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gojoest · 1 year ago

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𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 — gojo satoru

MDNI, f! reader, she/her pronouns used, wc: 3.3k, flashback of how you met (1st part of the fic, past tense used, then we jump back to present, divider used to separate the two timelines. both take place on his birthday btw), suguru makes an appearance (as satoru’s wingman :3), established relationship (you’re married & have a daughter), reader wears a dress, first time face sitting + riding (oral, f! receiving), pet names (baby, my love), he cums in his pants, breeding implied at the end (sort of, to avoid spoilers)

a/n: happy birthday to my biggest mental illness ♡

side note: if the story of how you met sounds familiar to you, please note that it was from one of my talk posts from a while ago & i decided to make use of it : )

what gojo satoru wants — he always gets.

after all, it’s how he made you his as well.

“satoru, you’re staring way too hard at her”, suguru nudged him on the arm.

“think she noticed, too?”, satoru chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, ears turning slightly red from embarrassment, unsure if it was because he got caught or that it was too obvious he was checking you out.

“very likely. i mean, it’s hard not to notice an annoying pair of blue laser beams persistently invading your space”, suguru mocked. “are you going to talk to her?”

“yes”, satoru firmly replied, without peeling his eyes from you, “i’ll ask her out, i think”

“hey, hey. slow down there”

“nope”, satoru shrugged, almost like a stubborn child disobeying his parent, “i’ve made up my mind — i really want to make her mine”

it was a pure coincidence, or some might say fate, that you ended up in the same restaurant — he was there celebrating his birthday with a small circle of friends while you were present to honor your colleague that had just gotten a promotion at work.

satoru’s eyes relentlessly followed your every move, every gesture, from the moment you walked in and settled on the table next to his. it was rather unusual for him to be this interested in someone simply upon sight, in fact, even desiring to pursue something with someone so immediately. it was always the other way around — women would flock to him because of his looks and peculiar behavior, and of course — his money — but he would turn them down without batting an eye. love and seeking romance were never a priority for him, he did not have time nor any interest in them. but here he was, contradicting himself, being blatantly distracted by your presence while somehow trying to simulate an active conversation with his friends, more than frequently averting his gaze to look at you, his brain busy coming up with a plan to get your number by the end of the night.

it didn’t take him too long to finally make his move. he stood up from his chair and walked over to your table, stopping right behind your seat.

“excuse me”, he leaned in, placing one hand at the edge of the table and the other — at the back of your chair, “hello”, his face mere inches away from yours. taken aback by the way he, a complete stranger, had the guts to get this close to you, you turned to face him with a questioning look.

“i felt like i would regret it for the rest of my life if i didn’t come say hi to you”, he spoke.

truth be told, despite being astounded and a bit put off by his approach, you were slightly intrigued. he was handsome, pretty even — like that one oddly eye-catching cloud in a sky full of thousands that you notice as soon as you look up. the white henley shirt he was wearing made the blue in his eyes pop even more, the v-neck revealing a little bit of his well-crafted chest, just enough to leave you tiny bit wondering about the ridges of his abs beneath.

as much as the scenery up close made your cheeks feel hot, his boldness rubbed you up the wrong way, too much to let it just slide, and you snapped. “is that so? well, now that you’ve said your hi, you can go back to your table and live with no regrets for the rest of your life”, you rolled your eyes skeptically, pushing his hand off the table.

“oh, i am sorry”, he chuckled, brushing his hair back with a hand, “but there are three more things i need to do before leaving, i’m afraid”

you raised an eyebrow, questioning.

“first, let me introduce myself — i am gojo satoru, also known as the man to be your boyfriend, then your husband, and then the father of your children”, he smugly said. your eyes widening at the audacity of his declaration that left you at a loss for words. “second, i hope you don’t mind introducing yourself as well — as you are to be my girlfriend, then my wife, and then the mother of my children — it’s only natural that i know your name”, he continued, “and last but not least — i am not leaving until you give me your number so we can make this all work”

wow. this man was really fucked in the head, you were sure of it — who in the right mind would speak such nonsense to someone they just met? “you have to be joking, right?”, you laughed in genuine disbelief.

“no. i am dead serious”, he replied in a heartbeat.

“is this your move? you pull this on everyone you find remotely attractive?”, you narrowed your eyes.

“actually—”, suguru interrupted, placing a hand on satoru’s shoulder as he approached from behind, “no”, he spoke. “believe me when i tell you this — he’s never been this smooth in his entire life. i know he probably came off a bit creepy, considering the boldness of his actions — hell, even i am creeped out because it’s pretty unusual for him to act like this”, he laughed, glancing at satoru to let him know that he got his back on this. “but, what i’m trying to say is — my friend here seems to really like you as i’ve never seen him be so intense and interested in anyone before. he’s also a birthday boy today — so could you at least give him a chance before turning him down so quickly? you can come sit with us before you make up your mind on whether you want to give him your number or not?”

you thought for a second, weighing the options in your mind — he was pretty, although he annoyed you a little bit by being all bossy and arrogant as if you were compelled to belong to him just because he said so. but there was just something about him you couldn’t quite put your finger on that made you question yourself. were you actually drawn to him? you could say “no” and never hear from him again, occasionally pondering over the what-if’s and should-have’s from this night; or you could say “fuck it” and see where this strange encounter goes, and live your life without regrets — as he would say. there — he was already getting under your skin…

“well”, you sighed, “guess i’m down for that”

by the end of the night not only did you give him your number, but also a promise for a date the next day — the first of many to follow after.

“careful, you’ll wake her up”, you whisper, leaning against the doorframe of your 3-year old’s room and watching your husband place a soft peck on your daughter’s forehead.

“can’t help it”, he speaks quietly, “she looks like an angel”, before fixing the blankets around her, making sure she’s tucked in all cozily. “the nanny said she cried for papa while we were gone”, he puts a hand over his mouth to stop his lips from trembling, his eyes filled with nothing but love and tenderness, welling up and flowing from the corners.

“she’s such a daddy’s girl”, you sigh, a soft smile present on your face, “next year we can stay home and invite everyone else over — that way we won’t have to worry about missing her bedtime”.

“yea”, he hums, “let’s do that next year”, giving her one last kiss before turning off the night lamp and tiptoeing to you. “come on”, he puts a hand at the small of your back as you both walk out of the room.

“do you remember”, satoru speaks softly into your ear while walking behind you on your way to your shared bedroom, his front flat against your back, the hand at the small of it now circling around to rest over your navel, while the other — reaches for the handle of your bedroom door to push it open, “the night we first met on my birthday?”, he continues after carefully guiding you inside.

you stop in the middle of the room, his arms still wrapped around you from behind, your hands resting over his and playing with his knuckles.

“how can i not?” you chuckle, tilting your head back to let him rest his chin on your forehead, “that was one hell of a fortune telling you pulled on me back then”

“but i was right, no?”, he brushes his lips on your forehead before leaving a soft peck, “see — you’re all mine now, just like i said”, and then another, ”i made you my girlfriend first”, and another, “then i gave you my last name”, and a fourth one, “and then you gave me a beautiful daughter, made me a father”, before turning you around to face him.

“you partly owe it to suguru though — he eased me into the situation, unlike you”, you reply, humbling him like you always do. your head is nestled on his broad chest as one of his hands caress the back of it. still in his embrace, he slowly walks you towards the bed. sits at the edge of it and straddles you on his lap. his palms finding their way to the plush of your thighs draped over his, caressing them tenderly but needily as his fingertips press and then release against your flesh in quick repetitive motions.

“this is because i asked him to give me a hand in case you cut me off”, he admits, tilting his head to meet your lips, not to kiss but just to keep them brushing against each other as you speak. he loved doing this a lot.

“oh?”, you gasp into his mouth, pretending to be shocked to your core, “you wanted me so much that you of all people, the gojo satoru, had to ask someone else for help?”

“you have no idea. if that hadn’t worked, i would’ve fallen on my hands and knees and begged you to take me”, one of his hands reaching the side of your face, playing his fingers on the strands of your hair covering your cheek before tucking them behind your ear.

“hmm”, you doubt, “is that so?”, nuzzling your nose against his.

“mhmm”, he nods, “there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, i thought you knew that by now. it kind of hurts my feelings that you doubt me actually”, he acts offended, pursing his lips and turning his head to the side to face away from you.

“oh my, what have i done now”, you knit your brows and press your cheek against his, pretending to be very, very sorry about what you just said.

“you made the birthday boy sad”, he huffs a silly, somehow obviously forced, pout, “you’ve got to make it up to me somehow”

“i’d do anything to make the birthday boy smile again — just say the word”, you sweetly pamper, patting the top of his head.

“really?”

“really.”

“anything?”

“anything.”

“you promise not to go back on your word?”

“i promise.”

he pulls his cheek away from yours and looks you in the eyes, the blue in his shining with a darker shade of mischief now. and considering the smug smile on his face, you sigh — perhaps you just got yourself played, falling face down into his little trap.

“then”, he points at his own face, “sit on it”

to say you were surprised by his request would be a lie. he’s many times tried coaxing you into doing this in the past but somehow you managed to avoid it, part of you still shying away from it. it’s not like his tongue has never been inside you before. but riding it as if it were his cock seemed way more obscene in your head than anything you two have ever done previously — and you’ve done pretty much a lot.

“well”, you sigh in defeat, seems like the time has finally come, “today’s your lucky day”, you say as you get up from his lap and turn your back — a signal for him to unzip your dress — to which, of course, he immediately complies.

“as it should be”, his crafty fingers work the slider down, slowly peeling the dress off your body and letting it fall on the floor, followed by your lace thong and bra, “it’s my birthday after all”

“the way you always find a way to make things go your way gets on my nerves so much”, you turn around again and push him on the bed and slowly climb on top of him to straddle his chest.

“make a wish before you blow the candle”, you look down at him, your pussy close to his face, the scent of you tickling his nostrils, and he, instinctively almost, takes a deeper breath, rolling his eyes back and hissing with delight.

“freak”, you quickly look away, embarrassed, but he cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him again, “i want you to look at me as you ride my face”, his voice comes out breathy, “will you do that for the birthday boy?”

you nod into his palms, “you’re insufferable” — “suffocate me then”, he coos through a grin, grabbing your knees to pull you forward until you’re above his face.

“jerk”, you say, but softly, as you lower your cunt on his willing mouth, landing your softness on his face in slow motion, immediately earning a throaty groan from him that shudders through your pussy lips.

satoru breathes deeply in and out with your heat on his mouth, the scent of you hitting his lungs and even below, reaching all the way down to his groin to further nurture his cock already throbbing in his slacks. his hand reaching down to unbuckle them slightly, to give more space for his hard-on to grow freely.

“mowe”, he muffles incoherently into your pussy, grabbing a handful of your ass cheeks to push you against his face, tilting his head up and down, jutting his jaw up and out to meet you.

you whimper at the friction, your clit bumping and rubbing against his nose as his lips are kissing your folds, his tongue slowly poking at your entrance with the tip before darting in — twirling around your walls — and out.

“nghh…s-sa-t-to—”, you barely cry out his name, tugging at his hair, mercilessly pulling him into your heat. as much as you hated to admit it, you loved this position. your embarrassment long gone and forgotten, you ride his face in a haze, your pussy getting wetter against his mouth and your movements — faster and harder each moment.

“heawen on my fongwue”, he groans. if he could speak properly right now, he would probably make the nastiest, dirtiest remarks, shamelessly walk you through every single thing he was feeling as you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding on his face. he would probably say something about your boobs, too. how they looked so pretty jiggling ever so slightly from the movement. he can’t speak right now, yes, but he can still get his thoughts reach you through actions — his hands run along your belly, gripping your breasts from below, squeezing and squishing them inside of his palms.

you clutch his hands with yours, “i can’t hold this position for too long”, and force them down on your hips for support. you hear him say something through a loud groan but it’s barely recognizable — most likely just him cursing “fuck” and “baby” from pleasure under your pussy, but also from the ego boost you just gave him — that he can make you weak but at the same time desperate enough to want to continue — despite your hips giving up — not only with his cock but his mouth alone, too.

you let him take over as you chase your high, weighing on his face as his hands grip on your hips, dictating your every move, composing the tune of your hips. his tongue is no more sliding in and out as he makes you grind harder on his face — it stays in, continuously licking your sweet spot clean.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck…”, you curse loudly, reaching your hands to grab the head of the bed and hammer your pussy harder into his face, squeezing every last drop of strength left in your already cramping muscles until you cum, shuddering on his mouth.

“mfff”, he groans throatily into your hole, sucking and slurping your juices. his hips buck in the air, helplessly searching for friction to soothe his aching cock. his half-unbuckled pants are drenched with precum, leaking out from his tip through his boxers and out through the cloth of his pants, visibly staining them.

you can’t see but it’s easy to figure out from the way the bed bounces up and down as his ass meets the mattress after every time his hips fall down. “how cute”, you utter as you try to calm down your breathing, cunt still resting over his face.

his eyes are half closed, rolling back and hiding their blue away. all he needs is a little push, a little rub, you know it. you know it by the way his tongue has stopped moving inside you, by the way his hands have loosened the grip on your flesh, by the way his shortened moans have grown into one long and steady groan coming from the bottom of his throat — his entire brain solely focused on the muscles of his lower body that is searching, almost beggingly, for relief.

you lean your upper body back a little, just enough to make it easier to reach his shaft while still sitting on his face. “since you’re the birthday boy”, you drag your words out as you place your hand on his clothed cock, feeling the wetness that’s emerged from beneath against your palm, “i’ll give you a hand.”

his ass cheeks tense and squeeze as he presses his hips against your touch, ferociously rubbing his clothed cock on the flesh of your open palm. his groans get louder as he bucks his hips under your hand, pushing them up to meet your hand harder and faster each time — just the way he forces his cock into your tight cunt as he nears — until the last three thrusts that he always prolongs in order to properly and completely pump his seed out.

the inside of your hand feels hot against his clothed cock as he seeps himself out, the stickiness of his cum absorbing itself into the material of his pants and emerging through it to reach the skin of your palm.

you lift yourself up a little only to plop your body down next to his. his mouth, cheeks, chin, even his nose, are covered in his spit and your cum, all mixed in.

“shit, baby”, he laughs, breathing deeply in and out of his mouth, overwhelmed by the whole experience, “what the hell did you just do to me”

“do you really need me to verbalize what just happened”

“yes”

“no”, you slap his cheek with the back of your hand, softly, before rolling on your side to rest your head on the left side of his chest, kissing it tenderly. “happy birthday”

“it really is”, he whispers, tracing a heart shape over the skin of your exposed cheek with his fingertip, “with you, it always is”

“did your wish come true by any chance?”, you tilt your head to look at him.

“not yet. but i’ll work on it later tonight. for now, i’ll let you catch your breath”

“wait, wait.”, you raise a brow, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“my love”, he clears his throat, “do you remember how i said, when we first met, that you’d be the mother of my children?”

“yea? am i not?”

“children”, he stresses.

“oh.”, it finally hits you.

“one more to go”

#ઈઉ — ai writes #[ ♡ ] — satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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astrow1zar6 · 30 days ago

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Early Marriage Astro Obervations

Moon in the 7th house: these people tend to attract really harmonious relationships (is positively aspected). These individuals really value security in their relationships which is why they tend to develop very close knit long term partnerships. Because of their need for security and intimacy they tend to get married & start a family at a pretty young age. I also notice they can date someone who’s younger than them as well. They attract family oriented partners who have a very rich emotional life. Because of their emotionally intelligent natures they are able to be very supportive to their partners & they are able to commit a lot earlier than most.

Venus in Libra: these people attract spouses that ADORE THEM so easily! I am trying so jealous of how easy it is for these people to find good partners. Relationships are like breathing to these people & most tend to develop crushes earlier than most. Their partners are usually very attractive appearance wise & usually love the native dearly. These people love love and are always crushing on someone (they are usually crushing on you too wink wink) this causes them to be able to commit to serious relationships faster than most. In general these people are seen as wifey/hubby material to others. It’s hard for these natives to be single and usually jump from relationship to relationship. If negatively aspected however they can tend to stay in marriages/relationships longer than they should & can ignore red flags because they are in love so be careful that people don’t take advantage of your good heart. Because they can be very naive/ blinded by love and attraction easily. But regardless of negative or positive aspects they tend to attract long term relationships early (good or bad).

Venus in 7th house: these people have probably been planning their wedding since they were little kids. I’m not joking the people I met with this placement LOVE weddings & the idea of love so much. Since this position is in its home love tends to flow to them like water in a stream. Similar to Venus in libra, these people have a lot of suitors interested in them. They attract real charming well cultured/attractive partners who are usually pretty wealthy. They can be serial daters as well, they do not like the idea of being single even more than libra Venus’s imo. If they aren’t in a relationship they definitely have someone on the side or an ex they still mess with. They are very obsessed with romantic attention which is why so many people are into them. Since Venus is in its home in the 7th house early marriage usually occurs for these folks. They can however be a little too obsessed with the idea of love & can settle for people they aren’t truly in love with just to say they have someone. They can also get really jealous if they see their friends have a good partner & they’re single. It boosts their ego a lot to say they have a partner so make sure you aren’t in a relationship just to show off make sure it’s authentic!

Venus in cancer: the mothers of the zodiac. These people give off a very nurturing secure vibe which allows others to feel very safe with them. They know how to make others feel comfortable being themselves which is super attractive to the opposite (or the same) sex. Their genuine natures & their deep love for family are the reason they can get into early marriages. Their loyalty is never usually questioned because of how devoted they are when they find that special someone. The types to be housewives for sure. This placement gives like a Nara Smith vibe, they are usually AMAZING at cooking as well. They are also amazing parents & have amazing relationships with their children. Just such sweet souls, your devoted sweet nature however can attract partners that try to take advantage of you and take more than they give so watch out for those people yall are too good to be treated poorly. Probably one of the most loyal Venus placements imo.

Venus in the 1st/ Libra rising: kinda a no brainer but these people have very good luck in finding partners. They are usually super charming & FUNNY omg, people don’t give them credit for how good their humor is. They are just super easy to get along with in general which is why people flock to them ready to commit. They are normally super flirty & attractive when it comes to the opposite/same sex which can be seen as really attractive. They just ooze LOVE & others feel it so deeply which is why it’s easier for people to trust them. They tend to only have partners who are really attractive like I’m serious their partners usually look like they were sculpted by the gods (they are too as well). They attract partners who genuinely love them so deeply and will do anything for them which can create envy in others a lot because it’s just so easy for you. Make sure you don’t take advantage of your relationships/partners (cuz they tend to do that once the spark dies down).

Jupiter in 7th/house or Libra. Jupiter gives luck to the theme of whatever house/sign it’s in so in the 7th house/libra relationships & marriage are a big theme in your life & you are extremely lucky & blessed in those areas! They tend to attract well cultured partners who are usually super smart & good looking. They have a lot of luck finding partners when they travel as well or could have a partner of a different ethnicity/culture. Most of your personal & spiritual growth will come from the relationships you have during your life. Your spouse is usually very optimistic and can speak life into you during dark times. You can also gain more wealth once you are married. Just be careful with unrealistic expectations or excessive optimism about your relationships to avoid disappointment because you can be pretty impulsive when in love. Make sure you’re realistic about your relationships.

Taurus moon/taurus Venus: every Taurus moon/venus I’ve met in a relationship have usually been in them for yearsss. These people are super stable & tend to attract others who are also very stable & committed. Due to their emotional stable natures they can create very harmonious pleasant relationships early. These people KNOE their worth which is why they usually marry very high quality people. They are super realistic in matters of love not in a detached way but they for sure know what they want and what they are looking for. This deep insight is the reason they attract people that are really good for them. They can get out of toxic relationships a lot faster than most because of how high their self worth is. When other notice this quality they cannot help but busy their ass to be what they want because it’s super rare to find someone with such a high love for themselves. Once they love you they are giving you all their heart.. it’s usually not common for these people to open their hearts up to others which is why once they do just know they found the one. They give almost a kinda nanny vibe to them like you can tell just by looking at them they will be very good nurturing partners/parents. They tend to be more on the conventional side as well and enjoy things like housekeeping, cooking, sewing, decorating ect.. (for a woman however). Their natural feminine energy usually brings out the protection quality in men. Most people that date them feels like they found a hidden gem🥺 be careful however not to stay in relationships due to being comfortable. They have a tendency to stay in partnerships that are well overdue because of the familiarity they bring (Taurus is obsessed with stability & security so it’s harder for them to leave bad relationships once they are in them). But because of their high self worth they usually have the ability to dip if it gets too bad.

7th house stellium’s: also another no brainer. These people live & breathe love. These are the people that you’ve never seen single lol. Their whole mission in life is to learn thru love and relationships so it’s usually a big theme in their life’s. Unless Saturn or Uranus is involved they usually tend to marry very early and have very loving partners. They could’ve grew up in an environment where marriage was super big & could’ve been to a lot of weddings in their life. If Saturn or Uranus is involved it can indicate marrying a little later or to someone older than you. With Saturns influence it can still lead to a long term relationship but it can be more cold and distant than what the native would’ve preferred. Make sure you find love in yourself first before you commit so early to others. If these people don’t find self love first they can go from person to person trying to find that love which will end up draining you out fast. The more love you have for yourself the better your partners will treat you!

North node in the 7th house: similar to 7th house stellium natives, your whole life’s purpose is to find love! In a past life you could’ve been a big pioneer/individual and you learned to develop an authentic sense of self. You could’ve only focused on you before but now the universe is challenging you to change YOU to OTHER. You’re here to experience true love and find what they really means🥹 such a cute aspect imo. This gives good luck in finding partners. Make sure you don’t go back to selfish old habits when dating because you have a tendency to be very “me first”. In this lifetime you’re here to learn compromise. Your relationships are usually very karmic and you will learn yourself the deepest when involved with someone. This may be uncomfortable for you at first but it’s what your souls craves deep down inside. Since you know yourself so well (south node in 1st house) you will be able to speak life into your partners & allow them to be their authentic selves around you which creates such a loving space.

#astro observations #astrologist #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astroblr

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rockingbytheseaside · 6 months ago

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I love your art and headcannons! I was wondering if you can do a headcannon for the harbingers with reader helping them with their work. Like helping pantalone with papers in his office or dottore with experiments or just passing tools to him?

✦ You help them at work (or how they just want you to stay around)

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone

✧ You felt heartbroken whenever Pierro relentlessly toiled as the Fatui Director. Hours spent at the imposing meeting halls of the Zapolyarny Palace or engaging in arduous negotiations for the organization's cause could hardly be enjoyable. Thus, concerned for your beloved’s well-being, you resolved to take on a more proactive role and assist The Jester on his behalf.

“Today you will sit back and rest, Pierro. I will conduct your meetings… No buts or ifs.”

The Harbinger blinked at you in wonder. Not because he disapproved of your presence, but because he vowed to work for your safety and comfort. However, you remained unyielding. Standing defiantly, with your hands on your hips, you announced that his stubborn protectiveness of you won’t change your mind. And who is he to deny you anyway?

It seems you are the Fatui Director today.

In his office, you meticulously tended to every minute detail. Whether it's preparing his tea, reorganizing essential documents, or double-checking all the archives and schedules. Any attempts from Pierro to assist would be met with you scolding him. And although he obediently stood back, he couldn’t help but smile fondly at your endearing sternness. If you take the lead, he is your loyal servant. Besides, whenever you conduct business negotiations on his behalf, things would always go accordingly (just don’t mind Pierro looming behind you, his icy glare threatening anyone you are talking with into obedience.)

Once all was set and done, a sense of pride welled inside you, while Pierro mirrored your warm smile. You worked so hard to aid him… You just don’t have to know that he settled all difficult tasks in advance before you even entered his office. He was several steps ahead in everything, after all. Besides, he won’t argue when the result is him admiring your presence in his workplace. What truly matters now is the luxury of time to savor your love and hold you close without any worries about Fatui duties.

✧ When Il Capitano heard your suggestion to help, he felt worried. His work as a Captain required extreme physical exercise and was bodily taxing, regardless of the slower days when he overlooked the training of his specialized troops. Not only that but training under the strict regime of the 1st Fatui harbinger meant enduring a military-like attitude. And yet here you were, casually waving his worries off, promising to be an additional mentor training his soldiers.

“As long as you don’t wear yourself out, my loved one. It’s not just the fatigue and muscle soreness I worry about, but the attitude of my soldiers. They might not be as… lenient as you.”

You soothed his concern every time he caressed your shoulder with worry or checked in on you. He was so tender when he was worried, you had to firmly hold his helmeted face and tell him sternly that everything would be alright. And how can he be worried when you smiled so easily at him?

Thus, on the day of the soldiers’ training, Il Capitano introduced you as his equal and the additional instructor for today’s workout. You were such a stark contrast to the hard-faced troops who got used to battlefields and warfare. But you just stood there, waving casually… Perhaps you would fare well as the “forgiving substitute mentor”.

Alas, that was Capitano’s first mistake.

Not an hour in, the group of soldiers you overlooked returned with bruises and distressed faces. Their gazes looked as if they saw unfathomable horrors, clutching their newly formed pains within their joints; the once stoic Fatui soldiers now flinched like children. When the Harbinger arrived to inspect, it seemed his worries were misplaced. Instead of you he should’ve been concerned about, he was now witnessing his troop being subjugated to merciless yelling from you as if his men never knew how to hold a weapon.

That day, The Harbinger’s soldier begged him to never bring you as a substitute trainer again. At the very least, they never slacked off after that, in fear you might be brought back. Although secretly, The Harbinger could not deny his admiration. Who knew someone as cheerful and easygoing as his beloved would turn into a war machine when required? Your prowess never alluded him, but it definitely reminded him of your hidden allure to the smitten Captain.

“My moon and star, I am uncertain whether I can bring you back to my work once more. However, you must display your teaching methods in a spar for me in private, one-on-one.”

✧ It wasn't at your suggestion that you found yourself in Il Dottore's laboratory, nor did he seek your assistance directly. Instead, it was one of his subordinates who came knocking on your door, bowing low. You were well aware of your beloved's tendency to hyper-fixate on his scientific endeavors, not welcoming any outside help that might divert his attention from his work. Nevertheless, a scowl crossed your face as you observed the desperate plea of the Fatui worker, imploring your aid.

“Please, I know I have no right to ask for anything, but you must help. The Doctor snaps at anyone who even breathes the wrong way. One wrong move and a scalpel will come flying straight at them. There is no other way to persuade our Lord Harbinger!”

You hummed wistfully but nodded - “I mean… I can help. Just bear in mind, I am no lab assistant. My aid will be minimal, but if it’s for Dottore, then I see where the issue lies.”

Thus, you found yourself paying an unexpected visit to your sweet Doctor’s lab. Precisely at the moment when one of his fiery reprimands was being delivered, a series of loud crashes reverberated from the imposing lab gates. Dottore was in the midst of an enraged explanation to his subordinates on why the rare Phlogiston from Natlan must not be wasted in excess when experimenting, his hand crashing on the metallic counter loudly.

“And if I found that any of you fools mishandles the Phlogiston, you will-”

“Will what?” Your voice interrupted, the Fatui assistant saw you approach from behind the Harbinger with your hands clasped behind your back. “What will happen, you said?”

Dottore froze. At your familiar voice, he casually turned to check on you, as if your mere presence in his workplace was an anomaly. Whatever lab tool or flask he was gripping was carefully put in its place. “Nothing. Nothing will happen, dear.”

Hence, you chose to remain and offer assistance this time. Or rather, you quietly oversaw his laboratory work, providing minimal help without disrupting the actual scientific processes. You might argue that you hardly did anything that day, but the Fatui assistants? They were silently praying to the Tsaritsa’s merciful act of bringing a saint over here. Because the second your presence was known in this bleak, desensitized lab, Il Dottore’s attitude changed by a mile.

He no longer snapped, slammed his fist onto counters, or even spoke loudly to his underlings. He suddenly turned tame. If he commanded something, and you interfered with his words, he would obediently change his mind as if you were the indisputable superior here.

“This testing is insufficient. We must retry it and double down on the sample for quicker efficiency-”

“Well, no, it's already late and it will be better to revise this experiment tomorrow.” - you stated simply, to which Dottore parroted with no hesitation.

“You're right. It is late. The experiment will be revised tomorrow.”

It's safe to say, the Fatui subordinates were left gawking that day. The formerly harsh and impatient doctor had transformed into a compliant child, allowing himself to proceed at a leisurely pace and follow your lead. Moreover, a simple touch on his shoulder from you or a soft smile would swiftly dissipate all his tension whenever he felt agitated. Not to mention you coaxed him to finish shift earlier for everyone.

You should visit more frequently.

✧ Scaramouche hated having you help around in his work as a Lord Harbinger. Not because of your genuine consideration and effort, but because now he has to witness his foolish Fatui soldiers act all naive and joyous when you were around.

Amidst a bustling workday of handling documents, gathering information, and conducting training sessions, time flew by effortlessly whenever you took charge. And the rest of the Balladeer’s subordinates adored you. You were easier to talk to, provided clear guidance, and attentively addressed any concerns affecting the mission or the staff. This stood in stark contrast to the Balladeer's snarky commands and derisive demeanor.

Alas, this is not why Scaramouche was standing with crossed arms, clenching his fists. One of the Fatui skirmishers was getting too comfortable with you as commander. Worst of all, your graceful smile was bestowed upon them, not him when he literally stood behind you.

“Today's work has been completed.” - Lord Harbinger Scaramouche stated to his underlings. “You're dismissed. Now scram before I see any of your faces.”

As the day progressed, you barely had a second to sit down, before a pair of slim arms encircled your waist tightly. Perhaps too tightly. Scaramouche’s face hung low on the crook of your shoulder, while his body pressed to your back with a mumbled grumble. - “Hm? What is it, Scara? I thought you were satisfied with the work done early.”

"Don't waste your time helping the lazy fools. You’re supposed to stay with me a little while longer.”

✧ Upon offering your assistance in advance, Pantalone's joyful grin would expand tenfold, reminiscent of a schoolboy eagerly welcoming his crush into his home. He would excitedly pace around, discussing arrangements to ensure your comfort. He'll bring your favorite beverages, perhaps some snacks, cancel all meetings so you'll have his undivided attention…

“Pantalone, I said I will be there to help. Not go on a date.”

But his head is not listening. Because once the day arrives and you begin to stride around in his office, he would remain stationary. Watching you with an adoring smile, hands clasped together. Whatever paperwork he was supposed to analyze was forgotten, and suddenly the 9th of the Fatui Harbingers forgot his own signature when you're around.

“Pantalone, are you listening? I reorganized these financial reports. And don't forget to reread the clauses in these receipts too… Are you still with me?”

Yet all he could do was sit there and smile at how fondly you looked as a boss in his office. “...Yes dear.”

You sighed deeply, knowing well he wouldn't accomplish any work today. However, after some gentle persuasion and the passage of time, you miraculously managed to guide your beloved into a state of complete concentration on his work. He sat behind his desk, engrossed in paperwork and skimming over documents. Adjusting his silver glasses, he then beckoned to you.

“Sweetheart? Could you step over here for a moment? I need you to review the numbers on these financial reports before I approve them. And your attention to detail has always been exceptional.”

You casually obliged, stepping next to his mahogany desk to look over the figures in the paper. Leaning over, you began reading, but Pantalone had other ideas.

“Oh, this might be uncomfortable for you, dear. Come, sit here.”

Before you know it, you're pulled right over his armchair to plop comfortably onto his lap. And while you managed to determine that there was nothing faulty or inconsistent in the financial reports he is holding, you discerned his clever ploy - “Pantalone, these papers are already signed. There's nothing wrong with them.”

However your beloved only beamed in triumph, his hands putting down the papers and coming to secure your place in his lap.

“Oh, Is that so? Well, you’re already sitting here and it’s so comfortable. You can’t blame my longing for your continued presence, darling.”

I’m still alive, I swear! Just busy exploring Natlan. Hope I didn’t sway too far off from the main suggestion with this fanfic. Thank you for reading ❣

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hottiesforhockey · 2 months ago

Text

dicked down december ⎜q.hughes

🎄pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader 🎄genre: christmas special ⎜smut ⎜ established relationship⎜ 🎄warnings: dry humping ⎜ fingering ⎜ oral (f! and m! receiving) ⎜ thigh riding ⎜ hair pulling ⎜ doggy style ⎜ blindfold ⎜ shower sex ⎜vibrator use ⎜public sex ⎜ edging ⎜mentions of injury⎜ p in v ⎜ quinn is all about pleasing his girl ⎜pwp ⎜ unprotected sex ⎜ 🎄synopsis: after a rather anti climatic no nut november (on your part) - quinn wants to make it up to you with the twelve gifts of christmas. 🎄word count: 13.4k 🎄authors note: this is part 2 to no nut november and was highly requested! this took a lot longer then expected to write so I'm really sorry for the delay - i hope everyone enjoys and Merry Christmas!! also I will be posting a small graphic at the bottom of how I fit in the twelve gifts of christmas.

(heavily unedited)

1st of December

“Fuck, Quinn.” You curse, your back arching as his warm hands run up your spine. You let out a long whine as his fingers dig deeper.

“Baby, it’s just a massage calm down a little.” He chuckles, his knees planted on either side of your hips as his thumbs work on the knots in your back.

His voice is warm and teasing, but you can hear the smile in it, and it makes your heart thrum. You shift slightly beneath him, the ache in your back melting away as his thumbs continue their work.

“Does it feel that good, or are you just desperate?” Quinn murmurs, leaning down so close his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You huff, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in your stomach. “I didn’t agree with the whole no-touching thing, remember? That was your idea.”

He hums, his hands pausing for a moment before he leans back up, kneading the tight spot between your shoulders with more purpose. “I know, baby. And I also know you’re really bad at being patient.”

“Maybe because you keep doing stuff like this,” you shoot back, craning your neck to look at him. His grin is maddening, smug and knowing, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He looks way too good for your sanity right now.

“Well,” he starts, his tone casual, “I guess it’s a good thing we’re officially done with all that now.”

You blink, his words catching you off guard. “Wait—”

Quinn sits back on his heels, sliding his hands down to your waist before flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion. The shift knocks the breath out of your lungs, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes you.

“Gift one, baby,” he says, his voice lower now, tinged with something darker. His hands stay at your waist, his thumbs brushing against your bare skin. “The first of twelve. Think of it as an apology for making you wait so long.”

Your heart skips a beat, your body buzzing with anticipation as he leans down, his lips hovering just above yours. “Twelve gifts, huh?” you manage to say, your voice trembling just a little.

He grins, his lips finally brushing against yours in the faintest whisper of a kiss. “Twelve gifts to make it up to you—and then some.”

You barely have time to respond before his lips press firmly against yours, the kiss slow and deliberate, like he’s savouring every second. His hands trail up from your waist, skimming your sides until they settle just beneath your ribs. His thumbs stroke the sensitive skin there, sending shivers racing through you.

"Quinn," you breathe against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. He hums in response, deep and satisfied, as if hearing his name like that was exactly what he wanted.

The heat between you builds quickly, each touch, each kiss stoking the fire that had been simmering for far too long. He breaks away just enough to let his forehead rest against yours, his breath coming in soft pants that mirror your own.

“I’ve got big plans for you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but roughened with desire.

“Oh, yeah?” you reply, tilting your head to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “This your way of saying you’re gonna spend the next month making me regret not jumping you last month?”

“Every few days, like an advent calendar” He corrects, “Can’t have you quitting on me.” His laugh is low and warm, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat straight through you. “Baby, the only thing you’re gonna regret is not asking for thirteen.”

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, more insistent this time. His hands roam your body with purpose, his touch igniting every nerve. It’s not rushed, though. No, Quinn is taking his time, making sure every kiss, every brush of his fingers is deliberate, like he’s mapping every inch of you.

As his hands drift lower, his mouth leaves yours to trail kisses down your jaw, then to your neck, where he nips lightly at the sensitive skin just below your ear. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body arches into him.

“God, I missed this,” he whispers against your skin, his voice thick with need.

“Then stop teasing me,” you shoot back, your own voice breathy and uneven.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with mischief. “Oh, baby, we’re just getting started. Gift one, remember?”

The promise in his words sends a thrill through you, and as his lips find yours again, you realise you might not survive twelve days of this. But if this is how Quinn plans to make up for lost time, you’re more than willing to let him try.

3rd of December

“Quinn this really doesn’t seem appropriate.” You hiss, smacking at his hand riding higher up your thigh. You watch with a smile as Quinn’s parents flitter around you house, the two of them pointing out each of the small decorations around the room.

"Appropriate?" Quinn whispers, his voice low and teasing as his fingers continue their slow, deliberate ascent.

"Baby, you were the one who insisted on sitting next to me. What did you expect?" You glare at him, trying to keep your expression neutral as his parents continue their animated conversation across the room.

“I expected you to behave,” you mutter, swatting his hand again, though it doesn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. “I did not think public nudity was this high on your list.”

“Oh, we’re saving that for gift twelve.” He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I am behaving. You should be thanking me for my restraint right now.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, and you quickly glance toward his parents to ensure they haven’t noticed anything. His mom is holding up a snow globe, admiring it with a fond smile, while his dad adjusts one of the stockings hanging on the mantle. Blissfully unaware.

“Quinn,” you warn in a low voice, but it only makes his grin widen. The mischievous glint in his eye is unmistakable, and you know he’s enjoying this far too much.

“What? I’m just helping you get into the holiday spirit,” he replies innocently, though the way his fingers are now tracing slow circles on your thigh suggests otherwise. You reach under the table and grab his wrist, giving it a firm squeeze.

“If you don’t stop, your parents are going to see. Do you really want them to catch you acting like this?”

He chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair like he’s completely unbothered. “Relax, baby. They’re too busy with their little Christmas tour to notice anything.”

You narrow your eyes at him but don’t have a chance to respond before his mom’s voice cuts through the room.

“This place looks so festive!” she exclaims, turning toward you with a warm smile. “You two really went all out with the decorations.”

Quinn flashes her his most charming smile, his hand finally retreating from your thigh to rest on the table. “All her doing, Mum. She’s got a knack for this kind of thing.”

You shoot him a look, trying to mask your relief. “It was a joint effort,” you say modestly, though your tone is a little tighter than usual. “Quinn helped me pick out the tree.”

His dad nods approvingly. “Well, it looks great. Reminds me of our first Christmas together, doesn’t it, hon?” He glances at Quinn’s mom, who immediately launches into a story about their early days of marriage.

As they reminisce, you feel Quinn’s hand slide back onto your thigh under the table, and you barely manage to suppress a groan. He gives your leg a gentle squeeze, his expression perfectly innocent as he listens to his parents. His fingers just grazing the edge of your underwear.

“Quinn,” you whisper sharply, your tone laced with both exasperation and a hint of amusement.

He leans toward you again, his lips quirking up in a small, knowing smile. “Dad, didn’t you say you had that dinner with your old college friends to get to?” His dad perks up at the reminder, glancing to at his watch in surprise before looking over at his wife who nods in acknowledgement, collect her purse from the floor besides the table.

“The house is looking lovely, thank you for helping my Quinn get his stuff in order.” Ellen says softly as she pulls you in for a hug, her hand patting your head gently as she pulls away with a warm smile. You give her a soft nod and a quiet ‘it’s nothing, really.’ Before walking the parents to the door, bidding them a quick farewell as Quinn closes the door from besides you, his hand pushing the hair off the back of your neck as he leans forwards and presses a soft kiss to your neck.

“Do you actually have a list of what you’re doing?” You question as he loops his arms arounds your waist pulling you backwards towards the bedroom, his lips spreading into a smile against your skin.

“No.” He admits, a sigh of relief escaping you as he adds, “It’s an excel spreadsheet.”

You groan, half in exasperation, half in laughter, as Quinn tightens his hold around your waist, nudging you gently down the hall. His breath is warm against your neck, and the smug grin in his voice is unmistakable.

“An Excel spreadsheet, Quinn? Seriously?”

“What can I say? I like to stay organised.” His tone is casual, but the way his hands slide under the hem of your sweater is anything but. You swat at his wandering fingers again, though with far less conviction this time.

“Organised is colour-coding the Christmas bins, not...whatever this is.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, steering you into the bedroom, “this is next-level holiday cheer. You should appreciate my dedication.” You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“If I open that spreadsheet and see formulas, I’m leaving.”

“Too late now,” he teases, spinning you around and pressing you gently back onto the bed. “You’re already committed to the program.” Your retort dies on your lips as Quinn leans down, his hands bracketing your hips, his face inches from yours. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes has softened, replaced by something warmer, more intimate.

“Quinn,” you start, your voice quieter now, less teasing. “What are you up to?”

“Just making sure we keep the spirit of the season alive,” he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His lips ghost over yours, not quite kissing, just close enough to make your breath hitch. “ gift three should be a proper celebration, don’t you think?”

“Does it involve a pivot table?” you manage to ask, your voice shaky with barely contained laughter. He grins, his mouth finally claiming yours in a kiss that wipes away any further attempts at sarcasm. “No spreadsheets tonight,” he whispers against your lips. “Promise.”

You sigh dramatically as he pulls you closer, his weight warm and comforting. “I guess I can make an exception. But if I find a ‘Day 12’ PowerPoint presentation, we’re having a serious talk.”

Quinn chuckles, his laughter vibrating through your chest as he trails kisses along your jaw. “Noted. Now stop stalling. We’ve got a new holiday tradition to uphold.” Quinn’s lips catch yours again, his hands moving up to brace against either side of your head, his body slotting between your legs as he presses his hips to yours.

“You better make this worth my while.” You say quickly, his hips pushing against yours at an agonising pace, his lips making their way down your jaw till the find the pulse point on your neck, sucking harshly against the skin.

“It’ll be worth it.” He agrees, his hips speeding up their movements against yours, your skirt riding up to sit against your waist - the zipper of his jeans pressing deliciously against your clit as he thrusts, “But today is not that day.” He groans as he puts away, a soft wet patch on the front of his jeans, your legs falling open against the bed as you let out a long sigh.

“This fucking edging is going to kill me.” You hiss, watching as Quinn lets out a maniacal laugh.

“That’s wasn’t on the list.” He says quickly.

“Oh my god, you actually have a spreadsheet, don’t you?” You groan in disbelief.

“You don’t even know the extent I’ve gone to.” He says quickly, “We’ve barely even gotten started.”

6th of December

You’re elbow-deep in a mixing bowl, trying to salvage the dough that Quinn somehow managed to over-flour, when he appears behind you, his arms looping lazily around your waist.

“Smells good in here,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the curve of your neck. His voice is warm, and the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’m starting to get a trauma response every time you sneak up behind me.” You scold, throwing a playful glare over your shoulder. Quinn just smiles before asking, “What’re you making?”

“It’s cookies,” you reply, trying to sound unimpressed even as your pulse quickens. “Not exactly groundbreaking.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one making them,” he counters smoothly, his hands slipping beneath your apron to rest on your hips.

“Flattery will not save you,” you warn, squirming slightly as his fingers start to knead into your sides. “You’re still on dough-duty.”

“Hmm, dough-duty,” Quinn muses, his tone teasing as he presses himself a little closer, his body warm against yours. “Sounds like you’re just trying to keep me distracted.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your heart is pounding as you flick a bit of flour over your shoulder in his direction. “Distracted? You’re the one whos turning my kitchen into a war zone.”

Quinn laughs, dodging the flour with ease. “Okay, fair. But you’re not exactly playing fair either, baby. You know this apron does things to me.”

You glance down at the plain, slightly flour-dusted apron and raise an eyebrow. “It’s literally the least sexy thing I own.”

“Speak for yourself,” he replies, his hands sliding lower until they rest dangerously close to the curve of your backside. “I’m a simple man with simple tastes.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, trying to focus on rolling the dough out onto the counter. But the moment his lips press a soft kiss just behind your ear, your hands falter.

“Quinn, I swear—”

“Swear what?” he interrupts, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always makes your knees weak. “You gonna stop me?”

You inhale sharply, turning your head to glare at him. But the smug grin on his face only makes your resolve crumble. “Yes,” you say, though it comes out far less convincing than you’d hoped.

“Oh, yeah?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “You sure about that?”

Before you can respond, his hands slide up your sides, his fingers grazing just beneath the edge of your sweater. You let out a soft gasp, the rolling pin slipping from your fingers and clattering onto the counter.

“Quinn,” you hiss, your tone a mix of exasperation and barely contained laughter. “I’m trying to bake here.”

“And I’m trying to make sure you stay properly motivated,” he counters, his grin widening as his hands trail back down, this time tugging lightly at the hem of your apron.

Your retort dies on your lips as he spins you around, pinning you gently against the counter. His hands plant themselves on either side of you, effectively trapping you in place as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours.

“Five days in,” he murmurs, his voice low and dripping with mischief. “Think you can handle seven more of this?”

Your breath catches, the air between you crackling with tension. “I’m starting to think I won’t survive.”

Quinn’s grin turns wicked, his lips ghosting over yours in the faintest of kisses. “Good,” he whispers, his hands sliding to your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Because I’ve got plans for you, baby. Big ones.”

Your heart races as he tilts his head, his mouth finally claiming yours in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, leaving you breathless. Just as you’re about to lose yourself in the moment, he pulls back, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief.

“Now,” he says, stepping back and grabbing the rolling pin off the counter like he hadn’t just rendered you a breathless, flustered mess. “How about I actually help with these cookies?”

You gape at him, your body still buzzing from his touch as he starts flattening the dough with a look of pure innocence.

“You’re evil,” you mutter, crossing your arms as you try to collect yourself.

“And yet,” he says, flashing you a grin, “you keep letting me in the kitchen.” He continues to tease, spinning you back around to face the counter, his hand dipping into the waist band of your pyjama pants, his fingers toying with the trim of your underwear before dipping beneath those too.

“God, the surprising seems to be working.” He snorts, his fingers dipping between your folds, your knees almost buckling beneath you as his free hand splays against your stomach to hold your upright. “You’re soaking, baby.” You can hear the smile on his lips, his finger slipping up and down between your folds, the slick sound starting to feel the air.

“Quinn, I swear to god if you don’t let me finish, I will turn you into a cookie.” You hiss, your hands stopping their motions to brace against the counter, your head falling forwards as he dips a tentative finger inside of you.

“As long as you’re the one eating me up.” Quinn retorts, a second finger joining the first as he pumps in and out, your hands digging as far into the counter as they can, Quinn’s hand the only thing keeping you steady as his speeds up his movements, the wet sounds of his fingers filling the almost silent room.

“Fuck, Quinn.” You hiss, your lips digging into your bottom lip as you throw your head back — “I’m so fucking close.” You feel his fingers start to slow as you clench around him.

“You better keep fucking going.” You snarl, your hips thrusting forwards against his fingers, “I’m not kidding Quinn.” Quinn lets out another laugh before his fingers speed up again, your orgasm hitting you like a train after his last two attempts at teasing you.

“I fucking hate you so much sometimes.” You pant, as you leans against the counter, watching as Quinn pulls his fingers from your pants, dipping them into his mouth.

“Your cookie tastes great, baby.”

9thth of December

The living room glows with the soft twinkle of Christmas lights, their reflection dancing in the windows against the dark December evening. You and Quinn are cocooned on the couch, sharing a thick blanket. Empty mugs of hot chocolate sit abandoned on the coffee table, remnants of marshmallows clinging to the rims. On the TV, Elf is mid-chaos, Buddy the Elf wreaking sugary havoc in a department store.

Quinn shifts closer, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Why is it colder in here than outside?”

You shoot him a sidelong glance. “Because someone said turning on the heat ‘dulls the spirit of winter.’”

“I didn’t think I’d need a survival kit to get through it,” he mutters, his socked feet nudging against yours under the blanket.

“You’re the one who insists on authenticity,” you remind him, but you pull the blanket up higher, offering him a grudging sliver of extra warmth.

Quinn doesn’t stop there, though. His arm snakes around your shoulders, and before you can protest, he tugs you closer until your head rests against his chest.

“Really?” you ask, your voice dry as you tilt your head to look up at him.

“What? I’m freezing,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Besides, this is festive. Snuggling and all that.”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t pull away. “Convenient excuse.”

“Maybe,” he admits, his grin widening. His other hand sneaks beneath the blanket, resting casually on your thigh, the warmth of his palm sinking through your leggings. The movie continues, but you’re barely paying attention now. Quinn’s thumb brushes idly against your leg, a small, repetitive motion that’s impossible to ignore. You shift slightly, but it only makes his grip more deliberate.

“Comfortable?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Very,” he replies, his voice dropping into something softer, more suggestive. “Why? Aren’t you?” You can feel the tension in the air shift.

“Depends,” you say, keeping your tone neutral as you look back at the screen. “Are you planning to stay glued to my side all night?”

Quinn leans closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “Maybe. Is that a problem?” Your stomach twists, a mixture of annoyance and something harder to admit. You keep your eyes on the TV, but your body betrays you, leaning just slightly into his warmth.

“Only if you start stealing my share of the blanket,” you reply, injecting your voice with faux annoyance to mask the way your pulse has quickened.

Quinn chuckles softly, his lips grazing the edge of your temple in a way that feels far more deliberate than casual.

“Deal.”

For a moment, the only sound is Buddy the Elf shouting about Christmas spirit, but the tension between you lingers, humming beneath the surface.

When Quinn finally speaks, his tone is lighter, teasing, but the undercurrent is still there. “You know, I’d make a great elf. Probably even better than Buddy.”

You snort, grateful for the shift. “That’s bold. I’m not sure you’re up for the sugar diet.”

“I’d find a way to make it work,” he replies, his grin mischievous. “And I know I look good in tights.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “Delusional.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, his hand giving your thigh a playful squeeze before he withdraws it, much to your mixed relief and disappointment. “But you’d love it anyway.” Your laugh is softer now, the tension between the two of you growing as Quinn makes no moves to take anything further.

“Quinn, what’s on your spreadsheet for gift three?” You ask curiously as you watch Buddy the Elf and his brother in a snowball fight.

“Why?” Quinn questions back, a knowing smile growing on his face as he fingers continue their soft stroking against your legs, “You anticipating something?” You shoot him a quick glare before settling back against the couch your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Not anymore.” You mumble to yourself, Quinn raising his brow in surprise at your snark, smiling over at your one more time before he dips under the large blanket, sliding off the couch as to the floor in from of you. You shiver as Quinn’s breath ghosts over the damp patch on your panties, the contrast of his warm touch against the cool air setting your skin ablaze. The blanket overhead forms a cocoon, insulating the two of you from the rest of the world, but all you can focus on is the way his hands roam your thighs, spreading you open with a confidence that steals your breath.

“What are you doing?” you ask, though your voice comes out softer than intended, betraying the cocktail of anticipation and arousal coursing through you.

“Gift three,” Quinn replies, his voice muffled but laced with that familiar teasing edge. His fingers slide slowly up the curve of your legs, brushing over your hips as he pushes your nightgown higher, exposing more of your skin to his exploration. You try to maintain some semblance of composure, but the sensation of his touch is magnetic, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

When his fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, dragging them down inch by excruciating inch, you can’t stop the gasp that escapes you. The cool air hits your now-bared skin, a stark reminder of just how exposed you are. Quinn shifts, guiding your legs further apart as he kisses a slow path along the inside of your thigh, his lips soft and deliberate, each touch igniting sparks under your skin.

“Quinn,” you murmur, your voice a mix of exasperation and need. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t what?” he interrupts, his words brushing hot against your skin. “Show my girlfriend a little Christmas cheer?” There’s a hint of a smirk in his tone, but any retort you might have planned dies on your lips when his mouth finally meets you, his tongue making a slow, deliberate stroke that has your head tipping back against the couch.

Your fingers clutch at the blanket above him, seeking something to anchor you as he works. His tongue moves in practiced motions, alternating between firm, focused pressure and lighter, teasing flicks that leave you trembling. His hands remain on your thighs, holding you open with a firm yet gentle grip, grounding you as he explores every inch of you with a devotion that has your chest heaving.

“Oh my God,” you breathe, your hips lifting instinctively to meet his mouth. Quinn hums against you in response, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. He takes his time, savouring every reaction he pulls from you, his movements both methodical and maddeningly sensual.

“Gift three,” he murmurs between strokes, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin, “is definitely shaping up to be my favourite.

You can’t hold back the soft moan that slips free, your fingers diving under the blanket to thread into his hair, urging him closer. He responds with a chuckle, the sound low and confident, before redoubling his efforts. His tongue moves in perfect rhythm, circling and stroking in ways that leave you teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body strung tight. “Keep watching the movie, baby.” He coos.

Your breathing grows ragged as the tension in your core builds, your legs trembling against his shoulders. “Quinn,” you gasp, his name a plea as the pleasure becomes too much to bear. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even falter, his mouth working you through every moment until the world splinters apart. You cry out, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shuddering and breathless. Quinn stays with you, his hands stroking your thighs in a soothing rhythm as he presses a final, reverent kiss against your skin.

When he finally emerges from beneath the blanket, his hair is deliciously tousled, his lips glistening with evidence of his handiwork. That signature smirk is firmly in place as he climbs back onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his arms as if nothing unusual had happened.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, your voice soft and shaky as you bury your face against his chest, the warmth of his body grounding you.

“And yet,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you’re the one who puts up with me.” You huff out a breathless laugh, your cheeks still burning as the festive chaos of Elf continues to play in the background, the two of you breathing a little harder as you turn towards him.

“So is that it? You just eat me out and then we pretend like nothing happened?” You question, your brows furrowing as you lift your hand to swipe the moisture of your boyfriend’s mouth.

“Yep.” He just smiles, leaning forwards to take your wet fingers into his mouth, sucking them off with a pop before leaning forwards to press a kiss against your cheek. “Don’t worry too much, gift four is going to be for both of us.”

12th of December

The morning arrives with a soft dusting of snow blanketing the world outside, the frost glinting like powdered sugar on the windowpanes. Inside, the warmth of the living room is a stark contrast to the chill, the faint smell of pine from the Christmas tree mingling with the remnants of coffee and toasted bagels. Quinn stands at the kitchen counter, his hair still a little messy from sleep, as he fiddles with his phone.

"You’re on that thing again?" you tease from your spot on the couch, bundled up in an oversized sweater and fuzzy socks. "Plotting world domination or just reorganising your already over-planned spreadsheet?"

Quinn glances up, grinning that lopsided grin that always gets to you. "Neither. Just checking off ‘make girlfriend coffee’ from Day Nine’s list." He sets the phone down and gestures toward the steaming mug on the side table next to you. “I have to do some readjusting to make up for the road trips coming up.” He explains with a smile.

You roll your eyes, though your lips twitch upward. "Convenient. What's next? Snow angels in the yard?"

"Not quite," he says, crossing the room with a deliberate saunter that makes your heart stutter. “Gift four is a bit more… hands-on."

You arch a brow, setting your mug down as he stops in front of you, his grin widening. "Hands-on how?"

Quinn doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reaches out, his fingers threading through your hair in a way that feels casual yet charged with unspoken intent. He gives a gentle tug, tilting your face up toward his, and your breath catches.

"Something like this," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave as his thumb brushes against your jawline.

Your pulse quickens as the air between you grows thick with tension. "You’ve been watching too many rom-coms," you quip, though your voice wavers slightly.

"Maybe," he admits, his grin softening but his hold on your hair remaining firm. "But I don’t think Hugh Grant ever did this."

Before you can retort, Quinn leans down, his lips hovering just above yours. The moment stretches, electric and teasing, until he finally closes the distance. His kiss is slow but insistent, the kind that leaves you breathless and clutching at his shirt to stay anchored.

When he pulls back, he tugs on your hair just enough to make your head tilt back further, exposing the curve of your neck. “Gift four,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your skin, "is going to be hard and fast.”

Your laugh is shaky, a mix of nervousness and anticipation. "Is that your way of saying I should be worried?"

Quinn chuckles, his breath warm against your collarbone. "Not worried. Excited."

Quinn’s lips curl into a teasing smile as he pulls back, his fingers still gently wrapped around a strand of your hair. You feel a spark of both irritation and excitement at the way he’s controlling the moment, making it feel like time is stretching just for the two of you. His grin never falters as he studies your face, waiting for your reaction.

"Excited, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I guess you’ll find out soon enough."

You swallow, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. There's something about the way he's looking at you—like he's already imagining every moment ahead.

"You’re insufferable," you retort, trying to sound more confident than you feel. "You can’t just drag me into this with vague promises."

Quinn chuckles softly, but there’s an edge to it. He’s enjoying the control, the way you’re practically trembling under his gaze.

"Oh, I think I can," he replies smoothly. "Because when it’s number four, the rules are a little different." He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he stands up, extending a hand toward you with a look that is half challenge, half invitation.

"Come on," he says, his voice dropping just a little. "Let’s take this somewhere a little more... private." Your heart skips a beat, the mix of nerves and curiosity making your pulse race. You hesitate for a moment, but then the sight of his unrelenting grin has you pushing off the couch, your hand slipping into his. He leads you through the kitchen, his fingers intertwined with yours, the tension palpable with each step. The rest of the world seems to fade, leaving only the soft sounds of your breathing and the weight of Quinn’s touch. As you reach the bedroom door, he pauses. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, sending a shiver up your spine. He looks at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment, as if checking that you’re ready.

"Are you sure you want to keep going?" he asks softly, but there’s no mistaking the way his words hold an edge of amusement.mYou swallow, fighting the urge to back down. There’s something magnetic about him right now, something about the way he’s drawing you in with such ease, making you feel like you’re walking toward something inevitable.

"Just get in here already," you snap, the teasing now on your lips. Quinn’s smile deepens, and with one smooth motion, he pulls the door open, guiding you inside. The quiet of the room feels charged, as though the moment itself is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room. You turn, but before you can say anything else, Quinn is right there—close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hands find your waist, pulling you toward him with a force that makes your breath catch.

You look up at him, your heart pounding as you meet his eyes—dark and intent, full of a desire that makes the air between you feel thick and heavy.

“You wanted to know what your gift is all about,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. Before you can respond, he’s kissing you, his lips crashing against yours with a desperate hunger that takes you completely by surprise. There’s no teasing this time, no games. Just the raw, urgent need that’s been simmering between you both.

His hands roam, one settling at the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulls you even closer. You feel the firm press of his body against yours, the solid warmth of him that makes it impossible to think straight. Your back meets the wall with a soft thud, but Quinn doesn’t stop—his lips moving over yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless, your hands instinctively gripping at his shirt.

You tilt your head back, gasping for air as his mouth moves down to your neck, his kisses hot and urgent, like he can’t get enough. His free hand traces the curve of your body, his touch leaving trails of fire wherever it lands. It’s almost too much, but you don’t want it to stop.

“Quinn...” you breathe, the name slipping from your lips in a mix of desire and need. He groans softly at the sound of your voice, his teeth grazing your skin as he leaves another trail of kisses along your collarbone. His hand moves lower, finding the hem of your sweater, pushing it up slowly, deliberately, as if giving you time to pull away, but you don’t. You stay frozen, your heart racing as the tension between you grows thicker.

His lips find yours again in a desperate, needy kiss, as if he’s finally giving in to something he’s been holding back. There’s no softness now—only the heat of the moment, the weight of everything you’ve both been holding back crashing into the space between you. His body presses you harder into the wall, the raw intensity of the kiss leaving you breathless and craving more.

“You’re so damn distracting,” Quinn murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with barely restrained hunger.

“You started it,” you manage, a teasing note in your voice despite the pounding of your heart. He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you, before his lips find yours again, hungry and fierce. There’s no space between you now, no thoughts beyond the electric pull between you.

“I need you as wet as possible.” Quinn murmurs against your, his hips pressing against yours as you try to grind against him wanting any relief you can find. “I want to be able to slip in easily.” His words are hot against your skin as he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a soft strip of black fabric.

“I was going to save this for gift five but I think we can push it forwards a little.” Quinn says quietly as he steps away from you, your throat bobbing at the sight of the blindfold “Do you want it?” He asks an eyebrow raised as he watches you glance between him and the blindfold, you nod slowly Quinn breaking out in a broad smile. “Get on the bed then.” He says quickly, your oversized shirt swaying against your thighs as you shuffle over to the bed, perching on the edge.

“Hands and knees, baby.” He corrects, your head just nodding as you climb further onto the bed, settling into the position. Quinn slips behind you, reaching over to pull the blindfold across your eyes. You let out a stuttered breath as your eyesight is taken from you, your fingers gripping the bedsheet beneath you.

“Do you think you’re wet for me?” He asks softly, your head nodding as your words escape you. “How wet?” He questions.

“Dripping.” You respond, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as you feel Quinn hands slide up your sides, dragging your t-shirt up and over your ass, exposing your definitely damp underwear to him, your back arching slightly as his warm palms dig into your sides.

“I think you’re ready.” He agrees, his hands smoothing back over your ass before roughly ripping your underwear, ripping them down your legs till they sit at your knees, your bare ass and pussy exposed to him. “Perfect.” You hear him mumble as you hear further ruffling of fabric, and the sound of plastic being ripped open. “Tell me if you’re getting overwhelmed.” He whispers, one hand rubbing up and down your spine as you feel his cock poke against your entrance, sliding through your wetness a few times, a soft groan leaving you as he slides inside.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groans, both of his hands digging into your hips as he pulls out and pumps back in, his movements slow and precise. “I’ve missed being inside of you.” He adds, your body shivering as his speed increases slightly.

“Me too.” You hum, your teeth gritting as you feel one of Quinns hands leave you hips, the fingers just barely grazing up your back before the fiddle with the ends of your hair.

“Am I not pleasing you enough, princess?” Quinn asks, his hand grabbing a chunk of your hair, wrenching your head back, as he leans over your body, his hips pausing in the movements, bottomed out inside of you. “Say it again.” He grumbles, littering soft kisses against your neck as he waits.

Dominant Quinn was never something you were used to. Your boyfriend usually preferring to keep your intimate moments soft and gentle - apart from the occasional angry fuck. “I said I miss you being inside of me.” You repeat with a little more conviction, “It feels so good.” You add quickly, seeming to please Quinn as he pulls himself back into a standing position his hips slamming into you at a furious pace as he wraps your hair around his hand, keeping a tight hold as your arms collapse out from under you, soft whimpers leaving you as his free hand wraps around gently rubbing against your clit, your pussy clenching around him desperately as you ride out your high.

Quinn comes soon after, his body falling on top of yours as he whispers soft praise in you ear, pressing kisses against your hair before pulling out and discarding the condom. “I’ll only be gone for a few days and then the twelves days of christmas will be back.” Quinn jokes, pulling your shirt back down over your hips as you roll to face him, a light smile on your face.

“That’s not what I’m going to miss.” You coo, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before sliding off the mattress, retrieving your underwear from the floor, “But maybe one more round before you have to go?” You tease, Quinn wasting no time in leaping off the mattress.

17th of December

“Yeah I’m on the way to the arena now to pick you up.” You say into your speaker - the phone currently connected to your car’s bluetooth - Quinn’s voice carrying through.

“Okay they said the bus should be there in about thirty minutes.” Quinn says with a long sigh - the Canucks had lost their game earlier today and to say Quinn was disappointed was an understatement. “So, mr spreadsheet do we have anything on our agenda for tonight?” You say quickly, trying to switch the attention to something other then the loss they had earlier in the night. You clock said it was around 2am in the morning as tired as you were you knew Quinn would be ten times more exhausted.

“I did have plans but the high stick might change somethings.” Quinn huffs, his words mumbled more than usual.

“Quinn we don’t need your mouth to have fun.” You coo, as you can almost see the smile spreading across his face as he lets out a soft chuckle followed by a sharp hiss. “How bad is it?” You ask next, you had watched the game and has seen the blood splattering on the ice after Quinn’s high stick to the face - he had been messaging you from the locker room while they stitched him up, telling you not to worry but the furious expression on his face when he returned to the game was enough to tell you that it hurt.

“I have to go, coach is about to give us a speech.” Quinn chuckles lowly into the phone, and you promise you’ll be waiting once the bus arrives at the arena. The two of you hang up, your car beginning to play your music again as you make the short drive to the arena, parking in the underground lot where the bus usually dropped them off after a road trip - scrolling through your phone as you wait for your boyfriends arrival.

It wasn’t long before the bus pulled into the lot, its tires hissing against the pavement. You glanced up from your phone just as the doors opened and the team began filing out. A few players waved at you as they passed, murmuring tired goodnights. Then, finally, you spotted Quinn.

He moved slower than usual, his bag slung over one shoulder, his other hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket. His head was down, the brim of his hat shadowing his face. As he approached the car, you got out to meet him, your heart squeezing when you caught a glimpse of his swollen, stitched-up lip.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone light. “How’s my favourite spreadsheet nerd?” Quinn’s gaze flicked up to meet yours briefly before darting away.

“Still in one piece,” he muttered, his voice quiet and a little raspy. You reached out to take his bag, and he hesitated before letting you, his fingers brushing yours for a moment. He stood there awkwardly, his shoulders hunched slightly, as though he were trying to make himself smaller.

“Quinn,” you said gently, stepping closer. He looked up at you fully then, and the vulnerability in his expression nearly broke you. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, tugging his hat lower.

“Quinn,” you repeated, a little firmer this time. You raised a hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. He stiffened at first but didn’t pull away. “Please?” He sighed, a quiet, resigned sound, and let you tilt his face toward the faint glow of the overhead lights. Your heart clenched at the sight of the angry red stitches running along his top lip.

“Oh, babe,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of concern. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s not that bad,” he said, but the way his eyes shifted told you otherwise.

“You don’t have to play tough with me,” you said, your thumb now tracing the line of his jaw. “You’re allowed to say it hurts.”

Quinn’s ears turned a little pink, and he ducked his head, clearly embarrassed. “It’s just...ugly,” he muttered. “You don’t need to look at it.”

Your heart melted at his words. “Quinn Hughes,” you said, stepping even closer, “you could be missing a tooth and have a black eye, and you’d still be the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen.”

A small, reluctant smile tugged at his good side of his mouth. “You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it,” you insisted, your hand moving to his hair, your fingers brushing softly through the strands. “But we can clean you up when we get home. Deal?” Quinn finally met your eyes again, and though he still looked a little self-conscious, there was a warmth there that made your chest feel light. “Deal,” he said quietly.

You smiled, leaning up to press a feather-light kiss to his temple, careful not to jostle him. “Come on, let’s get you home.” The drive home is almost silent, Quinn sitting in the passenger seat, his head pressed against the cool window, his hand gripping yours as the radio sings soft christmas carols, the snow falling outside the car.

“So what was going to be your plan for gift eight?” You ask, your fingers squeezing against Quinns as you pull the car into your parking spot - the two of you releasing each other to slide out of the car and make your way to the elevator.

“Nothing I could partake in tonight anyway.” Quinn sulks, his hand finding yours again.

“You’re right, maybe you’re better off not participating in anything at the moment.” You laugh and Quinn huffs a quiet laugh, the sound a little muffled by his injury. “You’re right. Probably not my smartest move.”

The elevator dings, and you both step out, heading toward your apartment door. Once inside, the warmth of the space envelops you, chasing away the lingering chill from outside. Quinn sets his bag down by the door, his movements slow and deliberate, and you can see the exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket.

“Go have a shower, I’ll pack up your stuff.” You say quietly, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek before pushing him towards the bathroom. “I’ve got it.” You reassure him.

Quinn hesitated for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at you as he made his way toward the bathroom. "You sure you don’t mind?"

"Of course not," you replied with a soft smile. "Go on, I’ll be right here when you’re done."

As the sound of water began echoing through the apartment, you busied yourself tidying up the small messes Quinn had left in his usual spots—his sneakers haphazardly kicked off near the door, his coat draped over the back of the couch. You stacked his belongings neatly and set out a fresh pair of sweats and one of his soft hoodies on the bed. But as you finished, the quiet worry bubbling in your chest drew you toward the bathroom.

The steam wafting out from under the door carried the faint scent of Quinn’s body wash, and you knocked softly.

“Baby?”

"Yeah?" His voice was a little clearer now, though still tired.

"You doing okay in there?"

There was a pause before he answered. "Yeah, I’m good." But you knew him better than that.

Without waiting for an invitation, you pushed the door open a crack. The warmth of the bathroom enveloped you, the mirror fogged, and the sound of water pattering against the tile filled the air. Through the frosted glass, you could make out Quinn’s silhouette, his shoulders hunched as he stood under the spray.

"You sure?It’s been like half an hour?” you asked, stepping inside and closing the door softly behind you. The faint click of the latch drew his attention, and he turned his head slightly, just enough to see you through the glass.

"You don’t have to—"

"I want to," you interrupted gently, already peeling off your sweater and jeans. He watched you for a moment longer before nodding and turning back to the water. When you slid open the door to step in, the warm water hit your skin, making you shiver slightly before you adjusted. Quinn glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes soft but tired. You reached out to brush a hand lightly over his back, feeling the tension there.

"Hey," you said softly, your voice barely audible over the water. “Give me the loofa.” He didn’t protest as you grabbed the bottle of body wash and worked it into a lather, your hands gentle as they moved over his shoulders and down his back. He let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, the tightness in his posture easing under your touch.

Quinn lets out a soft sigh as he leans his head forwards against the wall, letting you works the suds over his body, your fingers replacing the loofa on occasion to push against the tight muscles, blossoming bruises in random spots on his soft skin. “I know something that might make you feel better.” You coo, stepping back as Quinn turns around a frown on his face, the warm water running down his chest.

“What do you mea— oh, oh.” Quinn stutters as you drop to your knees. Quinns eyes are wide as he watches you reach upwards, your hand slowly grazing over his semi hard cock as you wrap your hand around it, pumping it slowly as it hardens fully. You glance up at him as you take him into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks until you feel him touch the back of your throat, his hand bracing on either side of the shower as he lets out a string of curses.

“Fuck.” He curses as you bob your head on his dick, your mouth coming off with a pop as you glide your tongue up the underside, Quinn thighs trembling slightly as you take him back in your mouth. You hand brace on his thighs as you take as much of him as you can fit into your mouth before pulling back and repeating the process. “Your mouth feels so good.” He groans, his green eyes flashing as he watches your hand wrap around his cock, pumping in the same way your hand was, the shower still running over his back as you glance up at him.

“Come in my mouth, Quinn.” You whisper, letting your mouth fall open, as you pump him faster, his hips stuttering forwards as the precum begins to leak from his tip, your thumb collecting it as using it as lubricant as your squeeze the base of his dick, Quinn letting out a low groan as his hips jerk one more time, his cum landing on your tongue as you leans forwards to clean him up.

“You know Santa is watching as I think that would put you on the naughty list.” Quinn jokes with a tired smile, wincing once again as it pulls on his stitches. You smile back, pushing yourself up from the floor, Quinn’s hands reaching out to steady you.

“Well I guess you’re going to have to write him a letter about how super duper nice I’ve been this year.” You tease back, stealing the still soapy loofa from besides him to wash of any remnants of your showering activities. “Feeling any better?” You ask, with a quirk of your eyebrow, Quinn’s head nodding quickly.

“So much better.”

20th of December

“We just need one more thing for your brothers and then we’re done.” You say quickly, glancing down at the shopping list you were holding. “Luke still requested the apple headphones.” You stifle a laugh as Quinn lets out a long groan, his hands tightly knotted in the back of your sweater as you make your way to the Apple Store.

“I don’t understand why he wants them for christmas, he makes enough money to buy them himself.” Quinn complains, and you nod in agreement but find Lukes innocence around christmas refreshing compared to the rest of the families requests.

“Yeah but we know how Luke is with money, he prefers to pretend it doesn’t exist because it just makes him nervous.” You explain, nodding a quick hello to the worker at the entrance as you drag your boyfriend over to the display of headphones. “He said he wanted the blue?” You say, reaching towards the metallic coloured headphone looking over them before comparing them to the photo the youngest Hughes has sent.

Quinns hand tugs on the back of your sweater as the shop worker approaches, his free hand making quick work of pulling his hood up and over his head, pulling the cap he was wearing further down to hide his face better.

“Hello, is there anything I can help you with today?” The worker asks quickly, his gaze shooting between you and your now criminal looking boyfriend.

“Uh, we were hoping to get a pair of these sky blue AirPod max, it’s for my brother-in-law.” You explain quickly the workers eyes lighting up as he nods quickly, moving to punch some buttons in the tablet in his hand.

“I’ll make sure we have one out the back for you.” He says quickly, hovering silently as he waits for the response on his iPad. “You know your boyfriend seems really familiar.”

You freeze for a moment, Quinn’s hand tightening on the back of your sweater, pulling you slightly closer to him as if that could make him blend into the surroundings. His posture straightens, and he ducks his head a little more, eyes narrowing at the worker.

“Oh, uh, yeah. He’s a—” You start, but Quinn’s quiet voice cuts you off.

“Can we just get the headphones?” His tone is polite but curt, and it’s obvious he’s trying to avoid attention. The worker, however, seems not to pick up on Quinn’s discomfort, his eyes still flicking back and forth between the two of you.

“Sorry,” the worker continues, his voice a little too loud now, “it’s just, you really look like Quinn Hughes. The hockey player, right?” Quinn’s face tightens slightly. He doesn’t say anything at first, his eyes flicking to you quickly for a silent moment, before turning back to the worker with a small, forced smile. You can see him trying to mask the irritation behind his eyes, but it’s clear he’s not in the mood for attention today.

“Yeah,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over the cut on his lip absentmindedly. The large, red gash across his upper lip is still healing, and it’s clear he’s not thrilled with the idea of having it photographed or discussed.

“Oh wow, that’s so cool! Can I get a picture with you? My girlfriend’s gonna freak out when I show her!” The worker says excitedly, completely missing the discomfort radiating off Quinn. You feel Quinn stiffen beside you. He shifts his weight uneasily, glancing briefly at the worker before looking back at you. He’s clearly trying to avoid drawing any more attention to himself. The large cut on his lip is still fresh, and the last thing he wants right now is to have a picture taken that could end up all over social media.

“Umm. now is not really a good time.” You say quickly, “with the high stick and everything he’s a little shy.” You whisper as you lean towards the worker, the worker nods quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket sending Quinn an apologetic smile.

“My bad, your headphones should be up at the counter when you’re ready.” The worker says quickly rushing away as you turn to Quinn, who’s pouting as he had been all day.

“Suck it up princess, we’re almost done.” You say, dragging him towards the counter, the man saying nothing but passing you his credit card as the cashier rings up the present. Quinn doesn’t say anything as you finish paying for the headphones, but his posture stays tense, his lips still curled into a faint scowl. The cashier hands you the bag with the carefully wrapped headphones inside, and you shoot Quinn a sympathetic look.

“Almost there, I swear,” you mutter, gently tugging on his sleeve as you make your way toward the exit.

Quinn grumbles in response, but it’s softer this time, and his hand loosens from the back of your sweater. He looks over at you, his brow furrowing just a little. “Why do we even bother with these shopping trips? You know I hate them.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Because it’s Christmas, and you're stuck with me. Besides, it’s part of the whole thing—giving, shopping, the stress, the fake smiles.” You nudge him playfully. “And you do love getting gifts for people, deep down.” Quinn hums in thought, but doesn’t argue as you both make your way toward the next shop on your list. His hand slips into yours, his earlier discomfort forgotten as you settle into the rhythm of your shared Christmas errands. The next store is a local record shop, which Quinn had insisted you add to your list despite the fact it was not part of the original plan. As you enter, the familiar smell of vinyl and incense hits you, and Quinn’s eyes light up, his earlier frustration momentarily forgotten.

“There we go,” he mutters to himself, as if the entire world had righted itself with the simple presence of music. You roll your eyes with a smile, watching as he gravitates toward the “New Releases” section with that spark of genuine interest that only comes with a record store visit.

“Just one album, right?” You call after him, hands on your hips. He turns, offering you a small, sheepish grin. “Maybe two,” he says innocently, but you know him well enough to understand it’ll be more like five by the time he’s done browsing. After a few minutes, you find yourself scanning the racks with him, picking up random albums you know you won’t buy but enjoying the process all the same. You finally pull out a few albums that you think Luke might appreciate and hand them to Quinn, who takes them without question, his brows knitting together as he examines each one carefully.

“This one’s good, right?” You ask, holding up a record by one of Jack’s favourite bands. He shrugs noncommittally, though his smile grows a little.

“Could be worse,” he replies dryly, before he adds, “Jack’s not hard to buy for. He’ll love it.”

You beam. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“I guess,” Quinn murmurs, slipping the vinyls into a bag and leading the way to the counter. By the time you’re both done, it’s dark outside, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the snow that’s started to fall more heavily. You loop your arm through his as you step out into the cold, making your way toward the car.

“So,” you start, glancing at him with a mischievous smile, “now that we’ve officially survived the shopping trip, I’ve got one more question.”

Quinn’s eyes flick to you, narrowing slightly. “What’s that?”

You glance at the bag of headphones in your hand, then back at him. “What are you getting me for Christmas?” Quinn shrugs his shoulders, as you both slide into the car, doing up your seatbelts before Quinn pulls out of your parking spot.

“Why? My gifts so far haven’t been good enough?” Quinn questions teasingly, “I might have one you can open a few days early?” He suggests, your face lighting up in excitement, Quinn had learnt early on in your relationship to prepare a gift for you to open early to help you get through the Christmas Day without snooping. Last year he had let you open a box set of the book series you had been talking about for weeks - it kept you occupied all the way to christmas.

“Oh, is it something fun?” You ask.

“You could say that.” He agrees, quickly adding, “Its small and pink and goes buzz.” He lets out a soft chuckle at his own inside joke your head spinning with ideas until it hits you.

“Quintin Jerome Hughes, did you get me a vibrator for christmas?” Quinn lets out a startled laugh, nearly swerving the car as he tries to compose himself. His eyes flicker to you, wide with a mix of amusement and embarrassment.

“What? No, I—” He cuts himself off, glancing back at the road, and you can practically hear his thoughts racing. “I didn’t get you that... but maybe I did get you something that could buzz, if you know what I mean.” You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress your smirk. You know that tone. The mischievous, half-embarrassed one that only shows up when Quinn's being playfully coy.

“Quinn Hughes, did you really just say that?” You lean forward, eyes narrowing in teasing disbelief. “Are you telling me that the early Christmas gift you’ve been hinting at is… a vibrator?” Quinn’s cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and he makes a hasty glance at the rearview mirror, then back at the road.

“I—uh—I mean, I didn’t say it was that, but you’re not exactly wrong.” You burst into laughter, head thrown back as you catch a glimpse of his sheepish smile. He’s trying, and failing, to act casual. The tension in his shoulders tells you all you need to know—he’s definitely embarrassed, but he’s also clearly enjoying the effect his little tease is having on you.

“Quinn, I swear.” You laugh, nudging his shoulder playfully with yours. “I never would’ve guessed. I thought you were going to be all romantic and give me something sentimental—like, a photo album or something sweet. But no, you’re giving me a buzz-worthy surprise.”

“Hey, I am being romantic,” Quinn grumbles, though you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice. “It’s just… well, it’s a practical gift. You’ll see. You will appreciate it, trust me.”

“Uh-huh.” You can’t help but giggle, the idea of Quinn Hughes—this big, tough hockey player—giving you a vibrator as a Christmas present making the entire situation even more entertaining. Quinn shoots you a quick glance, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

The rest of the drive is filled with light-hearted teasing and jokes, both of you trying to stay serious but failing miserably in the face of the absurdity of it all. Finally, Quinn pulls into your apartment building’s parking lot, his hands still gripping the wheel.

“Alright,” Quinn says, glancing over at you. “Before you get too excited, I need you to promise me something.”

“What’s that?” you ask, your curiosity piqued, your mind already racing with the possibilities.

“No spoiling it, okay?” He lets out a nervous chuckle. “I want you to really open it without expecting anything else. Just... let it be a surprise.” You smile sweetly, though your mind is already a whirlwind of teasing ideas.

“Fine. I promise. But you know, I am really curious now. It’s hard to wait when you’ve already dropped that kind of hint.”

Quinn’s posture relaxes slightly, though you can tell he’s still not entirely sure if you’re going to let him get away with it. You both exit the car and walk toward the door, the tension between you playful, electric. Once inside, Quinn quickly heads to the kitchen, pulling out a small gift bag from behind his back. The pink tissue paper peeking out from the top is unmistakable. He hands it over with a careful smile.

“Okay, go ahead,” he says, his voice a little quieter now, like he’s finally letting go of the buildup. “Merry early Christmas.”

You take the bag, a mix of amusement and anticipation buzzing through you. You peek inside, feeling something smooth and compact, wrapped in soft tissue paper. Your fingers trail over the shape, and you pull it out slowly, eyes widening as you pull the vibrator from the bag.

Quinn’s cheeks flush again as he watches your reaction. “I swear, it’s not as weird as it sounds. I thought... you’d enjoy it. It’s a good one. I—uh—did my research.” You glance down at the vibrator in your hand before looking back up at your boyfriend. “It’s supposed to strap to my leg so you can— you know.” He begins to explain, pointing to the straps on the toy before down to his thigh, his muscles bulging through the fabric of his jeans.

“Quinn, what was your plan for me to use this?”

“I just thought maybe we could do something a little out of the ordinary?” He explains, rubbing the back of his neck, his curls falling in front of his forehead as he reaches forwards and snatches your new toy out of your hand. “If you don’t want it then don’t use it.” He says, the famous Hughes pout back on his face.

“Who said anything about not wanting it? I just never thought you’d buy a vibrator for christmas, it’s just a little out of the ordinary.” You chuckle, stepping towards him your arms rising up to hang over his shoulders, tilting your head up to capture his lips in a long kiss, his hands immediately finding their usual spot around your waist, his lips chasing after yours as you pull away.

“Show me how it works.” You whisper against his mouth, the firm material of his stitches rubbing against your lips. You pull away further from him, your hands trailing down to intertwine with his. "After all, you went through all the trouble to pick it out, didn’t you?”

Quinn's breath hitches slightly, and you catch the faintest flicker of a grin tugging at his lips. He sets the small toy back onto the counter and gives you a look—a mix of playful exasperation and genuine affection. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

You shrug innocently, your fingers brushing against the edge of his hoodie. “I mean, you’re the one who said it was practical,” you counter, your voice dripping with amusement. “I’m just trying to see if you really know how to use it.” His cheeks redden even more, and he bites back a laugh, shaking his head.

“Alright,” he mutters, grabbing the vibrator again and fiddling with the straps. “Let’s just figure this out together. But if you start laughing too much, I’m taking it back.” You stifle a giggle as Quinn reads the tiny instruction booklet that came with the toy, his brow furrowing in concentration. His serious expression as he tries to decipher the diagram is endearing, and you can’t help but lean into his side, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You’re really committed to this, aren’t you?” you tease softly, your laughter breaking through when he gives you a mock glare.

“Of course I am,” he replies, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I told you—I wanted to do something different this year. And, well...” He trails off, holding up the vibrator with a slight smirk. “Mission accomplished?” You burst out laughing, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Definitely accomplished. And for the record, I love it. You’re full of surprises, Quinn Hughes.” He ducks his head, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before glancing back at the toy. “Alright, let’s figure this out. But next year, I’m getting you something less... complicated.” Quinn works out the instructions quickly, strapping the new toy to his thigh, the purple silicone starting to look more tempting by the second.

“Quinn.” You say softly as he continues to read through the instruction manual.

“Hmm.” He hums in response, his eyes not leaving the small plastic booklet. You start by pulling off your shirt, shuffling your leggings down your legs next, your underwear remaining in place as you tap on his shoulder, his gaze shooting up at you the booklet dropping from his hands.

“Go sit on the couch.” Quinn doesn’t hesitate making his way over to the couch sinking into the cushions as he watches you approach, his legs opening slightly as you stand in front of him — your hands slowly pulling your panties down your legs as you lift your legs to straddle his left thigh, sitting down ontop of the silicone now strapped to his leg, the cold of the toy making you shiver in delight.

“Show me how it works, Quinn.” You say softly, bracing your hands on his shoulders, as his eyes lock on yours, your boyfriend clearing his throat before looking down at the app on his phone, fiddling with the screen until he finds the on button.

“It had ten speeds.” Quinn says softly, the soft vibrations almost instantly melting your body as they tease along your slit. “They recommend riding the toy.” Quinn coughs, one hand gripping his unlocked phone the other gripping the front of the couch cushion. You nod at his instructions slowly moving your hips back and forth along the toy as Quinn bumps up the vibrations by two levels.

Quinn watches you ride the toy for a few moments before bumping up the speed again, his legs tensing as you let out a soft groan. “Shit, that feels good.” You whisper, your nails digging into Quinns shoulders as you throw your head back, your breathing becoming heavier, your tits pushing towards Quinns face.

“Can you —” Quinn hesitates, his throat bobbing around the lump, “Can you take of your bra?” He asks softly, almost embarrassed.

“You’ve got hands” You hiss as he bumps the speed up again, your hips starting to loose their rhythm. Quinn takes your response and runs with it, his phone dropping to the couch besides him, his hands reaching for the back clasps of your bra, pulling the fabric away from your chest as fast as he can manage letting your tits falling free, as you glance down at your boyfriend you can see the ways he’s drooling over watching you move against him.

“You can touch them you know - this isn’t a hands off month or anything.” You snark, smiling as Quinn wastes no time in latching his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking on the sensitive flesh as his other hand reaches up to cup the lonely one, his lips leave your nipples pressing kisses along your chest before latching onto the next one, your fingers digging into the hair at the base of his neck as you let out a long moan.

“Speed it up Quinn.” You grumble, yours hips moving frantically now as his kisses make their way up your neck, his hands fiddling with his phone, pressing the screen a few times as the vibrator maxes out.

“Oh god save me.” You hum, your eyes squeezing shut as your move your hips desperately, Quinns fingers pinching your chin as he lowers your head down to his, his lips capturing yours in an antagonising and slow kiss. Both his hands helping guide your hips agains his thigh as you moan against his mouth.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” You grumble against his mouth as he kisses you again, his leg bouncing slightly as your grind against it, a small squeal leaving you as your orgasm hits, Quinn’s hand holding you down against the vibrator as you try to escape, the feeling overwhelming as your let out another high pitched moan trying to break free of Quinn hold.

“God can’t find you now.” Quinn teases as he slowly lowers the vibrations on the toy until he turns it off completely, your wetness running down to toy and soaking into his jeans - your body collapsing into his chest as you let out ragged breaths. “Maybe switching things up wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

25th of December - Christmas Day

“Merry Christmas everyone!” You cheer as you and Quinn walk into the house - the Millers holding the annual christmas get together for those without a larger Family to see over the two day break. You drop the presents you had bought for Quinn’s teammates by the tree before rushing into the kitchen to give quick hello’s to the hosts of the day.

“The matching shirts are amazing.” You say to Natalie as you take in the small family in their christmas outfits, the same ones they had worn on the christmas card they had sent out the friends and family.

“What about you and Quinn looking great as always.” Natalie coos right back, Quinn and JT giving each other a quick hug and a grumble ‘merry christmas’ before joining the two of you near the counter.

“Merry Christmas,” Quinn murmurs, leaning in to kiss the top of your head as you chat with Natalie. The warmth of his affection makes your cheeks flush, though you’re quick to hide it behind a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see this spread,” Quinn says, stepping away to inspect the food table, and JT follows with a knowing smirk.

Natalie gives you a wink. “You two are adorable. Don’t let him get too caught up with JT’s nonsense, though. Last year, they spent half the night debating hockey stats instead of mingling.”

You grin. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” As the party flows on, you and Quinn find yourselves swept into small conversations—catching up with friends, laughing at old stories, and enjoying the cozy chaos of the Miller household. The sound of Christmas music and the hum of happy chatter fill the air, but your focus keeps wandering back to Quinn. Every shared glance and subtle touch sets your heart racing, and you can tell he feels it too.

At one point, you catch him standing near the Christmas tree, looking at you with a soft smile that sends a shiver down your spine. He nods subtly toward the hallway. Your pulse quickens as you follow his lead, slipping away from the crowd unnoticed.

Quinn takes your hand, guiding you down the hall and into the small, dimly lit bathroom. The door clicks shut behind you, and before you can say anything, his lips are on yours—warm, urgent, and full of everything he’s been holding back all evening.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands resting on your hips as he pulls you closer.

You smile against his mouth, threading your fingers into his hair. “I was wondering how long you’d hold out.”

His chuckle is low and soft as he leans back to look at you, his gaze filled with affection and mischief. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispers before kissing you again, his hands roaming your back as the world outside the bathroom fades away.

Time seems to stop as you lose yourselves in the quiet, stolen moment—just the two of you, tangled together in the warmth of your love, while the party hums on outside.

Quinn’s hands slide up your sides, his touch firm yet careful, as if he’s savouring every second of having you this close. The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours in a way that sends sparks racing through your veins. You feel his breath hitch when you tug gently at his hair, and the soft groan he lets out only fuels the fire growing between you.

Without breaking the kiss, he moves his hands down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the bathroom counter. The cool surface contrasts with the heat of your body, making you gasp against his lips.

“Too much?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, his forehead resting against yours for a moment as he searches your face.

“Not even close,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw before pulling him back in. His hands grip your thighs firmly, spreading them just enough so he can step closer, his hips pressing against yours.

The kiss grows hungrier, more desperate, as if the world outside has completely disappeared. His fingers tease the hem of your dress, his fingers tickling the soft skin of your thighs. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, and you press yourself closer to him, your legs wrapping loosely around his hips.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he breathes against your lips, his hands roaming higher under your sweater.

“You started this,” you tease, your voice shaky but filled with a grin.

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss along your jaw, then your neck, his lips and teeth sending shockwaves through you with every touch. Your head tilts back against the mirror, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to keep him close.

A sudden burst of laughter from the party beyond the bathroom door jolts you both back to reality for a moment. Quinn freezes, his lips still pressed to your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin.

“We’re being way too loud,” he whispers, though his smirk suggests he’s anything but sorry.

You laugh softly, biting your lip to keep from making a sound as his hands tighten on your hips. “Then maybe we should stop…”

“Not a chance,” he says, capturing your lips again in a kiss that leaves no room for argument. His fingers continue their way under your skirt before grazing lightly over the centre of your panties, pulling away quickly as you let out a sharp gasp.

“Fuck it, we’re doing it.” Quinn hisses. His hands making quick work of his belt buckle and yanking his pants open, the material falling to his knees as his cock springs free. His finger slide back under your skirt pushing your panties to the side before pulling you to the very edge of the counter, lining his hips up with yours. “You need to stay quiet.” He whispers as you let out a moan, his hand slapping over your mouth as he slides inside of you.

You nod quickly, digging you teeth into his palm as he speeds up his movements, his teeth digging into his own lip as he keeps you steady with a hand on your hip, one of your own hands bracing against the sink as you lift two fingers up to Quinn’s mouth. “Help a girl out here.” Your words are still muffled by his hand, he nods, letting you dip your fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them before releasing them with a pop, your fingers quickly dipping under your skirt rubbing against your clit as Quinn’s hips stutter.

“Keep going.” You beg, your pussy clenching around him, trying to milk him of his orgasm as his hips thrust slower and harder, the two of you panting as you both reach your high, Quinn leaning forwards to dig his teeth into your shoulder, letting out a grunt as he pumps into you one more time, his hot cum spurting inside of you, the sensation overwhelming as you whine against his hand.

“We just fucked in your teammates bathroom, on Christmas.” You say into his palm, letting out a choked laugh as Quinn joins you his dick slowly pulling out of you, Quinn pulling away to gather some toiler paper, cleaning himself off before tucking everything back into his pants. His hands on your hips help you back off the counter, a stack of wet paper towel finding their way between your legs cleaning any leaking mess slipping out of you before he repositions your underwear, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips as he gives you a sly smile.

“I just couldn’t help myself.” He says quietly, pecking you again as he smooths out your skirt. “I hoped you enjoyed your twelve gifts of christmas.” He laughs, your hand finding his as you pull open the door to the bathroom, peeking around the corner before walking out into the hallway.

“Oh, it’s going to be a new tradition at this point.” You say, not giving him any time to respond and you join the party again.

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfic #christmas special

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lilacstro · 2 months ago

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🌸Uranus through the houses: what generational curse you are here to break

hey y'all, back with another post. I hope you are doing well :) been very very long since I made a post haha. This post may be rather short? Idk how long it'd be tbh, let's get into it now!

Paid readings open

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🌸Uranus in 1st: to break the stigma around being yourself, your "real" self, doing you, what you really want and going against the wind because that is your purpose and calling. Finding yourself, and not hiding it away. Doing everything you desire to, not confronting to societal or traditional norms, being the one of heart

🌸Uranus in 2nd: Speaking up, showing what respect is supposed to mean for one self, initiating the concept of self respect and personal boundaries, re-inventing the relationship with money, material things and desires.

🌸Uranus in 3rd: Big thoughts, innovative thinking. Thinking in a broad manner, against the current circumstances or conditioning. Big dreamers for a reason. Usually either extremely strong or extremely weak relationship with siblings for whatever the reason. New, big ideologies. Breaking the generational thinking patterns.

🌸Uranus in 4th: Someone who would follow their heart. Choosing their chosen family, prioritizing the family they created. Following the spirit of their soul and mind. Bringing reforms in the whole family, changing the family dynamics from their generation and lineage, reforming traditional dogmas and orthodoxes running in the family through generations.

🌸Uranus in 5th: Taking pleasures of life seriously. Being more attuned to your inner voice if it signals you to follow your dreams, hobbies and passions. Leaving this "work until you die" kind of mentality and actually indulging in things you like, following your heart, the rhythm of your soul. Full of creative energy.

🌸Uranus in 6th: Breaking monotony in life, breaking this idea and pattern of stability, security, and predictability in life. Leaving behind the idea of, "tunnel vision", basically. May despise following routines, structures, traditions in life. Usually have spontaneous bursts of energy instead of being consistent per se, usually the "turbulent" types.

🌸Uranus in 7th: for this placement, I feel their spouse or partner would heal patterns more than them. I mean both of you together would change things together, but they would more likely lead or initiate this revolution. Your family may have hard time settling with them, but eventually all would be good.

🌸Uranus in 8th: The way the shadow side of life is treated or talked about. Maybe you grew up in a family where darker things like, death, or other taboo topics were not discussed. This is true for a majority of people who do not have this placement as well, but you would be the one who may introduce them to such ideas and may be in charge of making them comfortable embracing their own shadows, and so you may often experience projection from your family often, because you're triggering their shadows.

🌸Uranus in 9th: Someone who would not accept things taught to them for no reason, without explanation. Other placement that speaks in terms of genetic unwinding. You would change the way upcoming generation thinks. You may question religion, traditions, beliefs a lot, not to ridicule them, but to find their relevance in the current world. Expanding the tunnel vision, the view of the world. You may adapt a different culture or a philosophy than the one you're born with and challenge the idea of unknown and foreign in your family.

🌸Uranus in 10th: This stigma attached to people and society and the world. "what would they say" "what would they think" and you may most probably set out to do things no one in your lineage could think of doing, especially in terms of jobs and career, creating something new altogether. You may be seen as eccentric by others for that, but more you grow in this energy, more you would heal this idea of following the crowd for people who are lost themselves.

🌸Uranus in 11th: This again for people who have the wildest dreams and do not care about being a part of the social community or to conform to it in any way. You are very very likely to have high spirits, and follow your higher purpose, your dreams. More of a rebel kind of placement, you do not care if your dreams or ambitions are different than the one imposed or planned for you. You would break this programming of needing to be a certain way, a certain success recipe, a certain dream, in your lineage.

🌸Uranus in 12th: More of a visionary kind of placement. Someone who does not conform to immediate ideas and tunnel visions. Someone who's thoughts and ideas would not make sense currently but would be the future. You are here to heal subconscious programming, limiting beliefs, thoughts, and opinions of your lineage. The deepest of all the above placement and very transformative. You yourself may have experienced unexpected changes and events in life, that shake you right from the bottom until a steady foundation is built, and you are meant to transmute this same lessons and light to your lineage.

until the next time

ps: i love you

xoxo

#astrology #astro community #astrology community #astro observations #astro posts #astro notes #astrology placements #astrology notes #astro #astro placements

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cloudskyana · 8 days ago

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astrology observations iv

note: take what resonates, these are only based on my own observations.

the sign and the ruler of your midheaven says a lot about your career path or the jobs that you are likelt to excel.

venus conjunct uranus can make people seek a lot of variety in relationships. i am not saying that they are non-committal, it’s just they are willing to explore and learn a lot before settling down.

i think the most avoidant moon signs when it comes to their feelings are scorpio and capricorn moon. it takes a lot for them to open up and be vulnerable. aquarius and sagittarius moon are not in denial, but it takes a lot for them to realize their feelings about a situation.

mars in scorpio and capricorn are the most passionate and hardworking mars signs.

i have noticed that taurus moons are good at physical arts like crocheting, make-up, painting.

having uranus in the 1st house of solar return chart indicates that your physical appearance may change a lot in that year. i had this placement once, and i have learned to apply make-up and cosmetics in that year. i also cut my hair short.

having a 12th house synastry with someone, especially venus, makes you yearn that person for a long time. i have this synastry with someone, and everytime i would tell myself that i already forgot them, they will randomly pop in my mind again and appear in my dreams, then i will think about them again, and the cycle continues.

contrary to popular opinion, 6th house synastry is not boring. in fact, when you have this synastry with someone, you can talk to them about anything especially your daily lives and practical matters. it reminds me of two people who have acts of service and quality time as their love language. they will always be there to help, may be it big or trivial things.

having a lot of gemini placements, whether someone is an earth or water sun, makes them talkative, have a good sense of humor, or excel in hosting.

mercury trine or sextile venus makes someone have a good voice suitable for singing.

venus square neptune in synastry makes both people put each other on a pedestal. this is one of the synastry placements for always seeing the other one in a rose colored glasses, even though they may already exhibit red flags.

having 8th and 12th house placements makes someone a psychic or have a talent for being a psychologist, astrologer, or a tarot reader.

—

those who are interested on my paid readings, go to this post.

#astro placements #astrology #readings #astro community #astro observations #astrologyreadings #astroblr #birth chart #astrology observations #astro notes #astrology blog

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moonlinos · 1 year ago

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It would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan �� fem!reader

♡ Genre: Single dad!Chan, friends to strangers to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), mentions of parental guilt, themes of loneliness, Chan is stuck in the past, lying, mentions of feeling lost in life, story spans over a number of years, nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ Word count: 8.2k

♡ Synopsis: Being a single dad to Hyerin is all Chan has known for the past four years. He and his ex-girlfriend reached an agreement that saw her going off to live a life she had always dreamed of while he was left with a life of loneliness, which he endured with a smile on his face for his daughter. A small gleam of hope seems to appear in his life in the shape of you. But hiding himself under a haze of lies seems to be his only option if he ever wants to keep you.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting, this was so much fun to write 🩷 I will admit this is a lot more focused on Chan as a character than I originally wanted it to be, and I kinda went a bit crazy with the plot, but I hope you still like it! The song Chan sings to Hyerin is Little Star by Standing Egg 💗

Every day in Chan’s life is a monotonous, never-ending cycle. Like watching reruns of bad TV shows on gloomy Sunday nights, every second of his past and upcoming days is etched into his mind like a quilt of mundane tasks and repetitive moments.

But that wasn’t always the case.

Once, excitement filled his every waking moment. His weekends were a whirlwind of new places teeming with bustling crowds and unfamiliar faces who became fast friends. During his university years, he and his friends lived their lives with ardor, savoring every moment as if it could be their last. His days were filled with an array of unplanned parties and impromptu trips which brought a kaleidoscope of color to his life.

Until he met Dana.

He was about to graduate, and she swept into his life like a hurricane — flipping everything upside down before disappearing just as quickly, with only destruction and ashes remaining in her wake.

He was infatuated; she was bored. That was clear from the start, but Chan was too blinded by affection to be concerned with such a minute detail. So long as he got to have her by his side, he was happy. Their relationship lasted a year, yet it changed his life forever.

He was twenty-one when Dana announced her pregnancy. On his twenty-second birthday, she told him she didn’t want to be a mother.

By that point in his life, Chan had already forsaken everything he had for her. He turned his back on his old friends, the vibrant life he once led, and everything that once made him who he was. Without Dana, he would be left with nothing but the ugly reflection of his self-destructive choices made in the name of a loveless love.

And so, they came to an agreement. Dana would leave — that had been her plan from the start, anyway — but she would leave Chan with a small piece of their story.

Hyerin was born on November 20th, 2019.

Dana left on a plane to New York City on December 1st.

Now, the only speck of color in his life is Hyerin. In the four years Chan has been lucky enough to be her dad, he has found she is much more than simply a reminder of Dana or what could have been between them. Hyerin is his entire world. She is the love he’s unknowingly been searching for his whole life, and he would sacrifice every last bit of himself to make sure she only ever knows happiness.

They live a quiet life, with Chan working a less-than-fulfilling corporate job and spending all his free time with her. He sometimes allows himself to wonder what happened to his old friends — did they all eventually settle for the mundanity of adult life, or are they still chasing an endless thrill? But he never dwells on it too much. The sweet memories of his early twenties are now nothing more than a comforting escape when the weight of loneliness becomes too overwhelming.

Today is one of those days. A late Friday night after his shift, Chan sprawled on his couch with Jisung, a co-worker who became his first friend after many years, a silly smile on his face as he reminisced about a trip to Jeju in his sophomore year of college. This is how he lives most of his life; when he’s not in the present with Hyerin, he’s stuck in the past.

How could he not be stuck in the past? So many people he loved and memories he cherished were there.

“I don’t get how you just left all of that behind for someone,” Jisung scoffs, loosening his tie. “Why couldn’t she just join your group of friends?”

“It’s complicated,” Chan sighs, eyes wandering toward Hyerin’s bedroom door for the umpteenth time to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly. When he turns to look back at Jisung, his expression prompts him to elaborate. “What? You want the whole story?”

Jisung shrugs. “It’s not like we have any other plans for tonight.”

“Well, there was this girl in my friend group. We hooked up a lot, but our relationship went beyond that,” Chan explains, fingers tapping his thighs as the memories flood his mind. It was a sore topic, one he certainly didn’t enjoy remembering. “We never dated, but Dana was jealous, and I couldn’t blame her. Me and this girl were… very close. I couldn’t be in a relationship while also being that close to her, but I also couldn’t imagine us being only friends. So it was easier to walk away.”

Chan conveniently leaves out the fact that he walked away because an artificial love strangely provided solace for his heart, unlike the searing torment of unrequited love, which engulfed him like molten lava.

“And that was the last time you ever had that type of relationship with anyone?”

“With Dana? Yeah—”

“Hyung, you know what I mean. You told me yourself Dana didn’t love you,” Jisung points out. “I mean this other girl.”

Chan shrugs dismissively. “I guess, yeah. Doesn’t matter, though.”

And Jisung scoffs loudly at his words, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Memories of that love flood Chan’s mind, and he's ready to let them sweep him away when Jisung abruptly turns so he sits facing him, resolve swimming in his eyes.

“Give me your phone,” his loud voice reverberates through the small apartment, prompting Chan to shush him with a stern look. “Give me your phone,” Jisung repeats himself with a harsh whisper.

Chan rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles at his friend. He retrieves his phone from the end table, handing it to a much too enthusiastic Jisung. “The password is Hyerin’s birthday,” he tells him, albeit a bit apprehensive.

He watches amusedly as Jisung types away at his own phone before doing the same on his, handing him the device with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What did you do, you little menace?” Chan questions the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. Jisung simply shrugs.

“I got you a date tomorrow. Thank me later.”

Chan immediately sits up on the couch, eyes darting toward his phone screen. A chat with a single message from him to an unknown contact makes him question his entire friendship with Jisung.

Me: I’m your date for tomorrow 😉 Me: O’neul restaurant, 6 pm. See you there, cutie

“Jisung, what the fuck?”

“What?” His friend asks between giggles. “Sora has this friend she said desperately needs a date, and I have you in the same situation,” he explains, clearly proud of himself. “I just did you both a favor while also getting boyfriend points.”

Chan’s eyes shift toward his phone once more, inwardly cringing at the messages with a heavy sigh.

“And was making me sound this creepy necessary?”

Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, that was just a little treat for me.”

“And why the fuck is her name Mystery Girl?” Chan queries, the irritation making him unknowingly raise his voice.

“It’s a blind date,” his friend explains. “This girl’s apparently super picky, kept turning down every guy Sora suggested. So, she came up with this solution. Can’t turn you down if she doesn’t know what you look like.”

Chan groans, ultimately sinking back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Jisung was trying to be a good friend, he knew that, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the prospect of a date. Not only did he not want one, but he also had no time for such a futile thing. He had Hyerin, and she was the sole reason for his existence. He didn’t need anyone meddling in their little world. But he didn’t have the courage to tell Jisung that.

It would be a lie to say the past four years weren’t lonesome. Falling asleep alone in a cold, empty bed was a sorrow he had simply grown numb to. Yet, he still yearned to have someone to share the grapples of routine life with, someone whose presence alone would effortlessly diminish his worries, someone he could make love to before falling asleep and waking up intertwined.

But he couldn’t afford to have that.

At least this date was bound to fail; the woman’s demanding nature, coupled with Chan’s unwillingness to even be there in the first place sure to make their wasted time brief.

Just as he’s about to grumble about the messages again, Hyerin comes stumbling out of her room, her small feet shuffling against the floor as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, honey, were we being too loud?” Chan asks sweetly, and his eyes discreetly shoot daggers at Jisung, who mouths an apology.

Hyerin firmly shakes her head, the crooked pigtails Chan clumsily had tied this morning coming undone as she does so. He smiles at her, propping his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to speak her little mind.

“I had a dream,” she mumbles. “With a dragon.”

Chan gasps, hands wrapping around her tiny frame and picking her up before walking toward her room. It took him some time, but he ultimately learned that it’s best to ease her back into bed while she’s distracted, lest she throws a tantrum.

“And was it a nice dragon?” He asks. Hyerin giggles, and Chan is positive that the sound has the power to light up even his most somber days.

“Of course it was a nice dragon, daddy,” she tells him. “You said I only have nice dreams ‘cause my mind is pretty, remember?”

Chan nods as he gently tucks her back into bed, triple-checking that she is comfortable and warm. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He slaps a hand on his forehead with a sigh. “Hyerinnie has the prettiest mind. It can only make up pretty things.”

Hyerin smiles at him, tugging her blanket close to her chin, her doe eyes already heavy with sleep and blinking languidly. Chan asks her the same question he does every night, although the answer remains unchanging every time: would she like him to sing to her? She drowsily tells him she wants to hear him sing her favorite song, Little Star.

Chan promptly gets under the covers beside her — Hyerin pouting and whining about how he’s stealing her blanket for himself, to which he can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his lips. Since turning four, she’s developed quite a strong personality that Chan soon finds he adores, much like everything about her.

He turns on his side to watch her features as he sings; her nose and mouth so similar to his, and the way she furrows her brows while falling asleep mirrors his own habits. Chan might not be a happy man in his job or his personal life, but the boundless happiness his little gift provides him surpasses anything else he could wish for. Every now and then, he finds himself wanting more, but it’s not long before he realizes he already has everything he needs.

Chan goes over his rather extensive list of how to care for Hyerin with Jisung for the tenth time that evening, making sure the younger man knows what to do in any situation that could arise in the couple hours he’ll be gone. Hyerin is the one to usher him out of the apartment, assuring him she’ll be fine with her uncle Han, and Chan has to stop himself from wallowing over the fact that his once tiny baby is rapidly blossoming into a young kid.

He made no real effort to dress for his date; a simple button-up shirt and jeans served him just fine, seeing as he plans to return home as soon as possible. His date and he haven’t talked much at all since his initial texts yesterday, texting each other only to confirm the time and place of their basically forced date.

He arrives fifteen minutes late, all but running from the bus stop to the restaurant while cursing Jisung under his breath. This was definitely not worth the hassle, and Chan wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his daughter. He’d pick watching Tangled with her for the hundredth time over an unwanted date in a heartbeat.

Chan finally walks into the restaurant, informing the waiter that he’s there to meet Cherry. His face visibly grimaces as he mutters the words. Fuck this blind date bullshit.

He’s led to his table, dragging his feet behind the waiter. His attention is immediately drawn to the pencil holding his date’s messy ponytail together. He chuckles quietly, circling around the table and forcing out a smile to introduce himself.

But then he’s met with a sight he had long given up hope of ever seeing again: you.

You, who were next to him as he made stupid decisions during college. Like when he drunkenly thought it wise to bet his laptop in a game of beer pong.

You, who always made him your special hangover soup after a party. He especially loved it when you let him keep the leftovers, knowing that he and his roommate were hopeless in the kitchen.

You, who filled the space in his cold sheets with warmth and always made his bed feel like a sanctuary.

You, who let him make love to you despite you both swearing to be only friends.

You, who later had to watch him walk away from you like a coward, driven by sheer fear.

You, staring back at him with a stunned look on your face.

“Chan?” You ask, an unsure lilt to your words.

And Chan embarrassingly fumbles over his words, his tongue tying itself into knots in front of you. He notices you pursing your lips to stop from giggling and clears his throat a bit too loudly, a few patrons turning their heads to look at him. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when it seems the universe has turned the wheels of his fate in his favor for once.

“Uh, hi,” is all his brain can muster among the jumble of thoughts inside his head. He mentally berates himself for acting so damn awkward when you’re clearly not as affected by this encounter as he is.

“Damn, it’s been so long,” you marvel, eyes not leaving his face for a second. “I thought you moved to a different country or something. It’s so strange how we never ran into each other.”

Chan forces out a chuckle, hands now fiddling with the menu on the table. Of course you two never ran into each other; he only ever leaves the house for work or when he has to accompany Hyerin, and he doubts you frequent playgrounds or zoos.

“Yeah, I… don’t go out much anymore,” he simply says.

You hum, and he properly takes in your appearance. You haven’t changed one bit; from your hair to your choice of clothes, you’re still the same girl who ruled over his every thought during college.

You two order your food and fall into an infuriating cycle of small talk. Chan doesn’t want to talk about the weather or if you have seen the latest movie yet — he’s desperate to ask you how you’ve been, if you ever pursued your dreams, if you can still outdrink anyone in your friend group, and—

And if you’re still single because you find relationships a hassle.

But as the food arrives, you fall into an even more frustrating cycle: silence. Chan feels restless, squirming in his seat every few minutes while you calmly eat and watch the people around you. He remembers your habit of scanning crowded rooms and making up stories for strangers with your vivid imagination. He wants to ask if you still do that, but it seems he’s only grown into more of a coward since your last encounter.

You’re the first to break the silence, waiting for the waiter to leave with your plates to ask what Chan has been doing since graduating. It’s a casual question with no weight to your words, as lighthearted as you have always been. And the complete opposite of his every possible answer.

How can he tell you he’s given up music altogether, now surrounded by gray walls and lifeless faces in his corporate job? How can he tell you he’s alone most of the time, partly by choice and partly because he doesn’t know how to dig himself out of this comfortable hole he’s trapped himself in?

How can he possibly explain that he agreed to be a single father, sacrificing his own happiness for the selfish whims of a woman who never even loved him?

You’re still the same; the same carefree eyes and attitude, same easygoing approach to everything life throws your way — such as meeting him again after years.

All of him has changed.

Chan can’t tarnish your colorful life, can’t sit before you and spill out his problems or grumble about the overwhelming loneliness in his life when he knows damn well that was a consequence of his own choices.

He wants nothing more than to be the same Chan he was in college. Creating life stories for strangers in dive bars with you, not caring about whether he’ll have enough money to pay the water bill next month, not having to bear the burden of something as precious as a human life depending solely on him.

It’s selfish, but he wants nothing more than to go back.

So he does.

“I actually still write songs, though it’s only a freelance thing,” he lies. He hasn’t written a single note in years. “Other than that, I’ve just been taking it day by day. Same as I’ve always done, I guess.”

And your eyes immediately light up — you’ve always loved his songs, after all. Your conversation flows much like it used to in the past after that, with you making witty jokes and Chan laughing loudly at them. You tell him you started working as an art teacher for the elderly when living off of commissions became impossible, and that you adore the stories they share about their younger years. They remind you of your own stories together, you admit with a genuine smile.

Your conversation is endless, continuing even as Chan walks you to your car in the empty parking lot. The night has grown colder, and the crescent moon gleaming in the sky above him almost feels like a sign that things will change for the better.

As you two stand in front of your car, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Ever the free soul, you ask him outright if he would like to come back to your place. There are no further implications hidden in your request beyond a hookup. Nothing’s ever heavy with you, every little thing always feeling light as a feather.

He says he would love to, but quickly excuses himself under the guise of calling his roommate about the spare key. Chan hurriedly calls Jisung as soon as he turns a corner in the parking lot, ensuring you won’t be able to hear him. It’s juvenile, the way he’s actually taking pleasure in almost creating a different version of himself — a version much closer to who he was when you were his, at least in some sense of the word. He’s a father, he should be responsible and dependable, but the weight of that role had been thrust upon him far too abruptly. He can’t be faulted for wanting to go back in time.

“Okay, I have no time to explain,” he blurts out as soon as Jisung picks up the phone. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Jisung chuckles at the other end of the line. “Damn, was the date that good?”

Chan ignores his sly comment, because yes, the date was everything he never thought it could be.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he assures him. “I’ll even pay you if you want. How much—”

“Hey, no need for that,” Jisung cuts him off. “You know I love looking after Hyerin.”

And the pang of guilt inside his chest at the mention of his daughter’s name almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels ashamed, as if he’s neglecting his daughter for a hookup, going after a fantasy that has long crumbled and faded away.

“How is she? Is she okay?” He asks, guilt washing over him like a wave. He hadn’t thought of his daughter for a second that entire night. “Did she cry at all? Did she notice I was gone for longer than I promised?”

Jisung calls out his name with a chuckle, prompting him to stop his rambling. “Relax. We painted each other’s nails, she did my makeup, had her dinner, and is now sleeping soundly after listening to another one of uncle Han’s phenomenal stories about frogs,” He details, causing a hearty laugh to fall from Chan’s lips at the image of Jisung’s face painted with Hyerin’s cheap children’s makeup. His friend then adds, “Go get laid, man.”

And so Chan hangs up the phone, all but running toward your figure waiting by your car. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s the first time he holds you in almost five years, and he feels his dull world away from Hyerin slowly fill up with vibrant hues.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach your apartment building, and Chan is thanking any higher power that might listen for that. The sheer anticipation of what is implied to happen once you two are alone together has him picking at his cuticles until it stings.

He’s nervous, to put it lightly. A couple of terrible drunken hookups in dingy motels after office gatherings were his only sexual encounters after Hyerin was born.

But once you’re standing in front of him in your living room, your eyes never leaving his even as you’re slipping off your heels, Chan knows you’re both equals in this playing field.

He’s the one to pull you into a kiss, lips barely grazing against yours. But the feeling of finally kissing you again after so many years was like wildfire, consuming him wholly until the kiss turns feverish. His hand travels from your shoulders to your lower back, pulling you flush against his body. You hum against his lips, fingers clumsily undoing his buckle, and the prospect that you might be as eager as he is has him gripping the fabric of your dress.

Chan swears his vision goes black the moment your fingertips brush against his hardening erection, the feathery touch enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

A hand is pressed to his chest before he has the chance to think, and you’re pushing him backward until his back meets the wall. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and nuzzling your face against his clothed cock.

“I missed you,” you whisper, hungry eyes looking up at him. “Don’t think I got to say that.”

Chan takes in the sight of you, memorizing and storing it in his mind alongside the countless images he already had of you on his knees for him. His fingers thread in your hair, your lips falling open with a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he professes. You have no idea how much.

With a smile, you quickly work his zipper open, pulling his jeans down his legs and pressing a wet kiss to his clothed erection. Chan feels your tongue lap at his member through his boxers, lips sucking around the head as your nails scrape the flesh of his thighs lightly.

It feels like you mouth at his length for hours, the light gray fabric of his boxers stained with your saliva and his precum, leaving Chan panting and tugging at your hair. You trail soft, wet kisses down his thigh while pushing his boxers out of your way, his cock already swollen and flushed. He’d be embarrassed for the way his body reacted so responsively to you if you weren’t also visibly as affected.

Your tongue circles his length languidly, lapping at a small bead of precum with a hum. Finally wrapping your lips around his tip, your tongue flicks teasingly beneath the head of his cock, Chan sucking in a deep breath and using his grip on your hair as leverage to pull you toward him. You almost obediently drop your jaw to slide his now fully hardened length into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Chan hisses your name when you relax your throat after a few passes, taking him fully into your pretty mouth, your nose brushing his pelvis.

“Fuck, you always looked so pretty like that,” Chan chokes out. “Pretty lips taking me so well.”

You groan at his words and the vibrations traveling along his shaft have Chan growling with a harsh tug of your hair, causing you to sputter as his cock hit the back of your throat. You seek purchase in his hips as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’re unrelenting nonetheless, circling your tongue around him before pulling away, hands now sliding up his thigh before gently gliding over his balls. As you slowly lick from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, Chan’s gaze shifts down as he catches a glimpse of your thighs rubbing together. He feels himself twitch, and immediately pulls you away from him.

“Don’t wanna come like this, I need to fuck you,” he rasps out.

You stand back up, legs wobbly, and fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he slides your dress down your shoulders. Your movements are messy and filled with urgency, your breaths quickening as you both want nothing more than to strip away any form of barrier between you. Piling up five years of yearning will do that.

As your impatience reaches its peak, you tear open the last remaining buttons of his shirt, your nails grazing his skin as you slide the fabric down his shoulders. A wave of goosebumps travels across Chan’s body, and his hands abandon the task of removing your dress in favor of tracing the curve of your ass before picking you up off the floor.

“First door on the right,” you tell him, your words answering his unspoken thoughts as if you could read his mind. Chan nods, your proximity making it impossible for him not to press his lips to yours, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before licking into your mouth with a low hum.

He collides with a wall, missing the entrance to your bedroom by a hair’s breadth, and you giggle against his lips. Chan smiles back. Nothing’s ever heavy with you.

He lowers you onto the bed gently, his body instinctively slotting between your spread legs the way he did so many times before. You soon also wrap your thighs around his waist as you always did, pulling him closer until his cock is pressed up against your clothed pussy.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, grinding your hips forward and eliciting a quiet moan from Chan’s lips as he hastily nods. With a tight grip on your waist, he flips you both effortlessly.

Promptly sitting up on his thighs, you finally rid yourself of the inconvenient fabric of your dress, followed by your bra, your nipples instantly hardening. Chan sits up, eyes transfixed on your chest as his calloused thumbs trace the nubs before his lips circle around one, sucking harshly. As you gently roll your hips, he can feel the way your soaked panties cling to his skin as your core presses up against his thigh.

Your fingers tangle in his hair with a whimper, pushing his face into your breasts as he bites the sensitive skin. His lips leave your nipples with a wet sound, then trailing kisses up the column of your neck until his gaze is locked on yours again. He was dying to mark you, bite and suck on your skin until it blossomed into a beautiful maroon — but he knew better. You weren’t twenty anymore, and you weren’t his; in no sense of the word.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, eyes heavy with lust.

And he knows this is a terrible idea. This was exactly how he came to be a father.

But it’s not his mind that’s doing the thinking, and so he nods, his grip on your hips tightening as you pull your soaked panties to the side just enough to slide the swollen tip of his cock against your slick folds. Chan sucks in a breath, fighting a war against his own body not to come from this feeling alone. It wasn’t just how long it had been since he was with someone, it was you. It was all you. The effect you had always had on him having never faded, simply laying dormant until his body had you again.

Chan rests his forehead on yours as you slowly sink down on his length. His lips find your neck again, gently sucking the skin into his mouth as you slowly grind down on him, a whine falling from your lips and going straight to his cock. His hips buck up unwittingly, causing you to moan loudly in his ears. But your slow pace remains, and Chan knows he should savor this moment, but he wants nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until he forgets every minor issue aggravating his brain.

Such as the fact that he knows you will leave his life again the second you find out he lied to you.

So his hands find your waist and he flips you down onto the mattress once more. His eyes bore into you as you suck in a breath.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hips grinding into his cock again. “I want it, please—”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, retreating only to plunge back harshly into your cunt. He moves with deep strokes, hips falling into an erratic rhythm, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clenched around his waist. All he can hear is static and your choked moans as he presses you into the mattress.

“Missed this so fucking much,” he groans against your ear. And finally succumbing to his desires, he bends down to suck and nibble on the delicate skin of your neck, mind too focused on how your walls squeeze around him to worry about marking you. He laps at the small bruises he leaves behind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you mewl.

You roll your hips, matching his rhythm, and Chan feels a familiar heat rise within him. He reaches down to glide small circles around your clit, your body jolting and squirming. He absentmindedly smiles against your skin.

After an entire night of pretending his life was the same as it was five years ago, fucking you required no acting.

“It’s too much, fuck,” you whimper, tugging him by the hair until your lips are crashing together in a sloppy kiss. Your walls tighten around him, body clenching as the tension finally snaps, your orgasm coursing through your shaking body as Chan growls into your parted lips.

He keeps fucking into you, until his hips meet yours one last time, and a low groan reverberates through the room. His cock twitches inside of you as his body stills, filling you with his warm release which leaked out of you and onto your sheets as he pulled out with a sigh.

Chan throws himself onto the mattress, labored breaths leaving his heavy lungs. He pulls you into his arms, and you melt into his embrace as if it were a habit. It’s as though he’s gone back in time, even if temporarily.

He feels like he’s simply a guy making love with the girl he adores in the familiar comfort of his dorm room again.

When the first rays of sunlight seeped into your room, Chan was already awake. He watched as you slept, eyelids fluttering and a small smile adorning your lips.

It was as if you were his, in every sense of the word.

Guilt.

That’s what Chan feels every time he sees Hyerin’s laughing face on his phone’s wallpaper when he’s out, entertaining the silly lie he crafted.

It’s been two months since you reconnected and you effortlessly slipped him back into your life. The reunion with his old friends was expected — but Chan dreaded it, regardless. He found that out of the nine people that once comprised their group, only five remained. He wasn’t the only one who had gone his own way.

But he was the only one who had done it in the worst way possible, carelessly ghosting every single one of them, hoping his existence gradually faded from their memories.

That made facing his once best friend frightening. Minho was the first friend he made on the very first day of university, when Chan walked into his dorm room only to find he had snuck his cat into the building.

They were roommates for two years, and best friends for four. Chan complained loudly when he was assigned a new roommate. Minho was silent as he watched his best friend turn his back on him with no explanation.

Minho initially ignored him entirely, and Chan doesn’t fault him. When his vibrant face turned cold upon seeing him walk into a bar, Chan knew he earned that the moment he decided to ignore his friend’s every text message and phone call. When Minho made backhanded remarks about how nice it felt to have him back in their group, he knew he deserved it for not answering the door the only time his friend came looking for him.

It takes a drunken argument leading to a fist colliding with Chan’s cheek for Minho to finally address him. It takes them being escorted out of the bar by security for them to finally have a conversation, tears and resentment flowing freely as they sat at a bus stop late at night. After that, their friendship returned to what it was before, as if they had never been apart even for a second.

Despite the years and the changes, Minho was still his best friend — which was why he was the only person he came clean to.

Hyerin loved Minho, especially his cats. Her new favorite pastime quickly became going over to his house to play with her new ‘friends’, as she called them. And Chan was overwhelmed with happiness to witness his best friend falling under his daughter’s spell — his house now containing its very own box filled with every toy Hyerin mentioned even once, his kitchen stocked with all her favorite foods, and his cats falling asleep beside her anytime they came over to visit.

It was as if he was watching his two worlds collide. His past and present, which he had separated out of a senseless fear, intertwined so effortlessly it made him feel stupid for ever thinking he needed to build this barrier. For assuming the people he loved so much would reject him.

Made him feel even worse for walking away in a futile attempt to protect his feelings, because it only resulted in more hurt.

After so much of his time spent wondering, Chan finally has the answer to his questions. Some of his friends did settle for an ordinary adult life, some already married and some focusing their energy solely on climbing the corporate ladder. Still, some remained relatively unchanged — much like you did.

His social life blossomed again after reconnecting with his old friends. However, he still refused to hire a nanny, too fearful to leave Hyerin to a stranger’s care, resulting in constantly having to come up with excuses when his parents aren’t able to babysit. He won’t deny that he often fabricated these lies purely because staying in with his daughter and watching Tangled now outweighs any appeal of noisy nightclubs.

Jisung remained his salvation whenever he wanted to spend the night at your place, with Chan slowly but surely running out of reasons as to why you can’t go to his apartment for a change. He hasn’t had the heart or the courage to tell you the entire truth yet, only owning up to his lie about his job after you understandably asked him to listen to his new music and he was put on the spot.

Ever since you walked back into his life, he finds himself weaving a web of little white lies that slowly chip away at his heart.

He’s at a small gathering for his friend’s birthday, listening to Minho all but eulogize his fiancee. They have been a couple since university, Chan playing the wingman and encouraging his friend to finally do something about his crush (mostly because he couldn’t handle any more of Minho’s whining before going to sleep). Despite what everyone around them surmised, they beat all the odds and statistics and stayed together even after university. Chan would be happier about that if he hadn’t bet money on them breaking up before graduation. He wonders if Hongjoong will ask for his twenty bucks now that they’re friends again.

“No, really, settling down with someone is so good,” Minho says after another shot of Soju, a silly smile etched onto his lips. “I thought I would hate it, y’know? Thought slapping such a significant title on our relationship would wear it down, but it’s the complete opposite. Ever since she proposed, it’s like we’re two love-struck nineteen-year-olds again.”

Chan smiles, saying they should drink to that purely because he hopes the sensation of alcohol burning his throat will numb his overwhelming jealousy. After congratulating Minho for the umpteenth time, he finds himself listening to yet another story about his relationship.

And he’s happy for Minho, just as much as he’s happy for Wonwoo for getting married last year. He couldn’t express the overwhelming joy he felt upon discovering these people, who once meant so much to him, had successfully navigated their way through life. But envy rears its ugly head every time he listens to one of their stories, because Chan’s direction in life seems to be a winding road. He’s a father, and his love for Hyerin is immeasurable, but he’s still actively lying about this side of him simply because he feels as if maybe he made the right choices in life at the worst possible time.

As he’s walking out of Hongjoong’s apartment with you later that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, a smile spreading across his face when you nestle closer to him. You two discuss Wonwoo’s marriage, with you talking about how beautiful the ceremony was, but ultimately scowling at the mere thought of getting married. Chan feels the corner of his heart crack at your words, but he laughs it off.

“Do you think he wants kids?” he wonders aloud.

He expects you to laugh at his sudden curiosity. He doesn’t expect you to dig at the fissure in his heart with your words, causing it to shatter completely.

“Gosh, it’d be so weird to see.” You cringe, snuggling deeper into his arms as a chilly breeze brushes against you two. “I like kids, but I’d never have them myself. Feel like it’d kinda ruin my life.”

Chan feels his grip on your waist loosen.

“Having kids doesn’t ruin your life,” he reasons. “You’re given the chance to care for something so precious, so important to this world…” he trails off, shaking his head and taking a step away from you. It feels as if exasperation has filled his entire being. “You look into their eyes and see yourself, and it’s— the love you feel when you first see them is so pure and earth-shattering that you can’t think of anything but how to make that tiny being only experience the good in the world. It doesn’t ruin your life.”

You eye him with confusion, cocking your head to the side and huffing out a laugh. “You talk like you know what that’s like. If you ever have kids one day, then you’ll know—”

“But I do know,” he’s yelling before he can stop himself, his footsteps coming to a halt. “I know because I have that. I have that and it’s the most precious thing in my life and yet I’ve been taking it for granted. And for what?”

He scoffs bitterly, his gaze fixing on your features; your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged lipstick, the way your puzzled eyes gleam under the moonlight. He shakes his head.

“For childish illusions. The illusion that I could go back in time if I pretended hard enough, the illusion that this romanticized idea I have of my early twenties was superior to the life I have now,” Chan lets out a heavy breath, averting his gaze to the pavement. “The illusion that I could ever have you.”

“So it’s my fault you chose to lie about being a dad?” You blurt out.

He doesn’t lift his head. He can’t, the burden of guilt and shame weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to face you.

“It’s my fault. You were simply the catalyst.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I’ve always felt this way,” he exasperates, finally lifting his head but keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. He’s a coward. “I’ve always felt like maybe I was too young to be a dad, too immature to fully understand the consequences of the choices I made. I don’t regret my daughter, but I certainly regret the timing, and this haunts me every day. Meeting you again just made these feelings worse because you represent everything about my past that I no longer have.”

You remain quiet for a beat, but it feels like an eternity as Chan is forced to endure the deafening ring of your silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is unsteady. “You know, that’s why I always figured it was for the best that you left.”

“What?” Chan turns his gaze toward your face at last, your words stomping on his scattered heart one last time. He expects anger, but sorrow has taken over your expression, one so heavy he doesn’t recall a single moment in the years he’s known you where he’s seen you like this.

“You were always like this, Chan. You might think you were a different person back then, but you said it yourself,” you shrug with a sullen chuckle. “It’s only an illusion.”

He hums, nodding his head as it dawns on him. “You were never gonna be mine, were you? No matter what I did. I lied to you because I thought you would never want someone like who I am today. But I guess that was all in vain, ‘cause I’ve always been like this.”

“You always talked about getting married, settling down, having kids.” As you run a hand through your hair, an exasperated sigh falls from your lips. “You went along with our bullshit, but even back then, you were always like the dad of our group. This has always been you, Chan, but that’s not a bad thing. Don’t think you need to change or lie about who you are ‘cause you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, but…”

He scoffs. “But?”

“But we’re too different. We’ve always been. We’re great together in every way but the way you want us to be — the way I would love for us to be as well,” you simply say, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And would it kill you if we tried? ‘Cause this unfulfilled hope has been killing me since I first fell in love with you.”

“What’s her name?” You simply ask, avoiding his question altogether. Chan furrows his brows. “Your daughter, what’s her name?”

He shifts on his feet. “Hyerin.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you as a dad.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m far from the perfect father.”

“Good,” you state matter-of-factly. “Perfect wouldn’t be you.”

You fall into a much lighter silence, although it’s still far from comfortable. A swarm of questions fills Chan’s mind, but his words fade into silence and die on his lips.

He knows everything is over when you suck in a sharp breath, muttering, “I can’t be what you need. When love becomes too serious, I feel trapped and run away. You know what that’s like,” you trail off. “I know we loved each other back then, and I know I still love you now, but I think it’s my turn to walk away. I’m sorry, Chan.”

And just like that, he’s left to watch your figure slowly grow smaller and smaller as you fade into the dimly lit street. You don’t reprimand him for lying or question if he also loves you still. You don’t explain why you can’t make an effort, probably because you’re unsure of the answer yourself. It turns out you both remained unchanged.

And after all this time, it’s only then that Chan realizes you were always just as lost as he was.

Chan didn’t allow himself to think much about you since he watched you walk away that night. He missed you often, as he had done for so long before your last encounter, but he had long grown numb to that feeling.

In the two years he was apart from you for the second time, he learned that life isn’t black or white. He could be a father while also being his own person; a son, a friend, a boyfriend. He learned that prioritizing Hyerin didn’t mean neglecting himself, as that would negatively impact her as well. She couldn’t only know happiness if her father was always dripping with sadness.

He learned he doesn’t have to choose between who he is now and who he was at twenty years old; they were both him, with certain moments bringing out glimpses of one or the other.

Hyerin started elementary school and is blossoming into a caring little girl, no longer needing Chan to tie her pigtails in the morning or remind her to brush her teeth before bed. Although she still demands that they maintain their nightly routine of lying together until she falls asleep to the sound of his voice singing her favorite song.

During his first parent-teacher conference — after walking into the classroom fifteen minutes late — he’s stunned to see you sitting across from him yet again, a pencil holding up your ponytail the same way it did that night at the restaurant. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

You were Hyerin’s teacher. He recalled picking her up after her first day of school and listening to her gush over the art teacher who was so pretty and nice, and talking about how she wanted to be like her when she grows up.

It felt as if you were destined to find each other every time one of you chose to walk away.

Your friendship picked up again slowly this time — no rushing into bed together and no rushing into long overdue serious conversations. They had already been avoided for years, anyway, they could wait a bit longer. This is exactly what you needed; patience. Chan had never had the patience to wait for you, while you never had the patience to understand your own feelings.

It’s been ten months now, and he’s yet again sitting before you. The teachers and parents converse around you both as you sit in silence. When you think no one is watching, you exchange glances, struggling to suppress the silly smiles that insist on spreading across your faces.

As people leave the room one by one after the meeting, Chan approaches you.

“You’re Bang Hyerin’s father, correct?” You speak with a grin.

“Correct.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you tell him.

He smiles, shifting his gaze toward his feet before his eyes find yours again as you speak.

“We could grab a coffee this weekend.”

This time, there are further implications hidden in your request. You’re not asking as a friend, like you’ve been doing these past months. Some things are heavy with you now, and this is something he’s only recently come to find. He’s also come to find that he loves that change.

So he answers, “Sure. Tomorrow at three?”

“Then I’m your date for tomorrow,” you say with a giggle. “See you there, cutie.”

And Chan lets out a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scolding look from the other teachers in the room.

He isn’t sure what will come of this. Maybe you two are better off as friends and all it will take is a couple of months to figure that out. Maybe time has changed you both more than he can understand, and you will finally be able to try something real after all these years of unfulfilled hopes and childish illusions.

Either way, Chan knows he won’t let go of you this time.

He wants you to be his, in any sense of the word.

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