a date. wait, why did he even care?

his date seems oblivious to the internal war raging inside of him, taking a sip of her wine and smiling, "so, what's your son's name?"

"megumi," he mutters, absently, eyes flicking through the wall like he could see through it if he squinted hard enough. ugh, what an awful thing to think. what was wrong with him? acting like freak, not able to mind his own business.

his date's laugh is soft and polite, "that's cute."

cute, yeah.

you thought it was cute too, didn't you? he remembered the way your eyes lit up when megumi toddled after you once in the hallway, clutching one of his ridiculous animal-print bowls.

"oh, what did i say?" your voice drifts again through the walls, following by a light laugh, "look, he was cute and all, but he just wasn't my type."

toji rubs a hand down his face, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his noise. you're just his neighbour. you're entitled to have your fun, to live your own life. that doesn't mean he has to like hearing about it.

meanwhile, his date sits stiffly on the couch, politely pretending your voice isn't bleeding through the walls like a radio she can't turn off. she's doing a commendable job of feigning disinterest, but toji knows it's killing what little momentum the evening had.

he clears his throat, trying to salvage things, "so, uh, got any plans for tomorrow? something fun for christmas?" great, now he's stealing lines from you.

her smile tightens, polite but clearly wavering, "just lunch with my family. my sister's bringing her kids over."

toji nods, grasping at conversational straws, "that's nice. i've got, uh, a brother. and an annoying little cousin."

"right," and she's glancing up at the clock, her patience thinning faster than her smile.

"oh, come on," your voice pipes up again, clearer this time, "you know my type's never been those kinds of guys. i like the big, rough ones." there's a pause, and then you laugh, the sound both coy and infuriatingly knowing, "yeah, like a bit older. all muscles."

toji freezes, trying to pretend like his insides aren't doing the tango. his date, on the other hand, has clearly reached her limit. her lips purse into a tight smile as she stands, smoothing her dress, "look, you've been nice and all," she says, voice clipped, clearly cutting off the chances of a second date, "but i really should get going."

toji fushiguro doesn't argue. doesn't even try to stop her. just watches as her expensive-ass coat swings off his couch, her heels clicking toward the door and her figure vanishing down the hallway.

he slouches back on the couch, arms sprawled wide, feigning a calm that he doesn't definitely feel. in truth, he's seconds away from keeling over, his chest tight and his pulse betrays him.

"huh?" your voice filters through the paper-thin walls, questioning and laced with mirth. the sound sends a shiver down his spine, and down somewhere else, "oh, my neighbour? toji, yep, that's him!"

his head jerks up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash, eyes boring into the wall like he can will it to dissolve. tch, he's being such a dog. his ears are straining, sharp and unreasonably hopeful.

"yeah, he's so perfectly my type. tsk! yes, of course, i wish he'd just...yeah. anyway. but," you sigh, a dramatic exhale, "but i just don' think he's into me."

toji freezes, as heat floods his face, creeping down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. there's a traitorous clench in his groin as his stomach flips in a way that's both exhilarating and completely unwelcome.

the truth — shameful and complicated as it is — is that he is very much into you. has been for months. and it's getting worse.

every time you lean into him with those wide, sparkling eyes, every time you tease him with some playful jab or brush your fingers against his arm like it’s nothing, it carves a little deeper into his self-control. you're sweet, bright, always full of questions and comments that manage to sound innocent and maddeningly suggestive all at once.

but there's a prickling shame that comes with it, too, a harsh voice in the back of his head that tells him to grow the hell up. he's a grown man, for crying out loud.

a grown man with a kid who needs him, who already has enough on his plate without the complication of a pretty little neighbour who could turn his world upside down without even trying.

what could he offer you, anyway? you, who barrels down the hall in the mornings with an oversized bag bouncing against your hip, always late for something important, always in motion.

your life is big and full and bursting with possibilities. his, by comparison, feels...worn. quiet. comfortable in a way that makes him feel ancient when he looks at you.

still, it doesn't stop toji from looking. or from thinking things he shouldn't, like how your laughter lights up even the dullest days. or sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, pulling his hard cock out to tug on it, imagining your doe-eyes peering up at him.

toji rubs a hand over his face, groaning quietly into the crook of his elbow. what the fuck is he supposed to do with this?

you're starting to lose precious steam. for all your big talk about not giving up and winning toji over, the spark of confidence that got you this far is starting to sputter out. the lines that you'd carefully scribbled in blue ballpoint ink, a full script of fake laughter and coy quips begins to feel...a little tragic.

half an hour of pacing your apartment and pretending to be on the phone has left you feeling deflated, and painfully self-aware. your voice has grown too practiced, too rehearsed and you're starting to wonder if you even sound convincing anymore. and for all you know, toji fushiguro didn't even hear one word of it.

he's probably in there, sprawled on his couch, having a great time with his date. maybe laughing, maybe pouring wine, or maybe he's taken her to bed. fuck, your stomach lurches as your insides flip for no good, kind reason.

you glance at the cooling grape soda on your nightstand, still fizzing lazily in its can, and suddenly feeling quite awful. disgusted with yourself for the plotting, the dramatics, and the fact that it hasn't paid off in the slightest.

with a sigh that's more frustrated and resigned, you flop back onto your bed, ignoring the slight bounce of the mattress as you land. your apartment suddenly feels too hot, the air sticky and stifling.

you kick off the blanket that's bunched around your ankles, and you lie sprawled on top of the quilt. head tilted back against the pillows as you take in the dull hum of the light fixture and the occasional creak of the pipes.

with a despondent sigh, you find yourself half-heartedly parting your legs — maybe to entertain some false fantasy instead. you could have gone out, maybe really lived a little, just as toji had suggested.

you roll down the waistband of your shorts, pulling at the soft, elastic band. just tugging them down enough so you can trail your hands over the flesh of your thighs. yeah, you were that morose right now.

perhaps, you should have accepted the invites to all those christmas parties. you could have dolled up a little, grabbed a sweet drink or two on the house, fallen into the strong arms of a stranger?

you trail your hands over thin, soft skin. nails gently grazing over your mound, as you quickly run your middle finger through your slit, already dewy and moist. you muffle a small whine, because for all your showmanship earlier, you weren't above decency. and these walls were truly that thin.

but it's hard to not buck your hips up into your own touch, working your puffy cunt open with steady fingers. one finger, and then a second, fluttering at a gentle pace. how telling that the mysterious stranger in your fantasies is suddenly far older, with hazy green eyes and charcoal hair falling over his face.

you substitute the slap of your fingers for his, pretending its a rough thumb that pulls at your clit, gently pushing the throbbing hood up to run misshapen circles over the bundle of nerves.

"hah," you try to gnaw at your lower lip, keeping your mouth shut, as you're desparate for the creak of your bed frame to not carry over into the apartment next door, "t-toji, please."

there's a faint thud from next door, like someone has just hit their head. but you can hardly register it in your own mind. shuffling whines leaving your lips, as you use your fingers to stretch out your slick, sodden walls. getting faster, and faster with each piston-like gesture to curl the pads of your fingers up. searching, keening around for that rough spot that makes you squeal.

your eyes are fluttering shut, lashes falling against your cheek as your jaw tightens, heartbeat beginning to race as you heave for air, back arching up as you use your other hand to furiously flick over your clit, building up a steady ache in your wrist that you ignore, "ah, ah, toji, r-right there, fuck, 'm close."

each press of your finger against the walls of your entrance results in a large squelch echoing through your ears, getting closer and closer to that devastating peak, all the while as hallucination-toji snickers down at you and —

"hey!"

and just like that, your long-awaited orgasm, your beautiful climax, well. she disappears with nary a goodbye. your eyes snap open, heart hammering as you blink up at the dull ceiling. your hand is yanked away from your cunt, the cool air suddenly hitting the slick that's coating your fingers. your mind stutters, scrambling for clarity as an all-too-familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

"hey! c'mon, doll. don't have all day."

toji. toji fushiguro. oh, shit.

the panic rises quickly, what are your options? dive out the window and hope that you land on your feet? or fake an illness so convincing that you convince him that's contagious so he leaves? you consider it for a moment, but something else takes over. far more brave, or just reckless and lust-addled. you pull yourself upright, tugging your shorts back up. you shift your sheets, making sure that the dark, translucent patch is covered.

you pad towards the door with the air of a man marked for execution. when you swing it open, you're met with a red-faced toji. is he flushed?

you drop any cute pretense, and instead, lock your petulant gaze on his chest, straight up with the no eye-contact rule. it gives you a real, shameless good look at those heavenly sculpted pecs.

"what do you want?" you ask, voice as flat as you can possibly manage. but you're keenly aware of that mirror-gloss still coating your hands, and you wonder if its too obvious to scrunch your fingers in your sweatshirt. gross, someone get you out of here. the misery of your own making.

toji stands there, entirely dumbounded, and you notice the flush creeping up the peachy tan of his neck, a shade deeper than usual, "what do i want? what do you want?" he says, his voice rock-rasp.

you swallow thickly, ignoring the addled scent of leather, musk and something far more faintly addictive, "i have no idea what you mean."

toji huffs, obviously amused, before mimicking your voice with exaggerated sweetness, "oh, toji, please. right there, toji." he's mocking you, and your skin burns with the recent memory of that exact tone.

you consider for a split second if you can just hand him your lease tomorrow morning and call it quits. but then, toji continues, "y'know these walls are thin, right?"

you cross your arms, trying to steady yourself, ignoring how your poor cunt clenches with the faint memory of her ruined orgasm, "really? i had no idea."

toji mirrors your actions, his arms folding, but the effect only pushes his pecs up, and you try not to get distracted. but it's hard, very hard, "don't get all smart with me now. been hearing you giggle all evenin' and being all slutty."

"thought you had a date," you mutter, the act of playing pretend has long since passed and you're too far gone now to pretend. you scowl up at toji, meeting his gaze head-on, feeling your heart race as his eyes narrow and his pink lips part slightly. you can almost feel the urgent heat of his gaze dragging over your hand, your damp fingertips.

"how'd you know about my date? suddenly real concerned for me?" toji tilts his head, voice laced with infuriating amusement, and you fight the urge to lash out, to throw yourself into him and kiss him fuckin' stupid. instead, you dig in your heels, staying put.

"no, i'm not concerned," you stutter, floundering for a reason, "i'm just, well —"

"who asked you out?" toji cuts through your flickering thoughts, an undercurrent of something sharper in his tone.

"huh?"

"who was it? the one who isn't your type?" toji fushiguro says this all so casually, making your stomach flip. so he had been listening, he heard every word of you flouncing around your room.

you swallow hard, ignoring the sudden fluttering in your chest, "why? you jealous?" the words spill out before you can stop them, you raise an eyebrow, feeling a small victory in the way his priggish expression falters just slightly, "just go back to your date, fushiguro."

"gettin' real bold now," he murmurs, and you realise just how close the two of you are. how you can feel his body heart radiating off him. the tension between you is suffocating to say the last, and you can't decide if you want him to step back or push closer. he doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"thanks to your pretty antics, she sent herself packin', and now i'm all on my lonesome."

"how sad for you," and you suddenly curl your lip, "get a vibrator."

toji's maw drops open for a split second, before he shakes his head, "you first. don't know how you were doing all that without one," and he nods to your hand, "and because i wasn't hearin' much else."

something bold and red-hot comes over you, egged on by the damp sticking to your thighs, "want a visual demonstration?"

you barely have time to form a coherent thought before toji moves, a low growl rumbling in his barrel-like chest as he surges forward. his hands, large and calloused and warm, cup your face with surprising gentleness, though the intensity in his gaze leaves no room for doubt. then, his lips crash against yours, rough and unrelenting. the faint scrape of the scar cutting across his mouth sending a shiver through you.

it's not careful, it's testing and tasting. as if he's waiting for you to push him away. but oh, you're not going anywhere. not when his kiss is setting your nerves alight, and sending your heart into a dizzying free fall. merry christmas to you, indeed.

you respond in kind, just as desperate, your hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders. the solid, hefty weight of toji beneath your fingers grounds you, even as the world tilts on its axis.

"ohh, look at you," toji all but purrs, pawing his hands over your back, your waist, settling over your hips as he pushes you further into your apartment. a strong arm stretching out to slam the door closed, tugging you further in. it seems he's too needy to even reach the bed, and you whine as you're shoved with your back to the wall. his hand coming up to make sure you don't quite slam in with too much force.

toji's lips are practically meshed to your own, and he's already pulling at the waistband of your shorts again. just as you were doing earlier, and you shudder, feeling thick fingers run along your hips.

"s-shit," toji gasps, "if ya' don't want me to —"

you groan, "no, n-no. want you," your voice quivers suddenly as warm fingers press into your soaked cunt. finding home right among your weeping slit. you don't even see where your shorts have been thrown, instead focusing on toji's hazy eyes flickering when they see that you've been wearing nothing underneath. all damn evening.

you don't think you've ever seen the man so dishevelled, heaving for air, as he tries to come to terms with all this, "so when you were in that basement, jus' tryna tease me? is that what you wanted?"

you can't help but laugh, but it's quickly cut off when toji's pressing a hot kiss to the very tip of your clit, it's so feather light and oddly gentle for the gruff man, and it has you keening over.

"that's it, gon' have you all in my mouth. gonna drink ya' up, it's what you wanted, right?" he uses two fingers to press right up against your entrance, parting your oozing folds so he can narrow his eyes at how ready you are for him, "gonna put this all in a cup, and drink it."

"t-toji!" you whine out, feeling your head go all light, and weightless, watching toji play with your core. seeing the older man gape at how you're soaking divots into his fingers, seeing emerald eyes darken with a carnal need to taste you. right now.

"stay still, doll. yeah, just for a sec," toji's hands tighten around your thighs, smacking a fat glob of spit over your trembling core, letting his index finger run the fluid up and down your pussy, a ragged laugh running raw from his smart mouth, "had no idea you were like this, been burying your pretty fingers in your cunt for me before, right?"

you need to get a hit of your own in, before toji fushiguro turns your mind to mush, "you been fisting around your cock for me, then too? bet it super hard when — fuck!"

your words are cut off by the flat pads of his fingertips coming down to deliver a jolt to your throbbing clit, slapping wet arousal around as toji almost glares up at you, but it's softened by lazy fondness.

"watch ya' mouth, doll. 'm wanting to go easy on you tonight."

he's delving straight into your cunt, like a man starved and searching for salvation between your thighs. you feel your mind go blank, that ruined orgasm of the past hour practically gaining a life of her own and cheering once more, coming back to you in embarrassing, full force as it barely takes a few, quick munches of toji's tongue around your sweet pussy.

that's all you need before you're quickly seeing flashing stars, and doing your best to hide the tremble in your thighs. but toji's having none of that.

his laugh is low, mocking and so ruined, "tchh, i really did interrupt ya' didn't i? must have been so close on that bed," but he's not stopping, practically speaking into your stimulated cunt, punctuating his words with buttery kisses, "must have caught ya' on the very edge for her to so ready for me."

"shut u-up."

"your wish? my command," toji snickers, letting your slick, running juices gather over his chin, "and you taste so good. she's a sweet thing, right," and you realise that he's not talking about you, but rather, about your weeping, glossy cunt that's shoved against his sharp nose. you've got the man practically pussydrunk already, and he's hardly gotten a good feel for it.

his hand comes to rest on your bare thigh, tapping it, "now 'm gonna need you to move that, yeah, that's right," you're slotting it over his broad shoulders, and it pulls him closer. and at this point, you don't even care for how you should be embarrassed, should be feeling some shame at having this rugged, older man salivating into your cunt. but there's a shocking glee instead, a quiet victory that's bubbling in your abdomen and already demanding an encore.

his tongue darts out again, this time he's prodding the muscle at your entrance, feeling for that slight resistance made weaker by your fingers earlier, all on your own. the very tip of his tongue in you has you whining again, slapping a hand over your lolling mouth.

"move that hand," toji grunts, punctuating each word with a flick to your clit.

"i c-can't," you gasp, hands finding a home in his clingy, dark strands, "people are gonna hear-ahhh," he's practically mouthing himself onto your pussy, slick strands separating from his lips each time he pulled away for air. the stimulation is making you so much more sensitive, tears springing to the corners of your eyes as the pleasure begins to sting so deliciously.

you pull fingers through ink-black hair, delicate threads that are soft to the touch and feather-light, "h-here, toji," you curl your fingers to angle him perfectly just so, and the burly man is letting you use him, letting you drag his mouth over your slippery folds. just so you can get him to flick his tongue over that spot that makes you cry out so perfectly.

and toji thinks he's never seen a greater sight. he feels a dizzy, heaving tightness in his jeans, that ache building in his groin like he's about to bust his load just from having you fall apart so prettily on his tongue. he ups the pace, making sure to nimbly etch patterns over your heated, swollen clit. he had you right where he wanted you, needed you, and he'd be damned before he'd left you high and dry.

"y'know, 'm thinking about to see this pretty pussy cum again," and toji sounds so proud, taking gratified in the fact that after only one taste, he's already attuned to the signs of your climax. the way your eyes roll back in your head, tears pricking at your eyes in a way that makes his cock ache even harder.

you're unabashed now, rolling your hips into him at a messy pace. letting spikes of white-hot and red-searing pleasure curl up in your abdomen, ready to burst. the entirety of his lower chin is coated in sweet slick, glistening his rough scar, with a clear drop just beading at his lip.

"i-i think 'm gonna, toji, toji - feels s-so —"

toji's mocking you, pitching his raspy voice up again to capture your tone, "oh yeah? 'm gonna, what? what are ya' gonna do? gonna cum, because that's what i'm here for, doll."

he's making a mess now, switching between a cool, short puff of air at your throbbing clit, and letting his tongue push into your gummy walls, unending pleasure until —

"aaand, cum. now, doll."

it bursts within you, swiftly and briskly. so intense that the edges of your visions become clouded with dark spots, a hazy vignette of sheer pleasure from toji's mouth running all over the filthy mess you've created. the gushing climax that must be soaking the scuffed, dark floorboards beneath toji's bent knees.

you don't even realise that you're still babbling his name, entirely lost in the daze of your second orgasm of the night. little cries of toji, like a prayer over and over, mantras that are making toji grin with his gleaming lips underneath you. all as he wraps his arms around your thighs, lifting you with brute strength. all the while not separating himself from your oversensitive cunt, petting soft kisses over your inner thighs, "gorgeous thing, aren'tcha? think ya' give me another one?"

you groggily lift your head as he sets you down on the bed, caging you beneath his considerable frame, "why? don't wanna, uh, stuff my stocking tonight?"

toji's green eyes flicker with mirth, amusement, only punctuated by him rolling them back in faux-disgust, "still runnin' that clever mouth, hah."

you squirm as he pushes his rough hands under your sweatshirt, letting both hands cup your breasts, pinching and twirling fingertips over your nipples, "are you a, mmph, a candy cane, toji?"

he doesn't break his concentration from where he's peeling your top off, "what nasty shit are ya' gonna say now?"

you giggle as he brushes past a particularly ticklish spot, "because i think you're s-sweet, and i wanna suck you."

"fuck."

in the blink of an eye, he's got you perched over on your knees, just as he hovers you. waistband pulled down enough to reveal black boxers, close enough that you could stick your chin out and press a soft kiss to the darkened patch of pre-cum that must be driving toji crazy.

and well, it's big. like it's jingle bells, jingle balls type of big. you drag your eyes from soft, curled black hair at the base of his groin and down an angry, thick red shaft that makes you clench your thighs.

"wan' me to slide over your chimney?"

that gifts you a barked, punched laugh out of the man — toji's got a large hand wrapped around his cock, "c'mon, doll. put that smart mouth to good use then," inching it closer to your lips in silent permission. you part your lips, anticipating the savoury pre that coats your tongue, the translucent fluid dripping from your mouth already.

he's thumbing down on your lower lip, easing the red mushroom tip into your waiting, eager mouth, "hah, think ya' were meant to take me. how's...how's this slutty mouth so perfect?" toji sounds ruined, all rock-salt rasp and his pink lips fall open, and a flush is painted over his tan skin.

you've never been one to give up, ready to angle your head lower, eager to take as much of him as possible into your mouth. but it's a hard stretch, as crystalline tears cling to your lashes, from the tight wrap of the back of your mouth around his throbbing cock.

toji's got his hand wrapped in your hair now, and you can tell that he's trying to be gentle with the strands as he angles your head lower, purring as you take him so well, "f-fuck, a perfect tease, yeah? fuckin' amazing," and you know he's telling the truth, for his cock is practically twitching with a life of its own in your mouth.

you've got this man hazy and drunk, just from sucking you off, and the realisation makes you whine all over again. reaching a hand down in between your thighs to rock up against your clit, all at the same steady pace.

and you know that toji is close, for those sculpted thighs of pure muscle tremble now, the powerful cords quivering as he bucks his hips, fucking your mouth in long, steady strokes. you also realise that you want him to cum, just like this, to have thick white fall from your lips to really seal and sweeten the deal.

but suddenly, you're left popping your lips shut, as toji groans, genuinely groans and shudders, pulling himself out of your mouth with a wet slop!

"don' give me that look, doll," toji chuckles, his chest heaving underneath the sculpted outline of his dark shirt, "can stuff ya' mouth with my cock later, if that's what you want. but 'm really gonna lose it if i'm not in her right now," and he's angling you back to give a loving, gentle pat to your glistening cunt.

rough, calloused hands slide across your bare back with an unexpected gentleness, against the soft curve of your spine as toji presses you into the mattress, so your head is finally resting back against the pillow.

toji's enjoying this, you know that, just from how he's taking your times to pull your thighs apart, sucking in a harsh breath at how your sleek entrance practically winks at him. tugging his hands roughly on his rock-hard cock, all so he can run the fat tip over your clit, making you mewl.

"don't t-tease, toji," you sniffle, feeling the searing tip push up against your clitoral hood, that nerves so stimulated that you're bucking up into him, wanting toji to just put the damn thing in already.

"fuck, doll," toji's taking a small mercy on you, pressing the first inch into your cunt, "i don't 'm the tease here, god knows how long you were jus' jacking off on the other side of the wall. hopin' that i'd come and stuff you like this?"

each inch that's bullying itself into making your head spin, making you wrap arms around his thick neck, just as he presses a soft kiss to the crook of your collarbone, "ya' good, doll? 's not too much for your, hnngh, tight lil' cunt, is it?"

you mewl as he bottoms out, and the stretch is unlike anything you've ever felt before. it's so deliciously big within you, scraping at the inside of your walls, "wan' be on top, toji."

"oh, yeah? lucky that i like ya' this much, givin' me orders and bossin' me around," toji huffs, using thick arms to pull you up instead, flipping you around so he's got you straddling his thighs, split apart so perfectly around his gliding cock.

"mmph, 's much deeper like this, toji," you chase after his lips, running your tongue over the taut, rigid scar that cuts over the right side of his mouth, all while he starts to set a maddening pace, bouncing you like a pretty toy over his cock, swabbing your insides with buttery wads of pre-cum, all sticky and loud in the silence of the night.

"lookin' good, doll," toji's grin can only be described as shark-like, and he's clearly pleased by the echoing squelches from the filthy mess that's dolloped between your groins, the smack of your ass against your thighs, tacky strands sticking to skin.

your chest is pressed against his shirt, and he's so enjoying the view. loves seeing how the swell bounces and hypnotises him, fuck, toji wonders how he's gonna go about the rest of his life away from you and your perfect pussy.

your eyes widen as you glance back, swivelling your head over your shoulder to watch the smacking movement of you against him, at how his thighs hold you up with a steady rhythm, "you're f-fuckin' me really well, toji," and god, he thinks he might just lose it all, then and there. the praise from your dewy lips is rushing straight into his cock, turning his mind to mush as he finds himself on some sort of autopilot.

he needs to cum in you, right now, needs to feel you milk him for all he can give. to stuff your syrupy cunt with mounds of weeping inches, and he's picking up the pace. smacking heavy, laden balls against your skin, so you whine and keen into him.

you're so caught up in the pleasure that you don't even realise toji had said something, words snapping around his teeth as he bounces you over and over, making sure that you ride him good, "w-what?"

"a date, doll," toji groans, smacking your hand away from your clit, just so he can toy with it, faster and faster, "lemme take ya' out properly, what'd ya' say to that, huh?"

"wanna take me o-out?" you all but weep over him, spearheaded on his tip, and raking sharp nails over iron abs, all underneath his tight top, "please, please, t-toji, wanna go out with you! and then," you hiss as he angles himself just right, curved sheath kissing that perfect g-spot deep within you, "and then i wanna do t-this all over again."

it makes toji's hips stutter, "yeah? pretty girl wants me to take her out, parade her around t-town, hah, i can do that. i can do all of that," he's gasping, feeling your tight heat snatch the life out of him. each girthy vein rubbing itself against your tacky cunt, "i can do all of that, and more. jus' lemme show ya', i'll spoil ya' for anyone else. those d-dumb college boys."

and you look at him with such gorgeous, pretty eyes that toji wonders how on earth he's gonna function now, with you so supplanted in his life. on his cock, even. he can taste something faintly sweet and artificial on your tongue, like tangy grape as he sucks on the muscle.

"never wanted a-any of them anyway, jus' you, toji. only you."

toji fushiguro loses his mind, he's cumming and his own orgasm is hitting him so hard that, in the back of his mind, he's concerned at how he's just filling you up. sloppy thrusts slowing down as thick, white translucent spurts paint your insides, right up to where he can see the divot of his tip through your abdomen. where you've taken in him so deep.

"s-shit," toji presses his mouth to yours again, harder, "look what ya' doin' to me, ruining me," and he also feels just a little bad for ruining your sheets, right as your own umpteenth climax for the night hits you, glossy and clear over the black tufts of hair. your pretty mouth pulled open in a wordless cry of his name, but toji doesn't let go. he lets you ride it out, that sticky mess becoming an afterthought for later.

in the hazy glow, toji's eyes wander over the mess of your room. but something else catches his attention, wads of paper flattened by an empty can of soda. he tilts his head, hair falling over his forehead, dampened by sweat. reaching for the paper with his curiosity piqued.

before he can fully read the words, you're suddenly pawing at his arm, practically leaping into him to get in the way, "wait, toji, don't! hey, that's private!" your voice is an odd mix of urgency and embarrassment, nothing like the angelic whimpers from a few minutes ago. you're swatting at his thick hand, trying to grasp at his fingers.

ignoring your protests and squirms, he crumples the paper open and reads the bold, hastily scrawled letters: how to get toji fushiguro in bed.

damn. so you had been responsible for that heater, the staircase, a fake phone call. he always did like them a bit cuckoo-bananas.

toji chuckles darkly, glancing up at you, barely able to suppress a grin. you're flushed, looking like you'd rather disappear into the floor, oddly shy despite the fact that you were so bold, and a minx riding him earlier to hell and back.

"look, i can explain. don't be mad, because i swear —"

toji groans, shifting you slightly in his lap, "mad? doll, 'm hard all over again. how'd you want it this time?"

[purplecoffee13]

Cross The Line*

Summary: “Harry and Y/N have always had a great professional relationship, all based on one rule; a line they drew the first time they met. But when one day that line accidentally blurs, Harry finds that he doesn’t want it to go back to the way it was…”

Wc: 13k

Tropes: Boss!rry x Secretary!Y/N

Warnings: A LOT of back and forth (this is what Katy Perry wrote hot and cold about), arguing, curse words, smut, dirty talk, degradation, light ch0king, dom/sub dynamics, edging, b0ndage, and recording while… yk🤗

A/N: I’m terribly sorry to have been testing your patience so much the second half of this year, here is a long one shot to say I’m sorry🥲 and I appreciate all of you and I hope you are happy and healthy and will get everything you want in the new year xx💘💘

General Masterlist

HEADER = POV change

Harry's relationship with his secretary is completely normal.

At least, he’s always thought it is.

Sure, it may have seemed more friendly than the usual boss/secretary relationship, but that was only because Y/N was special. She was one of the kind. Smart, stealthy, and sneaky if need be. She did everything he asked for, sometimes before he even realized he should ask her, and was always ready to do more.

Of course, she was attractive as well. Shit, attractive may have even been an understatement. Y/N was drop dead gorgeous and Harry was entirely aware of it. Her ambition made her even sexier, and it's one of the reasons he hired her in the first place.

When Y/N walked through his office door that first time three years ago, he couldn't believe his eyes.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, those wide eyes staring back at him as she froze a couple feet away from him. She was quick to regain herself, though—he had to give her that. But she was nervous as she sat down, even though her movements were calm and the tone of her voice stern. He saw the slightest shake of those hands of her.

Because that job interview hadn't been the first time Harry and Y/N came across each other. It was actually a Halloween party at some high end secretive club in New York one month prior. A night that ended with them hooking up in one of the private lounges.

Even back then, when he never thought he'd see her again, he knew that he would never forget that night, nor the way her face scrunched up as she clenched around him, or the sounds that she made as he drove into her.

He could see that she remembered it as well as she sat across from him that day, but Y/N had quickly made it clear that she was serious about pursuing a career in the film industry. She said she could prove what a great secretary she could be for him, as long as they could put that Halloween night behind them and pretend it never happened. She wouldn't make him regret it, she had told him. He took the chance.

And she had been absolutely right.

Three years had passed and Harry was still thankful to himself for hiring Y/N. She was the best around; fiercely loyal as well. Y/N had been offered jobs by other companies, but she turned down every last one of them. Harry liked to think their relationship played a bit of a part in that as well.

They had become friends—if that's what you could call it—over the years. They had a playful dynamic filled with flirty jokes and random phone calls and favors that blurred that line they had drawn so carefully during Y/N's job interview.

No matter what, Y/N would be the first Harry would call, every time. Whether it was bad business news or a drunken phone call, her number was most likely to be at the top of his last calls. And she always answered, even though she didn't have to. It was a special bond, and while they always danced on it—especially Harry—they never crossed that one line.

Not that Harry needed to. As a matter of a fact, he had quite the adventurous love life. With plenty of people on speed dial and a charming smile that could make anyone's panties drop, Harry wasn't short on romantic escapades. The one thing they all had in common, though, was that it'd never last longer than a few days, and they were rarely ever repeated.

The same couldn't be said for Y/N. In fact, Harry had never seen her with anyone outside of her work, and he never heard her mentioning anything about it...

He didn't know why, but somehow, that thought popped up into his head last Friday as they sat in his office with a drink, celebrating the outstanding reviews that critics had given the newest produced film that was set to premiere next week. Before Harry knew it, he was asking about it.

"Why are you rubbing your temples?" He questioned, watching Y/N massage the side of her head with her eyes closed. He was leaned back in his seat, whiskey in hand as he observed the woman across from him.

"Tension headache." She groaned in response. Despite her grumpiness, Harry couldn't help but grin. What could he say? She was cute when she was grumpy.

"We are literally celebrating, Y/N. What could you possibly be so tense about right now?" He teased, and felt his stomach swirl as a smile painted her lips. She might have rolled her eyes, but she still thought he was funny.

"Oh you have no idea." She mumbled, grabbing her glass and leaning back into her chair. She took a big gulp, her face pulling at the strong taste of the liquor. Harry chuckled.

"You should relax more. Maybe get a hot date to take care of some of that stress for you." He suggested jokingly. Y/N scoffed at the insinuation.

Shaking her head, she said: "I get taken care of just fine, thank you very much."

The equally teasing tone in which she responded caught Harry seriously off guard. Her slight grin pressed down on his chest, and despite having started this joking banter himself, he suddenly didn't find the topic very funny anymore.

"When?"

Y/N locked eyes with her boss. “What?”

"You're here 24/7, when do you even have time to hook up with someone?"

"You know there's this thing called weekends." She joked, but the amusement faded when Harry's mouth didn't even quirk upwards in the slightest bit. It fell quiet for a second or two, and just when Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, someone knocked on the office door.

"Come in."

Harry had said, and soon enough Robin, one of the managers walked in, telling them everyone was going to the pub down the street to celebrate, and if they wanted to come along.

Harry didn't even have the chance to reject the offer—he'd rather spend his nights with his secretary—before Y/N agreed to go along. Feeling obligated, Harry reluctantly gave in as well.

He ended up going home quite early that night, not even properly saying goodbye to Y/N like he normally would before leaving, and he couldn't get the image of her wrapped around another man out of his head the entire ride home. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was the fact that it shouldn't, and more importantly, couldn't bother him, which made it even less bearable.

Whichever reason there may have been for it, he decided to drown out his thoughts by inviting one of his old hook-ups to his house. But even as he drove himself into her as she kept screaming his name, he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. When she had reached her climax and he began to chase his own high—Harry was caught off guard by Y/N's face flashing through his mind, and extremely embarrassed when those images triggered his orgasm.

The next week is awkward, to say the least. It started out Monday, when Harry could barely look Y/N in the eye. She had received the sudden cold shoulder pretty well, but Harry still felt horrible about it. His attitude got less stiff throughout the week, but it was still bad.

By the time Thursday rolls around again, Harry still hasn't had the chance to get that weird feeling out of his system. So when he approaches his office and spots Y/N behind her desk smiling at him, a wave of guilt washes over him.

He curses himself as he sinks into his desk chair, absentmindedly turning on his laptop. What is he doing? Y/N is his assistant. He shouldn't let his protectiveness of her get the best of him. He does not want to lose her in any way.

Harry flinches when there is a knock on his door. He looks up, finding Y/N standing in his doorway. Immediately, he signals for her to come in. She seems a bit nervous as she nears him, and considering she's never been nervous around him, his heart sinks at the idea that the cold shoulder he's been giving her the other night might have affected her way more than he thought.

He just doesn't know how to behave instead.

"You have a meeting in conference room C in five minutes. It's the banker's son who's been proposing his script for the past year. I  know your schedule is tight, especially with the premiere coming up, but I thought you might as well get it over with." She says, putting a stack of papers on the table that Harry can only assume is the script. He nods, quirking up the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, smart thinking." The praise falls from his lips in a casual manner, and he doesn't miss the way she physically relaxes at the positive reinforcement. She nods at him, and turns back to the door. Right before she is about to leave the office, she turns around again. Harry leans back in his seat, waiting to hear what she'll say.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped last week." She says, and Harry frowns at the apology.

"What?"

"I clearly said something that ticked you off." She explains,her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know we joke around, but I was afraid that maybe I'd accidentally crossed a line—“

"Y/N, stop it." Harry interrupts her, getting up from his seat. Her lips are locked within a second, and she stares at her boss with wide eyes. His stomach twists at the sight of it. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But— if I said something inappropriate then I want to apologize for it." She says, straightening her posture again, biting her bottom lip so he won't see it quiver. As if he doesn't know the way her body works. As if he hasn't known for three years.

Putting his hands inside his pockets, Harry walks around his desk and stands in front of her. A little closer than he needs to, and yet not as close he would like.

"Let me ask you this: How many times have you declined booty calls for me?" He asks, tilting his head a bit. A slight smile appears on Y/N's face, and she pretends to think it over.

"Twenty-seven." Her smile crinkles her eyes, making them even more glassy. Harry quite literally feels his hand itch to touch her face, but he keeps it sternly in his pocket. "I kept track so I could count all the reasons you definitely won't get into heaven."

At that, he lets out a snort. Y/N can't help but chuckle too, and slowly but surely the weirdness dissolves from the room. When the laughter has died down, she speaks up again.

"So... we're good?"

"We're good." Harry smiles at his secretary, and his chest heats up when he spots the faint blush that appears on her cheeks. Jesus Christ, did she become even more beautiful than she was yesterday or was he just too stupid to notice earlier? Probably the latter.

"Well in that case you need to leave because your meeting is like, right now." She reminds him, and he hums in agreement as he gets up from his seat and walks towards the door with Y/N.

"Already gone, love." He winks at her, walking out the door with a lot more confidence in his relationship with Y/N. Maybe everything can go back to normal again. Maybe he was just exaggerating when he couldn't get her out of his head this weekend. Perhaps it was just a glitch, a temporary error in his brain that had come and gone in a flash.

That must've been it, he tells himself as he makes his way to conference room C. He takes a deep breath, musters a polite smile, and opens the door to the room. Harry already knows this guy is going to be wasting his time, but he made a promise to hear him out, so he will.

The guy sitting at the table is the stereotypical spoiled rich son. When John Longwell—a long-time business partner of Harry's— asked him to revise his son's script as a favor, Harry told him he'd do it if he ever found the time. He always hoped John's son would lose interest and forget about the script by the time Harry could find a free space in his agenda, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case.

And although the arc of the story had sounded absolutely horrendous— something about zombies fueled by a brainwashing radio song, which didn't even make sense to Harry because zombies don't have brains—he couldn't back out anymore. So he needs to get it over with, starting now.

Harry loudly shuts the door.

The guy—whose name he can't really remember at the moment—flinches and turns around, a big grin on his face as he gets up from his seat.

"Mr. Styles, it's a pleasure to see you." The man says, extending his hand, which Harry, in turn, takes. He only gives a slight nod before heading over to the other side of the table and sitting down.

"So, where's your script?" Harry asks, eyeing the empty table. The guy looks flustered, opening his mouth to say something, but the opening of the door interrupts that. Harry leans back in his seat when he spots his secretary walk through it, not even eyeing the other guy as she struts over to him and lays the printed out script on the glass table.

"Sorry, you forgot this. It was still on your desk." She says, finally turning to the man to throw him an innocent smile. His sheepish grin satisfies her enough to turn back to her boss and focus all her attention on him. "I also forgot to ask you— do you want to move up lunch today?"

The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up. Over the last three years, the concept of 'moving up lunch' has become a code for 'should I get you out of this early?'. Y/N came up with it a long time ago, and it has stuck ever since.

"Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Y/N." He says, and the way a smirk slowly creeps onto her face makes the hairs on his body rise.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Styles." She gives one final nod before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Harry would lie if he said he didn't let his eyes fall onto the way her hips moved as she strolled away.

Unfortunately the fun doesn't last long, and with the slam of the door Harry is reminded that he still has to sit through this meeting a little longer. He looks down at the script.

"A Thousand Zombies

By Jason Longwell."

Right, Jason, that was his name.

"Jesus Christ, if that were my secretary I'd have her bent over my desk all day. How do you get any work done?" Jason breathed out, grinning like a stupid fucking schoolboy. Harry quite literally felt the storm cloud that came floating right above his head the second he heard that incompetent loser say those words. His hands balled up into fists at the suggestive comment, knuckles getting whiter by the second.

"Get out." Harry growls. John raises his eyebrows, looking around him as if Harry couldn't have possibly been addressing it to him.

"W— what?" He stumbles.

"I don't do business with insolent idiots. Get out." Harry repeats, getting up from his seat and buttoning his suit jacket. John follows his movements, anger starting to cloud on his face.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He exclaims in a failed attempt to sound intimidating. At least, Harry assumes that's what he's trying to do.

"I called you an idiot. Now, get the hell out of my face before I boot your sorry ass right to the front door." With one brow raised, he waits as John tries to muster a response until he eventually gives up and storms out of the room. Harry throws the script into the trash as he walks out of the conference room half a minute later. Y/N is immediately by his side.

"That was quick, I didn't even have time to think of an emergency." She jokes as they walk back to Harry's office together. He raises a brow.

"Yes you did. What was it this time? Food poisoning?" He guesses, holding the door to his office open once they've reached it. Y/N grins as she walks past him and takes a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Actually, your car was going to get stolen in about five minutes." She responds, the blush of her cheeks revealing the slight embarrassment of having to voice this excuse out loud. Harry's eyes widen as he walks over to his desk, feeling his assistant watching his every move. He quite likes the feeling.

"No way." He laughs. "You just get more creative by the day."

"What can I say, I'm good at crisis management." She shrugs, crossing her legs and getting into a more comfortable position on the chair. Harry tries his best to not let his eyes float to her legs.

"That you are." He murmurs, the huskier sound of his voice giving a different ambiance to the conversation. As Harry feels the mood switch, he curses himself. Why did he have to ruin it?

Y/N clears her throat. "Anyway— why'd the meeting end early?"

"It ended early because Jason Longwell is a sleazy douchebag." He responds shortly, straightening in his seat in an attempt to gain control of the situation again. He can't let himself slip like this again, and she can't know the real reason he kicked out Jason. But there is no denying the sheer rage that boils his blood when that comment flashes through his memory. He hates that the asshole thought he could just speak about Y/N like that.

"Ooh, what did he say when you kicked him out?" Y/N asks eagerly, still in a playful mood. "You did kick him out right?"

"I don't have time to get into this right now. I need to sign those contracts that were sent in yesterday before I go home." Harry says sternly, avoiding eye contact with Y/N as he speaks, but he still sees the slump in her shoulders at his sudden shift in attitude.

"Right, of course." She immediately returns to the responsible secretary she always is, getting up from her seat. He hears her exit the room, heels clacking against the wooden floor. As soon as the door has shut, Harry throws his head back in frustration.

So much for going back to normal.

Playing into the teasing will only rope him further into that forbidden fantasy, and he clearly won't be able to stop himself from resisting her if he does. But he's the one who started all the playfulness, massively screwing himself over he realizes now. If he shifts his behavior, she's always going to think he's mad at her because of something.  But he's going to have to, because Harry can't go back to normal anymore.

Deciding he needs to clear his head, Harry grabs his coat and heads for the elevators without so much as a word. He pretends not to notice the way people's eyes widen when he walks by, suddenly on their best behavior, and although it used to give him an ego boost back when he started, nowadays he just prefers it if people aren't scared of him.

It turns out to be a particularly nice outside for a winter day in London. Not to get it twisted— it's still freakishly cold. It's just that the sun has replaced the endless rain of this entire month. Harry suppresses a chuckle at the irony of the sun finally being out at the very first moment where he's felt so shitty in a long time.

He doesn't know how long he's outside, so he knows it's not fair to be frustrated when he comes back and Y/N isn't at her desk, but he can't help the slight distress that washes over him at the empty seat.

"It's just a date—"

"Your second date!"

Harry creased brows don't do much to hide his feelings when he turns around to see his secretary with a co-worker. The shy smile on her face—accompanied with that blush on her cheeks she always gets when she's secretly giddy about something—disappears at the sight of her boss looking at her like she just killed a puppy.

"Ha— Mr. Styles." She is quick to catch her almost error. Her wide eyes bore into his, filled with confusion and worry. But Harry's frown doesn't give away much, aside. From the fact that he is obviously annoyed.

"I was looking for you." He states stoically, not even acknowledging the employee that is standing next to her. The woman takes the hint and gives Y/N and Harry a small nod before walking away. As soon as she does, Harry turns around and walks towards his own office. He can hear her footsteps following him inside, and with the inconsistent clacking against the floor he can tell she's having a hard time keeping up with his long strides. Still, he doesn't slow his pace.

"I need the papers for the donations printed out and on my desk. And I'll need you to move the meeting with the director of the romance movie to Tuesday evening."

"Yes, of course." The breathy response falls from Y/N's lips the second he finishes his sentence, and by the time he enters his office, she is long gone to do exactly what he asked. Harry shuts the door a little louder than intending to, accidentally shaking the framed artwork on the wall.

Y/N isn't very talkative for the rest of the day, that usual spark of hers seemingly having dimmed. Harry's chest is heavy, knowing his cold attitude was the catalyst for that, but he keeps it up nonetheless. He can't help himself from falling back into it every time he sees her face.

A date. She's going on a date. A second one at that. He can't believe it. Is this who she referred to when she said she gets taken care of? His stomach churns at the possibility.

He tries not to, but Harry still gets warped into the spiral of overthinking about 'date' Y/N has tonight. So much, in fact, that he almost doesn't notice the time flying by until Y/N knocks on his door at 6PM. Harry spots the coat that hangs over her desk chair, and he realizes the work day is over.

"Everything is done for the day and ready for next week. I also sent the papers about the donations with a courier who owed me a favor, so the documents are signed on both parts and the donations will be officially registered by Monday." She explains, hands behind her back. Her new shy behavior—while quite endearing—is excruciating to see. She had always been comfortable around Harry, until now. Until he had to ruin it for the both of them.

"Thank you." Harry gives her a firm nod.

"No problem." She responds a bit awkwardly. "So... I'm going to clock out for the day."

Y/N has already turned around by them time Harry's voice croaks out a 'no'. She whips her head towards her boss, head tilted as she awaited whatever it was that he was going to say.

"I need those contracts for that romance movie." He says before he can even comprehend his words.

"But you won't be negotiating that deal for another two weeks." Y/N retorts, her tone more stern than usual. He can tell she's tired.

"I don't care. I want them on my desk tonight." He holds his head high, despite knowing damn well what he's doing.

He's stalling. Long enough for... he doesn't know actually. For her to cancel her date? It sounds ridiculous now that he really thinks about it.

"Harry, I have an appointment tonight—"

"I said I don't care. I pay you to do as I ask. This is not something you can argue me on." He grumbles. With how Y/N's jaw is clenched, he can't say the same for her attitude. Without another word, she leaves the office.

Harry's worry begins to grow every minute that passes with Y/N out of sight. But when she returns with a stack of papers in her hand after a bit—seven minutes to be exact—that worry evolves into surprise. Walking over to his desk, she plops the papers on them a bit carelessly before speaking up.

"I had them made on Monday because I like to be a few steps ahead." She elaborates. "Now, if that's all, I'm going home."

Y/N doesn't even say goodbye when she grabs her coat and walks to the elevators. Harry sighs to himself, not knowing how the hell he should handle this. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes he really can't do this anymore. He needs to talk to her, if only just to clear the air.

And so, he gets up from his seat and hurries after his assistant.

He catches her just as she walks into an empty elevator, and he joins just before the doors close. Her knitted brows make it clear that she is not in the mood to talk to him.

"I'm sorry... about the documents." Harry confesses, but she doesn't face him. It stays quiet between them for a bit, until the biting sentence falls from Y/N's lips.

"You said we were good."

His heart cracks at her wobbly voice. He can't believe he made her feel this way. If any other person would've brought her to tears, he would've beaten the shit out of them. He reaches for her arm.

"W— we are." He lies. It's the biggest lie he's ever told her, and she knows it, because she immediately turns around.

"No we're not! I said I was sorry if I did something wrong, and you told me it was okay, and now all of a sudden you're being so... cold. I don't understand—" her eyes become glassy. "I don't understand what I did wrong."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to spout out his apologies, when Y/N's phone starts to ring. It takes them out of their little trance, and Y/N fumbles around her jacket for a bit until she's finally found her phone. He can't see who's calling her, but it can't be an expected call if he has to judge by the expression on her face.

"Marco, why are you—" her eyes widen at whatever the voice on the other side of the line is telling her, and Harry subconsciously finds himself leaning in a bit in the hope to find out what's wrong.

"What?" Y/N breathes. Her voice is small, and it sounds defeated, tired. The elevator dings, signaling they're downstairs, but Y/N doesn't move, so Harry doesn't either. She seems to notice and lets out a huff before storming out of the confined space and pacing around the lobby.

"You said we had a green light! That was months ago, Marco! Did you even—" She growls, clutching at her phone so hard Harry is afraid she's going to break it. "You know what, never mind. Give me his number."

The Marco guy seems to say something that he really shouldn't have said, because with the way Y/N's face twists Harry swears he can see steam coming out of her ears

"I don't care that they're not answering, I'll make them answer. Give me their numbers and then go find them." She orders before ending the call. And although the thought really shouldn't be crossing his mind right now, Harry can't help but notice how attractive Y/N is when she's mad. He shakes off the thought, telling himself that's the last thing he should be paying attention to right now.

Y/N paces around one more time, cursing under her breath, before striding past Harry and pushing the elevator buttons like a maniac.

"What's going on?"

Y/N shakes her head. "N— nothing. Just a little hiccup that could've easily been prevented. I won't be long."

Harry raises a skeptical brow, but she doesn't dare to meet his eye. She's lying through her teeth.

"Y/N—"

"Harry, really, it's nothing. I'm taking care of it." She tries to convince him, but he notices the way her hands are slightly trembling. "I'm sorry I was unprofessional. You're my boss. It's my job to take your orders, not question them."

Wait, no.

That aching feeling fills his stomach. His entire body, for that matter. He doesn't want her to be a silent and compliant assistant. That's not why he hired her. He needs someone to push back, to joke around with. Shit— what has he done?

Harry finds himself speechless as she enters the elevator and pushes the button of the seventh floor; the office. His brain isn't fast enough to think of what to say before the doors shut and the elevator ascends.

His feet stay glued to the ground as he ponders, his mind reeling like a rollercoaster. Frustration fills his body to his every finger tip. Everything has gone wrong, and he has no idea how to make it better.

At least ten minutes must've gone by by the time that a concierge taps Harry on the shoulder to ask him if he's okay. Still a bit wary, he nods before excusing himself and leaving the building.

Everything is going wrong.

Leaning over the desk with her face buried between her arms, Y/N is unable to hold back the tears that glide over her cheeks.

First, her boss gets mad at her, and she has no idea why. Then, just when they seemed to be okay again, he changed his attitude up again. And what does she do instead of letting it go? She starts a fight. And now Marco drops a disastrous bomb in her lap that could entirely ruin the movie premiere on Sunday. And if that wasn't enough—and she really thinks it was—this sudden crisis caused her to cancel her date of tonight.

It wasn't anything special, really. Y/N had met Jamie a few weeks ago, and they went out last week. He was a nice guy, handsome too, and she thought he was perfect for a short lived affair. Besides, her vibrator just couldn't live up to her fantasies. She was human, she needed to get off every now and then too. It was like Y/N had this itch in need of scratching, one she hadn't been able to reach in what felt like years.

But that wasn't going to happen now. In fact, she was risking being fired if she didn't solve this problem as soon as possible.

Damn! She really thought she had kept it all together, despite the extreme business this year. She thought she'd done a good job.

But that was a lie, because if she had done a good job, Marco wouldn't have ever gotten into the position where an artist on the soundtrack could manipulate the contract they signed. Y/N had told Marco to make it airtight, already having been suspicious of the artists' integrity from the moment they became part of the soundtrack. She assumed that they would try something.

'Chain' was an up and coming band known for their indie sound, but Y/N would just describe them as two pricks. Not only had they been subtly demeaning to her when Harry met with them, barely acknowledging her existence, they were arrogant as well. They came in expecting a lot more money than Harry and the rest of the company were willing to give them. It was absurd that they expected such a big number, but their cocky attitude didn't fade throughout the meeting.

It was truly a favor to the director, why Harry worked so hard to compromise with Chain. The director had been so passionate about the movie, and he had really wanted the song. If one thing was important to Harry, it's that there went passion onto the projects he produced and invested in. So, he decided to help, and eventually managed to struck a deal with the singers. It was still way above the pay grade they should've got—in Y/N's opinion—but they agreed.

Having seen first hand how greedy those two were, she had told Marco—the guy who handled all the legal documents—to make that contract airtight. She demanded to look it over, but because of her busy schedule, she let Marco have another lawyer look at it before sending the contract.

And now, because of a lazy mistake Chain's lawyer found, they are demanding more money or they'll waive their rights to the music. Something which would be absolutely detrimental because the entire climax of the movie, the cinematography and timing are all tuned to the song.

If she doesn't find a way to solve this problem, this entire premiere could fall apart, and it would all be her fault. She gave the green light to Harry, who gave it to the director. It's all her fault. 

She should've fucking read that contract herself, then this would've never happened.

Between Harry being mad at her, the fact that she was in her luteal phase, and this sudden disaster, the tears began streaming down her face, and the soft crying only turned into full on sobs the more she tries to calm herself down.

She allows herself the mental breakdown, but when she begins to regain control of her breath again after a few minutes, Y/N decides that it's enough. She has a job to get done, and no one was going to swoop in and save her.

So, she starts making call after call, ringing everyone in the immediate vicinity of the two arrogant bastards. It's crucial she reaches them before the night is over. Only forty minutes have passed by the time she is on the seventh person, but it feels like an eternity nonetheless.

She flinches when, while trying to reach Chain's tour manager, the elevator door dings and a shadow nears. Her tense shoulders sink a little bit at the sight of Harry, glad it's not some creep. Her brows crease as she watches him walk towards her. He's carrying a couple of bags with... is that food? It sure smells like it.

When the call goes to voicemail—for the third time—Y/N puts down the phone and gets up from her seat, hurrying over to her boss and stopping him before he could reach her desk.

"What are you doing here?!" She asks, blocking his way. He lifts the bags, a subtle, apologetic smile on his face.

"I brought food—" He looks up at her, and his eyes darken as soon as he takes in her face. "Have you been crying?"

Y/N raises her hands to her face, quickly glancing at the ground while she wipes her cheeks before meeting his eyes again. Harry puts the bags down, and it feels like her heart skips a beat or two when his thumbs stroke the skin under both her eyes. He leaves his hand around her face, cupping her jaw while he stares at her with such a piercing pain in his eyes that it makes Y/N's eyes water altogether again.

"What's wrong?" His voice is soft, and the feel of his big, warm hands holding her is comforting her in a way she hasn't experienced in a quite some time. Y/N only focused on his chest, afraid that the welled up water in her eyes will spill out again the second she looks at her boss. She told herself the crying was over, so why wasn't she able to control herself?

A few seconds pass, and silence runs between the thick air that makes it nearly impossible to breathe normally. Then, Y/N feels the slight pressure of Harry's hands, inching her head upwards. Automatically, her gaze flicks to that of her boss, and when she sees the worry on his face, a tear escapes her eye. His thumb catches it before it has the chance to roll down all the way down her cheek.

"I messed up." She only says, closing her eyes in shame. Harry says nothing, only letting out a sigh as he continues to caress her cheek.

Suddenly, the phone rings. Y/N reluctantly backs away from Harry's touch, and runs over to her desk to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" She says, her voice laced with such desperation that she internally cringes at it.

"Y/N? It's Marco. I found them, they're at a studio just outside the city."

She hums, grabbing a pen. "Give me the address."

"No, I'm going. This is my mess, Y/N, I'm not going to let you clean it up." Marco croaks from the other side of the line, and Y/N feels his voice tug at her heartstrings.

"Marco, listen to me. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I should've read the damn thing and notice the mistake." She replies, leaning over her desk to grab her coat.

"Y/N, I'll take care of it, okay? I found a fault in their loophole, they're stuck. Let me handle this. You just go home and enjoy what's left of your evening I ruined—" Marco tells her. "Wait, didn't you have a date tonight? Oh my god, did I ruin your date?"

"I did... but it's alright. It probably wouldn't have worked out with him anyway." Y/N chuckled awkwardly and glanced towards Harry, who looked weirdly annoyed at what she said.

"I'm so sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Marco shares the desperate plea.

"You can make it up to me by giving me the address of the studio." Y/N tells him cheekily.

"Y/N..." he warns.

"What? I promise I'm going home. It's just so I know where you are." She lies. Y/N is a good liar, except in front of Harry. Having a tendency to get nervous, she always betrays herself. She's lucky that this is a phone call, otherwise Marco would've known she wasn't planning on going home at all.

Hesitantly, he gives her the address, which she immediately writes down on her hand.

"Okay, thank you Marco. Good luck." She says, hanging up the phone with a lot more confidence than ten minutes ago. She can feel Harry staring her down as she puts on her coat, clearly waiting for an explanation for this whiplash-like behavior.

"I really have to go."

Harry shrugs. "I'll give you a ride. You can explain everything to me on the way to your house."

Y/N shakes her head, walking towards her boss. "No, really, you don't have to."

"Yes I do." Harry argues.

"You really don't."

"Do you have a problem with me bringing you home, Y/N?" He asks as if he's dumb, as if he doesn't know she's secretly trying to go to that studio.

"No!" She is quick to protest.

"Or does it have anything to do with the address of that mysterious studio you've written on your hand?" He teases, and Y/N clenches her jaw in frustration.

"I just— I need to make sure it's handled." She sputters. Harry shrugs.

"From what I heard it's being handled just fine." He points out. "You've got to learn to let things go sometimes, Y/N."

She shakes her head, looking the floor. "I can't. Not with this."

Harry lowers his head, trying to get on the same eye-level as her and searching for her eyes. "Why not?"

"I told you; I messed up." Her voice quivers as she tells Harry the truth. "There was a mistake in the contract with Chain. Somehow they found a loophole, and now they want more money or they'll waive the rights to their song."

"What?!" Harry growls, exactly like Y/N anticipated he'd react. God, he's going to fire her any moment.

"It's my fault. It was a reference mistake I could've easily spotted if I had taken the time to revise it." She admits, feeling extremely shameful of her lazy actions.

"What are you talking about? This is the legal team's fault, they should've seen that damned mistake! It's not in your job description to revise a contract, it's not your responsibility. It's not your fault, Y/N." He explains. She sucks in a breath, his words hitting her harder than she expected. Heart aching, the one sentence rings in her head.

It's not your fault.

That couldn't be true, could it? She was responsible for this deal, and for Harry. She should've seen this coming, even though she couldn't have possibly known. Did she not always pride herself in having this sixth sense, in being ahead of everyone else? What was she without that? What was she if not the best at the one thing that made her special, that set her apart from the crowd. What was she worth without that invincibility?

"You revise every contract, don't you?"

Her eyes flick towards her boss. She doesn't say anything, but the answer is hidden in her pupils. And it seems Harry can read them like an open book. "How long have you been doing that?"

"Two years." Y/N stammers, her arms crossed as if it will keep her body from revealing whatever her mouth won't. Harry just lets out a breathy chuckle before pulling her into his arms, taking her into a sweet embrace. With his chin leaning on her head, Y/N takes the opportunity to bury her face in his chest, trying not to bask too much in the heavenly scent of his cologne.

"Remind me to give you a raise." He jokes in a soft whisper, earning a sniff of laughter from Y/N.

For a while it seems like everything that tore her down, including what went down between her and Harry, didn't exist anymore. There was just him and her, their embrace and a distant ticking clock, the only indicator of time passing. Yet it felt like the world stopped, or slowed down at least, being in Harry's arms like that. And suddenly, that itch that she hadn't been able to scratch in so long, it felt like it was soothed by a stroking hand instead, and in a way it fulfilled her. It just so happened to be a way she did not expect.

The initial shock at the realization—this puzzle piece that suddenly clicked—made Y/N back away. She clears her throat, fiddling with her hands.

"They're supposed to be at this studio right outside the city. It's only twenty minutes away by car. I just need to be sure." She announces. Harry grabs the bags of food he put down before placing his hand on her lower back and guiding the both of them back to the elevator.

"We'll take my car." He states, and although Y/N can tell by his tone that Harry expects there to be no talking back, but she just can't help herself.

"Harry, I told you I can take a cab." She suggests as they wait for the elevator door to open. Harry doesn't respond as he guides them both into the small space and pushes the button for the ground floor. When the door closes, he turns to her, looking down at her with such an intimidating stare that Y/N feels like she's shrinking.

"And I told you: we're taking my car." He says sternly, his low voice twisting her stomach in an interesting way. When Y/N goes to open her mouth again, Harry lays his finger on her lips. He hums in disapproval, shaking his head.

"I was being clear, right?" He asks rhetorically. His gaze sweeps over her mouth before settling on her eyes again. Not daring to speak another word, let alone breathe, Y/N only nods in response.

"Good." Harry responds, a cocky smirk framing his face as he strolls out of the elevator, leaving Y/N breathless and in a slight trance. Blinking a few times, she comes back to her sense and hurries after her boss.

Richard has always been a master at reading people, and this time is no exception. The second he began driving, he raised the partition, leaving Harry and Y/N with some privacy.

Harry really has a knack for hiring the right people.

The first few minutes of the car ride are silent, and Harry spends it observing Y/N as she picked at her nail beds, frantically looking at of the window as if it would make the car move faster. She has so much tension inside that little body of hers; she is clearly in need of a distraction.

"I think I'm jealous."

Y/N's head whips to him, brows raised at the sudden confession. Her body turns with her, knees now in Harry's direction as she leans back into the seat, getting comfortable as she lays close attention.

"Of me?" She asks, utterly confused. She seems very lost, not really connecting the dots. Harry doesn't blame her; that confession was quite out of the blue.

"Of whoever gets to take care of you."

Pure silence. Harry swears he could hear a pin drop. Y/N stares at him like a deer in headlights, probably having no idea what to say or do or think. She gulps.

"What?" Her voice is so soft that he almost doesn't hear her, but since all his focus is on her, he doesn't miss it. Letting out a breath, he leans forward, placing a hand on her thigh. His face inches closer and closer until their mouths are mere inches away from each other. Checking for her reaction with every small movement, he can't help but notice how she doesn't stray away from him. In fact, she leans in, causing their lips to brush against each other.

"The idea of another man touching you, having you, it makes my fucking blood boil." He says, voice hoarse. Her eyes frantically search every last inch of his face, looking for something she seemingly can't find. Perhaps she's attempting to find the usual playfulness that always accompanies any conversation that blurs that line between them. In that case, she could keep looking forever and ever, because he is dead serious. Fuck how it used to be and fuck whatever's right or wrong.

And most of all, fuck that line, because he's crossing it.

Harry closes the small gap between them, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to work up his throat at the sole feeling of her lips against his. What a fucking idiot he was for ever agreeing to forget about that Halloween night. Not that he ever truly did forget about it. Besides her obvious competencies, hiring Y/N was a way of keeping her where he seemed to like her best from the moment they met; close to him.

With that thought in mind, he wraps his hand around her face and pulls her closer. She complies, clicking her seatbelt free to move further towards Harry when he slips his tongue inside.

Their mouths move against each other like it's both the first time and the hundredth time they've done this. So familiar and yet it's like nothing he ever felt before. A sensation so different from three years ago, one so heavy and laced with a detail his brain can't quite seem to grasp. Deep down, he knows what it is, he just can't quite lay his finger on it.

But his body can, and it does, and so does Y/N's, because her grinding against him is exactly what he needs. His hand sneaks around her neck, lips curling into a smile at the familiarity of the curves of her neck and the identical moan that falls from her lips just as it did three years ago.

Harry groans when the car suddenly stops and Y/N falls forward a little bit, the friction against his trousers being a bit too much to bear at the moment. Slowly, the partition lowers, and without so much looking at them through the mirror, Richard speaks up.

"We've arrived."

Wrong. Harry clearly hasn't.

Before Harry can catch his breath, Y/N can get off his lap, and either one can even answer, the partition rises again. Immediately, Y/N throws her face into Harry's neck.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She wheezes out in pure, utter shame. Harry shakes his head, a faint grin on his face. He would have been laughing his ass off if he wasn't so painfully hard right now. Instead, he only pats Y/N's back, telling her it's fine. She groans and opens the car door.

"No it's not! God, I will never be able to look him in the eye again!" She says, punching the bridge of her nose. Harry shuts the door and grabs Y/N's waist, pulling her towards him. She stumbles into his chest. He lifts her face with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him.

"You're going to have to, because I don't want to fire him." He jokes, and Y/N bites her lip to keep her smile from growing too wide. Not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction that he made her laugh, she looks to the side, but her face expression falls quickly.

"This is not my apartment." She notes, looking at the huge building next to her. "This is yours."

Harry nods.

"I can't be at your apartment, I have to—" Y/N stops herself before she can say more. But Harry already knew what she was going to say. Playfully, he raises a brow.

"You have to... what?"

"To... I have to—"

"Sneak out to that studio?" He finishes her sentence, and her eyes widen. She tries to regain herself but her cheeks are flushed and there is nothing she can do anymore. He's got her. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

With that, he places a hand on her lower back and guides her towards his building. She stumbles a bit, but eventually catches onto the pace. But her body language is apprehensive, looking back at the road where Richard is standing. Or well, was standing. Harry ordered him to drive away as soon as they got out of the car.

Still, she turns around in a quick motion, trying to get to a cab. Harry's arm catches her, however, and he pulls her back against his chest. Along with his other hand, he turns her around, catching sight of her big eyes boring into his.

"Don't try me." He speaks slowly, dipping his head down until he finds himself inches away from Y/N. "You know what happens if you try me."

His voice is lower than before, having flipped a switch now that her mouth has been on his. He got a taste for the first time in years, he wasn't going to let her get away now. Y/N's breath hitches, eyes flicking down to his mouth.

Knowing he's got her right where he wants her, Harry pulls back and strolls toward the entrance of his apartment building. Soon enough, he hears those heels behind him and he smirks.

It's silent when they step in the elevator, and for the first few seconds, as Harry leans agains't the wall and observes his secretary, it stays that way. She eyes him a couple of times, her ears getting redder.

"What?" She breathes out, looking down at her body like there must be something wrong if he's looking at her for so long. He simply shrugs.

"Nothing. Just admiring you."

At that, Y/N vigorously shakes her head and crosses her arms. A soft scoff leaves her mouth, one she didn't think Harry would hear, but he did. He takes a few steps towards Y/N, inching her against the wall.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" He asks sincerely, searching for her eyes. When she finally looks up at him, the nervous smile on her face fades a bit.

Harry doesn't like that look on her face. Needing to fix it, he leans forward and plants his lips on hers again, grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before her arms are wrapped around his neck and their bodies are impossibly close to each other again.

Tongues delving deeper into each other's mouth, Harry feels himself floating on some sort of feeling. Despite not being able to define it, he is absolutely positive that he doesn't ever want it to stop. And since kissing Y/N causes this specific feeling, the only feasible option is to never stop kissing her. It's the best plan he's had in ages.

It doesn't take long before the situation gets heated, much like it did before, and Harry's hands trail to Y/N's hips to pull her against him. Desperate for any sort of relief, Harry's hips automatically start to move, and Y/N immediately responds. His body feels like it's on fire, and he tries not to let out any sounds as his strained cock rubs against his tight pants.

Harry takes his lips off Y/N's mouth, peppering kisses to her jaw instead. Slowly, he works his way towards her ear, where he stops to whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to remind you how fucking beautiful you are." The hot breath that left his mouth had her shuddering against him, a slight whine escaping her lips. As he leaves sloppy kisses on Y/N's neck, Harry's free hand slowly travels under her shirt, finding her bra.

She gasps softly when his hand starts to massage her breast, the sensitivity of both spots leaving her hot and bothered under Harry. Fuck, she is so fucking stunning, how did she not see it herself?

Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the door opened. Taking a step back, Harry only winks at Y/N before he turns around and strolls out as if it's a casual Friday. As if he doesn't have his secretary, whom he left high and dry, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asks when they enter his home, Harry immediately going into the kitchen.

"Absinthe." Y/N breathes out, leaning over the kitchen island. Harry peeks inside his fridge.

"I only have white wine."

Y/N shrugs. "I'm sure it'll have the same effect if I just keep drinking."

Harry chuckles, grabbing the bottle of wine and placing it on the counter. He walks to a cabinet and takes two wine glasses out of it. Placing one in front of Y/N and the other in front of himself, he opens the bottle and starts pouring, not stopping until the glasses are halfway full. Y/N laughs at the ridiculously full wine glass that he pushes her way, but takes it gladly. He doesn't miss the way her breasts nearly spill out of her top as she leans forward a bit further than intended to in order to grab the glass.

"To the unexpected." She says it like it's a dare. Amused, Harry decides to entertain it, and nods his head.

"To the unexpected."

They raise the glasses before both taking a long sip. Y/N rests her arms on the table, giving a perfect view of her tits right in Harry's frame. She smirks when his eyes accidentally fall on it, and Harry's stomach swirls with excitement. She's trying to play.

"Crazy, how fast life can change, isn't it?" She asks rhetorically, and Harry just hums, waiting patiently for her to reveal what she's trying to do. "I mean, I got up today thinking I'd end the day in another man's bed."

There it is.

She's always been smart, and she knows how to push Harry's buttons. Though his fingers grip the kitchen counter tightly, so much that his knuckles turn white, Harry keeps the corners of his mouth lifted.

"And now you're here." He says, head tilting just a bit. She hums in agreement, taking another sip from her wine.

"Yeah, but just crazy to think that I went into the day thinking I'd hook up with someone else." She tells it so innocently, as if she's mostly talking to herself. Harry's jaw clenches as he stalks around the kitchen island and nears Y/N.

"But you're not, though." Harry notes, falling right into the trap. He knows what she's trying to do but he just can't help himself. He doesn't like the idea of her being with another man. He waits for her answer, hearing his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"I know, but I could have—"

Before the sentence has entirely left Y/N's mouth, Harry's hand flies to her neck. The amused look on Y/N's face tells him enough, but he doesn't care.

"You're not. You're in my bed tonight, and any night after that as far as I'm concerned, so I don't want to hear another fucking word about it."

Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she stares up at him. "You really are jealous."

The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, "And you've gotten feisty over the years."

Y/N bites her bottom lip, humming in agreement to his observation. Harry lets out a soft chuckle, tightening the grip on her neck. Y/N gasps in surprise.

"But do you still like to be put in your place?" He asks, inching his face close to hers. The answer is written in her eyes, and yet Y/N doesn't respond. When it's clear that she won't anytime soon, Harry's free hand sneaks around the waist of her pants. She shivers at the touch.

"Well? Do you?" He repeats himself, and slowly but surely, Y/N nods her head. Harry lets out a disapproving noise. "That's not a proper answer."

Closing her eyes, Y/N lets out a deep breath. "Yes, I like to be put in my place."

"That's what I thought." Harry laughs, taking his hands off of her entirely. She frowns, but her eyes widen when he barks out a demand. "Take off your clothes."

He watches carefully as she follows his orders, and she clearly takes her time stripping down to her underwear. When she has, she looks to him for some sign of approval, but Harry just raises his brows. His hands are sunk into his pockets as Y/N lets out a little breath and takes off her bra and panties.

His eyes trail down her body, his cock hurting at the sight of her. God, she's beautiful. He feels like an absolute idiot for not having fought for her earlier, but he reminds himself that he can't change the past and that she is here now, stark naked in his kitchen. A grin spread across his face.

"Do you remember how you addressed me all those years ago?" He asks. It takes a few seconds before Y/N answers, but she gives him a firm nod.

"I called you sir."

Harry nods. "Rules haven't changed. Now, get on the counter."

Her eyes flick to the marble countertop, shock flashing through her eyes. "But Har—"

His right brow lifts ever so slightly. Catching the hint, Y/N stops herself before she can finish the sentence and hoists herself on to the cold countertop. It must not be very pleasant to lay your naked body on that freezing surface, but it was an uncomfortable temporary obstacle. The results would be great, and in about thirty seconds, she'd forget all about that cold touch against her skin.

Harry pulls out one of the bar stools and sat directly in front of Y/N. Spreading her legs apart, he catches sight of that perfect pussy he has been waiting three years to taste again. Like a starved man sat in front of a feast, the urge to dive right in is almost too strong to bear. But before he has her writhing under him, he wants to make her shiver.

"Can't believe it took us so long to get here." Harry hums, tracing his fingers up her thigh, carefully observing the way Y/N tries to control her breathing. Her fists are balled up into curls, attempting to send her concentration to anything else than Harry. He tries not to let his smugness show too much, but he has to say he likes seeing her struggle a bit. A bit of payback for trying to toy with him just now.

"You've always been stubborn." Y/N jokes, a gasp strangling out of her when Harry's fingers ghost over her clit. He chuckles, the tone of his voice so low that it could almost be considered evil.

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to forget about that Halloween night." He notes. Y/N hums.

"I also made the condition to act professionally, but we didn't do that either." Her eyes gaze into his, catching the fond smile with which he stares at her. A faint blush erupts on her cheeks.

"You drew the line." Harry retorted, and Y/N scoffed.

"You crossed it about a hundred times." She argues in response. He only hums, that cocky smirk on his face.

"I did, and consider this hundredth and first time to be the last, because I'm not getting behind that line again."

Y/N has never been so turned on her in her entire life. Harry’s words are the epitome of determination, and the way his fingers slip inside her so easily the second he finishes his sentence only solidifies that notion. The gasp that leaves her mouth is cut short and evolves into a low moan as Harry’s lips latch onto her clit.

Sensitive would be an understatement for her current state. She is aching, and the way Harry is ravishing her almost hurt. But any pain dwells in comparison to her desire she was overcome with at the situation she currently finds herself in. She is on Harry's kitchen counter, legs spread wide open and letting him do all the things that slipped into her dreams over the past three years.

Harry sucks in all the ways that made her squirm, moving his fingers with such ease that made it seem like he has fingered her a thousand times already. As if he knows her like the back of his hand, as if he knows all her secrets, even ones she doesn't know herself.

Y/N's hand buries itself in Harry's hair when he begins to kitten lick her clit, and she feels that inevitable climax inching closer and closer. She wonders how she had been able to keep herself composed for so long, because the high that creeps up on her feels like it was long overdue.

Unfortunately, the sensation comes to a grinding halt when Harry backs away from Y/N. Her head shoots up, and finds him leaning over her body, wearing boyish half-smile that is now glimmering with her juices.

Wrapping one arm around her waist and the other one under her legs, he picks her up bridal style. She holds onto his shoulders, burying her face into his neck as he carried her to his bedroom. When she begins unbuttoning his shirt, he throws her on his bed. She lets out a soft yelp, bouncing onto the bed.

"So greedy..." Harry tuts in disapproval, but Y/N doesn't quite care. She wants him, bad, and now that she's had a preview of what's to come she doesn't want to wait any longer. She needs him and she needs that orgasm.

She pulls him closer by his pants and starts to unbuckle his belt. "You're taking too long."

Y/N is about halfway done when Harry's firm hand wraps around her neck and pulls her closer to his face. Inching down, he growls: "You'll take what I give you."

"Then give me something." She spits back, and Harry's eyes turn five shades darker at her invitation to a challenge. He slowly leans back, Y/N watching his every movement in anticipation.

"On your stomach."

Y/N stomach swirls at the command, and she obeys as quick as she can. It stays silent for a little bit, and she awaits his further actions eagerly.

"Hands behind your back."

Again, she does what he says. Y/N doesn't dare to turn her head as she hears Harry walking around his room. When she feels a silky material around her wrists, she knows enough. He's tying her up.

Knowing better than to do otherwise, Y/N keeps her mouth shuts as Harry makes an impenetrable knot with his tie. She moves her wrists, assessing how tight it really is, and gets interrupted by a punishing slap on her ass. The sting remains for a couple of seconds, and she is sure there is now a red print the size of Harry's hand on her right cheek.

"Ass up." He barks out his final order, no doubt smirking as she changes her position, slightly struggling now that her arms are of no use.

Y/N bites her lip in anticipation when Harry's hand grabs onto her hips, steadying himself behind her. She slightly flinches forward when the tip of his cock teases her entrance, and attempts to speed up the process by leaning backwards a bit. She's rewarded with another slap on her ass.

But then Harry finally sinks in, and that dreadful itch that plagued Y/N for such a long time is finally scratched, over and over again as he begins to pound into her with long, slow strokes.

"Fucking hell..." Harry murmurs, his cock suctioning into Y/N's tight, clenching pussy. He is so big, and it bruises her in all the right ways.

"Oh baby... thaaat's it." He groans when Y/N begins to bounce back on his cock, aiming to get it even deeper inside of her. She is ruthless in her movements, groaning at the overwhelming sensations. When Harry gropes her ass— and his nails bite into her skin—she loses control.

Burying her face into the mattress, Y/N screams as she reaches her peak. The sound of Harry's moans at her pussy convulsing around his cock only strengthens her orgasm. Her mind goes entirely blank as the shattering release ripples through her like an earthquake. The only thing she can think of is Harry's name, and it's the only thing she cries out as the dizzying explosion settles all over her body.

"You really are desperate, aren't you?" Harry sneers as he pulls his cock out of Y/N, letting go of her hips. She nearly falls over, her tied up hands making it difficult to catch herself. This orgasm was so intense, she could feel the three years of pent up tension as it washed over her. Her cheeks are burning red and her teary eyes makes her vision somewhat blurry.

Y/N is thrown off when Harry suddenly turns her around and she finds herself lying on her back. The way he towers over her would have been intimidating had it not been extremely hot.

"Came on my cock so fast..." he mumbles cockily, corner of his mouth pulled up like the arrogant bastard he is. "Such a slut for it."

Y/N wants to give him some snappy comeback, but her brain is still fried from the orgasm and she's always liked to be degraded in bed, so she decides to only glare at Harry while he speaks. He catches it, and his grin only widens.

"You know it's true, baby." He tells her, bringing your legs over each of his shoulders. That deviant smirk is the last thing Y/N sees before her eyes roll into the back of her head at the feeling of Harry's cock stretching her out again.

He leans forward, almost folding her in two, and reaches deeper. He stays there for a few seconds—as if he is catching his breath—then slowly backs out of her before slamming right back in. Y/N lets out a screech that, if it hadn't been for the desperation laced in its tone, would've sounded like someone was trying to murder her.

Trying to keep her own moans at a minimum, Y/N closes her eyes and listens to the harsh slaps of Harry's skin against hers, and the groans that escape his mouth with each thrust. The strength behind each movement makes her clench around Harry, who in turn hisses her name as if it were a curse word. It only causes her to clench more. 

"Fuck, such a pretty little whore." Harry praises as he drives into her. Y/N can only whine, her tits bouncing uncontrollably at the impact of his motions. She must look fucking helpless. Opening her eyes, she catches the way Harry looks at her; like she's a dream. Like she's his dream.

"My pretty little whore." He growls, leaning back and holding one of her legs with his arm while the other reaches for her breasts.

"Yes..." Y/N breathes as he begins squeezing her breasts, getting lost in the sensations of him. Somehow it feels like Harry is everywhere. As if he has latched onto a part of her soul and she feels him coming to claim that every time his cock sinks into her.

"Such a tight fucking fit." He groans, taking her nipple between his fingers. "You should see how perfectly your pussy sucks in every inch of my cock..."

Y/N bites her lip as Harry talks, trying not too get too overwhelmed by the filthy things he's telling her as he plunges in and out of her. Her eyes catch the flex of his muscles that occur with every thrust, and she wonders how she got a man so perfect to fuck her stupid like this.

"Should record it... make a little video for just the two of us. What do you think?"

Oh my god.

"Don't you want to see how perfect we fit together?" He taunts, thrusting his hips harsher than before, hitting a spot that had been untouched for quite a while now. Y/N's face scrunches up.

"F—fuck! Yes, yes..." She responds when Harry stills inside of her to await an answer. He chuckles at the apparent hurry in her voice and reaches for—what Y/N assumes to be—his phone, on the bed. His motions are slow and soft, determined to keep Y/N satisfied at least a bit while he logs into his phone and searches for the camera app. She notices the start of his recording by the sudden change of pace and force of his movements.

His camera is pointed right at her pussy as he begins thrusting deep inside of her, and Y/N screams out Harry's name. The concentration on his face as he captures how she takes him proves too much to bear, and she shuts her eyes tightly, head flopping to the side.

She can hear his ragged breathing over all the other sounds that their bodies are making. The small grunts he makes in an effort not to moan too loudly is all she can focus on, and the tension in her belly grows exponentially with each vibrations of his voice that reaches her ears.

Harry slows his pace, putting more emphasis on the impact of his moves. It allows him to bring his free hand down to touch Y/N's clit. Her legs begin to shake the second he does.

"Are you gonna come again for me? I'm so close, baby. I can tell you are too." The softness in the delivery of his words have Y/N's ovaries rattle. She can only nod, a whine that was an attempt at a 'yes' falling from her rosy lips. Harry grins, his eyes flicking from his phone to her face. Everything feels so hazy, much like a daydream.

"Please don't stop." She squeals in such a high pitch that surprises even herself. Y/N had no idea she could go that high. Harry's bringing out an entirely new side of her.

"I'll never stop, baby." Harry rasps, pressing down on her clit in such a way that Y/N becomes cross-eyed for a second. Her nails grip into the bedsheets, the second release rippling through her like a hurricane. She never quite understood the word bliss, until now. This must be it; this feeling of... pure ecstasy.

Like a blank canvas splattered on with all the bright colors that exist in the world; fresh and exciting and psychedelic in a way. Impossible to define yet such a specific feeling. Y/N let all of it tingle from her head down to her toes, wanting to remember it forever.

The continuous pounding Y/N through her orgasm comes to a grinding halt when Harry reaches his own, pulling out just in time for his sperm to coat her puffy clit and swollen tits. His camera is focused on her frame, recording every spurt that paints her. She's the canvas, he's the colors, Y/N realizes. Harry is her definition of bliss.

The words shared between the two are scarce as Harry unties Y/N's hands, picks her up and carries her to the bathroom to clean her up. But the smiles on their faces says enough, both knowing what they feel is rare, and beautiful. Y/N assesses Harry's face, concluding that the soft edges of it makes him look like a proper angel.

When he's dressed her in one of his shirts, he takes her back to the bedroom, where he pulls her against his frame. Y/N wraps one leg around his torso, hugging him from the side with her head buried into his neck. The way his chest rises and lowers fills her with pure ease, and she leaves a few soft kisses in his neck as a silent thank you. Harry only hums in satisfaction, his arm only tightening around you, as if he's afraid you might let go.

"I'm never gonna let you go now." You tell him before you can even fully comprehend your words. Your heart starts racing, afraid that might've been too soon to say.

"Promise?"

Your racing heart is now melting as you turn your head and see Harry holding up his pinky. You are quick to interlock it with your own.

"Promise." You say with a smile.

General taglist: @mema10

[vickymura]

PAIRING ~ bf!nrk x gf!reader

SUMMARY ~ riding riki's abs cuz he's too damn hot doing crunches.

GENRE ~ smut, pwop(?).

WORD COUNT ~ 1.302k

ᯓ★ love the banner for this ngl. not my best work:( but it was requested so here

visiting your boyfriend's apartment to be met with the sight of him shirtless, doing crunches in his room was definitely a welcome you'd want to see more often.

you'd blame ovulation, but something about seeing the beads of sweat dripping down the pattern of his abs made you feel a certain tingle in a place sinfully up between your legs.

with a cool facade, you flashed a soft smile, settling your bag down in its usual place and unwrapping the winter layers you had on. “working hard, huh, riki?” you teased, but it was mostly just a mere attempt of hiding and distracting yourself from your fluster and desires.

"mm." he responded with the short, low hum that you couldn't decipher as a yes or a no. his breath came out in rhythmic puffs, hands clasping each other as he pushed himself up and down. he wasn't exactly talkative when he was 'in the zone', but the hint of a smirk curled on his lips as he looked up at you. "you're just on time. i was getting lonely." his little complaint earned a mostly playful scoff from you. “geez, i was gone for one hour because somebody refuses to be a grown up and get their own groceries.” 

having had familiarity with his bedroom, you made your way to sit on the edge of the bed beside where he was on the floor without having to look up.

he groaned as he sat up, rolling his head from side to side to ease the strain in his neck, flexing his abdominal muscles by accident as he did. "mm. i hate grocery shopping." he retorted back quickly, his eyes settling on you. his gaze was intense, filled with a bit of annoyance and something else, something that you knew from experience would lead to your clothes being tossed to the floor in a messy pile.

with his new position, came the delicious little sight of his sweaty strands of overgrown bangs sticking to his forehead, his glistening flexed muscles and the naturally prominent tent in his gray sweats.

you cleared your throat, ‘discreetly’ looking back up at his eyes.

“you’re just too childish.” you countered, ending your sentence by hypocritically sticking out your tongue in a childish manner.

he rolled his eyes at that, the smirk on his lips growing a bit wider as he rose to his feet, taking slow and deliberate strides towards you. he towered over you, forcing you to look up in his eyes as he stepped between your legs, pinning you against the edge of the bed with his arms on either side. "mm, really." he chuckled at that, his eyebrows raising. "keep sticking your tongue out like that and i'll find a better use for it."

oh, he knew what he was doing. you swallowed thickly at the implications of his words, but scoffed sassily. but god, his abs were right there, in front of your face, glistening in a way that made you wish it was something other than his sweat.

“whatever. you’re sweaty and stinky, go take a shower.” it was a lame excuse, but at that point you’d try every bit you could to escape the situation.

riki chuckled again, amused at your attempt to keep him from sensing how his very presence was already making you want to throw your clothes off. he leaned in close, so that his nose was practically grazing yours. "that doesn't sound like the nicest thing you could say to your boyfriend who's been working so hard in the hot summer heat, now does it?" he teased back, a smirk on his lips and an obvious mischief in his eyes.

“and what do you think is the nicest thing i should say to my oh-so hardworking boyfriend?” you immediately snapped back, an edge of annoyance forming in your tone, thanks to his teasing. 

he was absolutely infuriating, and all while looking so damn sexy that it drove you crazy in all the best ways.

he chuckled again, enjoying the smartassery you continued to try and push past his guard. riki pressed a light kiss to your forehead before giving you a response. "something... less rude." he stated simply, his hands gripping the edge of the bed now, caging you in. "like... i don't know, like…” he leaned in close to your ear, his body gently pressing itself against yours. "i think it should've been more along the lines of 'oh my handsome boyfriend, you're working so hard. let me help you relax~'"

you let out a scoff-like chuckle. he was really pushing it out of cockiness of having the upper hand and your admiring gaze here, wasn’t he? “self-indulgent much?” "damn right." he shamelessly said, his voice dropping an octave, eyes locking onto yours. "very." the smirk on his face curled into a half-smirk, his hot breath tickling your skin. his hips pushed against yours, his hands still on either side. "i want to be a little selfish right now."

you hummed, spreading your legs wider to incorporate his larger frame. with the decision to indulge in his little game, you questioned, “selfish how, hm?”

riki's smirk only widened as he settled between your legs, a hand gently taking your chin and forcing your gaze to remain locked on his. "in a lot of ways." he responded, his other hand gently gripping your thigh. "one of them being a nice reward for working so damn hard."

“i have a different proposition.” you suddenly interrupted, your tone one he couldn’t recognize. without giving him time to reply, you continued, “i have a very selfish desire, myself.”

his smirk widened again, his head inching closer like a lion nearing his prey. his eyes had a fire burning behind them, a sort of intense desire that you knew only led somewhere hot and messy. "oh yeah?" he responded, that hand that was gripping your thigh running up a bit. "and what's this 'very selfish' desire of yours?"

one thing led to another, and the next thing he knew- you were sitting on riki's muscular abdomen, hands on his chest as you coated his abs with your slick.

his hands moved to grip your hip instead, digging his nails in as guided your movements against his flexed muscles. he wore a lazy smirk on his lips, bringing one of his hands to make circular motions on your clit.

“fuck..” you cried out in pleasure, frantically riding on his abs like your life depended on it.

“you feel good baby? don’t even need my cock to get off anymore.. greedy baby.” he basically purred into your ear, continuing to rub your clit with his calloused thumb.

the pretty whimpers and gasps escaping your lips were like music to his ear, you were clearly too delirious to take offense to his teases, let alone come up with a reply. your pussy pulsated on his abs as a clear sign of approaching your orgasm, and it only encouraged him to further guide your hips and rub you.

“riki..” you mewled in utter glee, your hips jerking forth involuntarily ever so often.

“yes, baby? you close? gonna cum on my abs?” he teased, his voice ringing low and deep in your senses.

you gripped onto his chest just a little harder, the knot in your stomach breaking apart with a lewd moan. you stilled your hips as he rubbed your clit through your orgasm, your ejaculation now coating his proud muscles.

he groaned at the wet warmth of it, now gripping onto your hips in a way that made his own needs evident. “that was fucking hot..” he commented, making you return back to earth from your high and hide your face in the crook of his neck out of post-nut embarrassment. 

“shut up..” reblog and comment or i'll appear in ur room at 3 am with a knife :3 💗

[callmegallifreya]

I shall tell you a secret about your wool, your cashmere, the delicate fainting fabrics two whom heat is a death knell.

Necromancy is real.

Also, your dead wool may be better for it.

Also-also nobody here has actually said how to clean it without killing it so I'll add that too.

So - within reason, the doll's jumper is not going back to an adult, but hear me out here.

If you have washed your jumper a tad too warm, or on a normal wash setting, and perhaps it is now of a more suitable size for a child, a lot of the shrinkage may be caused by felting.

Felting is when the wet fibres, with the scales that make up the outer layer lifted by detergent and heat, lock to each other like tangled christmas lights. The more you agitate them, the more felted they get. This is why the delicate cycle on your machine doesn't so much churn up your woolens as it does let them soak and gently wavepool side to side occasionally to circulate the water.

Felted or boiled wool has no gaps. When all of the fibres have locked together it is windproof, nearly waterproof, and will never unravel. You can cut a hole in felt and it will only get bigger if you tear it bigger. Depending on the degree of felting it may be thicker now too.

With that out of the way, what is the necromancy side of this?

Well, if you get it wet again, depending on the level of felting, your wool will stretch right back out.

If you see a new wool garment, you'll see the washing instructions say "reshape when wet". This is because just like your hair, if you let it dry in a funny position it'll stay that way. We've all accidentally let one dry on a radiator or over a corner and ended up with a very odd shaped bit of fabric.

Felting is just a very funny position for wool. It's basically matted, wet hair.

I've seen recommendations for using hair conditioner and other products here to help loosen it up, which I haven't tried - certainly give it a go, especially if your jumper is more delicate or only a little felted. It may come back to life with no/very little further intervention. I've had great results with sheer brute force.

Disclaimer: I am a limp noodle and my idea of "pull hard" is not the same as everyone's.

Get that jumper absolutely drenched in your solution of choice (I do it after a wash so woolite, there are lots of guides and recommendations online for best results), grab it on opposite sides and pull. Enlist a friend for even better (and more even) results. Pull in the direction of the knit and across the knit but not diagonally if you can avoid it.

There will probably be concerning ripping noises if there's any more than a tiny bit of felting, like velcro pulling apart. It's fine. Keep pulling. (Steady pressure, don't yank)

Don't forget to do the arms in both directions too, you want them wide enough to get your own arm back inside them.

Stop when your clothing is the size and shape you want it to be. You can even try it on to be sure and wear it like shrink-to-fit jeans since wool is marvelously insulating and will be warm even when wet once you get over the problem of putting on a cold wet jumper.

Now, this is not a total fix - if you only a little shrunk it, it'll be good as new. If you shrunk it a lot it's probably gone down a couple of sizes even after you've stretched it back out like you're trying to tear it in half. You also need to remember to do this after every time you wash that particular garment. But hopefully some of you will save and wear some beloved items that you thought were gone forever.

Have fun!

Oh, and to clean your wool: -Pick up a wool-specific detergent (I use Woolite, there's lots) - and either

a) bung it in your machine on a delicates/wool cycle and be done with it, reshaping whilst wet and drying flat so the weight of it doesn't stretch it in funny ways over your airer (do not tumble dry, see felting above) or

b) hand-wash, which is a whole lot of swishing and squishing it about in a sink or bucket with the detergent and water at a comfortable temperature for you to stick your hands in. Avoid scrubbing on or with anything (no brushes, no stain remover balls, none of that) and if you have a stubborn spot grab two sections of the fabric and rub on each other like you're charging a defibrillator - as little as you can manage until spot is gone or you start to worry about the texture changing (felting again). A scrub with your hand from the inside can also sometimes get a stain loose by forcing the detergent up behind it and if you do felt it it's not as visible. Rinse a lot and wring out hard, then reshape and air dry it flat.

Here, a cheater course on caring for natural fibers!

1. Wool. Treat it like it has the delicate constitution of a Victorian lady and the conviction that baths are evil of a 17th century noble. (If I get in WATER my PORES will OPEN and I will CATCH ILL AND DIE.)

2. Cotton; easygoing. Will shrink a bit if washed and dried hot.

3. Silk; people think it’s like wool and has the constitution of a fashionably dying of consumption Victorian lady, but actually it’s quite tough. Can be washed in an ordinary washer, and either tumbled dry without heat or hung to dry.

4. Linen; it doesn’t give a shit. Beat the hell out of it. Historically was laundered by dousing it in lye and beating the shit out of it with wooden paddles, which only makes it look better. The masochist of the natural fiber world. Beat the fuck out of it linen doesn’t care. Considerably stronger than cotton. Linen sheet sets can last literal decades in more or less pristine shape because of that strength.The most likely natural fiber to own a ball gag.

[nhlclover]

3, 2, 1! LUKE HUGHES

— event masterlist !

pairing: bratt!sister!reader x luke hughes

summary: amidst the glittering chaos of a new year's eve party, you attempt to find closure with the boy you've been crushing on since you came to new jersey.

warnings: bratt!sister, jespers younger sister, brief mentions of drinking, a big ol' kiss

wc: 1.31k

notes: 11 of 12 in my xmas celebration! not technically christmas but i love new years first kiss plots!!

The evening begins in a blur of anticipation, a mingling of nerves and excitement that coils in your stomach like a restless storm. New Jersey isn’t where you thought you’d find yourself spending the holidays, but with Jesper’s insistence and the comfort of your brother’s familiar presence, you had stayed. And now, you’re en route to the Devils’ New Year’s party, clad in a deep navy sequined mini dress that glitters like the night sky, trying to pretend your heart isn’t racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the party.

Jesper’s hands rest casually on the steering wheel, but his eyes flick towards you every so often, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re nervous,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Am not,” you reply too quickly, fiddling with the rings that adorn your fingers.

Jesper huffs a laugh. “Right. So, who’s the lucky guy you’re hoping to kiss at midnight?”

You roll your eyes, fighting the flush creeping up your neck. “No one. I’m just going to celebrate and have fun, okay?”

He hums thoughtfully. “Not even Luke?”

The name hits you like a slap, your head snapping towards him. “Why would you bring up Luke?”

Jesper grins now, openly amused. “Oh, come on. Just because I didn’t go to fancy, smart people school like you doesn’t mean I’m stupid. You should see the way you two look at each other. It’s… gross.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you cross your arms, leaning back into the car seat as you glare at Jesper. Moving to New Jersey for hockey, and heading to Princeton to play D1, had been a whirlwind in itself. You hadn’t anticipated the move would also bring a perfectly sweet and charming boy into your life as well.

Every interaction with Luke had an undercurrent of something that felt almost electric. His teasing remarks always carried a hint of sincerity, and his soft smiles lingered just a second too long. You weren’t blind to the way his gaze would find you across a room, or the way your pulse quickened whenever he was near. But neither of you had crossed the invisible line between harmless flirtation and something more, leaving you in this frustrating limbo of uncertainty.

Your throat tightens as you fumble for a rebuttal, but nothing comes. He notices.

“Exactly,” Jesper says, his voice laced with triumph. You open your mouth to retort, but Jesper cuts you off. “Look, all I’m saying is that you’ve got an opportunity tonight. New Year’s Eve, champagne, fireworks—literally the most romantic setup possible. If you like him, just… do something about it. It’s not that hard.”

You bite your lip, Jesper’s words rattling around in your brain. Could you? Could you really make the first move? Or, more terrifyingly, what if you were wrong? What if Luke didn’t feel the same way, and you ruined everything?

As the car pulls up to the party, Jesper glances at you, his usual grin softened into something gentler. “Trust me,” he says as if he could read the little thoughts of uncertainty running through your mind. “He likes you.”

The party is already in full swing when you walk in, the hum of music and the buzz of conversation creating an atmosphere thick with celebration. The room is a wash of twinkling lights, champagne flutes, and laughter. You smooth your hands over your dress, the sequins catching the light with every movement, and try to swallow the lump in your throat.

Jesper winks at you before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to navigate the throng of people on your own. And then, almost as if drawn by some magnetic force, your eyes find him.

He’s leaning casually against the bar, dressed in dark jeans and a Ralph Lauren sweater that fits just right—effortlessly polished yet entirely approachable. His brown curls are longer than when you last saw them, sitting in a boyish heap on top of his head, and his expression is easygoing as he laughs at something one of his teammates says. But the moment he catches sight of you, his face changes. His posture straightens, and a flicker of something — relief? Awe? — crosses his face. His gaze sweeps over you, lingering a beat too long on your dress, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks.

But before either of you can act, someone claps a hand on Luke’s shoulder, pulling his attention away, and a cluster of teammates intercepts you. The moment is gone.

The night becomes a frustrating dance, a game of cat and mouse where you’re always just out of reach. You catch glimpses of Luke across the room, his head turning as if searching for you, but something — or someone — always gets in the way. One time, you enter the lounge area and spot him on the other side, his eyes lighting up when they meet yours. But just as you step forward, someone grabs your arm, pulling you into a conversation about your studies at Princeton. By the time you politely excuse yourself, Luke is gone. Again.

You find yourself checking the clock more often than you care to admit. Time feels like sand slipping through your fingers. The minutes tick closer to midnight, the air buzzing with anticipation as people gather their champagne flutes and prepare for the countdown. Your heart sinks with every passing second you don’t see him. You resign yourself to the fact that this night might end like so many others — with a lingering sense of what could have been.

The final countdown begins at thirty seconds. The room erupts in excitement, voices growing louder with each passing number. You lean against a high-top table, frustration seeping into your bones as you watch couples and friends gather in anticipation. Your chest feels tight, disappointment creeping in as the seconds tick closer to the new year.

10… 9… 8…

You scan the room one last time, half-hoping, half-defeated—until you see him. Luke bursts into the room, his expression frantic as his eyes search the crowd. When they finally meet yours, a visible wave of relief washes over him.

7… 6… 5…

He’s moving toward you now, weaving through the throng of people with long, purposeful strides. Your breath catches as the crowd seems to part for him, every other noise and movement fading into nothing.

4… 3… 2... 1...

He reaches you just as the final seconds vanish, his hands finding your hips, pulling you flush against him. The room erupts in cheers, a cacophony of “Happy New Year!” echoing around you, but all you feel is Luke. His lips crash against yours with a fervor that takes your breath away, his hands anchoring you to him as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You kiss back without hesitation, your arms winding around his shoulders to pull him closer, your fingers curling into the soft fabric of his sweater. It’s a kiss that’s been building for months, maybe longer, and it’s everything—soft and urgent, sweet and electric.

When you finally break apart, the world feels fuzzy around the edges, the noise of the party and the faint sound of Auld Lang Syne fading into a distant hum. Luke’s forehead rests lightly against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he searches your face.

“We’ve waited too long for that,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

You don’t trust your voice to respond, so you nod, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater.

The corners of Luke’s mouth lift into a soft smile. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” you manage to whisper back, your lips brushing his once more as the words leave your mouth.

Around you, the party rages on, but in this moment, it’s just the two of you — finally on the same page, finally saying all the things your hearts had been trying to tell each other for months.

[avianyuh]

Introvert | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Jungkook is an introvert. He enjoys seeing his friends, but he hates having to leave the house. When Jimin throws a birthday bash, Jungkook being one of his closest friends feels obligated to go. He has his whole night mapped out. He'll greet Jimin, eat some food and then leave once he's made small talk with the other guests. But when the party makes a detour and hits the club, Jungkook is plotting his escape route. Or at least he was until he met you.

word count: 2.8k

He didn’t like to go out much. Normally his friends had to drag him out of the house. He liked to do what any other person in their mid to late twenties enjoyed. He drank, he did karaoke, he enjoyed seeing his friends. But, he didn’t feel the need to do all of that outside of his house. Jungkook had quite the talent for making drinks, he had a karaoke system in his apartment. His place was the ultimate hangout. Normally his friends would agree and would end the night crashing on his couch after drinking, playing video games and just enjoying each other’s company. 

But tonight was different. It was his friend Jimin’s birthday and his friend had been arranging for everyone to be able to make it to his party the past few weeks. It would start at a restaurant and end in a club. Jungkook had initially tried to get out of it. He didn’t like parties that would have a lot of people he wasn't familiar with. He didn’t like how loud the music was to the point that he couldn’t hear himself think. He was drained after a half hour under the club lights, yelling in his friends ears because there was no other way to communicate with the blaring sound of 2000s Timbaland beats or Drake songs. 

To tell the truth, Jungkook was a bit introverted. He had his friends, and he did like hanging out with them. However, there were days where he was completely content with spending his time alone. Going to the gym, making himself something to eat, watching TV by himself. He never minded the silence. He knew he couldn’t be alone all of the time, which was exactly why he loved having his friends come over. He overall appreciated being able to be at his own apartment, in his own space and on his own terms. Out at a crowded restaurant or club, with not just his friends, but acquaintances of everyone else in his inner circle made him dread this upcoming Saturday night in particular. 

So when he arrived at the restaurant, he took a deep breath in and out before he approached the front door. He scanned the restaurant looking for his friend’s table. All Jungkook had been told was that it would be a mix of people tonight. Obviously the core friend group, but also some of Jimin’s coworkers, other people he knew and of course his brother. Jungkook had met Jimin’s brothers a few times, but other than him and his three other friends, he didn’t know anyone else he’d be spending the rest of the night with. Jungkook was content with his small friend group, he didn’t want to talk to anyone else or make new connections. He wasn’t anti-social, just not interested in the aimless chit chat that came along with these social gatherings.

He greeted Jimin, doing a quick “bro hug” and handing him over the birthday gift he had wrapped for him. He sat next to Jimin's brother and by the time the food had been ordered and eaten and small talk was made, Jungkook started to feel a little restless.  He wanted to go home but he knew it’d be rude to bail on his friend. So he sucked it up. 

Everyone piled into various taxis as they all became pumped to head to the club. Jungkook groaned as he got up from his chair and followed everyone outside. One of his other friends Namjoon came up behind him and put his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Cheer up man, just a few more hours and you can go back to your cave.” He chuckled as he nudged Jungkook playfully. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes at Namjoon, allowing a small smile to overtake his features, knowing that Namjoon was just teasing him. But he was right, it would only be at worse, two more hours, then Jungkook was home free. 

By the time all of the taxi’s arrived at the club, it was around 10pm. Jungkook was starting to feel a little tired, but was trying to stay alert. It was a small, dark, dingey club on the corner of the street, with the only benefit being the low admission fee for the 30 people coming from the birthday dinner for Jimin. Everyone lined up, all excited and talking amongst themselves as everyone started to slowly make their way past the bouncer and into the club. The music was loud and could probably be heard from down the street. And just as Jungkook had anticipated, the club was completely dark and was blasting a Drake song as everyone danced or piled into various corners of the club. Groups of girls trying to yell whatever they had to say to each other as they huddled in the corner near the doors. Guys sitting in booths, laughing as they downed their drinks. Then couples dancing, and of course, men trying to become couples by shooting their shots at the women standing alone. 

Jungkook darted his eyes around the room, realizing that in the midst of him taking in his surroundings, he got separated from the rest of the group. He tried to look for a table or booth to retreat to. He would’ve stayed at the bar, but he wasn;t in the mood to be drinking so late considering that he had work in the morning. He moved quickly through the crowded club, looking for a place to sit and observe the crowd so he could look for his friends. And that’s where he saw a little stool near the far back. He made his way over and sat down, taking his phone out of his pocket so he could shoot his friends a text, asking where they were. 

He scrolled on his phone for a few minutes before he noticed a pair of black heels were now standing to the side of him. He looked up and noticed a girl, looking a bit out of place. She seemed nervous, and had her arms folded over her chest defensively. She was biting her bottom lip, which made her look not just nervous, but tense too. Her eyes were scanning the room, seemingly looking for something or someone. He debated if he should say anything to her. For all Jungkook knew, maybe she wanted to be alone? Or maybe she needed help…

Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to catch her attention. The music was loud where they were situated, but at least it wasn’t blaring thanks to the fact that they were at the back of the club. The girl looked down at him, surprised to see him. She must’ve not noticed his presence when she came over here. “I don’t mean to bother you, but you look a little nervous? Is everything okay?” Jungkook questioned. She stared at him for a few seconds before responding. 

“Um, yeah I’m good…” She looked down at her shoes and Jungkook nodded before going back on his phone. He didn’t believe her, but he didn’t want to pry considering the fact that they were strangers. He also didn’t want her to think he was another creep in a club who would hit on her when she looked vulnerable. But she caught his attention again when she started to speak, “You know what? Actually no, I’m not good at all.” Jungkook looked up in surprise at the sudden outburst coming from the stranger. 

“Oh…Uh, do you want to talk about it?” He asked, patting on the stool next to him so she could sit down. She murmured a quick thank you as she settled into the seat and turned to face him. 

“My friend had been begging me to go out with her to a club for weeks. I personally don’t necessarily like things like this. You know, clubs, parties, anything claustrophobic and overly social. I get so nervous and then because I’m nervous I get exhausted and by the time I get home from a party I feel like I ran a marathon. It’s just too much socializing.” She rambled on and Jungkook took notice of her eyes. How they went back and forth between looking at him, giving him her full attention, to then darting up at the ceiling. This would repeat over and over and he found it quite cute. 

“I get what you mean, I like staying home.” Jungkook interjected, which in turn made her feel validated. 

“Oh my god, someone gets it! I knew you looked trustworthy.” She cheered before going back to her story. “Anyways, my friend finally got me to agree to come here with her tonight. We got here a half hour ago. She spent a total of five minutes by my side before she took off with some random guy she met while at the bar. She won’t pick up her phone and she was my ride home. I’m just so angry, I would never have left her for a guy…I know I have to call a cab. The thing is, I just hate taking cabs alone, especially at night. This whole night was a mistake.” By now, the girl seemed to have tears in her eyes and Jungkook felt his heart start to ache at the site.  Jungkook shook his head in disappointment over what he was hearing. He felt bad for this girl. She went out of her comfort zone for her friend, who in turn abandoned her. 

“Do you want me to wait outside with you if you call a cab? Or maybe I can take the same one as you and you can get dropped off first?” Jungkook proposed which in turn allowed her to lift her head up from her hands and produce a small smile that painted her lips quite nicely.  

“Would you do that? Thank you so much!" She sniffled as she gave him a tight squeeze which caught Jungkook off guard. He didn’t meet a lot of affectionate strangers. She seemed to notice how he became tense and pulled away quickly while giggling. “Sorry, I had a drink and I’m an emotional drunk.” Jungkook smiled at her as he stood up, holding out his hand for her. 

“So what’s your name?” Jungkook said as he pulled out his phone again to call for a cab. 

“Y/N, and what about you?” She responded back, tilting her head slightly as she waited for his answer. 

“Jungkook.” He answered shortly. They made their way out of the club, with Jungkook completely forgetting about his friends by now. However, in Jungkook's defense, he wasn’t ditching them considering he was in a party of about 30 people. He was sure Jimin wouldn’t take it too personally that he’d left a little early, that is if he would notice Jungkook’s absence at all. 

“Did you come here with anyone?” Y/N questioned as they leaned against the wall outside. Jungkook nodded. 

“Yeah, I came here for a birthday party for a friend, but these big crowds aren’t really my thing. But I guess I’m glad I showed up because I was able to meet you and help you out.” Y/N smiled up at him, and she squeezed up against him as they maneuvered their way through the crowd. They were silent until they finally made it outside.

“Stop, you’re making me blush, I think it’s because I’m tipsy. Most guys I talk to are such assholes, I can't believe you're being so nice", she explained with a grin on her face as Jungkook laughed at her. 

“How much did you drink?” He raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her. She looked upwards as she seemed to be thinking about it. 

“I don’t know, a few sips of a vodka soda I think…” Upon hearing that, Jungkook was in hysterics as he kneeled over. “What!” She exclaimed, slapping his arm playfully. 

“You don’t get drunk off of a few sips. Maybe tipsy. You’re just saying you're drunk as an excuse to hide your blushing and all your touchy feely hugs.” Y/N gasped at the accusation which in turn made Jungkook laugh again. 

“Shut up! We just met and you’re trying to read me for filth. For shame Jungkook.” She teased and folded her arms over her chest again, this time putting on a fake angry face. Jungkook wiped the tears from his eyes before shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Well all jokes aside, you need to ditch that sad excuse of a friend. That was a shitty thing she did to you.” Y/N tsked and nodded in agreement. 

“I know, it just sucks because we’ve been friends for three years, I thought we were best friends. But you’re right, it was a shitty thing to do. Look-” She pulled out her phone and showed him her text exchange with her friend. “By now it’s been an hour and I’ve gotten no response. I called her, texted her and left three voicemails. And when we walked out, I was looking around for her and I couldn’t see her anywhere. I was hoping she might’ve still been in there, that maybe it was a misunderstanding but not that we’re standing out here…I don’t see her car. She definitely left without me.” She started to get teary eyed again and Jungkook sprang into action immediately. The last thing he wanted to see was her crying. 

“You lost a deadbeat friend, but you gained a new one” He joked as he lifted her chin since her head was lowered, looking at her shoes again, letting tears fall. She chuckled at his joke as she wiped her eyes. 

“Thank you Jungkook, you were really kind. I’m glad I met you tonight.” She praised as she looked up at him. 

“Yeah…me too.” Jungkook said genuinely, still holding her chin up. There was something about Y/N. He found it fascinating how someone who from all accounts sounded like an introvert, could be so open with a complete stranger. But what was even more baffling was the fact that Jungkook found himself joking around with her like they were old friends or something. He just felt comfortable around her. The moment was interrupted as the cab pulled up. Jungkook snapped out of it by clearing his throat and opened the car door for her. They both slid into the cab and Jungkook asked for her address. 

“Uh, there’ll be two stops tonight.” He gave Y/N’s address, then his own. He noticed how she seemed to tense up in the cab again. But they continued to talk to each other and joke around. Jungkook told Y/N all about his friend’s birthday party. About how he also wasn’t too keen on big gatherings and outings. Then they asked each other some questions about their backgrounds. That’s how they came to the revelation that they were from the same city. 

By the time the cab stopped in front of Y/N’s apartment, Jungkook felt a little disappointed at how short the ride felt. Y/N shyly asked the driver how much her total was, but Jungkook shooed her money away and told the driver that he’d be paying for both rides. Y/N protested. 

“No, no Jungkook, let me pay for this. You’ve done more than enough.” She pleaded as she put her hand on his. He swallowed hard as he looked down at the hands. Jungkook had to think of something fast. He knew that he wanted to see her again, but wondered how to ask for her number without sounding desperate. Who wasn’t sure if she was interested at all, maybe she was truly just a warm person who enjoyed to hug strangers? Maybe she was already in a relationship and just hadn’t mentioned it? Jungkook couldn’t help but think of all of the reasons he shouldn’t ask for her number. Rationalizing that maybe this girl was too good to be true. But before he could even make up his mind, it seemed like Y/N had done it for him. 

“Ugh, fine, If you insist. But at least let me get your number so I can track you down and pay you back.” Jungkook grinned, his eyes wide and eager as he immediately started reciting his phone number. “Slow down, slow down!”, she giggled as she typed it into her phone. She sent a Hi over text and finally got out of the car. She gave her thanks to the driver again before leaning back into the car, which had the window rolled down and planted a kiss on Jungkook’s cheek. “Thank you so much for everything.” She whispered. 

“No, thank you.” Jungkook responded back. She stepped aside as the cab pulled away. Jungkook watched her figure start to grow smaller as the distance between them became bigger. He leaned back in the seat once he couldn’t see her anymore. A permanent smirk on his face as he looked down at the text message on his phone. 

Just then he received an influx of messages from his friends, to which Jungkook quickly responded back to. He explained how he decided to leave early and that he had met someone. His friends teased him and some of the messages made him laugh. They texted back how they needed details later, to which he didn't respond back to.

By the time he got home, he spent the rest of the night texting Y/N. And by the next weekend, they had spent all of Saturday together, in his apartment of course. 

For Jungkook, the dreaded birthday party was one rare instance where he actually had fun going out and met someone special.

{A/N: Heyyyyy. Merry Christmas 🎄(if you celebrate it) since I'm posting this on Christmas Eve. I thought I'd write a fanfic to finish off 2024. I hope we all have a great 2025 and I look forward to writing even more stories! Thank you to everyone who's made my tumblr account grow this year, I loved all of the requests and sweet messages. As always, mwahhhhh💋}

[hanniebaeee]

All I want for Christmas

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: some tears and making out

Genre: almost exes to lovers, angst, fluff

Summary: You and Chris are on the verge of a break up, but then, it's Christmas. And there's some magic in the air.

a/n: Merry Christmas everyone 💕 Love you all, and I can't thank you guys enough for all the love and support. Lots of love and wishes for the New year from me✨

The freezing December air bit at your cheeks as you stepped onto the rooftop of your apartment building. One of your neighbors, Jimin, handed you a cup of mulled wine, and you accepted with a smile. Your fingers wrapped tightly around the mug tightly, your eyes taking in the sight around you. 

The party was in full swing - warm fairy lights strung across the rooftop, some of older women decorating gingerbread men. A beautiful Christmas tree gleamed in the center, but none of it reached you.

Your eyes darted around the crowd, searching for just one face. 

Chris.

Your chest ached at the thought of him. It had been weeks since you last spoke. Since that disastrous fight. You'd both said things you didn't mean. It was just a poor way of shielding your own hearts from being hurt.

You loved him. God, you loved him. But sometimes love wasn’t enough. Or maybe…it was just too much.

You sighed and sipped your drink, leaning against the railing, letting the city lights blur your thoughts. And then, you felt it before you saw him. That quiet pull.

There he was.

Chris stood at the far end of the rooftop, near the makeshift stage, surrounded by kids. 

He looked good. Too good. In that beautiful grey coat and pants, and that crisp white shirt that you loved so much on him. But his eyes - they were rimmed with dark circles, hollow in a way that absolutely shattered your heart.

You turned away, your breath hitching. How was it possible to miss him this much, when he's standing right there in front of you?

“Alright, alright, gather ‘round!” someone announced, pulling your attention to the stage.

The kids had taken seats on the front row, giggling with excitement. And then, Chris stepped forward to the mic, with a guitar in hand. And his eyes met yours, and your heart stopped.

“Settle down, settle down,” he told the kids, with a gentle smile on his face, his voice a little rough around the edges.

And then his eyes met yours once again, as he started to sing. 

Silent night, holy night…

The world faded. His voice was like warm honey, dripping with emotion, so achingly tender, like he was pouring every ounce of himself into the song. You stood frozen, his voice wrapping around your chest, squeezing tight until tears pricked your eyes.

Towards the end of the song, you couldn’t take it anymore. Blinking rapidly, you slipped away, setting your mug down on a nearby table and heading for the stairwell.

You didn’t make it far.

Sinking onto the cold steps, you buried your head in your hands, shoulders trembling as sobs wracked your body.

“Y/N.”

The voice was breathless, and you looked up to see him standing there, his chest rising and falling like he’d run after you. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and his eyes, wide, desperate.

“Chris, I…”

He didn’t let you finish. He sat on the step near you, his hands cupping your face as he leaned in close, his forehead brushing yours.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I can’t be without you. I know I screwed up, I know things are messy, but…please. Don’t let this be the end. I need you, baby.”

You swallowed hard, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Chris, it’s not that simple. We keep hurting each other.”

“I’ll fix it,” he said, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “Whatever it takes. I’ll fix it, because I love you more than anything. Please, just…don’t give up on us. Don't give up on me…”

The vulnerability in his voice shattered the last of your resolve. You surged forward, your lips crashing into his in a kiss, so desperate but sweet. 

He groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you into his lap as you straddled him on the narrow staircase.

The stairwell was quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint hum of music drifting down from the rooftop. Chris’s hands roamed your back, pulling you as close as he could. Your lips moved together in a rhythm that was both frantic and tender, years of love and pent-up longing pouring into every kiss.

“God, I missed you,” Chris whispered against your mouth, his soft wet lips so warm. His thumbs brushed along your jawline. “Missed this. Missed you.”  

“I missed you too,” you admitted, your hands threading into his soft curls. “So much.”  

His lips found yours again, hungrier this time, and you melted into him, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of his shirt. He shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall and pulling you further into his lap. And the heat radiating from his body was enough to make your head spin.  

“Chris…” you murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to look at him. His eyes held a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

“I love you, baby,” he said and tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from sadness.

You pressed your lips to his and he hummed softly, his hands sliding down to your hips, and sliding under the hem of your sweater. His touch was warm, sending shivers down your spine.

His lips slipped down your neck, and you tilted your head to give him better access, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Chris, anyone can just walk by,” you managed to say, your voice tinged with both amusement and desire. 

“And?” he teased, smiling as he nipped lightly at your collarbone.  

You let out a laugh that quickly turned into a sigh as his hands slid higher under your sweater, his thumbs brushing the sides of your ribs. His kisses grew rougher, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you squirm. 

“Okay,” you said breathlessly. “But if Mrs. Park from 3B catches us, I’m blaming you.”

Chris chuckled, his grin boyish and utterly irresistible.

“Fair. But I think she’d just tell us to get married already.” he said, and you stilled, searching his eyes. There was no teasing in his gaze now, just pure love.  

“Too soon?” he asked softly.

“No,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. “Not at all.”

With a radiant smile, he kissed you again, slow and deep.

“Come back to me,” he whispered against your lips. “Move back in with me. Let’s fix this. Together.” 

Your heart swelled, and you nodded, tears spilling over. 

“Okay, Channie. Let’s try again.”

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere

Dividers: @strangergraphics

[sparrow-and-seed-scrawls]

The father had turned on the night light. The flickering orange glow lit the hallway like a torch, so the darkness wasn’t what troubled the child.

He’d tucked each beloved stuffed animal into the child’s bed, careful not to lose any of them beneath the comforter lest they become fearful of the dark. The boy had seen it himself, so that wasn’t the cause of his woe.

Had the father checked the closet and beneath the bed for monsters and thieves?

He combed through the night’s events, then nodded. Yes, he had. He’d even checked the toy box for signs of the great green eyes or dagger-like claws the boy was afraid of.

“What is it?” the father asked finally, cradling the sobbing child close. “Did I forget something?”

The boy choked on words. His pajamas were wet with tears, and his pale blue eyes didn’t meet the father’s gaze.

“Whatever it is, I won’t be mad,” the father said. Had the child been hurt? Had he done something he was ashamed of?

The father flipped through every possible scenario he could think of and came up empty-handed. What was troubling the child so?

The man had never had a child before. He’d read every book he could get his hands on, attended first aid and childcare classes, gone so far as to watch Internet videos about raising a child—which, of course, he’d never admit to anyone. But, with all his knowledge, why couldn’t he find an answer to the distress?

Was it due to the child’s parentage? His thin curls and pale, pale eyes had been the sign of something different even before the round of his ears had gone.

He’d found exactly one confidante who knew what the child was. Who knew what to teach the child about, what things the father needed to know, what he could do to protect the child until his true parents returned for him.

But, after nine years, the child’s parents had not yet returned. The father could see on the elven teacher’s face that even she didn’t know if the parents would ever come back for him.

“It’s not common,” she said once, “for my people to abandon their young in the mortal world. I can only presume something happened to them. Until the boy is of age to return to our lands—until he is able to make that journey—”

The father knew what she was going to say. “—I am responsible for his safety,” he finished.

And so that was that. He was the father of a fantastical child until that child came of age.

Yet, even after nine years, the father rarely knew the right thing to say and do. He wiped the child’s tears and pushed his hair from his forehead now, and the child still cried.

After a long, endless moment, the child looked up, and his face crumpled. “I don’t want you to die.”

Ah.

The breath caught in the father’s throat.

The teacher must have gone over that with him.

The fact that the human race was nowhere near as long-lived as the elves was not new information to the father. He’d turned it over in his head again and again.

Even if he did live as long as the child would, it wouldn’t make a difference. The child had his own life and people to return to once the time came, and the father would return to prior things.

It was no one’s fault. Both things—lifespan and other lands—were mere truths of the small family’s existence.

Mere truths that, even so, felt insurmountable at the moment.

“I will die long after you return to your land,” the father said gently. “You will hardly think of me.”

The boy cried harder at that. “I will think of you! Every day!”

“But it will not be thoughts of my death. You will think of the stories before bedtime, burnt pots of macaroni, and staying up to watch the stars. You will think of drives to the park and learning to read.”

The boy sniffled, though his tears had slowed. “But when you die, I won’t know.”

“And there is no reason to know. I would much rather you think about the things like…” the father thought for a moment. “Like when you got scared of the teddy bear’s shadow in the nightlight!”

The boy laughed.

“Or when we didn’t bake the cake long enough and it fell apart on our forks. Chocolate slime!”

Another laugh, this one louder. “Or when you pretended to be Santa but your beard fell off?”

“Yes!” The father let boy from his arms. “Exactly.”

The boy offered a grin, albeit a tired and watery one. He slid off the bed and stood still for a moment.

“So it will be alright?”

“Of course it will be. I won’t let you forget those things,” the father answered. “Now, go to bed. You have lessons tomorrow.”

The boy obeyed, stopping at the door for only a moment to do the special wave he and the father had made up.

The father returned it in kind, and then the door shut. He listened for the soft patter of footsteps back to the boy’s room, and, once they disappeared, he gave a sigh of his own.

Without the orange glow of the nightlight, darkness seemed to engulf him entirely.

Things would be alright. The child was only a temporary part of his life, and soon enough the father would be back to things as they had been nine years ago.

Things would be alright.

He would have to convince himself of that. He’d allowed himself to care too much for the child, hadn’t he? And now he was breaking at the thought that none of it was truly real.

Things would be alright.

He’d always known that it was temporary, so how had he gotten here, so far into the role of father? How could he simply forget this, let it fade into the mundane day-to-day?

It was what it was. That’s how it was always going to play out.

For now, he could continue as things were. Nothing was changing.

Things were going to be alright.

They would have to be.

You're a single human parent of a Elf child, today has you ready yourself for bed you hear them burst open the door with tears in their eye as they jump into bed with you and hold onto you tight, has you comfort them you hear them say through their whimpering and sobs "i don't want you to die".

[rcmclachlan]

from the micro story word list: 19 (sea change) or 46 (shimmer)!

"It never stops being weird seeing fake snow on people's roofs," Buck says, eyeing the house across the street. It's the epitome of everything he hates about Christmas now: the snow blankets are stapled in weird places, the LED lights are too bright and their shimmer makes the house look like a Swedish nightclub, and the 14-foot inflatable Grinch is just begging for someone with an LAFD-issued multitool to go over and accidentally slash it ten times.

Next to him, Tommy takes a thoughtful sip of his beer—salt and lemon gose, because he's a Batman villain—and murmurs, "You were lucky to have the real thing growing up. I always wanted a real white Christmas."

Tommy's voice is still clogged with tears. It sounds like there are river rocks in his throat.

"You wouldn't say that if you had to shovel four feet of lake effect snow out of your driveway while everyone else was opening presents," Buck grumbles, draining the rest of his ginger ale in one go, then drops his cheek to Tommy's shoulder with a sigh.

Wordlessly, Tommy wraps an arm around him and snugs him in close.

It's been almost an hour since Buck showed up on Tommy's doorstep with eight pounds of homemade fruitcake and goaded Tommy into a shouting match on his front lawn, which his neighbors must have loved, especially at 10:45 on Christmas Eve. He knows Tommy was absolutely mortified, but not enough to take the fight inside, which means that when Buck looks back on tonight, the only thing he'll remember—other than Tommy screaming "Of course I'm in love with you, Evan! That's not the issue here!"—is the way that fucking inflatable Grinch lit Tommy's tear-stained face up in the most hideous neon green color ever invented.

Buck closes his eyes and stretches out his legs. They clear all three of the little stairs leading up to Tommy's platform porch and his heels land on one of the flagstone steppers built into the pathway. Tommy had laid the walk-up the first year he moved in and was still so proud of it; he smirked at the stones sometimes, like he'd bested them, like they'd lost some fight that Buck would've given anything to have watched.

He wishes he'd remembered the flagstones before he asked Tommy to move in; it might've saved him a lot of grief and oven cleaner.

"Worth it, though," Tommy says. "Someday I'll see snow on Christmas."

Buck already knows he's going to regret opening his mouth, but he can't stop it. "M-Maybe next year? Before climate change turns Hershey into the new Tampa?"

For a horrible, endless moment, Tommy says nothing. He just drinks his beer and strokes a thumb over Buck's arm. Meanwhile, Buck's ready to rip his own skin off and run screaming into the night. They already laid it all out on the line—Tommy pacing a new pathway in the lawn, Buck standing on the biggest flagstone stepper like he was playing a one-man game of The Floor Is Lava, both of them shouting over each other to be heard—and if Tommy's going to stage a retreat now, if he's going to go back on his promise to fight through the fear and try, Buck's going to start ripping up the flagstones.

Then Tommy presses a long, hard kiss to Buck's hair. "We're not staying with your parents."

Shakily with relief, Buck lifts his head and slots their lips together, slipping his tongue in because he can. The inside of Tommy's mouth tastes like vomit. He's going to dash the rest of that bullshit beer on the flagstones as soon as he sees an opening.

"I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy." He pulls back just enough so he can watch exasperation try to chase the smitten expression off Tommy's face when he follows that up with, "never mind someone I'm planning to baby trap within the next five years."

They end up rutting against each other right there on Tommy's porch in full view of neighborhood, and he hopes the Grinch tells all the Whos down in Whoville how Buck's heart and dick grew three sizes that day.

[pulisicsgirl]

home for the holidays - mason mount

summary: just when nothing seems to be going right for Mason and Y/N, her Christmas plans are foiled for the second year in a row, leaving her unsure of how to approach the topic with Mason

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count:

warnings/tags: a little bit of angst at the beginning but it all turns fluffy for the rest of it, pre-established relationship, mentions of Mason’s recent injury, hurt/comfort, interrupted beauty sleep, Christmas celebrations :))))))

based on a request from @raremasey as a part two to christmas on my own

notes: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!!!!! I wasn’t planning on posting another fic before the New Year, but when I got this request, I knew I had to write it in time to post before the holiday season was up! Thank you all for sticking with me through this year 🤍 You all mean more to me than you’ll ever know!! I hope you’re all getting to spend some time resting and enjoying your family/friends!! Please enjoy the fic!!

As Christmas Day approached rather quickly, you thought to yourself that you must never have experienced a holiday season that was quite so dreary.

You had done your best to bring the festive holiday spirit into your home—even into Mason’s as you forced him to join you in decorating his house on the very first day of December, dragging him into a few shops to buy extra decorations to fill his house. He had only pretended to be a little bit annoyed, his aversion to shopping completely overcome by getting to watch the joy on your face while decorating for the holidays. You had spread lights, tinsel, ornaments, and little snowman figurines all over the rooms of his home while you shuffled your Christmas playlist in the background.

Since your addition to his family’s Christmas celebrations last year had been impromptu, this was the first time Mason had gotten to see how much you loved this time of year. He truly thought he had never met someone who was as enthusiastic and joy-filled at the mere thought of Christmas.

However, Mason still couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment each time he remembered that you wouldn’t been spending Christmas morning with his family. He tried his best not to show it— he knew how much it meant to you that your family would be traveling to see you this year.

Your relationship with your parents had felt a bit… well, strained over the last year. Ever since the incident of last Christmas, when they had failed to give you an advance notice of their plans to travel to see your brother for the holiday and leaving you to celebrate alone, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being quite low on their list of priorities. It wasn’t just Christmas; it was a host of other incidences as well. You had done your very best to repair what seemed to have been damaged, and the fact that you would get to see your family for the holiday left you overjoyed. With a couple promotions at work this past year, you had been able to move into a nicer, larger flat, and Mason knew you were excited for them to get to see it—not to mention how glad you were to be together with them on Christmas Day and finally get to introduce them to Mason.

Despite this throwing a wrench in his holiday plans, Mason couldn’t help but think life was starting to look up for the two of you. After another brief spell out of the United squad following his head injury, he was back to getting regular minutes on the pitch, and the new gaffer seemed to be working him in as a more important part of the team. And with your successes in your career, you had been more optimistic than ever. And as the two of you approached your first dating anniversary, you both truly couldn’t have been happier together.

But all of that seemed to come crumbling down in the matter of a few days.

When you had gotten the call from your mother, you almost couldn’t believe your ears.

Your brother had unexpectedly received the news that his work schedule had changed, and he would be expected to work on Christmas Eve—meaning he, his wife, and your 2-month-old niece would be unable to travel to visit you. But your father and mother couldn’t possibly bear to miss the little one’s very first Christmas, so instead they would remain at home and your brother (who lived nearby) would host Christmas instead.

Too much in shock to form much of a thought, you had asked if she was sure. But it was final— the flights had already been cancelled, and they were firm in their decision.

Your stomach sank to your feet, and the only thing you could bring yourself to do was end the call without another word to her. Standing in your kitchen, you cried silently, the tears streaming down your cheeks as a million thoughts ran through your mind. You felt that you would never be enough for your parents, wondered what you had done to deserve such treatment from them.

The news felt like a sharp object had been driven into your heart and you spent the rest of your evening curled up on your bed, wallowing in your feelings and ignoring the calls and texts from your mother after you had unexpectedly ended your conversation.

When you awoke the next morning, your first thought was of talking to Mason about the previous night's events—a conversation that would unfortunately have to wait as he had a big game to play today: the highly anticipated Manchester derby. It was a huge game, not only because of the longstanding rivalry between the two teams, but because Mason was expected to be in the starting eleven.

Knowing you couldn’t bear to serve as a distraction from such a huge moment for him after the months and months of hard work it had taken him to get there, you decided your problems would have to wait. You couldn’t talk to him before the game and risk shifting his focus. But you also couldn’t talk to him after the game—if United lost, it would just be rude to make things about yourself instead; but if they won, you couldn’t possibly bring down his good mood with your complaining.

So then, you decided, you would have to tell him tomorrow… or maybe the next day.

You took a hot shower, hoping to wash away the heavy feeling in your chest and the puffiness of your eyes. You had donned your kit with Mason’s name printed across the back and made your way to the Ethiad stadium.

The crowd was buzzing as they awaited the start of the game. You settled into the private box, greeting Mason’s family, and you knew Lewis could tell there was something off with you, but he didn’t mention it. Everyone was overjoyed at the news of the starting lineups, bringing with it the confirmation that Mason would be starting for the first time in quite a while.

You were overjoyed for him, able to put aside your own sorrows for the time being, eyes shining with happy tears as you watched him walk out onto the pitch while the anthem played.

But for the second time in less than 24 hours, your stomach sank as, 14 minutes into the game, you watched Mason wave the physios over as he sat on the grass. He was too far away for you to be able to make out his facial expression, but there was no mistaking the posture of the rest of his body. As he spoke with the physios and they looked him over, his shoulders slumped, a resigned look taking over him.

As if this day needed another disappointment.

The rest of your day had been spent looking after Mason, bringing him anything you thought he could possibly need so he wouldn’t lift a finger and holding him tight in your arms to ease the disappointment of yet another setback in his recovery.

Surely now you couldn’t mention everything with your parents to him just yet. It would be so cruel to make him feel sorry for your when he was facing such a disappointment of his own. Perhaps you would just have to wait until his spirits were lifted—even just a little.

But as days passed and time got away from you, Christmas Day crept closer and closer, and Mason’s mood didn’t seem to be improving at all. You did everything in your power to cheer him up— bought him little treats and left them with notes for him to find, sending sweet little text messages throughout the day to let him know how proud you were of the hard work he was putting into recovering. You even went so far as to take a couple days off of work to make a long weekend for yourself and spent the time off pampering him with a bit of a spa weekend as best you could.

And though he always expressed his appreciation for your efforts, the smile he gave you was all too forced, and you knew he was still hurting inside. He had apologized to you a few times now for “being a right grump,” afraid he would ruin your excitement for Christmas time— and after that, you just didn’t have the heart to tell him that someone had already beat him to it.

So you had resolved to keep it to yourself. He just didn’t have to know, and you decided that was for the best. It tore you up inside to keep something from him, but you told yourself that it would be for his own good, allowing him to focus on his time with his own family instead of on comforting you.

For the next days, you carried the secret around like a weight sitting on your chest, feeling a small pang of grief each time you remembered that you wouldn’t be seeing your family. But you did your best to keep those feeling under wraps, so as not to worry Mason.

It was only 2 days before Christmas, when Mason had decided to stay at yours for the night and you slid under the covers behind him, pressing your chest up against his back ad tangling your bare legs with his. Many months ago, Mason had confessed that he liked to be the little spoon when he was feeling a bit more vulnerable. And after his most recent injury a couple weeks ago, it had become a staple in your nighttime routine with him. You loved the feeling of cuddling up close to his warm skin, and you couldn’t help from pressing a barely-there kiss to the base of his neck, sending a gentle shiver down his spine.

Tucking the blankets in around the two of you, you settled into a comfortable silence, and Mason intertwined his fingers with yours, where your hand was resting on his tummy, giving it an appreciative squeeze.

“Were you able to wrap everything up at work today?” Mason asked softly, knowing you had a few things you needed to get done before taking a few days off for the holidays. You felt a warm feeling in your chest at the fact that, no matter what he was dealing with, Mason always made an effort to ask questions about you—about your day, your work, the friends you had seen recently.

“I was,” you smiled, peppering a couple kisses across his shoulders, overwhelmed with the need to show him a bit of love while you held him in your arms. “Ari helped me get the last of it finished right before I had to leave, so I don’t have to worry about a thing over the break.”

“Good, good,” he breathed, and you could tell he was enjoying the attention you were giving him. “Your parents get in tomorrow, right? Are you excited to see them?”

Your breath hitched in your throat before you could stop it and you froze, trying to come up with a good enough excuse to not talk about the situation.

But you hesitated a moment too long, and Mason caught on easily to the way you’d tensed up behind him.

“Y/N? What is it?” he tried to turn in your grasp as he spoke, but you only held him tighter, pressing your face between his shoulder blades so he couldn’t see the tears that had sprung to your eyes before you had a chance to stop them.

He wriggled in your grasp for a moment, but you knew it was no use, allowing him to pry your arms off his waist so he could turn over and look at you. Your hands flew to your face, covering it as some last-ditch effort to conceal your emotions, but it was far too late, and you knew that.

“Y/N, angel…” You felt Mason’s fingers gently pull at your wrists, and you were left with no choice but to stare back at him with tear-filled eyes. “Talk to me, what’s going on?”

Mason’s brow was furrowed with concern as he reached out to stroke a thumb across your cheek. His mind was reeling, trying to figure out what had you so upset.

“Is it your parents?” You could only manage a nod in return.

“They’re not coming?” Another nod. You watched Mason’s face fall in genuine hurt for you.

“Again?” It was barely a whisper when he said it.

With that single word, it was like the dam had burst, and all of the emotions that you had been holding back for weeks sprung to the surface. You curled yourself into Mason’s chest, no longer able to think about anything other than seeking a bit of comfort in his arms. His hands slipped under your shirt, tracing circles and gentle lines across your skin the way he knew you loved, as he could do nothing else but listen to your soft cries.

It didn’t take long for you to quiet to soft sniffles, and Mason pulled back slightly from you, cradling your jaw in his hand so you’d look up at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mason did his very best not to sound accusatory, but in his mind, he couldn’t think of any reason why you would have kept this from him.

It took you a moment to respond, still working to calm your breathing. “Well, they... um, they told me about the night before the derby,” you started. “And before the game, I didn’t want to distract you, so I decided to wait. But then, you got injured, which meant you already had so much on your plate, and you seemed so down that I didn’t think I could possibly bring myself to add even more to it, so…”

“So you’ve been carrying this around for the last couple weeks all alone?” Mason finished for you. You shrugged in response. He could only hold you a little bit tighter, heart clenching in his chest at the thought of you being so weighed down by these emotions without him even knowing.

Mason couldn’t help but feel like kicking himself over the way he had been wallowing for the last week or two since his injury. He had been so caught up in himself that he hadn’t even noticed how you were feeling, and it made him appreciate everything you had done for him just that much more. Despite facing your own disappointment, you had put all your energy into cheering him up and making him feel better.

Gone was the feeling of self-pity over his recently poor luck with injuries at the United, and taking its place was the warm feeling of gratitude—for you and the way that you loved him so deeply, so sacrificially.

He pressed a few kisses onto your forehead, the gears in his mind turning as he thought of ways to make you feel better—one in particular stood out as the obvious choice among the rest.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll help you pack a bag so you can stay at mine for a few days,” Mason stated matter-of-factly. “My family will all be arriving in the evening and they’ll be so happy to see you—Mum and Jazz especially, they were so disappointed when I told them you wouldn’t be spending Christmas morning with us.”

“Mason, I couldn’t,” you retorted, but Mason had expected this resistance from you. “I sprung everything on you so last-minute last year, I can’t—“

“You didn’t spring anything on me last year,” Mason shushed you softly. “I invited you. And better yet this year, you already know just how stubborn I am, so you know this conversation isn’t ending in any way other than you agreeing to go home with me tomorrow.”

Mason’s soft smile was infectious, the sides of your mouth curling upward as he awaited your response.

“You are quite stubborn…” you giggled quietly.

“So is that a yes?”

A beat more of silence passed before you replied with a soft “okay,” and Mason burried his face in your neck, squeezing you tightly in excitement and you couldn’t help but giggle at him, your mood instantly lifted. The hurt and disappointment was still there, but it was significantly dimmed by the knowledge that you would get to be a part of the Mount Christmas for the second year in a row.

Mason finally pulled back after scattering several sloppy kisses across the base of your neck, his eyes sparkling as he propped himself up on an elbow and hovered his face over yours. His eyes darted around your face, a look of unmistakable excitement on his features as he took you in.

“You have no idea how excited I am to spend Christmas with you again,” he whispered, his nose brushing yours.

You cradled his jaw with your hand, your eyes going misty as you thought about how lucky you were to have him in your life, through all of the ups and downs.

“Thank you, Mason.” Your voice was so quiet, if he hadn’t been right up next to you, he might have missed it.

His only reply was to press his mouth to yours, trying to pour all of his love into a single kiss. You pulled him closer by the back of his neck, pressing your body as close to his as you could manage, feel safe in the warmth of him.

After a moment, he pulled away, both of you blushing and breathless—nearly a year together, and every kiss still felt as thrilling as your first.

“C’mon, let’s get some sleep,” he said, pressing one last quick peck to your lips. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

You nodded, smiling at the thought of the holiday celebrations you had in store; no longer dreading the time spent alone, but excited to get to see all of Mason’s family again.

The two of you settled underneath the duvet, holding each other close. And with the promise of a family-filled few days of Christmas joy, you both got the best night of sleep you’d had in weeks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next day passed in an absolute whirlwind of events. The two of you had a bit of a lie in, sleepily discussing your plans for the next few days until long after the sun had risen. Lying in Mason’s arms, tucked warmly under the covers, you felt remarkably more settled than you had the day before. As you lay there with your eyes closed, listening as Mason softly explained that his family would be arriving later that afternoon, you basked in the feeling of his warm skin against yours—your legs tangled together, you chest pressed up against his, and his fingertips trailing lightly over your back.

Before it got too late, the two of you decided it was time to get up, sharing a quick shower together before Mason helped you pack a bag for the next days and the two of you were off to his house, with a brief stop at the store to pick up a couple last-minute necessities.

Late in the afternoon, Mason’s family arrived, and the Christmas Eve celebrations were in full swing. The house was full of life (and noise) as Summer and Mila ran around and Mason’s parents and siblings got their things settled into the guest rooms. A magical trip to Lapland’s made for the perfect evening and left the girls exhausted, so it was fairly easy to put them down once you had all made it home.

Once everyone was in bed, you and Mason got to work setting out all of the presents that had been carefully hidden in Mason’s large closet. Mason watched with admiration as you carefully arranged the gifts and filled everyone’s stockings with the little bits and treats you had picked up over the last few weeks. The care with which you sorted everything left him feeling warm inside, thinking once again how thankful he was to have you with him on Christmas Eve.

And once Mason had finished the glass of milk and taken a large bite out of the cookie the girls had left out for Santa, you and Mason headed up to bed for the night, buzzing with excitement over the next days festivities.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It felt like your eyes had only just slipped closed when you were awoken abruptly by the sound of the bedroom door being flung open and banging into the wall.

“Uncle Masey! Uncle Masey!” a tiny voice shouted, sprinting over to the bed as fast as her little legs would carry her.

As you rolled onto your back, you spotted Summer scrambling up onto the mattress, crashing onto Mason’s chest as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Uncle Masey, wake up!” Summer shouted again, exasperated. She took hold of one of his arms and shook as hard as she could manage.

“What is it, sweetie?” you feigned confusion, as you tried to get Summer’s attention, giving Mason an extra moment to wake up.

“It’s Santa…” she whispered, eyes wide. “He came. Here.”

“What?” you dropped your mouth open, mimicking her look of surprise. “You’re kidding.”

“He really did! He really did! Come and see!” Summer wriggled off of Mason’s chest, leaping to the carpeted floor and padding out of the room, leaving the door wide open as she went.

You rolled onto your side to face Mason, giggling at his furrowed brow and squinty eyes, clearly wishing he could just sleep for a couple more hours.

“You’ve got to get up,” you beamed at him, splaying a hand across his chest as you leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t you hear? Santa’s been.”

Mason’s heart swelled with affection for seemingly the hundredth time in the last few days as you bent forward to press a proper kiss to his lips. For a moment, he got lost in the feel of you, hoping the two of you could spend just a few minutes more together in bed. However you, painfully aware of the open door behind you, pulled back and dropped one last kiss to his forehead. Slipping quietly out of bed, you popped to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you and Mason went downstairs to join the rest of his family.

The silver lining of Mason’s recent injury was that he didn’t have to train on Christmas morning. While most of his United teammates would be reporting for one last session before the Boxing Day matches, he was settling down on the couch next to you, surrounded by his family as Tony began handing out the stockings to everyone.

Much to your surprise, yours was no longer hanging on the mantel empty, as you had left it the night before. Instead, as you took it from Tony, you pulled out a variety of face masks, bath salts, and pleasantly scented soaps. You looked over at Mason, whose face held a satisfied smirk—he must have snuck back down last night after you had gone up and filled your stocking without you knowing.

You whispered a soft “thank you,” tucking your face into his neck as he squeezed you into his side. It meant more to you than he’d ever know that he always went out of his way to make sure you were looked after—even in small ways, like making sure to fill your Christmas stocking.

The morning continued, and Summer had declared that she should be the one handing out gifts this year. So, with a Santa hat atop her head, she ran back and forth between the tree and everyone else, dropping the presents in everyone’s laps before returning to the tree to grab another.

She approached you with a small box in her hands, mumbling a soft, “here you go, Auntie Y/N,” before spinning on her heel and returning to the tree.

You froze in shock for a moment— it was the very first time Summer had ever called you that. You cared deeply for the little girl and her sister, and her clear acceptance of you as a part of the family meant a great deal to you. Mason, sitting with one arm behind you on the couch and on resting on your leg, squeezed your thigh as he saw your eyes go misty at Summer’s words.

You sniffled, trying not to cause a scene by getting too emotional as you carefully tore the wrapping paper off of the small box. Inside, you found a gold necklace with a round pendant engraved with your birth flower and Mason’s intertwined. One the back, the date that the two of you had met was engraved—above it, the words Forever and Always.

“Oh, Mase. You shouldn’t have,” you exclaimed, tucking your head into his neck once again. You could feel his chest shake with laughter as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you close.

“It’s perfect, Mason. I love it. Thank you.” You had pulled back to look at him, and you watched as a warm blush spread across his cheeks.

You spent the rest of the morning with your head on Mason’s shoulder, watching with enthusiasm as everyone opened their presents. You received several other thoughtful presents from Mason and the rest of his family—a tote bag you had mentioned wanting to get from Jazz and her husband, a wax warmer and a few different sweet-smelling wax melts from Tony and Debby, among others.

It really was the perfect morning, spent curled up in Mason’s side, and you felt so full of love for your boy and the family that had made him who he was today.

Eventually, all of the presents had been opened, and Summer and Mila sat on the floor with their new toys spread across the room. Before long, everyone started to make their way into the dining room to eat the breakfast that Debbie had apparently been up cooking before anyone else was even awake.

It was a feast beyond comparison, the table covered in cinnamon rolls, bacon, fried eggs—everything a hearty breakfast could possibly need. And as everyone tucked in, you were sure to tell Debbie how good everything tasted.

Once everyone had finished, you and Mason cleared the table and loaded everything into the dishwasher, deciding to deal with the rest later that afternoon. Lewis was working on setting up their traditional Christmas Day movie, having decided on “It’s a Wonderful Life” over breakfast.

With everything sorted and the leftovers in the fridge, you turned to go join the rest of Mason’s family in the living room when you felt Mason’s hand on your wrist, spinning you around and pulling you into his chest.

Mason’s eyes sparkled as he looked down at you.

“Huh, would you look at that…” Mason spoke with an air of mischief. “Mistletoe.”

For a moment you were struck by confusion, seeing as the two of you were standing in the middle of his kitchen with no real place to hang mistletoe. But your confusion was short-lived as you looked up to see Mason’s hand dangling a sprig of mistletoe above your heads.

A grin broke out on your face as you quirked an eyebrow at him, trying to shoot him an unimpressed look, despite the butterflies that were swarming in your tummy.

“We wouldn’t want to break tradition now, would we?” Mason tried again. “It’s probably bad luck… or something like that…”

By now the two of you were grinning like fools at each other, and you couldn’t believe your luck at having Mason in your life. You slipped a hand onto the back of his head, tangling your fingers into his hair as you brought his face down to yours.

Mason pressed his lips to yours in a delicious kiss as your eyes slipped closed. Mason dipped his tongue cheekily against the seam of your lips, and you pulled back slowly before things could get too heated in the middle of his kitchen.

“I’m so in love with you,” you breathed, nudging his nose with yours.

Mason beamed, eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. “I’m so in love with you,” he repeated your words. “And even though it isn’t how you planned your Christmas to go, I’m glad you’re here today.”

“Thank you, Mason,” you breathed. You must had said it a thousand times over the last couple of days. “For this, for everything. I’m so grateful for you. I love the way you love me.”

Mason pressed his lips to your forehead, holding your body close to his. “You don’t have to thank me, angel. I love getting to love you. It’s as easy as breathing for me.”

Your tummy did a somersault at his words, and you couldn’t help but press one more, quick kiss to his lips.

“You ready to go watch this movie?” Mason asked, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his. “You’re not allowed to fall asleep this year.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from your lips as he pulled you toward the living room, as you spoke. “Now for that, I can’t make any promises.”

tag list: @hischierswhore @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol7 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellsancho @sid-vii @captainpulisic

[slushfaerie]

okay so…fratboy!patrick...

(truly my beloved. from this post ! stoner!art coming soon. filth below the cut)

you meet in a random discussion section for one of your sophomore english classes. get assigned to peer review each other's papers. he’s a sweetheart on the down low.

he’s one of those frat boys that shows up to your 8am section hungover or even still drunk with those fucking black sunglasses on. he talks about his conquests from the night before with his boys before class but still grabs you papers from the stack being passed around by the TA and hands them to you, your fingers brushing against his.

patrick invites you to the party at his frat house one week towards the end of the term, not thinking you'd show up. but he can't hold back a grin when he sees you walk up, pushing by the new pledge they'd made stand as a bouncer.

he watches you dance and take shots with your roommates and he can't keep his eyes off you..but he's just…surveying the party…that’s it.

patrick's the one who makes the announcement, “if you’re not a brother or with a brother, get the Fuck out.” to the whole party at the end of the night. 

when that one creepy brother approaches to try and hit on you, hoping to get lucky, patrick wraps his arm around you, making a show of whispering in your ear and taking too much pleasure in the way the creep’s face falls.

"wanna go to the roof? grab some air?" he pulls the cigarette from behind his ear with a grin.

as you climb the stairs to the rooftop of the frat house, patrick's hand wanders to land on your hip as he pulls you closer. he's crushed his 4th beer of the night and you'd taken shots and had some of the jungle juice. neither of you mind the way it feels, him so close to you.

you share a smoke on the roof and he makes you laugh, his smile lines illuminated by moonlight as he tries to insistently point out constellations in the light-polluted Palo Alto sky. you try to look away from him, stay detached, brush him off. but you can't help that he's funny.

despite your efforts to stay away, you can't help yourself. your night ends with his tongue down your throat. he tastes like beer and cigarettes and looks at you like he wants to ruin you, just so he can piece you back together. wants to have you all for himself. you can't resist his gravity.

patrick takes you to his messy room in the frat house, kissing you with wild lips and tongue against the door, air thick with tension, before peeling off your clothes.

he guides you to your elbows and knees, your hands gripping the soft fabric of the sheets on his unmade bed.

he places slow kisses up the skin of your back before teasing the seam of your cunt with the tip of his cock, laughing as you shudder for him.

“oh…you like that? tell me what else you want..”

you’re practically putty in his hands, making all kinds of noises, trying to get him to stop teasing.

patrick can’t hold back his “fuck, baby…” as he finally enters you.

as he fucks you from behind, his hand reaches around from where it rested on your hip to rub your clit with his fingers almost sweetly, the gesture a stark contrast to the brutal way he was taking you.

patrick gives you a smirk as he continues to fuck into you. you look up to his eyes meeting yours in the reflection of his closet door mirror.

"god, look how pretty you are."

he gives your ass a spank before thrusting all the way in, tonguing your neck before he leans down, his chest molding to your back as he presses you down into the bed, impossibly deeper inside you.

"you're squeezing the hell out of me, y'know that?" he whispers in your ear as he covers your hand with his.

"can't believe this pretty little pussy..taking me so good..”

guess you're with a brother now.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Christmas with the MXTX couples:

HuaLian:

The most extravagantly decorated house and Christmas tree for at least several thousand miles - Hua Cheng is very particular about how everything should look to create the perfect mix between luxurious and cozy.

They use Hua Cheng's butterflies instead of Christmas lights, and mist decorations are made from gems or jewelry pieces. Everything is glittering.

With that being said, there a few absolutely fugly items scattered about the house that Xie Lian has collected through the years and formed attachments to, and Hua Cheng cannot let his aesthetic take away gege's chance to display the items he loves, unsightly as they might be.

There's always some kind of soft music playing, be it jazz or Christmas songs or instrumentals. Xie Lian loves to hum to it.

Hua Cheng lets Xie Lian cook if he wishes because he can personally take his food just fine and their guests (Mu Qing, Feng Xin, Qi Rong, He Xuan, Shi Qingxuan, Ling Wen, Pei Ming, Lang Qianqiu et. al) do not deserve the courtesy of edible food in his opinion. Besides, he loves to see gege enthusiastic about new holiday recipes. They end up cooking together most of the time though.

Xie Lian insists on wearing ugly Christmas sweaters. He thinks it's cute and funny and Hua Cheng (local diva and fashionista) shrivels up inside every time he has to put on a light up Christmas sweater. But for gege, he would do anything. He died 3 times for him, what's one day of fengqing making fun of him?

So many Christmas movies! They watch all the classics, then move on to cheesy Hallmark Christmas romances. They all need to have a happy ending though!

Everyone's gifts are from Xie Lian. Hua Cheng doesn't get anyone but his gege gifts. There are so many boxes under the tree that it's barely visible at all by this point.

Because he wears a lot of red, the others jokingly call Hua Cheng Santa Claus. He is not allowed to commit murder during the holidays so he can only glare and pout about it. Xie Lian finds it cute.

It's Yin Yu's one day off and he's also invited to the gathering but somehow still ends up organizing and directing things, just that he's a bit tipsy doing it because the eggnog slaps a bit too hard.

There is a non-zero chance one of Xie Lian's gifts consists of only a silk ribbon. And there is a non-zero chance he opens it in front of everyone by accident. Good luck explaining that one.

FengQing aren't allowed to fight each other or Hua Cheng. They end up arguing over Christmas movies as a proxy.

He Xuan brings his own food because he knows better.

WangXian:

Everyone wants to spend Christmas at the wangxian household - it's beautifully decorated, there's lots of food and a lot of opportunities for fun and chaos.

Wei Wuxian is allowed to cook but not add spices. Lan Wangji also can't add spices because he likes the bland Lan food. The compromise is to have Wen Ning taste and spice everything. It is a wonderful decision.

Mulled wine and hot chocolate are always available. You can also try some of Wei Wuxian's questionable brews, but you have to sign a waver for that.

Carolers love the wangxian household because they're very giving. There is a queue in front of their house and everything, Lan Jingyi manages it.

Lan Xichen does all the holiday baking. It's very relaxing for him and he loves being meticulous about decorating his cakes.

Decorating the Christmas tree is a family job but Sizhui always has to put the star on top. Nobody else is allowed. He has been doing this since he was 5 and will be doing so forever. Lan Wangji insists on lifting him to do so even if he can reach perfectly fine by himself now.

Wei Wuxian wraps gifts in the most chaotic way so nobody can guess what they got before they open it. They make a guessing game of it though and whoever is closest gets extra candy.

Everyone has to wear a santa hat. Yes, even Lan Qiren.

Jin Ling spends Christmas morning with Jiang Cheng and then rushes over to the wangxian house with Ouyang Zizhen. Sometimes he tries to drag his uncle with him. And sometimes he lets himself be dragged.

The gingerbread house contest is taken way too seriously by everyone. There's frosting all over the walls by the end, its a mess. There is never a clear winner and everyone accuses Lan Wangji (designated judge) to favoritism towards Lan Sizhui.

As Christmas Day ends and everybody returns to their homes, it is cleaning up and cuddling by the tree that WangXian enjoy most. If it snows, they watch it together in comfortable silence, maybe put on a movie in the background.

Then Wei Wuxian pulls the Christmas lingerie and the calm dissipates into a fit of giggles and moans.

BingQiu

Binghe enters the kitchen three days before Christmas and nobody sees him come out till Christmas Eve. He makes so much food it's insane. The place smells like a fairytale and Shen Qingqiu is pretty sure he has fallen in love with it almost as much as he's in love with his husband.

Shen Qingqiu is not allowed to do any work at all. No cooking, absolutely no cleaning, and they decorate the house together.

So much mistletoe. It's everywhere. The whole place is covered in it, their house is basically a mistletoe shrub at this point and there are so many kisses being shared

Binghe doesnt want to invite anyone over because his shizun is his and Christmas is about loved ones and Binghe definitely doesnt love those annoying peak lords! But he relents because he knows it means so much to Shen Qingqiu. He does not leave his side at all though and there's a hand around his waist constantly.

Everyone has to wear reindeer antlers just because Shen Qingqiu knows Shang Qinghua hates them and he likes pissing off this hack author. He gets over it quickly once he's given food though.

Shen Qingqiu gets so many gifts it's crazy. His harem is hard at work and he doesn't even realize it. He just thinks his friends are simply very thoughtful!

Binghe definitely gifts him some kind of strange sex toy among a million other things. It doesn't even look like a sex toy but Shen Qingqiu knows it is because the thing appeared a lot in pidw and he roasted Airplane about it every time. So much for that!

Binghe isn't allowed to fight Liu Qingge but that doesn't mean he won't try. There is a small chance of a food fight. Shang Qinghua manages the bets on who wins.

Mobei-Jun is just there cause Shang Qinghua is. He thinks this whole thing is very strange but he does like mulled wine so he will stick around. And if he and SQH disappear all of a sudden after a couple more cups of the thing, nobody asks questions.

Sha Hualing brings in some cursed demonic alcohol and SQQ has the half mind to just throw her out because he knows the effects of those drinks from pidw and he knows his body wont survive it. Binghe is very excited about it. Go figure.

Binghe does a slutty Kylie Minogue Santa Baby performance for SQQ after everyone leaves. He even has a see-through red outfit, stockings and a santa hat. Commitment to the bit I guess.

[aayakashii]

🎄 MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄

How will you 🫵 spend your holidays with the boys?

These headcanons are mostly non-Christmas specific activities so everyone can feel included, no matter if you celebrate Christmas or not!!

Credits for the cozy prompts here!

Credits for the gifs here!

Frostheim

Jin

Drinking mulled wine.

It reminds him of when he snuck a sip from his mom's cup – feeling his cheeks warm and his mind get fuzzy. It was worth the light scolding he always received. As he grew up, however, the drink didn't taste as joyous as it used to. The spices held memories that were too painful to touch. Until you shared your cup with him during one Christmas night. And as he took a sip of your wine under your soft gaze, his cheeks warmed, and his mind grew fuzzy once again. But maybe it wasn't the drink's fault.

Tohma

Bundling up and taking a walk.

Granted, he already does it on the daily, but there's a special thing in the air when the year is ending; and the cold is seeping through the thickest of clothes; and you're right there, beside him, with your hand gripping his as if it was your lifeline. He knows he has a lot more resistance to the cold than you, and he enjoys it to the fullest. Seeing you bundled up, almost drowning inside his coats, waddling beside him like a penguin – he loves it. You're so cute. You're lucky he's a gentleman now.

Kaito

Baking cookies.

He thinks there's nothing more romantic than baking sweets with the person he's in love with. Wants to go through all of the cliches with you – putting flour on each other's noses and cheeks, sneaking a taste before it's done, making awfully shaped cookies just for the fun of it... it's the date of his dreams. It's only fair he'll try his best to make something you can't forget either.

Luca

Playing board games.

It reminds him of home. Of late nights with his parents and his brother, playfully arguing over plenty of colorful boards and weird pieces. However, playing games with his family after his brother disappeared became hard. It took him some time to realize he could enjoy it again with you. One night, under the dim lights and to the sound of your laughter and playful bickering, he felt his chest grow warm and his eyes soften as he looked at you, sat right across from him. He felt like he could keep trying again.

Vagastrom

Alan

Taking a long nap.

When was the last time Alan let his guard down? As he curls himself up on his couch, he feels like it must have happened in another lifetime. He focuses on his own breathing and his slow heartbeat – the soft, weighted blanket you had given him protects him from the cold outside, and he catches his own eyelids drooping. He feels comfortable. He feels safe. Before he drifts into a calm sleep, he makes a mental note to gather enough courage to ask you to make him company next time.

Leo

Lighting scented candles.

Self care wasn't exactly a foreign subject for Leo. He knew all there was to know about it. Yet, one thing still remained special whenever winter came around: the holiday themed candles. Gingerbread, nutmeg, peppermint... He pushed every themed candle into your arms whenever you two went shopping during this time of the year. It was his guilty pleasure; one of the few things he actually got excited about. You just have to give in to his whims (and pray you have no allergies).

Sho

Visiting the Christmas market.

Sho can handle crowds easily. Better than you, that's for sure. So you trust him when he invites you to stroll through the market, knowing he'll keep your hand in his as you two look at all the trinkets for sale and all the stall foods. You get each other small gifts – Sho gives you a miniature motorcycle keychain, and you give him a new bandana (which he puts it on his head immediately). As you two walk leisurely, hand in hand, through the busy street, he selfishly wishes he could just stay in this moment forever.

Jabberwock

Haru

Knitting a warm sweater.

He just finds more and more work for himself, even when he tries to relax; as if his body is fueled on responsibilities he creates for himself. If you point it out, Haru will only laugh and say he just wants everyone to have their own matching, ugly sweater. And he's steadfast on his goal. He wants his fingerprints visible when he's creating his very own family. You wearing an ugly sweater he made is just the first step.

Towa

Watching romantic movies.

Is it surprising to know that Towa is probably the biggest Hallmark fan? He could watch a thousand of the same "workaholic woman moves to small town and finds love" movies, and still wouldn't get tired of them. He talks of how he wants to recreate the "airport kiss" scenes, the "kiss under the rain" scenes, and the "kiss in front of an entire city" scenes. You tell him you can't offer him that much, but you can give him a kiss for every godawful movie he forced you to watch. And that's more than enough for him.

Ren

Listening to podcasts.

He doesn't like Christmas. Not surprising, I know. He just thrives in being a hater, and hating Christmas is essential to his persona. He will never admit, however, how much he loves the holiday atmosphere, and how perfect it is to tune into his favorite horror podcasts during the chilly, dark winter. You don't even point out that Halloween was two months ago anymore. You just cozy up next to him, and under fairylights and mistletoes, you get ready to listen to his favorite monster stories.

Sinostra

Taiga

Watching the snow fall.

He feels like the white snow awaken old, softer memories of a time long gone. He lays his head on your lap as you two hide in one of the school building's balconies, observing the snowflakes slowly coat the grass outside. You gently card your fingers through his tousled hair. Maybe he doesn't need to remember anything else if he can keep the memory of this moment in his mind, forever.

Romeo

Wearing warm pajamas.

They're fuzzy, soft to the touch. He can even feel his shoulders sagging as you straighten his pajamas and gently massage his shoulders. No need to yell, no need to fight, no need to worry about things falling apart and through his fingers. He shares his skincare with you in silence, and you accept it, in silence as well. The hum of his air conditioner is enough noise to fill the small, cozy little space you had created for him.

Ritsu

Doing a jigsaw puzzle.

There are no strict rules, no correct way of playing. Just a simple task with a simple goal. For once, he feels like he can be in silence and just properly enjoy your company while you two build some generic scenery together. Ritsu can just be, without the need to prove himself the smartest or the best in order to justify the space he occupies. For two to three hours, it's just you and him and nothing else.

Hotarubi

Subaru

Drinking hot chocolate.

The contrast between the japanese ambiance of Hotarubi and how "western" Christmas feels never fails to amaze Subaru. His favorite part of Christmas, however, isn't the decoration: it's the food. The sweets. He loves to warm his hands with a huge mug of hot chocolate, blushing every time you plop a few more marshmallows in his beverage. You spoil him, shoving every little sweet treat you find in his hands. He promises to eat them all, but only if you always join him in his indulgence.

Haku

Reading a good book.

It's not hard for Haku to have a good day, holiday or not. He just wants to laze around and have you tucked under his arm. That's all there is to it. He looks up from the new book you had just given him as a Christmas gift, only to see you handing him a mug of hot chocolate. He smiles, setting the book and the mug aside, and taps the seat right next to him, effectively trapping you under his arm. If he's being honest, he doesn't really care about christmas, but man, does he love christmas with you.

Zenji

Decorating for the season.

While Subaru usually worries about contrasting decorations, Zenji makes sure to place fairylights in every tatami room as soon as winter comes. He drags you around the dorm, his official helper, while he hangs ribbons and bells and mistletoes in every wall. When you ask him if he's hanging mistletoes on the doorways on purpose though, he looks at you with wide-eyed curiosity – he had no idea what you meant. Was there some tradition he wasn't aware of? Well, you're more than happy to teach him.

Obscuary

Ed

Lazing around

It's hard to break his habits. You do manage to shoo him out of his room after announcing Rui and you would deep clean it, so it could be presentable during the new year. Ed is pretty sure you're scarred for life, but, well, you insisted, right? But it's the holiday time, and his undead heart feels a little bit for you. He invites you to stay at his now pristine room for a while, dragging you into a random, obscure youtube rabbit hole. At least his sheets are all clean.

Rui

Going ice-skating.

Isn't it the perfect date? Being able to show off his glorious skating abilities, all while being your knight in shining armor, ready to catch you if you fall. He loves the angry red of your nose and cheeks and the awe in your face as you look at the way the sun reflects on the ice. Rui can barely keep himself from smooching your face until you were red from his attention, not the cold. He can't wait to take you to a cafe date next.

Lyca

Doing arts and crafts.

He wants to give a gift to Santa, and who are you to say no when Lyca asks you for help? In fact, he wants to give gifts to everyone he knows as well: the blonde gigolo, moth eaten casanova, Harurin, Romi and you, of course. His room becomes a warzone of arts and crafts supplies – there's glitter, glue and colored paper everywhere. But cleaning doesn't even come to his mind as he gives you a cheeky grin, glitter all over his face, as he show you his little craft project for Santa. He'll catch him this year, for sure.

Mortkranken

Yuri

Listening to cozy playlists.

Holiday spirit is the one Yuri blames when he allows you to control the aux cord. He's so generous, only demanding that every song must be instrumental. His ears perk up while he works on his papers and you put some etheral music to play. Plastic Platina, you call it. He huffs. What a silly name. He wasn't expecting, however, to inadvertently hum to the repeating rhythm of the song, his work flowing a little more fluidly than he expected. Maybe he can give things other than classic a try. But only sometimes.

Jiro

Lounging by the fireplace.

His body feels a little cold most of the time. It's a common ailment of his after he had woken up from his coma. During winter, therefore, he allows himself to be dragged by your hands as you demand he sits in front of the fireplace. You place a weighted blanket on his shoulders and tuck it snuggly under his feet. You sit beside him, watching the fire crackle and nursing a mug of coffee. He looks at you, body flush against him and he feels his cheeks grow a litte warmer, much to his surprise. Being cold isn't so bad, when he has your company.

[m3owcuryy]

౨ৎ ━━━ naughty or nice ?

━ character: timeskip!atsumu miya x fem!reader

━ sum: have you been naughty or nice?

━ wc: 2.3k

━ tw: nsfw (18+) , explicit smut, mdni

━ contents: edging, heavy on overstimulating, teasing, handcuffs, pet names, praise, dirty talk, saliva, messy bro idk just know its messy bcs i cant be bothered to think anymore

lowercase intended!

m.list

miya atsumu didn't know what he was in for when he agreed to your little surprise.

wifey <3: tsumtsum! ure off for the next 3 weeks right? when u get home can u do me a huge favor???

husband <3: yup dependsssss whatdya need princess

wifey <3: i have a surprise for u! when u get home go into the room and sit on the desk chair BUT MAKE SURE UR EYES ARE CLOSED

husband <3: im afraid but whtv u want princess promise theyll b closed

wifey <3: yayyyy i'll see ya soon! iloveyou! drive safe!

husband <3: iloveyou2 i will

there he was, sitting in your shared bedroom, with his eyes closed shut. he was used to your little antics, the little surprises you'd do for him whenever you felt like it (which was very often), he loves that part of you. seeing you get excited because he was excited, always made his heart melt.

but, this was something new. you've never made him have to close his eyes during your surprises for him, so this was certainly a new experience for him.

"are your eyes closed, tsum?" your heavenly voice rang from the walk in closet, a deep chuckle resonating throughout the room.

"yes, princess."

without any other words exchanged, atsumu hears your footsteps walk out of the closet. with his eyes closed, all of his other senses were heightened. the sound of you walking closer to him, as well as hearing something metal clicking made him raise an eyebrow in confusion. the familiar sound of light switches being flipped were adding onto his curiosity. his hands that were once crossed across his chest, were being unwrapped from each other, feeling your soft hands guiding them to his sides, then the back of backrest.

all of a sudden, his wrists came into contact with something cold and the familiar sound of metal clicking was heard.

"keep your eyes closed, tsum.~" you purred into his ear.

"did'ya just 'andcuff me?" atsumu asked, amusement in his tone. your touch ever so slightly grazing his exposed biceps and his neck, excitement was running throughout his body.

his question went unanswered, making him let out a low chuckle, letting you continue whatever you were doing. your soft fingertips continued to graze his exposed skin, goosebumps trailing wherever your fingers touched.

his patience began wearing thin, his eyes still closed shut. your soft touches were beginning to drive him insane plus the fact at not being able to touch you. his hands still cuffed together behind his back with no other explanation.

"ya wanna open your eyes, love?" your soft lips grazing shell of his ear, making him grunt.

"'f course, can i?"

"hm, okay then.~" atsumu's eyes snapped open.

as he opened his eyes, he felt you sit on his la immediately. your arms wrapped around his neck as his eyes adjusted to the light. soon his vision cleared, his eyes met your's.

there, you were sat on his lap with light makeup on and a bold red lipstick, making your teeth look even brighter as you flashed him a smile. his eyes trailed down your body, a red, two piece lingerie hugged your body. your boobs being held in together by a thin, lace bra that was see through, adorned with white faux fur on the top of the cups and two little, white puff balls in the middle of the piece, held on by a red piece of fabric. your underwear was the same material as the bra's thin, lace fabric. looking down your legs, you had on black, lace stockings going up to your knees, with a white ruffle on the garter and a black bow. to add onto the look, you had a santa hat on. you could feel atsumu's eyes devouring your body.

"holy shit, princess." atsumu muttered under his breath, as he continued to look at you. your nipples were perked through the bra's lace, making them look so delicious to the male. you began to feel his cock beginning to get hard as he continued to look at you. placing a kiss on his neck, you looked at him, your expression innocent.

"do ya like it, tsumu?"

"i love it, princess," atsumu said, breathlessly, his cock softly twitching. "i jus' wan' eat ya up right now. ya look so fuckin' good in that. if yer mrs. claus, i might jus' hafta be a good boy every year."

"merry christmas eve, tsum," you laughed, pecking his lips, your red lipstick slightly transferring onto his. "but i can't uncuff you. apparently, you're on the naught list this year."

"c'mon, can't ya make an 'xeption fer me?" the bulge in atsumu's volleyball shorts getting bigger, as he played along.

"nope, sorry, tsumtsum." you fake pouted, getting off of his lap, standing in front of him, letting him get a good view of your whole figure.

grunting, atsumu tries to separate his wrists, in attempt to take the cuffs off. his attempts prove to be futile, making him huff. shaking your head you sat back down on his lap, straddling his waist. letting out a quiet whimper from your pussy rubbing against his throbbing cock, atsumu sucks in a sharp breath.

you began to slowly rock your hips, rubbing your pussy against his clothed cock. soft groans coming up from atsumu's throat as he watched you rub against him. biting your lower lip, you push down on his hardened dick. you put your lips onto his, his mouth immediately began attacking your's. he bit down on your lower lip, harshly, forcing you to open your mouth, using the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth.

wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull away from the kiss, placing pecks down from the corner of his lips and to his neck with a trail of red lipstick. whining ever so softly at the departure of your lips, he tilts his head back, giving you full access, his adam's apple bobbing from swallowing.

soon, attacking his neck with very small nibbles, some becoming into love bites, atsumu moans when he feels you bite down on his sensitive spot. atsumu loves when you give him love bites or hickeys, he loves seeing them whenever he's changing or in the shower, saying that it makes him feel a million times hotter when it's your 'art' work.

atsumu's patience was running out and you could tell from his clenching his teeth, his jaw flexing. the way atsumu looked right now made your pussy clenching around nothing, the wetness soon soaking the panties. and the red lipstick trail? you didn't know how long you'd be able to keep him handcuffed and let him ruin you instead.

going down on your knees in front of atsumu, you looked at him. your hair framing your face perfectly, your tits looked so nice in the bra, your cleavage made atsumu's mouth water, your thighs rubbing against one another, showing how horny you actually were. you pulled down his shorts, painfully slow, followed right after by his boxers. his cock sprung free, hitting his lower stomach, making you drool at the sight, atsumu's lip twitched up into a smirk.

"your cock is so big, tsumu.~" you purred, giving the tip of his cock a soft lick, making atsumu buck his hips forward at the contact. pushing down on his hips with your hands, you teasingly shook your head, a playful frown on your pretty lips.

"you've been naughty, atsumu. ya can't do whatever you want." atsumu's eyes were narrow, his eyebrows scrunched.

you spit onto his cock, your hand soon wrapping around his cock, pumping him to spread the wetness. atsumu let out a groan at the feeling of your hand wrap around him, softly jacking him off. looking at atsumu's face, your pussy began to clench again, making you bring you hand down his shaft, and wrapping your soft lips around his red tip that was oozing of precum. tasting the saltiness, you began to give the tip of his cock soft licks as you continued to pump him.

"ngh..." atsumu groaned. his hips attempting to thrust up, but was brought back down when you let go of his dick, using both hands to keep his hips from moving.

"fuck- 'm cummin'." with that, his cum shot into your mouth some making its way down your throat already.

"already, tsumtsum?" you teased after swallowing his cum, much to his approval.

"'s been so long.~ can ya uncuff me now, princess? lemme make ya feel good too." thinking you were going to finally let him out of the cuffs, he let out a choked moan when your hand came into contact with his dick once more, his cock sensitive from cumming previously.

before atsumu could say anything, your finger rubbed the slit of his dick, making him try to reel his hips back from the sensitivity he was feeling, but couldn't. you continued to use one hand, soon using your other hand to pump his cock. groans came up bubbling from his throat as you began to jack him off, your hands slightly squeezing around his dick, making him moan out loud. your pussy clenched around nothing seeing his eyebrows furrow, biting his lower lip.

"shitshit- 'm already cummin' again." atsumu whined, his hips bucking, as he shot another load onto your chest. your tits, covered in his cum.

"aww, tsumtsum, you look so cute right now." you giggled, as you looked at him. bringing a finger down, scooping up some of his cum, and sucking on your finger. "i'm sure you can do one more. you can do it, my love."

breathing heavily, atsumu's eyes began to droop, as he began to attempt to free himself from the cuffs, wanting to pick you up and just fuck you until you both no longer could. in the middle of him thrashing his arms around, the feeling of your lips wrapped around his cock, made him cry out.

"fuck, baby please." atsumu begged as he looked down at you with your pretty lips around his big cock. your red lipstick was slightly smeared from the kissing.

his pleads went ignored when you began to bring your head down as far as possible down his cock, choking on it. you continued to suck his dick as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. his face was scrunched up from the overstimulation, his mouth parted as moans slipped past his lips. his moans made you, rub your legs together even more, your pussy desperate to wrap around his cock and milk him dry.

atsumu's mind was beginning to get slightly hazy, the feeling of your lips around his dick was so agonizing, but it felt so fucking good, he didn't want to stop. atsumu looked down at you sucking his dick as your hand began to fondle with his balls, making him let out a loud groan. the way your red lipstick was now officially smeared, your mascara and eyeliner slightly smudged from your eyes watering whenever you gagged, atsumu felt himself wanting to cum again.

"'m-'m cummin' again, fuccck." but as he was about to cum, you pulled away from his cock. a whine went past atsumu's lips as his high went away.

"[nameeeee]." atsumu whined, throwing his head back in frustration.

"oh? were you gonna cum, tsumu?" you feigned ignorance, making atsumu roll his eyes.

"uncuff me 'lready." atsumu was getting annoyed at not being able to do anything. his wrists were a bright fiery red from him trying to get the cuffs offs, but he didn't care as he continued to try and get his hands out of the metal bondage.

"c'mon, tsumu, one more and i'll uncuff you.~" you pulled out the cuff keys from your cleavage, flaunting it in his face, his face contorted with frustration.

putting the key back in between your tits, you went back to his cock, your hands pumping his dick once again, before you ran a finger through the bulging vein in his cock. bringing your tongue up to the tip from the base, you sucked on his tip, running your tongue up and down his slit.

"f-fuck...please.~" at this point, atsumu was out of it, all he had in his head was to fuck you. his whines began turning into soft cries as atsumu was about to reach his high once again, his hips bucking, shoving his cock down your throat, making you gag and pull away for a split second before going back to sucking his length.

"ngh... ngh..." atsumu's moans were music to your ears, his moans encouraging you to deep throat him, tears were slipping past your eyes as you ignored the burning sensation of the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. makeup was running down your face, as well as a drool of saliva at the corner of your mouth.

you were starting to drip from your core, from how good atsumu looked. a few tear stains were coming down his cheeks, his eyes watery, his mouth hanging out as you made him fucked out. you brought your hand down your panties and began rubbing your clit, you began moaning onto his cock, adding vibration, sending him over the edge.

"princess.~" atsumu cried. "'m cummin'."

you hummed, the vibration ran through his cock as he came straight down your throat. taking his cock out of your mouth with a 'pop!', you stood up looking at him. atsumu looked at you hungrily and with frustration along with irritation. his dick still up and hard. you were debating on leaving him handcuffed.

gathering all of your courage, you went behind him, taking your sweet time with uncuffing him. after both of his wrists were freed, you attempted to flee, running around him. but much to your luck, atsumu had moved quicker, grabbing you by the waist, and tossing you onto the bed.

atsumu threw his shirt off, towering above you.

"yer turn for the cuffs, mrs. claus.~"

note(s):

proofread!!!

merry christmas eve!

here's a lil something hehe, btw this was my first time writing an actual smut soooo pls lmk what u guys think! constructive criticism would b vvv appreciated! but dont be an asshole pls!

[writingwithciara]

blinking lights -quinn hughes-

summary: with planes grounded for the holiday due the snow storm, y/n & quinn are forced to spend christmas together. but oddly enough, neither of them seem to mind much

word count: 3.4k

pairing: quinn hughes x roommate!reader

note: i LOVE writing roommate quinn honestly

"i'm sorry mom. i won't be able to make it home this year. all flights out of vancouver are cancelled." y/n looked at the website opened on her laptop. her mom was sighing on the other end of the line. "i know. i'm sorry. but i should be able to visit in the new year. i promise."

"it's okay honey. i'm just glad that you'll be safe." her mom sighed again. "are your roommates stranded too?"

"i'm not sure. quinn left earlier to catch a flight so it's a possibility."

"well for you sake, i hope you're not alone for the holidays."

"i hope so too, mom." y/n looked up when the door opened. "gotta go, mom. quinn's home."

"okay sweetie. i'll call you tomorrow."

"alright. sounds good. love you."

as y/n hung up, quinn sat next to her on the couch.

"no luck?"

"unfortunately." y/n sighed and closed her laptop. "i'm guessing the same goes for you?"

"yeah. it kinda sucks. it's the first christmas i won't be able to see my family."

"at least neither of us will be alone this year."

"fair point." quinn chuckled and turned on the tv. "what should we watch?"

"frosty the snowman. always makes me feel better."

"got it." quinn smiled and put the movie on. he glanced around the bare apartment. "since we'll both be here for christmas, why don't we decorate? we can also combine traditions and do them together."

"i guess it beats sitting in an empty apartment. we definitely need some christmas spirit in this place."

"strongly agree. we'll go out tomorrow to get some decorations and we'll make a day of decorating and traditions."

"alright." y/n turned her attention to the tv screen. "my mom is supposed to call me tomorrow and she may want to talk to you."

"why?"

"i don't know. i suppose it's because i talk about you a lot but i think she's not sure if you're a guy or a girl. never really specified, honestly." she smiled. "i'm only telling you now so you're not completely shocked when she calls."

"alright." he smiled. "should i expect any questions?"

"she'll probably asked why i'm living with you and stuff like that."

"okay. i think i can handle it." quinn smiled.

after the movie, they both went to their rooms to get some sleep. decorating their apartment was going to be a huge task but if anyone could do it, it's y/n & quinn.

the next morning, y/n woke up early and sent her mom a text.

hey mom. i'm going shopping with quinn today and we're gonna be decorating our apartment after. i'll call you later, alright? love you <3

the second she heard quinn moving around in his room, she smiled and put on a pot of coffee. y/n watched him walk into the kitchen slowly. he smiled at her and sat at the counter.

"ready to shop for decorations today?"

"you bet." y/n smiled and poured them each a cup of coffee. she was excited to spend more time with quinn than she was used to. for the past 3 years, she had been harboring a crush on her roommate but the timing to tell him was never right. he was almost always in a relationship and his girlfriends barely liked her. they tolerated her, at best. and that was why she didn't spend a whole lot of time with him.

when the time came, quinn drove them to the seasonal store downtown. they went their separate ways once inside so they could get the decorations faster and have more time putting everything up.

while walking down the 'gifts for her' aisle, quinn saw something on the shelf that he knew y/n would love. it was so perfectly her that he just couldn't pass it up. he couldn't help the way his heart beat faster just thinking of what her reaction would be. he was so far gone for her but didn't want to risk pushing her away. especially not when she was finally spending time with him again.

it took 20 minutes to get everything and quinn insisted on paying for everything. he didn't y/n to see the gift he was getting her.

when they got home, quinn quickly hid the gift in his room, deciding he would wrap it tonight and give it to her in the morning. by the time he made it back to the living room, y/n had all the decorations sorted out in piles based on each room they were going to work on.

"so i figured you could get started in the kitchen while i worked out here. fair warning, i may need your help after."

"then why don't we work together?" he chuckled. "wouldn't that make more sense?"

"well i was going to play christmas music and when i dance, it looks weird."

"i highly doubt that." he smiled. "i've seen you dance before."

"that was always choreographed or because i was drunk. but i'm sober and don't want to make a fool of myself."

"y/n, i don't think you're capable of doing such a thing. just let me help you out here."

"alright, fine. but no judging me on my dance moves, hughes."

"i would never." quinn smiled and grabbed a box of lights. he grabbed the necessary items to get started while y/n put some music on the speaker. "wanna start on opposite ends and meet in the middle?"

"yes sir." y/n grabbed the other decorations and went across the room. halfway through the 3rd song, quinn was done hanging lights. he turned to look at y/n. she was dancing and in her own little world and quinn couldn't help but admire her more. how could she think she'd look like a fool? he thought she was beautiful and one day, he was going to get the courage to tell her.

when y/n turned around to grab something, she noticed quinn staring at her. it suddenly made her self conscious. "what?"

"nothing. i was just watching you dance."

"oh. i'm sorry about that. i told you i looked like a fool when i dance sober."

"quite the opposite actually. it was pretty cute." he chuckled and headed to the kitchen to start decorating, leaving y/n to stare with red cheeks.

it took her a minute to follow but when she finally got to the kitchen, quinn was already halfway through decorating.

"wow. you work fast." y/n smiled and instead of offering to help, she just leaned against the counter and watched him.

"yeah. sorry about that. i just couldn't help myself. i know you wanted to help with the decorating."

"no. it's perfectly fine. i like observing." y/n smirked and pulled out a mug. she poured herself some hot chocolate and sipped it while quinn went back to work. while he worked, y/n climbed onto the counter and smiled. this was the perfect way to admire quinn without feeling too guilty.

by the time quinn was finished, y/n had a mug of hot chocolate made for him. when she handed it to him, their fingers brushed against each other, causing y/n to draw her hand back quickly. the moment was interrupted when y/n's phone was ringing. she glanced down at the caller id.

"it's my mom." y/n showed him the phone and hit the 'accept' button. her moms face filled the screen in seconds. "hey mom."

"hey sweetie. how's your day?"

"it's good. quinn and i have been decorating for an hour. the place looks amazing. wanna see it?"

"in a minute. i want to meet your roommate."

y/n looked up and held the phone out to quinn. he took it and moved to stand beside y/n so they'd both be on the screen.

"hi. it's nice to finally meet you."

"oh my. you're certainly not what i was expecting."

"y/n informed me that you would say something like that." he smiled.

"how's it going, living with my baby?"

"mom!" y/n turned her face into quinn's shoulder while he chuckled.

"it's great. we're having the best time." he couldn't stop smiling. y/n's head fit perfectly in his shoulder. it was like a dream come true to have her this close. "she's amazing and probably my best friend."

"i'm glad she has such a good friend, honestly. i was so worried about her."

"you don't have to worry about her now. she's in good hands." he chuckled and threw his arm around y/n's shoulder. she grabbed the phone from him and smiled.

"alright. we gotta finish decorating. i'll talk to you later. bye mom. i love you."

"bye you guys. love you too."

after she hung up, y/n turned to quinn. "i'm your best friend, huh?"

"yeah, actually." he turned to stand across from her. "and it kind of hurt when you distanced yourself a little bit over the last 2 years. thought it was something i did. but i'm really glad you're coming back around."

"yeah i'm sorry about that. but none of your girlfriends liked me so i thought it'd be easier for your relationships if i wasn't around a whole lot."

"why didn't they like you?"

"i don't know." y/n shrugged and turned to refill her mug. "but for the record, you're my best friend too."

"glad to hear it." quinn smiled slightly before walking out to the living room. although he had just called her his best friend, he didn't like hearing the word come from her mouth.

"quinn," y/n called out after him as she followed him into the living room. "i'm never going to distance myself from you again, okay? it was hurting me too."

"i'm sorry you felt like you had to give me space. and i'm really sorry they didn't like you. i don't understand why they didn't. you're one of the most likeable people i know."

"i try to be. and i don't understand why they didn't. but it's all in the past and i've learned from my mistakes." y/n sat and looked at him. "i can never stay away from you, quinn. it'll probably kill me."

"well i'm glad you're sticking around because it would probably kill me too, if i'm being honest." he turned to face her and smiled. "so, are there any traditions you have with your family that we can do tonight?"

"my mom and i usually bake cookies and eat some random take-out while watching home alone or how the grinch stole christmas. but we don't have to do that."

"why not? it sounds like fun."

"you'd really want to bake cookies with me?" y/n's eyes widened and she couldn't help the way her smile grew.

"of course. if it makes you happy, then i'll do anything."

y/n tried to ignore the way her heart wanted to beat out of her chest. never in her life had she met a guy so willing to do anything she had asked. it took everything in her not to launch herself across the couch and kiss him. she had to keep reminding herself that they were just friends.

while they baked cookies, both of them enjoyed the closeness of the other. side by side and covered in flour. usually, quinn hated messes but with y/n, he didn't care.

when they put the cookies in the oven, quinn wiped his hands on a towel.

"i'm gonna go take a shower. you order dinner and pick out the movie. i'll be out in a bit." quinn didn't wait for her to reply. he just headed into the bathroom to shower. he spent half an hour in their and when he got out to get dressed, he realized that with his quick exit, he forgot to grab a new shirt from his room. the one he was wearing was covered in flour but luckily the rest of his clothes were fine. he put on his shorts and walked out into the hallway.

y/n looked up from the couch and watched quinn walk into his room. she only got a brief look at him but she was still speechless, regardless of having seen him without a shirt many times. she quickly turned her attention to the tv when he came walking back out to join her on the couch.

"food should be here in 10 minutes and i decided to go with home alone this year. is that okay?"

"it's perfect." quinn smiled and threw his arm around the back of the couch. the couch was big enough for at least 7 people but they were sitting on the same cushion. not close enough to be touching but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of each other. and every few seconds, quinn's thumb would rub against y/n's shoulder. but neither of them seemed to care.

when the food arrived, quinn went to grab it. and when he sat back down, he was closer to y/n than before. as they ate, y/n tried not to focus on the closeness of her best friend. it was hard but she was able to do it.

until he swung his arm back over the couch. he may as well have just placed it across her shoulder with the way his hand was resting there. as they watched the movie, quinn had moved his arm down to where it was actually resting across y/n. she looked at him with an innocent smile, which he adored, then went back to watching the rest of the movie.

when the movie was finally over, y/n stood up and stretched. "well i'm gonna get ready for bed."

"before you do, i was wondering if you wanted to take part in one of my family's traditions."

"it's not going to be something weird, is it?"

"no." he smiled. "unless you count wearing matching pajamas to bed on christmas eve."

"oh my gosh. my family does the same thing." y/n giggled. "wait, do we have matching pajamas?"

"yeah. i bought them a few days ago and was intending to give you a pair before i left for the holidays but i guess it was just meant to happen this way. be right back." quinn smiled and ran to his room. he returned seconds later with the pjs. "i hope you like them."

"they're a gift from you, quinn. i always like those." y/n smiled and headed into her room to change. quinn did the same and they managed to come out at the same time. all he could so was admire the way the clothes fit y/n perfectly. "how did you know my size?"

"because i know you." quinn chuckled, not wanting to admit it was because he stared at her so long that he memorized everything.

"you're the most perfect roommate, quinn." she smiled and threw her arms around him. "thank you."

he immediately hugged her back. "you're welcome."

"okay. well it's bed time now. i'll see you in the morning. good night quinn." y/n ran off the her room to try to get some sleep. but she knew that would be impossible, due to the overwhelming attraction she was feeling. if she didn't tell quinn soon, her emotions were going to shut her down.

as quinn sat at the desk in his room, he couldn't stop thinking about how excited y/n had been when she came out in the pjs. he had seen her happy many times but there was just something different this time.

he wrapped her gift neatly and set it down beside his bed. it was going to be the first thing he grabbed in the morning and he hoped she would love it as much as he loved her.

when the sun rose the next morning, quinn grabbed the box and headed out to the kitchen. y/n was normally a morning person so he was surprised that she hadn't woken up yet. he set the box on the counter and began making coffee. just as he was adding the finishing touches to y/n's coffee, she walked out of her room.

"good morning, quinn."

"good morning, y/n" he smiled and handed her the coffee. when she took a sip, her whole body instantly warmed up.

"this is the best coffee i've ever tasted. thank you." she grinned and continued to drink it as they both made their way onto the couch.

"so what else does your family do for christmas?"

"we stay in our pjs all day and spend time together. it's pretty boring but if you're around the right people, you can have the best time."

"well then that's exactly what we will do today." quinn smiled. "oh, before i forget, i have a present for you. close your eyes." he got off the couch and grabbed the gift from the kitchen before returning. "i hope you like it."

y/n unwrapped it carefully and opened the box. she pulled out a teddy bear with a canucks jersey on. and not just any jersey. a demko jersey. he even came with mini goalie pads and a helmet.

"i know how much you love thatcher so when i saw this, i just knew i had to get it for you."

"i love it so much. thank you, quinn." y/n set the bear down and hugged quinn. "i didn't get you anything. i'm sorry."

"it's alright. you being here is enough of a present for me." he rubbed her back and smiled. when y/n pulled back a little, her whole expression had changed. she was still happy but there were tears in her eyes.

"i appreciate that, quinn. but i feel like it's just not enough to make you truly happy."

"y/n, you're more than enough. you are the perfect gift."

y/n smiled and placed her lips on his. he was shocked at first and just as y/n was about to break the kiss, quinn pulled her closer and kissed her back. they stayed in that position for a few minutes before either one of them wanted to let go. when they separated, quinn rested his forehead against y/n's and smiled.

"if i had known that would be the outcome, i would've told you those words a long time ago." he smiled and held her face. "i've been wanting to say it for as long as i've known you but the timing was never right. you had steven and i had my own relationships. but i guess that's kind of a cowards excuse, huh?"

"nothing about you says 'coward', quinn." y/n smiled and closed her eyes. "you're the most kind, patient and sweetest man i've ever known in my life. these last 3 years of random relationships and hook-ups have all brought us to this exact moment. the moment where i can finally tell you that i've had the biggest crush on you for the past 3 years. i know it sounds insane but i like you a lot quinn. and maybe that's why your girlfriends were always jealous. they could probably tell how i felt and they didn't want me around to screw up their chances with you. that's why i had to keep a distance from you. i didn't want to have to make you choose between me and them because it would've been a losing battle for me."

"if that had ever happened, you would've won every single time. i never really cared about all those other girls. the only one that matters to me, is you. and i hope i conveyed that well enough in that kiss."

"seems pretty evident now." y/n smiled and finally opened her eyes. "guess that was kind of stupid of me, wasn't it?"

"not at all." quinn smiled. "like you said, the last 3 years of random relationships have brought us to this moment right here. the most perfect moment." he placed a kiss on her lips again but didn't give her enough time to reciprocate. "i love you, y/n. everything about you is so perfect and it's been driving me crazy for 3 years."

"i can't believe that the planes being grounded are the reason we're here together."

"me either. but i wouldn't change it for anything."

"i wouldn't either." y/n leaned up to kiss him again. "for the record, i love you too."