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tbaluver · 12 days ago

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kiss me under the mistletoe- the love and deepspace men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader genre: fluff fluff summary: spend the holidays by his side and share a kiss(es) under the mistletoe a/n: ty @ilovemitsuya for making me with the lads christmas dividers (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) and ty @ilovemitsuya and @deusfoundry for beta reading ! (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

“hmm?” his eyes flicker to the cluster of red berries on the christmas tree. he reaches his arm out and plucks it out of the christmas tree, examining it. “is this edible?”

you turn around after you finish tucking in the last flower in the tree and your gaze falls on xavier, who’s sniffing the mistletoe you carefully placed at the top of the tree.

you chuckle softly and gently take it from his hands. “no honey,” tucking back the mistletoe back into its rightful spot above you both. “it’s a mistletoe.”

you lost him there. xavier tilts his head, his brows furrowed in confusion. “mistle....toe?”

a smile tugs at your lips, christmas was completely new to him. you can’t help but step closer, standing on your tiptoes to brush a soft kiss on his lips right below the mistletoe. “when you stand below the mistletoe, you kiss someone next to you.”

xavier blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to realization with a smile now tugging on his lips. “ah i see,” he steps closer, his hands finding their way to your cheeks to pull you into a deeper kiss, melting into him.

however it seems xavier didn’t actually seem to actually understand. the next day as you two walk outside, xavier suddenly pulls you under a tree. he points up to a bunch of random red berries hanging from a branch above you both. “mistletoe.” you blink in confusion but before you can say anything, he pulls you in for a kiss, his lips warm against yours. and it happens again and again. he simply loves the idea of kissing you, no matter wherever you both are. you could correct him and point out the difference but you also love the idea of sharing a kiss with him whenever or wherever.

Zayne:

zayne attempts to celebrate christmas. with parents who were renowned doctors and himself a surgeon, their schedules barely rarely lined up which never made it easy. to him, christmas didn’t feel like christmas at all. he works tirelessly in the operating room, creating his own miracles that day as he performs surgeries. more often he found himself spending the holidays alone, drinking hot cocoa ( with an insane amount of sugar ) while he read ahead on patient reports.

but deep down he knew something was missing and you managed to solve it for him and fill that missing void.

after many years, his old dusty christmas tree was pulled out from his storage and has finally been decorated in all its festive glory as you two carefully hung ornaments and placed finishing touches that made it feel more personal for the two of you.

the sweet delicious smell of the baked cookies fills the air as he carefully pulls them out of the oven. he begins to prepare the hot cocoa he makes every year, this time with a special plus one. he made sure to get the matching snowmen mugs that he knows you’ll love when he brings them out.

meanwhile as you gently place the gifts you wrapped for each other under the christmas tree, a playful idea sparks in your head.

he hears your soft footsteps get closer as he preps the ingredients. “do you want any sugar in yours?” he asks, adding two spoonfuls of sugar to his cup and proceeding to add an extra spoonful to make it more sweet.

your heart flutters with excitement and your lips curl into a grin as you hold up a mistletoe above your heads. “another holiday tradition ,” rising up on your tiptoes as you lean in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips.

zayne’s lips curl into a small smile as you pull away. “do i really need a plant to get permission to kiss you this holiday?” he asks, shaking his head. he pulls you in closer, his hand guiding your jaw to draw you into a deep and sweet kiss.

Rafayel:

humans are weird. chopping and dragging a perfectly happy tree into their homes and proceeding to adorn it with glittery things. rafayel never understood the appeal, that is until he met you.

he completely changes his mind about the entire holiday once he realizes that he gets to spend with you if you two celebrated the holiday together. so from this moment on, he declares that this year and every single year shall be spent together. maybe humans were on to something afterall..

a tradition that quickly became his favorite was holiday crafting with you. spending hours of creating your homemade ornaments and bursting with inside jokes as soft christmas music played in the background.

you two would dig up any embarrassing photos of each other to hang on the christmas tree. as you both carefully placed your last ornaments on the tree, a certain plant that you had purposely placed had caught your attention once again. and just below it was the perfect target.

as he continues going on about how silly you looked in the picture, you stepped closer to him, cutting him off mid-sentence and placing a soft quick kiss to his lips.

for a second you caught him completely off guard but his surprise melted into a sly smirk. “oh? someone feeling jolly or whatever the humans call it?” he teases, slightly leaning in more closer to you.

you giggle, pointing up to the mistletoe hanging directly above the both of you. “it’s a tradition,” you boop his nose. “you have to kiss someone when there’s a mistletoe above you.”

and just like that, christmas became rafayel’s favorite holiday.

the next morning as you both woke up, you woke up to something quite unexpected. it seems your lover was busy while you were asleep because every entry way of his studio and ceilings were decorated with mistletoes.

with a mischievous grin, he raises a brow. “guess you’re gonna have to kiss mee,” he teases while crossing his arms, “it’s a holiday tradition after all.” as you stood right below a mistletoe, his perfect and only target.

Sylus:

sylus had never celebrated the holidays, ever. growing up it was just another day of surviving and now it was just another day to him. he never wrapped or given the perfect gifts for loved ones during this time until he met you.

the moment he saw the joy and excitement in your eyes as you talked about doing Christmas traditions with him, something inside him shifted. he couldn’t ignore how much it meant to you and who was he to deny you the chance to celebrate? he wanted to make this season special for you this year and every year.

giving it a chance, he transformed his home with you. every corner and every entry way of his home was decked out with some type of christmas spirit.

sylus bought a massive tree, one that’s slightly more taller as he was and with the perfect intention in mind. he wanted to lift you up so you could place the start on the top once it was fully decorated. the tree was wrapped in red and gold ornaments that you recommended would suit his taste and finished off with luxurious ribbons around it.

it was worth it. seeing the way your eyes sparkled and how wide your smile got made everything worth it. he finally understood there was more then just gift giving. it was spending time with someone you truly loved.

with a final tuck of the ribbon on the tree, sylus turns around, his eyes locking onto yours. you clear your throat softly, earning a raised brow from him in amusement as you step even closer. your fingers gently tug his shirt, signalling him to lean down to your level. without hesitation, he leans down slightly, his warm breath fans against your skin as you press a soft and lingering kiss to his lips.

his eyes flutter open slowly, his lips curling into a smirk. “a reward sweetie?”

you shake your head, a playful smile tugs at your lips as you point upward to the mistletoe you carefully placed above the tree. “it’s a tradition to kiss someone under the mistletoe sy,”

he lets out a breathy chuckle, his gaze flickering between you and the mistletoe. “well technically you’re under the mistletoe..” he teases, his height barely grazing the plant. “but,” he leans back down to your level again, his lips capturing yours in a deeper and more passionate kiss.

“is there a rule for how many times i can kiss you under the mistletoe?” he whispers against your lips.

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munsonsmixtapes · 13 days ago

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What a Lovely View

rockstar!eddie x wife!reader

summary: You and Eddie go on a Christmas vacation after weeks of not seeing each other and make up for lost time.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex, spanking, breeding kink

You and Eddie enter the apartment where you’ll be staying for the next week for Christmas. This year, you’ve decided to have some time to yourselves since he’s been on tour and you’ve been working a lot because of the holidays.

You look around as you roll your suitcase further into the apartment and can’t help but gasp at how large and prettily decorated it is. There’s a giant Christmas tree in the living room against the giant window that looks out over the city. The tree with all the pretty lights outside behind it makes for such a picturesque view.

Eddie stands behind you, resting his hands on your waist as his chin sits atop your shoulder, a contented sigh passing through his lips as he does so. He’s missed you so much and being here with you for some much needed alone time is all he’s been thinking about for weeks.

Honestly, all he’s been thinking about is fucking you ok every single surface in the apartment and he intends to do so since you have all well. He hadn’t realized how much he needed your touch until he hugged you at the airport. Having you in his arms, holding your closing, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, he was rock hard right then and there. It took everything in him to not take you to the nearest restroom and have his way with you.

But now he can so he takes the opportunity when he sees your exposed neck. He presses his lips to it gently at first, but when he hears you hum, he goes full force, sucking on the skin, his fingers curling into your waist as your shirt bunches up, exposing some skin where eddie is quick to find purchase as you tilt your head to the side to give him more room to work.

“Eddie,” you moan. “Almost forgot how good you are with your mouth.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he mumbles against your skin before turning you around to face him, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss. His hands move up your shirt while yours fist his as his tongue explores your mouth, both of your moaning as you do so.

You’re making up for lost time as you take off each other’s clothes, the garments flying across the room as you’re both so desperate to see each other naked. It’s been months and having only the company of your hands while you video chat isn’t exactly ideal even though it often does the trick.

“Fuck, you’re even more beautiful than I remember, Eddie breaths, taking in your naked body as his pulls you to him. You can feel his rock hard cock against you as he kisses you again, making you feel dizzy.

“Need you inside me,” you tell him as you grab his waist, pushing his cock against you even more. Eddie presses his lips to yours as he backs you up to the window and pounds into you as he grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, thrusting in and out of you as you buck your hips against his.

The window is nothing but cold against your back, but you actually think it feels kind of nice since you’ve gotten so hot with Eddie’s body against yours. His fingers are digging into your waist and even though it hurts like hell, you don’t dare stop him. It feels too good.

“That’s it, baby,” he says. “Just like that. See? After a few months, we’ve still got it. God, you feel so good. Kept it loose for me, huh? So I was able to slide right in? How thoughtful of you.”

“You’ve helped me get off every single night we’ve been apart. You should have known it’d be like this.” He rams into you so hard that you hit the window again, your head also hitting the window. But you couldn’t care less. All you want is for him to do this until you feel like absolute jelly in his arms.

“I should have,” he rasps. “Always such a good girl for me, hm?”

“Always,” you reply as your legs wrap tighter around his waist, your cunt clenching around his cock as he holds it there, all of him inside you as he’s finally gotten the last bit in.

“God, wanna fill you up so good, baby. Wanna make you a mother.” This doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. You and Eddie have spoken multiple times about how you want to have children and you can’t think of a better time to actually have your first.

“Then make me a mother,” you tell him and he goes even harder, his thrusts more frequent and hard, eliciting moan after moan from you.

“So fucking pretty,” Eddie says as his lips find yours, pushing you even more against the glass as he turns his head to the side. You orgasm into his mouth as his tongue finds its way into your own mouth, swirling around yours and his hands find their way to your ass, digging into the skin and you really hope he leaves marks. “You’re gonna be so hot with your stomach getting bigger. God, I’m getting hard just thinking about it sweetheart.”

He pulls you away from the window and brings you over to the couch where he lies, you collapsing on top of him with a gasp. You’re flat on top of him and his hands find their way to your ass, digging his nails into your cheeks as his lips find yours again before giving it a hard slap.

You gasp into his mouth and he can’t help but grin as he does it again, harder this time before massaging it to soothe the pain. You want him to do more, but know that he never wants to actually hurt you so you straddle his waist and begin to ride him as a thank him for fucking your brains out only moments earlier.

“Gonna make such a good mom, swear to god,” he breathes. “I’m gonna be a good dad, right?”

“Of course you are, Ed,” you tell him as your hips roll against his. “You’re gonna be a great dad. Amazing, even.”

“Always say everything I want to hear, don’t you sweetheart?” He winks as hips buck against yours and his fingers dig further into your ass cheeks with so much force that you swear you’re going to bleed. But that’s the least of your worries. Eddie already looks fucked out and you smile to yourself with pride at your boyfriend who’s eyes are definitely rolling into the back of his head and you’ve barely even done anything.

You hold onto his shoulders as you pick up the pace, waiting to get to what you were doing before, wanting to make him feel as good as he made you feel. He continues to buck his hips against yours and maybe it’s because you haven’t done this in weeks or maybe it’s all the traveling you’ve done all day, but you feel like the both of you don’t have the energy or stamina that you used to.

“Fuck fuck fuck, baby,” he moans as he reaches his orgasm and bucks his hip against yours one last time before his back hits the couch. You lie on top of him, the two of you out of breath and he doesn’t bother pulling out as he wants to be as close to you as possible.

He flips you over and pulls out, lowering himself down to your stomach, peppering it with kisses, telling you how much he loves you and that even though he just came inside of you, that he doesn’t care if you wind up pregnant or not. He’s still going to love you for the rest of his life. And you feel the exact same way about him.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie #husband!eddie

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aakeysmash · 2 months ago

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christmas shopping, matching pajamas and family discounts

college!sukuna masterlist

"Why are we here again?" college!sukuna huffs from next to you for the umpteenth time.

"Stop acting like a little bitch. You asked me that 20 seconds ago, Yuuji is acting better than you," you hiss out, glaring at him. It's true though: the kid is trotting right in front of you two, not a care in the world, while his caretaker is currently dragging his feet on the pavement you're walking on.

"And you still didn't answer, fucker," he barks back, grimacing, kicking a little rock.

"Yes, I fucking did! I told you this morning we were going Christmas shopping! You never listen to me," you start, jutting your lip out and trying to play the victim. You know he hates it when you do it. "Maybe I should tell Yuuji how his big brother hates the idea of going shopping with him," you provoke, whispering so that only you and him know what you're talking about. He scoffs, offended.

"Liar. Don't you fucking dare-"

"Are you two fighting again?" whines Yuuji, turning around and pouting. You and Sukuna glance at each other before shaking your head at the same moment.

"No, we're getting along so well," you force yourself to smile.

"Yeah, she said she's so glad I'm accompanying her. Matter of fact, she said she's going to offer us lunch," Sukuna continues, an evil glint in his eyes when he hears you gasp.

"I did not-"

"Really?! Yippie!" screams Yuuji, coming to hug you violently. You stumble back, gritting your teeth, and reciprocate the hug while narrowing your eyes at the grinning tattooed man in front of you. He knows you're not able to say no to his brother.

When Yuuji runs inside the mall, you push Sukuna's shoulder, mumbling "bitch". He just chuckles, then boldly gets you close by placing one open hand on your lower back. You know he's just going to tease you, so you put both hands on his chest to fight back, trying to put some distance between you two, but the place is crowded and everyone is looking at you. A woman passes by you and looks at you weirdly, so you stop wriggling in his grasp, and he delicately pushes you even closer. You're chest to chest, his breath fanning over your features, grin ever present on his face, enjoying how you look pissed out of your mind. From the outside, it looks like you're hugging each other, when in reality he just puts his mouth on your ear to utter "Never play with me, baby. I know how to drive you mad," then frees you and walks behind Yuuji with his hands in his pockets, not turning back to see if you're following him or not. You're seething.

"Oh my God, Yuuji, look at these!" you swoon over a pair of pajama pants. They're a soft brown, decorated with little green Christmas' trees and little reindeers, a bright red Merry Christmas! on both knees.

"It's a set!" squeals the kid next to you, grabbing the sweater right on top of the piece of cloth you have in your hands. You both notice at the same time that the set comes both in adults' and kids' sizes. "Can we take it?" he asks you looking up, puppy eyes activated. Your heartstrings are pulled so tight you feel like you could implode if you look at his face for a second longer.

"Of course we can, I thought it was obvious," you say excitedly, grabbing his hands and jumping up and down with him in a circle while he laughs, smile on full display and brown eyes squeezed shut happily.

Sukuna, who has kept watching his phone for the majority of the time you've been inside the mall, raises his gaze when he hears your laugh mingled with his brother's. If you had been looking at him in that instant, you would've seen the brief soft glimpse that passed on his whole face when he took in how happy you both looked together. When you turn around, though, he's already schooled his features to appear bored.

"Are we done?" he yawns.

"Would you like to match with us?" you ask him, at the same time. You scowl and he scoffs.

"Hell no, girl. I'm not with whatever stupid shit y'all are doing," he says, trying to act tougher than what he actually feels like. Seeing you being kind to the only person in the world who shares 100% of his genes makes him feel things he doesn't want to acknowledge right now.

"You're a party pooper, 'Kuna," Yuuji mumbles, frowning. "Can we still match? I really want us to match," he adds, shily, looking at you. You're shocked. His cheeks are getting redder the more you gawk at him. "Sorry, you can say no-"

Your kiss on his cheek resonates all around the ally you're currently staying in. "Of course I want to match with you. We don't need your evil brother, Yuuji. Let's go try them on," you sweetly say, taking his hand and walking away from Sukuna, not before flipping him off. Yuuji is so giddy that he follows you like he's walking on clouds, his face slightly hurting from how hard he's cheesing.

Sukuna just stands there, baffled and even a little offended. He stiffens, noticing he still has his phone in his hands. He's so fast with it he's the first to remain shocked by his own actions: he hears the click of his camera and looks at the pic he's just taken, feeling his chest heavier than it's ever been. It's a beautifully taken pic, where you and Yuuji are squinting at each other, hand in hand, laughing. He turns off his screen, shakes his head and catches up to you. You're going to give him a headache if you continue being like this. Or a heart attack. Or both.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" the nice old lady at the checkout says.

"Hi, we'd like to take these two pieces," you kindly respond, handing her the pajamas you and Yuuji just tried on.

"Let me see... oh, we actually have a family discount on this! Is the daddy not going to take anything?" she innocently asks, looking over at your older roommate.

"Yo, I'm not his-"

Your eyes almost fall out of your sockets. "Ah ah ah! Silly us! We forgot his one! Just give me a second," you interrupt a scowling Sukuna, covering his mouth with your hand before he can finish his sentence, dragging him away. Yuuji gives the old lady a confused look, to which she responds with "Young parents these days," shaking her head.

"You're going to take the fucking matching set, Sukuna, and you're going to like it," you seethe, still dragging him away (well, it's more like he's letting you drag him away). You hear how he's trying to talk behind your hand. "Don't piss me off. I'm going to pay less to get more, and you're going to listen to me. Go." You ignore him and he raises one eyebrow, looking you up and down, before biting your fingers. You yelp and let him go, scowling. "I said go! And act like you care about me when we get there, we're a family until the discount tells us so!"

"Okay, ma'am," he grins down to you, wiping his saliva from the corner of his mouth with a slow movement, his gaze lingering a bit too much on the way you're panting.

"Move! Take your size and let's go! Yuuji is waiting for us!" you push him, rushing back to the cashier.

"Oh, you were really fast. I thought you were going to argue with the way you rushed away," she says when she sees you come back, surprised. You nervously chuckle, telling her how you were already planning on buying one for Sukuna, you just forgot. "That would be 20.99$."

While you're swiping your card, you suddenly feel engulfed by heat. Sukuna positions his hands on your waist, giving you a half hug from behind while simultaneously giving his best confident grin to the old lady in front of him.

"Yeah. I just like when she bosses me around a bit, if you know what I mean," he says, sultry, winking at the cashier who is chuckling behind her hand, embarrassed, waving him away.

What the fuck? You initially try not to stiffen, then relax and give her a shy smile, and he squeezes you a bit closer. You melt on his chest, feeling hotter than you've felt all day. He's so comfortable. He brushes his lips near your ear and makes sure you hear the way his raspy voice is all around you. "And I do, baby. I really do."

#college au #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk fics #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic

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copperbadge · 1 month ago

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Among kids of my generation and class I think it was fairly common for our parents to have a self-store unit for at least a portion of our childhood, and I think also probably it was pretty common for us to witness them being kind of ashamed of it. The feeling that my parents had, and I to some degree internalized, was that if you needed to store stuff outside of your home, well, you had too much stuff. I've heard other people my age express the same sentiment.

To an extent I can understand the feeling, but it's something I and my peers are having to unlearn. Because finally I came to the conclusion that the idea of offsite storage hits differently when you live in a city apartment, when you don't have a garage or a garden shed or a basement. You live amongst everything you own. My friends agree -- you might not want to get rid of your Christmas decorations or your LARP costumes and props or your camping gear, because you do use those things, but you also don't need to keep them in the home. And if I were offered an extra walk-in closet in my condo for $30 a month added onto my mortgage, I'd take it in a heartbeat. The fact that it happens to be about a mile away instead of inside my bedroom is almost immaterial at that point.

There's no real goal in making this post other than to talk about it, because I think it's something a lot of us unconsciously hold onto. And I know that also a lot of people hold shame about having a "cluttered" home, or being unable to part with things you don't really need anymore, so you know.

I've carefully packed up my Halloween decorations in a watertight bin and soon I'll stash them away until next year, when I'll be able to just go over to storage and haul out my winter clothes and my Halloween stuff and enjoy it, instead of watching it attract dust in the closet.

#naclyoho #national clean your home month

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punkshort · 22 days ago

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Palm Trees

Thank you @itsafullmoon for this prompt!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Sometimes love can be found unexpectedly in the aisle of Home Depot's Christmas displays.

Warnings: language, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of OC deaths, sexual tension, flirting

WC: 3.6K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel smiled as he watched Sarah skip down the aisles of Home Depot, him trailing behind pushing an orange cart that already was half filled with way too many boxes of Christmas lights, two light up penguins, and an inflatable Santa.

Christmas was never this thing, but he tried to make it special for Sarah. Her mother had always been the one to go the whole nine yards for the holiday while Joel kicked back and watched his girls have a blast decorating the house. Every year they participated in the Christmas lights competition their small town just outside of Austin, Texas held, and every year they lost. But it never really mattered because they had so much fun putting everything together and brainstorming on Thanksgiving what they thought would give them a competitive edge.

When his wife passed away four years ago, they stopped participating in the competition. It never felt right, and neither of them wanted to do it. But that year on Thanksgiving, much to Joel's surprise, Sarah turned to him out of the blue and said, we should do a penguin slip and slide on the lawn this year.

Tommy and Maria fell silent, eyes darting between Joel and his daughter while they waited for his response. Once he collected himself, he said, what about Santa in a hot tub?

Thus, the idea was born: Christmas on the beach. They still had plenty of supplies from years before, but he let Sarah plan the whole thing. If she wanted new things to put on the lawn, he would gladly pay for them just to see that huge smile on her face when she looked at him over her shoulder as she skipped down the aisle.

Given their beach theme, one thing they definitely needed and didn't already own was a light up palm tree, one which Sarah scouted out online and informed Joel it was the only home improvement store that had them in stock. He wanted to tease her and remind her that of course palm trees weren't popular to keep on the shelf at Christmas time, but she was so excited he just shook his head and grabbed his keys.

"Alright, it's gotta be here, it says it's in aisle 17A," Sarah said when she slowed down, scanning the huge light-up displays. Joel sighed and looked around, gaze drifting over presents, reindeer and wreathes until he heard Sarah gasp softly. He slid to a stop and whipped his head in her direction. She was standing in the middle of the aisle, crestfallen, as she watched a young woman lift the very last palm tree into her cart.

"Oh, no," she whispered, and Joel's heart broke when he heard the despair in her voice. He couldn't stand to see Sarah that way after she had been so excited for Christmas for the first time since the loss of her mother, so he did something he never thought he would do. He abandoned the cart with Sarah, instructing her to stay right there, and hurried down the aisle towards you.

"Hey, uh, excuse me?"

You looked up in surprise, then glanced over your shoulder to make sure he was actually addressing you, before meeting his eye again.

"Yes?"

Joel came to a stop in front of your cart and lowered his voice.

"I have a favor to ask," he began. When he saw the defensive look on your face, he quickly shook his head. "Sorry, wait. See the little girl behind me? With the cart?"

Your eyes flicked over his shoulder quickly, spotting the curly haired pre-teen, then nodded.

"Well, it sounds ridiculous but she's got her heart set on that damn palm tree, and-" Joel looked at the shelf to confirm before giving you his attention again. "You got the last one. You think I can buy it from you?"

You blinked in surprise, your eyes slowly sliding between him and the boxed palm tree in your cart, then bit your lip.

"Well..."

"Please," he begged before pulling out his wallet. "Whatever you want. I don't wanna make you feel bad, but we lost my wife a few years back. Lightin' up the house for that damn competition was somethin' she always did with her mom. This is the first year she's been excited for it and I don't wanna let her down."

Your shoulders sagged in defeat and you turned to your cart.

"That's okay, you can take it. You don't need to pay me," you told him, stepping aside so he could grab the box. But Joel shook his head.

"No, please, lemme give you somethin' for it."

You smiled sadly and waved him off.

"I don't want your money. Make your daughter happy. It's hard for a girl to lose her mom. Just... take it."

You turned your back to him but he heard you sniffle softly behind your hand and he frowned.

"You alright?" he asked, hands slowly lowering when he sensed something was amiss

"Yeah, I'm fine," you assured him. You crossed your arms over the handle of your cart and leaned against it, like the weight of the world was forcing you down.

"No, you ain't. This palm tree mean somethin' to you?" he asked while pointing at the box.

"No, not really," you said with a shrug. But when Joel refused to accept that as an answer, you sighed and rolled your eyes. "I lost my mom, too. Last year. She lived in Florida and she loved Christmas and I saw the stupid tree so-"

You shook your head, letting your sentence fall unfinished in the air. Joel's heart sank and he looked back at Sarah, who was staring at him curiously.

"Sarah, c'mere," he called. She pushed the shopping cart down the aisle and you looked up, tilting your head to the side in confusion. "Sarah," he said with his arm outstretched towards you. "This is-"

He cut himself off and looked at you expectantly. You stood up straighter and told them both your name, which Joel repeated before looking back at his daughter.

"What'dya say we get a little help with the Christmas decorations this year?" he asked her. Then he swiveled back to you before adding, "I mean, if you wanna. We could really use it if you're free."

A slow smile stretched across your face and you gave him a quick nod before catching Sarah's eye. She grinned at you before saying, "Sounds great. He's pretty much useless, anyway." Sarah jutted her thumb in Joel's direction and you both laughed softly before you agreed.

"I mean, as long as it's not an imposition," you said quickly. Both Joel and Sarah quickly put your worries to rest.

"Not at all. We'd love the help," he assured you. Then Sarah playfully nudged his arm.

"Ask for her number, Dad."

You felt your cheeks warm and Joel awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Can I, uh, get your number? So we can set up a date? I mean, a time?"

"Yeah, of course," you giggled when he grew flustered at his slip-up. You took his phone and tapped in your name and number before handing it back to him.

"We're doing a Christmas on the beach theme for our house this year," Sarah told you excitedly, dragging your gaze off her father, who you finally allowed yourself to notice was extremely handsome.

"Oh, yeah? That sounds cool. You know, I used to live in Florida, so we literally had Christmas on the beach every year. We can put some sunglasses on Santa and beach umbrellas over the reindeer," you offered. Sarah's eyes lit up when she looked at her father.

"Dad, she's brilliant," Sarah said matter-of-factly. Joel chuckled while you tried to hide your excitement by shyly looking down at your own phone.

"Alright, well, thank you," Joel said before hoisting the box from your cart and dropping it into his. "And, uh," he glanced sideways at Sarah before saying softly, "anything else you wanna do to honor your mom, just lemme know. We'll do anythin' you want."

Even though Joel dropped his voice, Sarah still heard him. Her mouth twisted sadly as she looked away to offer you some privacy.

"Yeah, thanks," you replied with a small smile. You wrapped your fingers around the rail of your shopping cart and began to back away. "You better actually call me. 'Cause if you try to pull one over on me just to take my palm tree, I'll find you," you joked.

"Oh, I'll be callin' you, don't worry," he told you while trying to fight the stupid grin from stretching across his face. Right before you turned and waved, he shot you a wink that made your heart flutter, then you disappeared towards the cash registers.

"She's pretty."

Joel's neck practically snapped when he heard his daughter speak by his side.

"Oh. I-I ... it ain't like that. I felt bad that she-"

"Yeah, okay, Dad," Sarah said with a roll of her eyes. "C'mon. We need to find the extension cords before the store closes."

Joel let Sarah lead the way while silently trying to unravel her unexpectedly relaxed reaction to him possibly flirting with another woman. He ached for the comfort having a partner brought, but for years he stifled his own desires for fear of upsetting Sarah. She was his one and only priority, and he was fine with that.

But for the first time he began to wonder if it was possible to have both.

True to his word, Joel had called you a couple days later asking if you were free that Saturday to help decorate. It felt nice to have a distraction around the holidays. It kept you from wallowing and thinking too much about your mother, but as you were getting ready to leave, you decided you didn't want to forget about her entirely. You wanted to honor her memory in some way, so at the last minute you tugged on your ugly Christmas sweater, the same one you would wear every Christmas morning with your mom, then rushed out the door.

"Whoa! You came prepared!" Sarah exclaimed when she swung open the front door. You grinned and looked down at your sweater covered with garland that was hanging on by a thread and some horrifying looking Santa with a reindeer.

"My mom used to have a matching one, it was kind of our tradition on Christmas," you explained as you slipped off your boots.

"I love that. My mom used to have this vest with these, like, ornaments hanging off them. It was hideous but she legitimately thought it was cute," Sarah laughed over her shoulder as she led you into the kitchen, where Joel was hunched over the sink scrubbing dishes. While his back was still turned, you allowed yourself to quickly eye him up. He was wearing a red flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a dish towel tossed over his left shoulder. He looked so domestic and comfortable in that moment that it had your heart skipping a beat.

"Oh, hey," Joel said when he noticed you. "Sorry. Just cleanin' up. Lost track of time."

"No problem," you said, eyes still fixed on the way his broad shoulders moved underneath his shirt. Distracted, you went to lean against the kitchen counter and almost fell when you misjudged the distance, causing Sarah to stifle a giggle and turn away.

Once Joel dried his hands, he turned to face you properly. His eyes landed on your sweater and you could see the inner turmoil in his expression as he tried to figure out if it was worn as a joke or not, so you quickly put him out of his misery.

"It's just something dumb my mom and I wore on Christmas," you explained. His shoulders dropped and he smiled.

"Cute."

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from smiling like a fool when you watched his face turn pink and his eyes widen.

"I mean, it's cute - the sweater's cute - not you."

Then Joel's face twisted and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's not to say you ain't cute, it's just - well, I was tryin' to say -"

"Oh, my god, Dad! You're making it so much worse!" Sarah laughed before disappearing back the way you came. "I'll be in the garage getting all the stuff together!" she called. You heard the rustle from her coat right before the door squeaked open and shut, leaving the two of you all alone.

"Sorry," Joel finally said sheepishly. You giggled and waved him off.

"Don't be," you replied. Maybe it was the privacy that gave you a streak of sudden bravery because you then added, "I thought it was cute. It being you."

Before you could register the shocked look on his face, you swiveled around to follow Sarah's path towards the front door. "See you out there!" you sang before slipping back outside, grateful for the cool winter air to help soothe your warm cheeks.

You were surprised with how quickly you grew comfortable with Joel and Sarah. They had an easiness to their family that you craved and very much enjoyed experiencing, even if it was only for just one afternoon.

"Good thing you were free to help today. There's supposed to be a blizzard tonight," Sarah said when she climbed the steps of the porch, arms filled with an assortment of tangled Christmas lights. "We never would have been able to put all this stuff up with a ton of snow on the ground."

"When's the competition again?" you asked, plopping down and grabbing a string of lights to unravel.

"Christmas Eve," she said, "You're coming, right?"

Your mind stuttered a bit at the question. You hadn't been invited, but you wouldn't expect to be, either. A few days ago, both she and her father were complete strangers. It would have been weird to spend Christmas Eve with them. Right?

"Oh, no, that's a time for family," you insisted while focusing all of your attention on the pile of lights in your lap. Across the yard, you both heard Joel swear to himself when two reindeer toppled over. You looked up and smiled. It was incredibly adorable to watch him work so hard to make the yard perfect for his daughter.

"So you'll be with your family, then?" Sarah questioned with a hint of sadness to her voice. Your mouth opened and closed for a second as you tried to think of what to say until you sighed and shook your head.

"No, actually I'll be alone this year," you told her after deciding to go with the truth.

"Well, then, why can't you come over?" she asked. Before you could reply, she lifted her chin and shouted across the lawn for Joel.

Immediately you raised your hands, waving them back and forth while saying, "No, please, I don't want to be a bother. I meant you should be with your family," you said.

"No one should be alone on Christmas," Sarah told you softly just as Joel had walked up, lifting one boot to rest on the bottom step.

"You're gonna be alone on Christmas?" Joel asked with a concerned look so sweet, it made your knees weak.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not a big deal," you said while doing your best to avoid both their eyes. You suddenly felt overexposed and uncomfortable, so you picked up the lights again and got to work untangling them.

"You should stop by," Joel told you. "I mean, only if you wanna. No pressure or nothin', it's just gonna be us, my brother 'n his wife but... we'd love to have you."

"We can all wear ugly sweaters, just like you and your mom used to," Sarah said, the offer making your heart melt.

"Uh, thanks, but I don't know..." you trailed off, still fixing your gaze on the lights. "I'll think about it."

The rest of the afternoon flew by, fortunately without any more awkwardness. The sun had set almost an hour prior to the three of you hurrying towards the end of the driveway so you could take in the beautiful Christmas landscape you created in all its glory.

"This is our year, I can feel it," Sarah announced happily between you both. You looked down at her and grinned, her dark brown eyes sparkling as she stared at the beachy Christmas scene you had worked so hard to create.

"Better be, considerin' my electric bill's gonna be through the roof," Joel muttered, but when you lifted your eyes to look at him, you caught him smiling just as wide as Sarah.

"Well, my job here is done," you said, clapping your gloved hands together. "I should hit the road before that blizzard comes."

"It's not supposed to snow til, like, super early in the morning," Sarah protested. "Can't you stay for a little while longer?"

"We were gonna order a pizza and watch a movie, if you're interested," Joel added. "C'mon, it's the least we could do for all your help."

You hesitantly agreed and you told yourself it was only because you missed being part of a family and absolutely nothing to do with how handsome Joel looked under the glow from the Christmas lights.

What you didn't expect was for everyone to be so exhausted after spending the day working hard that the three of you would fall asleep halfway through the movie. It was close to four in the morning when you awoke with a jolt, your neck craned at an impossible angle against the back of Joel's couch. You winced and tenderly massaged the knot in your neck, then straightened up and looked around, wondering what disturbed you in the first place.

It was Joel, who was in the process of gently picking up Sarah from the spot next to you. He noticed you were awake and held one finger to his lips. You swallowed tightly and nodded, remaining still and quiet so as not to wake up Sarah, and watched him carefully walk down the hallway past the kitchen to tuck her into bed.

Once they were both gone, you were left with a glowing television screen and a dryness in your mouth that had you wandering into the dim kitchen for some water. You were halfway through your glass and about to peer out the window when you heard Joel's voice behind you softly say your name. You swiveled around to find him leaning against the kitchen counter, still clad in that red flannel but now adorned with messy bedhead hair that had your mind going down a dangerous path.

"God, sorry I fell asleep," you said, placing your empty glass in the sink. "I'll get going-"

Joel laughed quietly, cutting you off.

"Don't think you'll be goin' anywhere. Did you look outside?"

Your face fell and you hurried over to the window, peeling the curtain back just to find his entire driveway, your car included, covered in a thick blanket of snow.

"Still comin' down, too," he told you. "Ain't safe to drive. You can take my bed and I'll sleep on the couch."

"Oh, gosh, no - I'll sleep on the couch," you told him firmly. The corner of Joel's mouth twitched into a little smile before he pushed off the counter, taking a few steps towards you.

"You're stubborn, y'know that?"

"I do," you replied with a grin. But when he got close enough to pinch the material of your sweater between his fingers, your smile slipped from your face and your heart began to race.

"I like it," he finally said, his voice so soft it sent a shiver down your spine. "You, by the way. You and that stubborn streak. Not the sweater, this thing is ugly as hell."

You laughed and quickly clapped your hand over your mouth so as not to wake up Sarah. Joel grinned and moved a little closer, the scent from his laundry detergent and faded cologne invading your senses.

"You'll come by for Christmas, right?" he asked, letting his hand fall back to his side. He gazed down at you, those beautiful eyes scanning your face like he was looking for something.

"I don't want to impose on your family time," you told him, noting you sounded a little short of breath from the close proximity. He just frowned and the hand that was once touching your sweater came up to pinch your chin.

It felt as if time stood still when he leaned down to gingerly brush his lips over yours. Then he leaned back and searched your eyes, checking to make sure what he did was okay. Without hesitating, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed your mouth against his, too eager to feel the warmth of his lips again to wait.

"How 'bout now?" Joel asked after he tore himself away. You opened your eyes and looked up at him curiously, then he smirked. "You still think it's an imposition?" he clarified. Your eyes lit up and you bit back a smile as you pretended to think about it.

"Hmm, I'm not sure," you teased, "I might need you to kiss me again before I can decide."

Joel chuckled then crashed his mouth against yours, taking your breath away. You could feel a heat behind that kiss, one that was filled with promise and excitement that had you feeling lightheaded and giddy.

"Well?" he panted when he pulled away a second time, but he kept your cheek cradled in his palm while he waited for your answer.

"You make a very compelling argument," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his middle. He grinned and leaned forward again for another kiss, but stopped inches away so he could ask, "That mean you'll be here for Christmas?"

"Yeah," you breathed, "I'll be here for Christmas."

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#joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #joel miller christmas #joel miller x you #joel miller comfort #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel the last of us

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fallingforchristmasworld · 2 years ago

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#winter garden #christmas decorations #it's cold #baby it's cold outside #garden #christmas decor ideas #happy time #reindeer #photography #freeze #feelings #xmasiscoming #cold as ice #elegant #christmas eve

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riboism · 12 days ago

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warm on a cold night

》 pairing: aged up professor! c.jh x fem student reader

》 plot: Choi Jongho, a middle-aged professor struggling with a midlife crisis and an unfulfilling marriage, seeks a brief escape through an affair with a bright young student he meets at a bar during a faculty Christmas party. What begins as a distraction soon forces him to confront deeper guilt and dissatisfaction, leading him to question his choices and the life he's built.

》 content: aged up and married jongho (40s), college student reader, mentions of OC, emma (jongho’s wife), cheating, alcohol, FAT COCK JONGHO AGENDA, manhandling, spanking, creampie, blowjob, face-fucking, stand and carry position, smut with some angst

》 wc: 4.7k

》 a/n: all credits for this idea goes to @yun-fangz

🎧 warm on a cold night- honne

Jongho leaned against the wall, his whiskey swirling lazily in hand as he watched his colleagues laugh and chat over the hum of soft holiday jazz. The semester had finally ended, and a handful of faculty members had chosen to unwind at a cozy bar just a few blocks from campus.

The place was charmingly festive, adorned with twinkling fairy lights, cranberry-decorated wreaths, bright red ribbons, and polished wood paneling that radiated warmth. Inside, the air was thick with the cheer of the season, a stark contrast to the biting cold winds just beyond the frosted windows. Yet, no matter how long he lingered near the fireplace, or how many shots burned in his chest, the chill from outside seemed to cling to him, refusing to melt away in the glow of the celebration.

Jongho lingered in the corner, isolating himself from the rest of the group. He watched the other professors mingle, their laughter bubbling over clinking glasses. The sight stirred a mix of envy and disdain. Their holiday cheer felt hollow, a performance, and yet he resented how effortlessly they seemed to pull it off.

He’d considered skipping the party altogether but couldn’t bear the thought of going home tonight. Not yet.

He shouldn’t be drinking—not this much, anyway—but he kept ordering pint after pint, convincing himself that each one would drown his thoughts a little more. And for a while, it worked. Until it didn’t. Now, his thoughts swirled darker, heavier, impossible to ignore.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” or so the song went. Jongho begged to differ. The Christmas trees, the holiday sales, the relentless jingles—it all made him tense. He was sick of it. Sick of forcing smiles through strained dinners. Sick of walking on eggshells at home. Sick of pretending that everything was fine, that he was still happily married, that he still wanted this. And the thought of hosting Emma’s family for Christmas dinner this year made his stomach churn. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the facade.

What gnawed at him most was that he couldn’t point to any one thing to explain his unhappiness. There’d been no affair, no fights, no children to argue over. Just a slow, relentless erosion of something he couldn’t name. He had simply checked out, growing numb.

Emma, once a beacon of warmth and brilliance, now felt dimmed to him, like a candle flickering from a draft. He thought back to their early years—the long dinners spent debating poetry, the late nights whispering sweet nothings in the dark, tangling into each other over white satin sheets, her longing for him even when he was only a few feet away. Now, their evenings were quiet, their conversations perfunctory. They ate in near silence, their words dried up like an old well. Nights in bed were worse: two bodies lying back-to-back, the weight of unspoken things pressing down on the space between them, the burning desire for each other now snuffed out like a dying flame.

It wasn’t her fault, not really. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was suffocating.

Unlike the rest of the faculty, Jongho wasn’t looking forward to the long winter break. While his colleagues spoke eagerly of trips, family gatherings, and restful days at home, he found himself filled with a quiet, gnawing dread. Work had become his refuge—long hours at the office, stacks of papers to grade, and the pretense of ‘office hours’ no one ever attended. It was all a convenient shield. The thought of being home with Emma, with no deadlines or lectures to hide behind, felt almost unbearable.

He’d toyed with the idea of seeing a lawyer. The thought of ending it all—cleanly, definitively—had crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit. But every time, the guilt stopped him. How could he serve her divorce papers without a clear reason? No betrayal, no dramatic blowout, just the suffocating weight of his own unhappiness. It felt cruel, cowardly.

So, instead, he stayed. He let his depression settle in, heavy and inescapable, like an unwelcome guest. His wedding ring sat on his finger like a shackle, not a symbol of love but an anchor pulling him further into the depths of his discontent. Some days, he wondered what it would feel like to let it drag him all the way down to the bottom of the sea.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, staring down at the empty glass in his hand. The amber traces of his last drink clung stubbornly to the bottom, mocking him. With a groan, he pushed himself off the wall and stumbled back to the bar, his movements heavy and unsteady. He leaned over the polished counter, shaking his glass slightly to catch the bartender's attention. Without a word, the bartender nodded and began pouring another whiskey neat, the amber liquid glinting under the soft, golden lights.

As Jongho waited, his gaze drifted. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her—a familiar girl, laughing softly among two friends at a table on the far side of the bar. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and her giggles carried just enough to reach him, rising above the hum of the crowd and the muted jazz playing overhead. For a moment, he squinted, trying to place her. Then it clicked.

Y/N. His student.

He remembered your paper on Keats’ Ode on Melancholy. It was rare for him to recall specific assignments, let alone be impressed by them. Most of his students treated his class like an obligation, churning out rushed, half-hearted essays that betrayed their indifference to literature. But your work had stood out—not just for its clarity and depth, but for the way it annoyed him.

You’d written with optimism, arguing that Keats saw melancholy as a companion to joy, as something that heightened the beauty of life rather than drowning it. Jongho had scoffed at your words as he read them, unable to reconcile your argument with his own misery. To him, melancholy wasn’t some poetic counterpoint to happiness—it was a relentless weight, suffocating and inescapable. Still, he couldn’t deny the paper’s quality or the sincerity behind it.

The bartender slid his whiskey across the counter, snapping Jongho out of his thoughts. He picked it up, taking a long, deliberate sip before glancing back at you. Your friends had gotten up and were weaving through the crowd toward the exit, leaving you alone at the table. You didn’t seem to notice right away, your attention fixed on your phone, but when you looked up, a flicker of disappointment crossed your face.

Jongho hesitated. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. But the whiskey burned warm in his chest, loosening his inhibitions and drowning out the voice of reason. Before he could think better of it, he picked up his glass and made his way toward you.

“Y/N?” he said, his voice low and slightly unsteady.

You looked up, startled, your eyes widening in recognition. “Professor Choi?”

He gave you a faint smile, gesturing toward the empty chair next to you. “Mind if I join you?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the door your friends had disappeared through. Then, with a small shrug and a curious smile, you gestured for him to sit.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone light but your eyes searching his face.

“Same thing as everyone else, I suppose,” he replied, settling into the chair. “Avoiding reality.”

Your lips curved into a half-smile. “That’s not how you struck me in class.”

He raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “How did I strike you, then?”

You hesitated again, as if weighing your words, before saying, “Like someone who sees too much reality to avoid it.”

The comment caught him off guard, and for the first time that night, Jongho felt seen. Vulnerable, but in a way he didn’t mind. He took another sip of his whiskey, the silence between you stretching just long enough to feel charged.

“So,” he said, setting his glass down. “Do you always come to bars like this, or is tonight special?”

You laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “My friends dragged me here. They’ve abandoned me for some frat party, so… I guess that’s my answer.”

Jongho nodded, leaning back slightly. “Their loss.”

Your cheeks flushed faintly at the comment, and for the first time, he noticed how young you seemed outside the context of his lectures. Yet, your presence held a gravity that felt far beyond your years.

And as the conversation unfolded, Jongho couldn’t quite shake the thought: he shouldn’t be here, saying these things, feeling this pull. But he stayed anyway. “Can I ask you something?”

You paused, your fingers brushing the rim of your shot glass. You shared the same thought he had: maybe you shouldn’t be here, talking to him, sharing drinks, lingering longer than politeness demanded. But there was something about him tonight—a quiet vulnerability that mirrored your own. You could see it in his slightly hunched posture, in the way his eyes didn’t quite meet yours until they did, holding just a second too long.

And maybe, you admitted to herself, you felt a pull too. You were lonely. It was clear he was, too, and that unspoken connection put you at ease in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Sure,” you said softly.

Jongho leaned in, his voice dropping, as though he were about to share a secret. “Why Keats? Why not something easy, like Poe? Do you know how many essays I’ve graded on The Tell-Tale Heart or The Raven? Yours was the only outlier.”

You tilted her head, a small, thoughtful smile playing on your lips. You rubbed your fingers absentmindedly against the glass, the tequila inside still untouched. “I don’t know,” you said with a shrug, though your tone suggested otherwise. “I guess it’s just… comforting, you know?”

“Comforting?” He blinked, genuinely puzzled. “You think melancholy is comforting?”

You nodded, meeting his eyes directly. “Yeah. It’s like... it’s always there. Inevitable. You can’t escape it, but once you stop trying to, it feels less heavy. More like... a part of you. It’s something to be embraced, something to be experienced. It’s human. I think Keats got that.”

For a moment, Jongho didn’t respond. Your words hung in the air, resonating with something buried deep within him. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, his thoughts turning over themselves. “Most people run from it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “They see it as a weakness. Something to be fixed.”

“Maybe it is,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to your drink. “But it’s also honest. Keats thought melancholy was the start of a new transition in life. Drowning it out by distracting yourself with alcohol or drugs would just ruin it.”

Jongho looked down at his drink. Your words struck a chord he hadn’t felt in years. This was the kind of conversation he used to have with Emma, back when they stayed up late talking about literature and life before the silence crept in. He felt the faintest spark—a flicker of something he couldn’t name. Connection, maybe.

“You think there’s harm in a little distraction?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes anything but. His gaze lingered on your face, studying every detail as though seeing you for the first time.

Maybe it was the whiskey or the fact that there was no desk separating you this time, but he realized how different you looked up close. Your eyes were wide, filled with a youthful energy that seemed so foreign to him. They practically radiated life, a stark contrast to the weight he carried in his own. The soft glow of the red Christmas lights hanging above reflected off your skin, casting a warm, rosy hue across your cheeks. He hadn’t noticed before—maybe he hadn’t let himself—but you were pretty.

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curling up in a shy smile as you considered his words. “I guess it depends on the distraction,” you said, your voice light, but there was a hint of curiosity there.

He took a slow sip of the dark liquid, his gaze never leaving yours. “Some distractions are good,” he said, his tone low and measured. “When you’re feeling stuck. Or....”

“Lonely?” you suggested, your voice soft and careful.

His expression shifted, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t his usual polite, practiced smile; it was something quieter, more real. Like you’d hit on something he wasn’t ready to say out loud.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to really look at him. The crinkles around his eyes and the subtle greys in his hair hinted at his age, but there was a boyish charm in the way his lips curved into that sly, gummy smile. It made you wonder what he looked like a decade ago, though you suspected he’d been just as magnetic.

Professor Choi was handsome—you’d known that since the first lecture. Most of the students had agreed on it, passing whispered comments and exchanging sly glances whenever he turned to write on the board. You’d harbored your own quiet crush on him, but it had been harmless, distant, academic.

This, however, was different.

Here, in this dimly lit bar, with his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a sliver of his collarbone, his salt-and-pepper hair slightly tousled, and the way his eyes lingered on you—longer than they should—you felt something shift. A warmth spread through you, pooling in your stomach, forcing you to press your thighs together under the table.

You traced the rim of your glass with your finger, the smooth rhythm giving you a moment to collect your thoughts. His gaze followed the movement of your hand, his whiskey glass forgotten for the moment.

“And what kind of distraction are you looking for, Professor?” you asked finally, your voice low, testing.

His eyes flicked back to yours, and for a second, he seemed to hesitate. His smile faded into something more serious, almost contemplative. “The kind that makes you feel something…something different,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur.

There was a rawness in his words that made your breath hitch. You liked it. He wasn’t like most of the boys you talked to. Of course, he wasn’t just any boy; he was almost twenty years your senior, and with that came maturity and experience. It was different—refreshing, in a way.

You hadn’t realized how close you were to him until now. Your knees brushed under the table, a subtle contact that sent an electric spark up your spine, though neither of you acknowledged it. The scent of his cologne—a mix of mint and sandalwood—filled your nostrils, making it harder to focus. His presence was all around you now, and you couldn’t pull away.

Your gaze drifted down to his hand, still holding his drink, and there, gleaming under the bar’s soft lights, was a shiny gold band on his finger. The sight of it made something inside you tighten, and your shoulders sagged with sudden disillusionment.

“And what if you’re not sure if it’s just a harmless distraction or a momentary lapse in judgment?” you asked.

He caught your glance at his ring, and the weight of it hit him, harder than he expected. Part of him recoiled, disgusted with himself for letting things get this far. Shame settled over him like a cloak. But another part, the part that had been suffocating for so long, felt a strange relief. He was tired—tired of thinking, tired of fighting. For once, he just wanted to feel something. He twisted his wedding ring around his finger, lost in thought, before looking back at you.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

—

Jongho hissed as he watched you part your lips over his throbbing tip. You were kneeling in front of him, your knees cushioned by the fluffy pink rug that lay before your bed. You two had stumbled into your apartment not too long ago, kissing and tugging at each other’s clothes, until the desire within you grew too strong to resist, and you began palming his crotch crazily until you felt him harden in your hand.

You guided him into your mouth, your skilled tongue swirling around his girth with delight. His cock was so hard and heavy on your tongue that you couldn’t help but bring your fingers down to your clothed heat, rubbing yourself desperately as you imagined how good he’d feel when he’s buried deep inside you. You held onto his cock with your other hand, giving it a few lazy pumps as you sucked and slurped him.

“Feels so good baby,” he panted, his gaze fixated on you. Jongho refused to blink, stuck in a trance in which he couldn’t escape. You looked so sweet with your mouth stuffed full of him, your reddened, puffy lips and teary wet eyes enticing him even further. He felt himself melting into you, his core tightening in anticipation, but he held himself off, just enough to keep enjoying your warmth.

Jongho grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling it up into a makeshift ponytail so he could have better control. “All the way princess,” he coached, pushing you down his length until your nose was pressed against his pelvic bone. “Just like that, good girl,” he hummed, proud to see you take all of him so easily. You gagged around him, tears blurring your vision as he guided your head up and down, his sweet, honey-like moans making your core throb.

Your eyes fluttered up to meet him, watching intently as he tilted his head back, his brows knitting together and his mouth falling open. Each breath he took grew shakier, more unsteady, and you knew he was close. Despite his efforts, Jongho couldn’t hold it in anymore, and he reached his peak somewhat prematurely. He pushed your head down firmly, his hips stilling as he flooded into you. The taste of his salty, thick cum overpowered you, and you moaned in satisfaction over the crown of his cock, forcing him to grasp onto your hair even tighter.

“Swallow,” he rasped, fucking the last bit of cum he had left into your pretty mouth, “all of it sweetheart, don’t waste a drop.”

You gulped his creamy white just as he demanded, the bitterness on your tongue and his desperate whines making your head spin. You came off him with a plop, licking your lips to prove you listened to his directions well.

“Good girl,” he smiled down at you, wiping away a tear from your warm, red cheeks. His thumb lingered over your skin as he watched you lick him clean, your soft kisses on his tender head making his gut tighten in overstimulation.

You then wrapped your fingers around him tightly, his pretty cock standing tall in your small grasp. You lined his veiny length with wet, messy kisses, grinning to yourself each time he jolted and gasped in response to your touch. When you finally pulled back to look up at him, you were met with the sight of his flushed face, his chest rising and falling heavily. A light sheen of sweat clung to his brow, and he looked utterly spent— as if he might collapse into a long slumber at any moment.

"What's the matter, Professor?" you teased, your voice low and taunting, "Can't keep up like you used to, huh?"

Jongho chucked at your little jab. He leaned down, cupping your face tightly with his hand. “Oh, don’t worry darling, I’m just getting started.”

—

“F-fuck!” You wailed for the nth time as you fucked yourself over his hard cock, grasping onto your headboard to keep you steady. Your thighs burned with exhaustion, each movement growing heavier and more difficult. Your pace slowed significantly, despite your determination to keep going. Each time you lost your rhythm, Jongho would send a harsh smack on your ass, warning you to keep going.

He sat against the headboard, nipping and sucking at your tender nipples as you rode him, his big hands grasping at your rear to keep you in place. He loved how you felt in his hands, your skin so soft and malleable, a complete contrast to your wet and tight cunt.

Smack.

The sting ignited a fiery pleasure on your skin, but the overwhelming exhaustion had you teetering on the edge of collapse.“Please, Professor,” You begged with tears streaming down your cheeks, “just wanna cum…wanna cum on your fat cock.”

Jongho finally gave your swollen breasts a much-needed break, plopping off your flesh and sinking back against the headboard. He looked up at you in pure fascination, completely mesmerized by your messy hair and fucked-out expression. “Then cum baby…” He cooed, “What, do you need my permission?”

Your pace faltered once again, the little bit of strength you had left in your legs finally giving out. You yelped as he brought down yet another hard smack to your already red, sensitive skin. “Please...need help.”

Jongho understood now. He repositioned his hands onto your hips, grasping them tightly as he took over and jerked his hips up. He pounded into you so rapidly, the sounds of your frenzied moans and smacking flesh filling up the room.

“Almost there…” He huffed, his eyes locked onto your core, “cum baby, cum all over my dick, need to feel it.”

Following his words, your walls tightened around him, and before you knew it, your knees buckled in and a wave of relief took over you. You fell over into his chest, crying out as he pumped himself into you slowly now, your slick gushing all over him.

“That’s it,” He purred into your ear, your chests heaving against each other, “that’s a good girl. Made such a mess, didn’t you?”

The way he talked to you made you dizzy, and if it was possible to cum from just being called his good girl, you most definitely would. His movements paused, giving you a chance to catch your breath. Your lips lightly traveled over his shoulder, to his neck, until you finally met his plush lips. You felt his big hands caressing your bare back as he kissed you hungrily, his lips tasting of hard whiskey and sweat. He was still inside of you, and the excitement from your moany, wet lips made him stiffen up again.

Suddenly, he flipped you over on your back, your head falling onto your stack of pillows. You let out a soft groan as his lips pulled away from yours, longing for the kiss to linger just a moment longer. You ran your fingers through his soft, dark strands as he traced his lips over the swells of your breast, making his way down to your wet heat. You gasped loudly as he pecked your skin, his practiced tongue parting your folds until finally reached your aching clit.

“Taste so sweet,” he moaned into you, the vibration from his deep voice making goosebumps prickle all over your skin. You were so sensitive now, each swirl of his tongue making you melt further into the mattress.

You lost yourself in his warm mouth, arching your back and writhing in pleasure over your messed up sheets. But then, the warmth slipped away, replaced by a sudden, isolating chill.

Jongho stood at the edge of the bed now, pulling you closer to him before abruptly lifting you up. You gasped at the sudden move, your arms and legs wrapping around him almost instantly.

“What are you doing?” You asked, still feeling hazy and confused from the interruption until you felt him tap his cockhead on your dripping cunt.

You had never been in this position before. It felt all too new, too risky, and you worried if he’d be able to support you all the way. “Professor, I don’t know…” you hesitated, a look of anxiety washing over your soft features.

Jongho’s lips curled up in that same boyish grin of his. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Afraid you can’t keep up with me?”

Your nerves disappeared and gave way to determination. "No," you scoffed, a playful glint in your eye. "I’m just worried about your back. Wouldn’t want you to pull something.”

Jongho smirked. He liked how quick you were with your jabs. “How considerate.”

He pointed his cockhead towards your cunt, leveling you down just enough so he could slip inside of you. You screamed out as he pulled you up and down his length, working you open like the pocket pussy he keeps locked away in his office. His unrelenting tempo forced you to hold onto his broad shoulders for dear life.

Jongho was strong. He held you up with ease, supporting you with a tight and secure grasp under your thighs. The sounds of your broken sobs and wet skin smacking against his made your cheeks flame red, which Jongho noticed immediately. He loved seeing you so bashful.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep screaming like that, sweetie,” He said against your ear. Your pussy was so open, and each pump over his cock felt raw and hard. There was a mix of pain and pleasure; the sweet feeling of his cock massaging your walls, and the pain of him jutting into you so deep with precision. You swore you were starting to see stars.

He slowed down, and you expected to feel his cum rush inside you, but when you looked up at him, his expression softened with worry evident in his eyes.

“Oh, you're crying baby,” He soothed as he gently placed you back on the bed. You hadn’t realized the stream of tears running down your cheeks, your mind too preoccupied with being split open over his thick cock. He quickly leaned over you, his lips brushing against your salty tears, his hands gliding soothingly along your sides. “Want me to stop?”

Your fingers tangled in his hair once more, threading through the soft strands as he trailed kisses across your face. A soft giggle escaped you, charmed by his sudden tenderness and care.

“I want you to cum inside me,” You whispered, your voice tinged with a burning need.

Without haste, he slipped into you once again, this time slow and steady, his face just millimeters away from yours. He thrust into you in languid strokes, leaving soft touches all over your skin like you were a fragile vase he didn’t want to tip over.

“You feel so good,” He praised, sucking in the soft bit of flesh at your neck, “you’re doing so well for me.”

His pace quickened again, he was just seconds away from reaching his climax. His breath felt hot against your skin, his dark brown eyes glinting with a fiery desire. “Kiss me,” he whispered, his voice thick with need, “kiss me when I cum inside you.”

It wasn’t an odd request, but the way he said it—so desperate, so filled with need—you felt you had no other choice but to oblige. You pulled him in closer, your lips finding his once more. You both moved with equal fervor, your hands cradling onto his strong jaw as his cock twitched inside of you. Jongho groaned, his hips going still as he spilled into you, his warm seed filling you up. You laid like that for a while, your lips continuing to move in sync as his pearly white cum leaked out of you.

—

Later that night, you rested against his chest, your breathing steady as he ran his fingers through your hair. You were deep asleep now, but Jongho remained wide awake, his gaze fixed on the wedding band he'd placed on your nightstand. A wave of guilt slowly crept in, sinking its teeth into him. He wondered what Emma might be doing at this very moment. Losing his phone at the bar meant she most likely bombarded him with calls and texts, desperate for answers—wondering where he was, if he was okay, when he was coming home. He relished his time with you, the feeling of experiencing something new, something that made him feel alive. But your words haunted him. "What if you're not sure if it's just a harmless distraction or a momentary lapse in judgment?"

He thought it over, turning it in his mind like a puzzle he couldn’t solve. This wasn’t just about one night. It wasn’t about the alcohol, or the thrill of doing something he thought would give him a sense of control. He’d replaced drink with sex, thinking it would numb the ache, solve his midlife crisis, fill the emptiness. But it didn’t. It just made everything more complicated.

He felt even less of a man now. The feeling of power that once came with teaching, with being wanted, had faded. In the wake of it all, he felt small, insignificant. What was the point of it all? What was he really searching for? The guilt had been creeping in, but now it was fully consuming him.

This wasn’t just about breaking away from his marriage; it was about breaking down the man he thought he was. And as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, it became painfully clear: this wasn’t a solution. It was a reminder of everything he had lost and could never reclaim.

The warmth of your body against his and your hair's softness felt like a fleeting comfort. It made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t in years, but it didn’t fix the hole inside him. And no matter how much he wanted to ignore it, the truth remained: he was still trapped in a life he didn’t know how to leave behind.

a/n: feedback is appreciated

#jongho smut #jongho x reader #ateez smut #ateez angst #jongho scenarios #ateez fanfic #jongho fanfic #choi jongho smut #choi jongo x reader #jongho angst

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archangeldyke-all · 10 days ago

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Idea: Isha thinks Santa is real and is horrified of him because she thinks he doesn’t like her because she never celebrated before as well, she was a kid in the mines.

When decorating time rolls around she’s all pouty and sad until you and Sev confront the poor baby.

this is so fucking funny hahahaehhhaheahe

men and minors dni

it's christmas eve.

your family doesn't do the traditional christmas, especially since your family wasn't even a family this time last year.

you and sevika's usual christmas tradition is a nice homemade meal by the fire, maybe exchanging a few gifts, ending the night in your matching mr. and mrs. claus lingerie (just two santa hat and whatever red underwear you can find.)

but now you've got the girls, so you're trying to get a little more festive.

jinx and isha drug home a fallen pine tree branch a few days ago, decorating it with streamers and paper snowflakes they made themselves.

you and sevika splurged on christmas lights, hanging them on your front porch and lining the walls of your home with the multi-colored twinkles. of course, you've both been hoarding gifts for the girls-- anything and everything you could find that you thought they might enjoy you've piled up in the you and sevika's super secret hiding spot (under the bed) waiting to be wrapped tonight when the girls go to sleep.

it's been fun!

isha's been endlessly enchanted by the sparkly lights lining the streets, she squeals each time she sees a rudolph or snowman decoration, and she's obsessed with all the sweet treats that come around with this time of year. hot chocolate, christmas cookies, candy canes-- isha loves it all.

jinx has been having a wonderful time introducing isha to all the fun traditions that come around with the season. she custom made herself and isha matching stockings (she made you, vi, and sevika stockings too-- but none of them were quite as sparkly and fun as isha's.) she's been referring to the little girl as her 'elf'-- isha always bursts into giggles when she does. and when there's fresh snow-- jinx has been bundling the little girl up and dragging her outside to introduce her to the joys of snowballs and snowmen and snow angels.

so, overall, you've all been feeling pretty jolly.

but... you're starting to get a little worried tonight, because isha's been becoming increasingly restless.

you've got the fire going, christmas music playing on the radio, the four of you sharing a plate of cookies and sipping on eggnog in matching flannel jammies.

isha's frowning down at her feet, a worried furrow in her brow.

jinx is fighting off sleep on the couch, sevika's stoking the fire. you reach out and nudge the little girl's shoulder.

"you okay, baby?" you ask. sevika blinks over at the pair of you concern on her face as she looks at isha.

isha blinks up at you with anxious eyes. what is santa? she signs.

you look at your wife, the two of you having a panicked, telepathic conversation.

should we tell her he's not real? sevika's face reads.

you shrug. she's only five, she deserves at least one year of believing, don't you think? you ask with a quirk of your brow.

sevika sighs and gestures for you to speak. you giggle.

"santa's an old man who lives in the north pole, making toys all year with the help of his elves. on christmas eve, when we're all sleeping, he travels across the world using magic and flying reindeer, leaving presents for well-behaved kiddos just like you!" you explain happily.

only, isha looks horrified.

he comes in our house when we're sleeping!? she signs. sevika chuckles. what if he robs us?

"nah, kid, santa's a jolly old man. he's not a thief. he's been doin' this for hundreds of years and he's i've never heard of anyone getting robbed by santa." sevika says.

isha still looks skeptical. okay... but what about the song? he sees me when i'm sleeping and knows when i'm awake? how?

sevika snorts. "you're awfully smart for a five year old." she says, ruffling her hair. "santa's magic kid, 's how it all works." she explains.

isha hums, kicking her feet and digesting the new information. jinx snorts awake, blinking around and trying to pretend she's been awake the whole time.

what if he doesn't like me? isha signs.

your heart breaks a little, and you wrap your arm around her. "why wouldn't santa like you, kiddo? you're a great little girl. way better than jinx-- and jinx never got coal."

"hey!" jinx protests.

isha giggles a bit, then she frowns again, a tear trailing down her cheek. but... he never left me presents before.

your heart shatters. beside you, sevika lets out a heartbroken whimper.

"oh, isha baby..." you coo, pulling the girl into your lap.

"santa's not real, isha." jinx cuts in. you and sevika gasp and glare at her and she chuckles. "what?! it's true. he's made up, he's a fairy tale-- parents use him to trick little kids into behaving well."

isha sighs in relief. so, if i'm bad ms. baby and big mama will still give me presents? she asks.

you burst into giggles, and beside you sevika cackles.

"'course, kiddo. sevika gave me a holiday present the same year i blew her fuckin' arm off-- there's not much you can do that'll stop 'em from spoiling you from now on." jinx says.

well... shit. now you've got tears in your eyes. you didn't know that about sevika, and it only makes you love her more. you reach out and grab her hand, only to find it shaking a little. she must be just as affected by jinx's words as you are.

it takes you a few seconds to make sure your voice won't wobble before you speak. "alright, speaking of-- the two of you gotta go to your room so me and sev can put your gifts out. try to sleep, please." you say.

jinx giggles and pulls isha in her arms, both of them hugging and kissing you and sevika goodnight before wandering to their room.

the second their door clicks closed, you and sevika are in eachother's arms, crying with gratitude for your girls; the best gift you could've fucking asked for.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #ok i need to know how old u guys were when u figured out the Truth about santa #bc i was depressingly old. i was like 10 and getting in arguments with my friends DEFENDING santa a;slkdjf;alskdj

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angelbarelywrites · 9 months ago

Text

♡ slashers scenarios | sharing a bed (part two)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream (kinda), Hannibal (TV), Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Billy Lenz, Danny Johnson, Hannibal Lecter

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; heavily suggestive content, implied smut, unhealthy power dynamics, references to stalking and kidnapping, violence

♡ notes; still kind of figuring out characterization for Jason and Danny tbh

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> mama always taught him that sharing a bed with someone was wrong

> it could so easily lead to sinning! and the woods tended to be humid anyway, so it’d get sticky and sweaty

> but Jason likes keeping you close, very close

> the only time he’s not by your side is when he’s “working”

> and even then he’ll check up on you throughout the evening

> one day you get worried, though

> he’s usually back by the time you’re about to go to sleep- he drinks tea with you and usually cuddles for a bit even though he’s convinced staying would be bad

> on this night, the tea is getting cold, and you’re getting grumpy, so you step outside to call for him

> it’s just a moment- a split second that you feel a hand on your shoulder- too small to be Jason

> then there’s a sickening squelch, a scream, and a couple more wet thumps and groans before silence

> you don’t need to turn to know what happened, instead letting Jason come to you (he doesn’t like seeing you sad from his messes- and you don’t like seeing them period)

> he’s got the blood of the man who touched you splattered all over you but you just frown softly “…it’s bedtime.”

> he wordlessly nods and scoops you up quickly, seeming scared that you were somehow hurt

> you quietly reassure him but he gets you the tea and pets your hair until he’s satisfied you’re okay

> you relish in the affection and get an idea

> “Jason baby? can you sleep in my bed? just tonight?”

> you can tell he mulls it over a long while before he nods

> he looks comically large in your bed, holding your teddy bear for you while you change into pajamas

> you let him be the little spoon, wrapping around him happily

> surely something this comfy can’t be wrong, he decides and falls asleep peacefully

> but when he wakes up, holding your soft, barely clothed form tight against him…he realizes he doesn’t care what’s wrong and right when it comes to you

> because you make him want to do all of the things mama said not to - and he just loves making you happy

Bo Sinclair

> you like your personal space- that’s something you made clear when you started living there

> back then you were still a victim, but the point stands

> so once they trusted you you got your own little room and let you decorate

> and you like your arrangement. you have your bed, your boyfriend has his, and you don’t ever sleep in the other’s on purpose

> why would you want to sleep next to Bo anyways? he snores, he’s always splayed out in weird positions and he sweats like a motherfucker

> maybe it had to do with the way you can always hear him screaming when he wakes up in the middle of the night.

> or how it stings whenever he leaves after you fuck, even though you never really ask him to stay

> okay, fuck it. you love the idiot and you want to sleep next to him.

> that shouldn’t be too hard to say

> except it is, because your stubbornness is almost as legendary as Bo’s

> you’re still actively putting it off when you manage to sprain your ankle in the house

> after thanking Vincent for patching you up, you spend the afternoon in the living room, sulking as you wait for Bo

> you know it’s not his fault you slipped, but you’re irrationally mad at him and getting worse the later that he is

> you can tell Vincent got to him first because he’s already frowning when he walks in to the living room close to midnight

> “what happened to you, little darlin?”

> your anger immediately melts away and you give a pathetic little pout as he hugs you tight, cursing for not checking in

> he babies you throughly and eventually takes you to your room

> he’s giving you a goodnight kiss when you grab his sleeve

> “…stay?”

> he can’t hide his smug smile

> “…you want me to?”

> you grumble but he’s happy to strip to his boxers, whistling

> “what’re you so smug for?”

> “you finally asked me to stay.”

> “…well duh.”

> he falls asleep with your whole body laid on top of him, hand lazily stroking your hair

> for once he doesn’t have any night terrors, and he’s grateful

> so grateful in fact, he’d like to repay you..

Billy Lenz

> you don’t love the idea of billy spending the night

> it’s not that you don’t love him, or being around him. he’s your boyfriend, of course you like his company

> it’s just that the sorority girls don’t have the greatest track record of giving you privacy

> they don’t cross boundaries, or enter without knocking- you lock the door anyways

> but they like you enough that usually they’re knocking on your door by eight, inviting you on a shopping trip or to breakfast or even asking for help studying

> it can be stifling, but it’s sweet, and it’s not like they’ll know you have a guest. they’d be more courteous if you could tell them

> and there’s the second reason, the one you can’t tell Billy

> you know the walls are paper thin, and you know just as well he’d take that as a challenge

> but it’s spring break, and only a couple of students are still about

> so you quite casually ask him if he’d like to stay the night

> you’ve never seen this man smile wider in your entire time with him

> and he’s surprisingly PG as you make plans

> he’s excited to eat popcorn and get his nails done and cuddle - you paint his hails black and get the snacks ready

> you rent a horror movie for the occasion, and he’s giggling the whole way through it

> he thinks it’s just adorable that you get so scared, hiding your face against him

> “Billy’s pretty baby is so silly- maybe he should distract his baby….-“

> luckily, you’re able to turn being as quiet as possible into a game when you mention how sound carries through the house

> and he’s ecstatic when he gets to stay next to you, tangled in the sheets and clinging to you for dear life

Danny Johnson

> you’ve never been to his place

> he started as a stalker, so it seemed natural he’d just keep going over to your apartment

> and since he’s always busy with the paper, and continuing his current murder spree…

> well most nights you just let him go, and when you don’t you wake up alone

> but on a particularly boring evening you decide to reverse the roles just a bit

> you figured out his address some time ago- and you picked up a thing or two about picking locks from dating Danny

> so it’s not a problem getting into his penthouse and making yourself comfortable

> you make sure to send a vague text that you knew he’d be able to figure out

> after all actually being sneaky around Danny was probably dangerous- you’re about the only person he wouldn’t stab on site

> you can’t help your huge grin when he stalks into his bedroom

> he’s acting pissy but you see the way his eyes survey your nearly bare body

> “You little brat…”

> he’s the fun kind of angry

> after a through lesson in asking permission you shower and collapse into bed together

> you cuddle close and fall asleep in his arms as he traces all your new bite marks and bruises

> he seems to get the message about staying - when you wake up it’s to him kissing your neck and purring your name

> apparently he didn’t finish last night’s ‘lesson’…and he’s eager to continue

Hannibal Lecter

> he’s eager for you to spend the night, in all honesty

> he likes being in control, utterly and completely

> if he had it his way, you’d move in within the month

> but even though you’ve brought a bag, and are all pj-ed up, he’s distracted

> maybe the one thing that can distract him from you is work- he’s a perfectionist

> and he doesn’t have to prove himself to you like he does clientele and state boards, and practically everyone else

> “y’know you said ten minutes ten minutes ago.”

> “yes my darling- i’ll be there shortly, just- go lay down-“

> you roll your eyes and instead stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and beginning to kiss his neck

> he tries his damndest to keep focused

> “…if you don’t come soon, i won’t be awake enough to help you…unwind,”

> that gets him up- you 1, work 0

> you’re surprised when after you’ve both gotten nice and relaxed, he pulls you flush

> usually you have to ask for affection

> but he spoons you, face buried in your hair as he dozes off

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