#I realized he has a ring on his ring finger

[lovecla]

STUCK WITH YOU ; QUINN HUGHES.

❄︎ pair: quinn hughes x y/n.

❄︎ synopsis: of all the things y/n thought she was going to do on christmas eve, being stuck with her sister’s brother-in-law, quinn hughes, wasn't one of them.

❄︎ word count: 5.6k

❄︎ chapter warnings: unedited, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, use of the word slut (once), softdom!quinn, dirty talk.

💌 from me to you: merry christmas, babies 🩶 i hope all of you had a great time and lots of delicious food. 1st of all, i’d like to apologise bc i got carried away with the word count! 2nd of all, i’m sorry about how dirty this is… this was supposed to be wholesome and cute but i don’t know what happened 😭 sorry…. anyways, as always, forgive me for this poorly written smut and share with me your thoughts! i love you! ♡

𖧷

Ever Since your sister started dating one of the most known hockey players, Luke Hughes, your life changed— for the better, that is. It’s not like you’re used to all the attention, but it’s nice to attend parties and meet your favorite hockey players for free.

But, the only issue you didn’t see coming when she announced that she was, in fact, very much in love with the youngest of the Hughes brothers is that now you have to constantly coexist with your long time celebrity crush, Quinn Hughes.

It’s an old thing, your situation with Quinn Hughes. You first started noticing him during his time in college, when he was just eighteen.

None of your friends understood what was so special about him but you just told them they didn’t have to: Quinn Hughes is one of the most attractive men you have ever seen, and you’ll stand by that until the end of your days.

When your sister decided that she would make Luke Hughes hers, you remember laughing and saying: He’ll be yours when Quinn Hughes’s mine.

Turns out, Luke is your sister’s.

And, well. Quinn’s not yours.

When you’re around him, during dinners and parties, you almost don’t even acknowledge him. It’s just because you don’t know how to be around him without immediately blushing and cringing at your own words.

It’s like you’re a teenager all over again, but what else can you do, really. He’s attractive, he’s funny and he cares about the people he loves; you cannot not be in love with someone like him.

But now you’re his brother’s sister in law and have been for the past year. You have been doing a great job at not staying in the same room as him for too long, and even if you can come off as rude or mean, it’s better than to get caught while watching him with lovey eyes.

It’s December 24th, and you’re on your way to your sister’s house, where you’d spend Christmas with her— and since she’s only arriving later that night because of work, you’ll be there earlier to arrange things for her.

You’re annoyed by the fact that she has to work until late during Christmas time but at least you’ll get to spend the night with at least one of your family members, since your parents are out of town.

What’s also annoying is the fact that it’s cold and snowing. Not just normal, winter type of snow but North-Pole type of snow. You’re shivering inside your car, because your heater is broken and you stupidly decided that it’d be a great idea to wear just leggings and a sweatshirt.

You park in front of her house, sighing and trying to move as fast as your frozen limbs could. You’re also carrying a hundred bags with you, because decorating is your favorite part of Christmas and knowing your sister and her workaholic personality, you know that she probably doesn’t even have her tree out of her attic yet— so you’ll have to do the whole decorating thing by yourself.

Which you silently prefer because there’s nothing you hate more when people try to dictate where your ornaments should go.

You ring her doorbell first, before dumbly realizing that she’s probably at work already, so you just start looking for the spare key she gave you when the door opens, making you lift your head up with a smile, only to drop it two seconds later.

“Oh.”

Quinn’s looking back at you with a polite smile, and you’re not sure that what you’re seeing is actually real because why the hell would Quinn Hughes be at your sister’s house during Christmas?

“Hi, Y/n.” He says, leaning against the door frame.

You frown without even noticing it. Why didn’t she warn you that he would be at her house?

You’ve been staring at him for what feels to be hours, when he speaks again: “Aren’t you… cold?”

You realize that he’s right and you are cold. Cold and tired because you’re still holding the heavy bags, so you just nod and watch as he opens the door more and reaches for the bags in your hand, picking all four of them up like they’re not heavy at all and letting you in.

You’re still in shock and shivering when you close the door behind you, welcoming the warm air inside the house, thankful for your sister’s amazing heating system.

Quinn walks back to the living room and you grab your phone, dialing your sister’s number and putting the phone against your ear.

“Y/n? Are you—”

“Why didn’t you tell me he would be at your place?!” You shout slash whisper, hiding behind her clothes rack.

“Who’s he? Why are you whispering?”

“What do you mean who’s he?” You hiss. “I’m talking about him!”

“Who’s… Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

Her laugh makes you blush. “I didn’t think he’d arrive so soon. I told him he could come later because you’d be the only one there so I just guessed… well. Nevermind.”

“What do I do?!” you sound so desperate it’s almost funny. “I can’t be here! You know I—”

“Y/n, stop freaking out. It’s just Quinn,” you can almost hear her eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Go decorate and do all that stuff you like to do during Christmas. I’ll pick up the food goodies when I leave work, so please just… be normal.”

“What do you mean be normal I can’t—”

“I gotta go. I love you. Bye.”

She hangs up the call and leaves you staring at your phone screen, contemplating how you would scape when it was so cold outside and Quinn’s already seen you so—

“Y/n? Are you playing hide and seek?”

You immediately get out of your sister’s clothes and smile awkwardly, almost opening the front door and standing in the middle of the road, waiting for someone to run you over.

“No, I—” you stutter, looking everywhere but him. “I was just… talking to my sister…”

“I see,” he says. “Is she okay? It’s snowing outside, and you’re still shivering.”

How the hell did he notice that?, you ask yourself, before nodding.

“She is, yeah. She’s working.”

You step further inside the house, walking past Quinn like he’s some type of virus. Besides the huge tree sitting in the corner by the TV, your sister’s house is poorly decorated, just like you predicted, so at least you’ll have something to busy yourself with until she arrives.

“She told me she’d work until late and she said I could come and help you out with your decorations until she and Luke arrive.” He explains, and you turn around, raising your eyebrow at him, confused.

“Luke’s coming?” You ask.

“He is, yes.”

“I thought… I thought you guys would spend Christmas with your parents.” You say, because that’s what you heard your sister saying.

“Well, they’re coming too,” he chuckles, putting his hand inside his front pockets. “I’m guessing she didn’t tell you anything?”

“No, I thought—” you start, but then you bite your lips, giving up mid-sentence. You didn’t want to sound rude by saying I thought it’d be the two of us only so you just stay quiet. “Nevermind. It’s nice that you all get to spend Christmas together.”

Quinn stares at you for a few seconds before nodding. “I’m sorry if you’re upset.”

You frown, shaking your head.

“I’m not, I promise. I just wasn’t expecting all of you,” you reply, embarrassed. “I brought my Grinch sweater…”

He laughs, and you have to stop yourself from smiling too.

“It’s okay. I’ll wear my Cindy Lou one.”

You want to yell at him and tell him to stop being nice, but you already know that’s just how he is. That’s one of the reasons you like him so much.

You look outside your sister’s big window and frown, noticing that the snow is only falling faster, and the street is white everywhere now. Even your car is barely visible.

“It’s getting ugly,” you say, pressing your lips into a line. “I hope it stops soon.”

“I don’t know about that…” he comments, sitting on the couch next to your bags. “I did see a blizzard warning in my weather app today.”

“What?” you almost shout. “Are you sure it was for today?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “That’s why I came earlier. I thought it was dangerous for you to stay here alone.”

You want to ask him what one thing has to do with the other but you’re too busy blushing over his sentence to do anything else.

“I’d be just fine, but thank you,” you mumble. Sighing, you look down at your clothes. “I’m going to change and then start decorating.” You announce, not even sure why.

“You should probably put on something warmer,” he looks down at your clothes before running his fingers through his hair. “It’d be a shame if you caught a cold.”

You don’t say anything, just nod and make your way to your sister’s bedroom, happy that you’re both the same size. Once you find a comfort, two piece set wool outfit, you grab it and change, immediately welcoming the warmth it brings.

You also spend more time in your sister’s bedroom than you should, sitting on her bed and contemplating what you should do.

It’s not like Quinn’s a bad person or someone difficult to be around, but you get shy really easily and he happens to master the art of making you embarrassed, even if it’s not in a bad way.

He’s probably not even aware of it, too, because he’s just a really kind person and that’s just how he treats everyone he likes.

He doesn’t like us, your brain reminds you, he’s just polite.

Whatever.

You get back to the living room and find him still sitting on the couch, watching some random, Christmas movie. You reach for your bags, trying to open them as silently as you could, not wanting to disturb him.

You remove the plastic boxes full of ornaments and distribute them around you, separating them by color and size. It’s therapeutic to you, and it helps to calm your brain down.

Soon, the fact that Quinn’s in the same room as you, alone, doesn’t even cross your mind. You’re having fun decorating your sister’s empty tree, making it beautifully decorated and ready for the night.

After what’s probably thirty minutes, you reach for the last item inside your boxes, which is a bright, yellow star, heavily bedazzled. It’s been yours since you and your sister moved out of your parents’ house and you love it more than all of your other Christmas decorations combined.

The only issue is that it should sit on top of the tree, and usually it wouldn’t be a problem, because your sister had been letting you decorate her tiny tree for the past years, and you’ve been able to reach it just fine. But this year she decided that she wanted to challenge you and she bought a tall one, so now you can’t really reach the top, and you only realize it after jumping for a few minutes and not even touching the top once.

“Do you need any help?”

Quinn’s calm voice startles you, and you hold back a scream. You had forgotten that he was sitting just behind you, and probably had been watching you embarrassing yourself for the past three minutes.

You’re feeling your cheeks warm when you answer: “No, I… well. Maybe?”

He chuckles, getting up. “Does your sister have a ladder?”

“No, she doesn’t,” you roll your eyes. “She says someone as tall as her should do just fine without one.”

“I don’t understand,” he laughs. “She’s just a few inches taller than you. There’s barely a difference.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her.” You say, annoyed. “I can just grab a chair—”

“No, let me help you.” He walks towards you, and when you’re just about to tell him he’s not going to reach the top by himself either he does something that sends you to another world.

He picks you up effortlessly, putting you down on his left shoulder, and hands you the star like he wasn’t holding another human on one of his shoulders.

You put the star on the top of the tree, moving automatically because your brain hasn't been working properly ever since you stepped into your sister’s house.

“Are you done?” he asks, and he doesn’t even sound tired. “Do you need me to hand you anything else or—”

“No, you can… put me down, please.” You mumble, blushing as he grabs your waist and slowly pulls you down until your feet are touching the floor.

He’s standing behind you, chest glued to your back, and you hold back a yelp, stepping away like his touch is deadly.

“Uh, thanks?” It sounds like a question, but you don’t repeat it again. You turn around, watching as he smiles and nods.

“It looks great, Y/n.”

You also smile, because you always do it whenever people compliment your decorations skills. “Thanks. Again.”

“Well,” he shrugs, looking around. “What do you want to do now?”

You mimic his move, looking around your sister’s living room.

“I mean, I don’t know,” you hum. “Maybe set the table? I know it’s early but—”

“Yeah. We can definitely do that.” He starts walking towards the kitchen and you freak out.

“What!” you yell, and he stops, turning back around and looking at you with confused, pretty eyes. “I mean— what do you mean we?”

“Oh,” he shrugs. “I thought I could help.”

“Are you… like… serious?” You frown.

He frowns back. “I was, yes… are you one of those people who don’t like when people try to help because you’re afraid they’ll end up messing up with your arrangements?”

“Well, yes and no,” you laugh, only to shake your head after. “But it’s not that. I’m sorry, I just… I’ve never seen a man get up to help before. Especially during Christmas.”

He seems to take a while to process what you had just said, but then he laughs, beautifully you’d say.

“They weren’t raised by Ellen Hughes, Y/n. I was.”

You smile, realizing you were utterly fucked. And not in a good way.

You and Quinn worked in silence, and even though you almost dropped the plates twice with how nervous you were, this moment will probably keep repeating itself forever inside your head, from the moment you wake up to the moment you'll go to sleep.

He’s calm and he listens to each one of your orders without hesitation, just nodding and doing as you say. He carries the heavy stuff and just lets you busy yourself with making everything pretty, which you do.

You’re about to tell him that you’re done when the TV catches your attention.

“Good evening, and Merry Christmas Eve, everyone. This is Nicholas Edwards reporting live with an urgent weather alert. It’s shaping up to be a Christmas Eve like no other—because we are in the midst of a blizzard that shows no signs of letting up anytime soon.”

“Oh my God,” you hear someone saying, and realize that it was you. You move until you’re standing in front of the TV, covering your mouth with your right hand.

“Right now, snow is coming down at an incredible rate, with visibility dropping rapidly. Winds are gusting up to 40 miles per hour, creating near whiteout conditions in many areas. And the latest forecast? The snow isn’t expected to stop until early tomorrow morning—Christmas Day! That means we’re looking at significant snowfall totals, possibly more than 18 inches in some spots.”

“Oh my God,” you repeat, looking at Quinn before looking back at the TV again.

“Officials are urging everyone to stay indoors tonight. If you don’t absolutely need to be out, don’t risk it. Roads are treacherous, power outages are a real possibility, and emergency crews are working hard to keep up.”

“What about my sister and your family?” you ask, almost rhetorically, because you know Quinn knows just as much as you. “They can’t come now because it’s dangerous.”

“I’ll try to call my parents,” he says, reaching for his phone already. “Can you call your sister, please?”

“Already doing it.” You say, dialing your sister’s number.

“So… you saw the news.” Is the first thing she says after picking up and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, Quinn and I did,” you say. “What are we going to do? It’s not safe for you to drive around and you’re definitely not driving thirty minutes back to your house in this weather.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs. “Luke and I are together, though. He saw the news before I did and drove me to his and Jack’s apartment since it’s closer to my workplace…”

“So, you’ll stay at their place?” You frown.

“What else can I do, right?” she chuckles, but you can tell she’s just as upset as you. “At least you’re stuck with the sibling that knows how to cook.”

“Hey!” You hear one of Quinn’s brothers, probably Jack, yelling in the back.

“You’re probably right,” you mumble. “Well. We’ll see each other tomorrow then?”

“‘Course we will, bubba,” she sounds joyful again. “Merry Christmas, Y/n. I love you. Tell Quinn I said Merry Christmas to him too!”

“I will,” you nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “I love you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You stare at your phone screen until it turns black, and sigh. Quinn finishes his phone call and stares at you, blue, fond eyes looking at you with care.

“I guess you heard the same thing as me.” He says and you nod.

“They’re not coming.”

“And neither are my parents,” he sighs. “They’re stuck in their hotel. They’re not letting people leave.”

“God, this sucks,” you grunt, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “We don’t even have food. My sister was supposed to pick it up after she finished her shift but…”

“I’m sure I can figure something out,” Quinn says and you can tell he’s trying to sound positive. “Come on, stop pouting.”

You frown. “I wasn’t pouting.”

“Yes, you were,” he smiles. “You do that whenever something doesn’t go your way.”

“I— how do you even know that?” You ask, genuinely amused. He just shrugs and walks back to the kitchen, leaving you and your one hundred thoughts about him alone. “Quinn!”

Dinner goes well. It’s silent and calm, but not in an embarrassing, awkward way. Quinn knows how to cook really well, and his food makes you hold yourself back so you won’t kiss him.

His lips probably taste amazing, just like the rest of him. Sometimes, when your thoughts about how Quinn could make you feel good are too much, you slip your hands under your covers and touch yourself, while imagining your hands are his.

You always feel so deeply embarrassed afterwards, and it takes you a while to convince yourself that you’re not a maniac and getting horny after thinking of your sister’s boyfriend's incredibly hot brother is lowkey expected, because he looks like a God.

You both returned to your bedrooms after the clock hit midnight and you both called your families, with you sleeping in your sister’s room and Quinn sleeping in the spare bedroom.

Although, you haven’t even thought about closing your eyes and going to sleep, because you know you won’t be able to— not when Quinn has been nothing but kind to you the entire night and definitely not when he’s only two doors away from you.

You can feel your body starting to get hot, and you want to shout at it, telling yourself to let it go, because you and Quinn won’t ever be a thing.

You look at the clock sitting on your sister’s bedside table and sigh, reading the late hours. Two thirty-six a.m. and you’re nowhere near Dreamland.

Even though you’re basically at the entrance of Hornyland.

Shaking your head, you get up, deciding to brew some chamomile tea for you, since it always helps you feel sleepier and, hopefully, less horny.

The lukewarm air hits your bare thighs and you’re reminded that you’re not wearing any pants— just one of your sister’s oversized sweaters and panties.

You look around the dark house, watching as snow continues to fall outside, and make your way to the kitchen, walking past Quinn’s closed door and trying not to make any sound.

And you would’ve been successful with your task, if it weren’t for the one plastic cup that fell out of the cupboard when you tried to grab your sister’s kettle.

It fell on the floor and bounced three times before you managed to grab it again. You waited to see if you would hear Quinn’s door open, but since you didn’t, you moved on with your task. While you waited for your water to boil, you leaned against your sister’s island, resting your chin in your hand.

“I thought you were asleep.”

This time, you don’t hold back the yelp that comes out of your mouth. You were so worried about waking Quinn up that you hadn’t considered the fact that he, just like you, might as well not have been able to sleep.

He’s sitting on your sister’s couch, wearing sweatpants and nothing else, looking at you with an indecipherable expression. His entire body is illuminated by the moonlight, and he looks gorgeous.

“Quinn. You scared me,” you put your hand over your heart, feeling your cheeks warm when you realize the movement made your sweater go up, and now Quinn probably saw your underwear. “Uh—”

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” he gets up, and he does look apologetic. He gets closer to where you were standing and you can help but take a take back. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “No. You?”

“I can’t either,” he says. “Too many thoughts.”

You desperately want to ask him what kind of thoughts are keeping him away from his bed, but you remember that it isn’t your place. And the best thing you can do for yourself right now is stay away from him.

“I— I’ll leave you to it then—”

“Why are you always running away from me?”

His serious tone makes you stop. You look up and stare at his eyes, looking like a child who had just been caught eating sweets before dinner.

Your answer is only natural: “I’m not?”

“Yes, you are,” he steps closer, and the distance between the two of you is now shorter. “Did I do something?”

“What?” you gasp. “No, of course not!”

“Then, you just don’t like me?”

“Gosh, why is it with the Hughes that you’re always so straightforward?” you mumble, frustrated. “I promise you, nothing’s wrong.”

“Is it because you want me to fuck you?” He raises his brow and you almost drop dead in front of him.

“What.”

It’s almost comical how your eyes double in size and how your mouth opens, just like in the cartoons. You’re trying really hard not to pack your things and leave, because you’re sure something possessed Quinn.

“I’m not dumb, y’know,” he starts. “I can tell when someone’s interested in me, and you aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Quinn—”

“At first,” he continues, paying you no mind. “I thought you were just shy. Then, I realized you only acted that way with me, but I thought you just didn’t like me. But…”

He lifts his hand up and caresses your cheek, the touch making you shiver instantly.

“Would someone who doesn’t like me stare at me like you do?” He keeps touching your face, the light feather touches barely there, but keeping you restless anyway. “It’s so sweet when you blush like that.”

“Quinn…” you try, once again. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I—”

“Uncomfortable?” he chuckles, like the word alone is enough to make him laugh. “No, sweetheart, you made me hard.”

You blush, thankful that the moonlight isn’t enough to show your red cheeks. “O-Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” he smiles, lifting your face just slightly with his thumb on your chin. “Can I kiss you, Y/n?”

I thought you’d never ask, you think. “Yes,” is what you say.

His lips taste like peppermint and his touch on your skin feels like fire. He presses your body against the counter, the cold marble hitting the back of your naked thighs and making you shiver.

It was a pleasant contrast, though: the warmth of his hands holding you close with the coldness of the stone making you shiver.

He kissed you fervently and you moaned inside his mouth, forgetting your shyness and running your fingers through his silky, soft hair. It was like opening presents on Christmas morning, because ever since you were a teenager you’ve been wanting to get your hands on him and now—

“You were right,” you say, breathless. Quinn tilts his head to the side, confused. “I want you to f-fuck me.”

He smirks, mischievously, and it’s probably one of the hottest things you have ever seen.

“Here?” he asks, chuckling.

“No,” you laugh. “My sister would kill me.”

“Mhm.” It’s all he says before picking you up once again, manhandling you however he wanted for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

His bed is untouched when he lays you on it, a clear signal that he hadn’t even laid on it yet. Your sweater rode up, leaving your belly and your panties exposed.

Even though you’re not the type of girl to get embarrassed while having sex, you can feel your cheeks getting warm under Quinn’s lustful gaze. You have imagined this situation so many times before but you never actually thought your dreams would come true, so all of this is still hard for you to take in.

“I can actually hear your brain thinking, Y/n,” Quinn chuckles, standing in front of you. The outline of his dick is so noticeable it has your mouth dry.

“It’s not everyday your crush of years take you to bed,” you let out, only realising what you had just said when you watch his eyebrow going up, and a malicious smile decorate his beautiful face. “I mean—”

“Trust me, Y/n, if I hadn’t spent the last year thinking you hated me, you would’ve ended up in my bed from the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

He leans forward, then starts to pull your panties down. It’s embarrassing to say the least because you know that the fabric which was once pearly, cotton white, is now transparent and ruined. Quinn doesn’t seem to mind that— in fact, the smirk on his face just continues to grow.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he says, and you almost choke on your own spit. “Been thinking about you for so long I’m half convinced this is just another dream.”

He drops your underwear somewhere, and places his index finger between your wet folds, the cold touch contrasting with your hotness. He rubs, up and down, slowly and steady. It has you biting your lips, hard.

“Was it like that with you too, Y/n?” he asks, tone one octave deeper. “Endless dreams of how I would fuck you senseless, leave you wet and whimpering in my sheets, pussy dripping with my cum.”

He kept getting closer to your clit each time he opened his mouth to talk, but he still wasn’t touching it, which was starting to frustrate you.

“Quinn—”

“I’d always wake up hard, with my dick throbbing inside my pants, and you know what I’d do?”

He places his finger on your engorged clit, but doesn’t do anything, just— waits.

“Ask me what I would do, Y/n.” He orders, and you moan before complying.

“What, ah, what would you do?” you ask, and he starts moving his finger again. “Ah.”

“I’d fuck my hand. Wrap my dick around them, holding it tightly, imagining it was your cunt squeezing me like that,” he confesses, opening your legs more, leaving you spread in front of him like you’re nothing but a cheap whore. “And I’d come so hard, imagining I was filling you up. In the next morning, I’d shake hands with you, watching you give me that sweet smile of yours, not even knowing that I had just used it to touch myself while imagining it was you.”

He pressed two fingers on your hole, making you clench around nothing while he seemed to be having fun with your struggle.

“Was it like that with you, too?” he asks again, but you can tell by his reaction that he wasn’t expecting you to answer. Yet, you do it anyway.

“N-not dreams,” you breathe, as he inserts two of his fingers inside you, blue eyes never leaving yours. “When I couldn’t sleep, I’d, ah, touch myself, and pretend it was you.”

“Yeah?” he hums, sinking his fingers deeper inside you, the wet sound of sex leaving you dizzy. “Such a naughty, little slut.”

You moan, and Quinn stops holding back as he starts finger fucking you, finding your sweet spot and curling his fingers up until he had you trashing under him. You took pride in knowing your body and mastering the art of touching yourself, but not even in your wildest dreams you’d imagine that having something inside you could feel this good.

You’re not even holding back your sounds, you just let Quinn hear how insane he drives you, and good you’re feeling. You have your eyes closed— because holding eye contact with Quinn might be too much for you to handle— and your boobs exposed, since your sweater rode all the way up.

You can feel your orgasm starting to build up and just when you’re about to warn Quinn about it, he pulls his fingers back, making you cry, loudly.

“Wha— why?” you sound needy and desperate but you pay it no mind.

Quinn smiles, so sweet and kind that you wouldn’t even imagine what came out of his mouth afterwards.

“You’ll come on my cock tonight, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it.”

The rest of what happens is basically history.

He removes his sweatpants and his dick hits his stomach, the tip almost purple with how red it was. The precum leaking from it made you lick your lips, imagining how good it would feel to have that in your mouth.

He throws the pants somewhere, and lays on top of you, right in the middle of your spread thighs. He looks down and holds his dick, rubbing it up and down on your folds, mixing your wetness with his, and just the view is almost enough to make you come.

He rubs the tip on your clit, and you watch as your swollen, needy button throbs under the nasty touch, and how your pussy leaves his dick glistening with how wet you were.

“I’ll fuck you now, okay?” His voice is calm, and soft, different from previously. You nod, smiling shyly. “Words, baby.”

“‘Mkay,” you answer, closing your eyes as he inserts himself inside you, slowly.

You can feel your walls opening up for him, and even though you’ve had sex before, nothing will ever top this. He’s thick, and you can feel him everywhere, deeper and deeper.

“Holy shit, Quinn,” you say, turning your hands into fists.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” he hisses, putting his hands on each side of your face. “Squeezing me so good, fuck, Y/n, I might come in seconds if you keep squeezing me like that.”

He removes his dick from you, leaving just the tip, only to slam it back in you, fucking you senseless, just like he told you. The smell of sex and sweat filled the room almost as quick as the tears fell from your eyes, the feeling of finally getting what— or who— you wanted making you cry tears of joy.

He kept fucking you, and once his lips found yours once again, you knew you were done. You came on his dick, like he said you’d do, moaning inside his mouth and pulling his hair, harshly.

“Fuck, Quinn, uh,” you inhaled his scent as his naked body engulfed yours completely. “Fuck, fuck.”

“It’s like you were made to, uh, take my cock,” he grunts, his thrusts getting sloppier, a clear sign that he was about to come. “Say it, baby, tell me what you were made for.”

“Quinn—”

“Say it, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“I was made to take y-your cock,” you sob. “O-only yours.”

“Only mine?” you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Only yours.”

“Good,” thrust, “Girl.” Thrust.

He takes his dick out of you just a few seconds before he comes, and the loss of it makes you whimper and hide your face in his neck. The warm feeling of his come against your used, swollen cunt is enough to get another orgasm out of you, even if a little bit weaker this time.

You both stay silent, only the sounds of your breaths filling up the room. The weight of his body on top of you is comforting, and even though you know he’s not putting all of his weight on top of you, you feel safe either way.

“Thank you,” you mumble, barely audible, since your face is still in his neck.

He chuckles, breathless. “What are you saying thank you for, baby? I should be the one saying thank you.”

“You just made all of my wet dreams come true,” you explain. “Even if we’re probably going to hell because no one should be having sex on Christmas.”

Quinn laughs and rolls to the side, resting his head on the pillow. “Touché, sweetheart, touché,” he turns his head to the side and looks at you. “Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

You smile. “Merry Christmas, Quinny.”

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist.

[starboye]

starring: nicholas alexander chavez x male reader

request: Nick is the captain of the football team and the reader is the only male member of the cheerleading team, with a phat ass and slutty waist. A slutty femboy if you will. They have this ongoing sexual tension between them which leaves Nick always sexually frustrated and on edge. But whenever things start to get heated the reader just teasingly walks away. But one night when the reader is getting ready for bed, Nick breaks into his room climbing through the window and they have nasty sex all night long

warnings: smut, really rough sex, degradation, homophobia, f slur used but just in sex, fingering, jerking off, teasing

the other girls absolutely fawned over nick, him being the captain of the football team and all made all the women want to fuck him but he only had eyes for you and your righteously phat ass, he wanted you so bad that it hurt, and adding that you were the only guy on the cheerleader team he got to see your ass bouncing everyday during practice.

you on the other hand had no interest in him but you did love teasing him, getting him on the edge just to pull off such as today when after practice nick pulled you under the bleachers with his still sweaty gear on and your marvelous cheer uniform sill luckily on.

"what do you want nick" you ask agitated already knowing what he wants "i see you had a great cheer today, mind showing it to me at my place tonight" nick comes off player like, throwing you off slightly "well i would love to but what's in it for me" you ask filling nicks mind with nasty perverted thoughts "i dunno maybe a little kissing and some other things" nick licks his lips and glances down to yours.

"mm i dont even know how you kiss" you fake pout "well we could change that right now" nick smirks "sure then" you agree which shocks nick but none the less he leans into kiss you but just as your lips are about to touch the school bell rings and breaks you both apart "aw rats and i was just looking forward to it" you fake a sad voice and walk off.

leaving nick with a boner and a head full of thoughts that lead him to the bathroom to jerk off, the whole time thinking of how much he wanted to make you his, fill you with his cock and cum which now sadly is being flushed down the toilet after he came, but this time he has a thought in mind, a devious thought.

now watching you from a far as you get ready for bed, your parents weren't home right now so lucky him, slyly opening your window before slipping in to see you just walking out of the bathroom, taking that chance to pounce on you.

"what the fuck" you yell trying to push the mysterious person off you then realizing it's nick "what the hell are you doing in my house nick" you ask ready to hit him "finally taking what's mine" he smirks before grabbing you and kissing you deeply making you drop your guard surprisingly.

"you don't get to tease me anymore now" he says bending you over your bed and smacking you jiggly ass before spitting on your hole and opening you up with his fingers, pumping them in and out at an alarming rate for quite some time "you wanna hurry this up, my parents are gonna be home in like two and a half hours" you scoff making nick a little mad.

slapping you ass to shut you up before he pulls out his cock and thrusts in into you, a loud whine shooting from your mouth that nick stops by slapping his hand over your mouth and continuing to fuck that delicious hole that he's only ever dreamed of but feels so much better in real life "for a slut like you i expected a looser hole" he teases.

"yeah and i expected better sex but here we are" you slickly say making nick stop going nice and starts absolutely slamming into you, pushing you forward with every thrust but he pulls you right back on his cock to keep destroying your inside, pushing your face down into the pillow to shut up your whiny moans from getting you both caught by the neighbors.

"yeah who's the bitch now" nick boasted watching you turn dumb under him with every pound into your tight hole "dumb little whore just wanted some cock huh to shut up his faggot mouth right" nick says listening to you babble some nonsense "you want me to fill you up hm" he asks slapping your ass to finally hear you scream a 'yes'.

he pounds into you a couple more times before emptying his load in you but oh no don't think thats the end, it's just the beginning for the night this man had with you, had you creaming all over his cock and dumping loads into you like a common whore until you passed out, cleaning you up so your parents wouldn't get suspicious, the next day he saw you he was happy as ever could be.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[cuteandhughesy]

A Wonderful Christmas Time | William Nylander

summary: you and william living through the christmas eve traditions with your kids - as well as frantically preparing for santa's arrival. (dad!willy)

3.1k

warnings: SFW! pre-established relationship | children | dad!willy | mom!reader | christmas eve shenanigans | suggestive comments

a/n: based off this request! merry christmas eve!! my present to you is another highly requested willy fic 🥰 also there’s 360 of you now, which is insane…I love you all omg <3 I’ll see you guys on new years for a quinny fic

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"honey you can't play with the ornaments." your tone is warning but gentle, gathering the attention of your daughter, lennon.

she giggles, plopping down in her diaper covered but beside the tree. lennon smiles her two toothed grin, big round eyes looking at you with nothing but joy.

you smile from the couch. "yeah i'm talking to you lenny baby."

the 1 year old laughs again—that adorable baby belly laugh than never fails in making you join in. she's not long out of the bathtub, with damp blonde hair flat against her head and wrapped up in her candy cane onsie. lennon grabs onto her toes through the soft material, rocking forward slightly. "ma." she gurgles, reaching towards you.

that is all it takes for you to get up, making your way towards the christmas tree—decorated in various coloured and homemade ornaments—and pick lennon up under her arms, pulling her against your chest. you kiss your daughters chubby cheek three quick times, igniting another round of baby giggles from her tiny body. "should we see what daddy and lukey are up to? should we go see?"

she snuggles into your neck, smiling at the mention of her dad and older brother. you bring yourself up the stairs, bare feet barley padding on the carpeted flooring. you reach the landing and the familiar sound of your husbands voice, followed by your sons sweet laughter ring in your ears.

rounding into the warm and blueberry soap scented bathroom, your smile widens even further. luke reaches towards william, the water just merely missing the side of the bath tub as he bounces up. he covers your husbands face in scented suds, creating the illusion of a big white beard—very fitting for the day.

"you look like santa daddy." he laughs, small hands continuing to pile more bubbles on top of william's already full beard.

"ho ho ho." your husbands mimics father christmas's deep rumbling slogan, leaning further over the the edge of the grand bath tub to nuzzle your sons neck, transferring the bubbly mess to luke.

you watch with an amused expression as luke's laughter increases, squirming away from the bubbles and the scratchy feeling of william's beard. then his bright blue eyes find you standing against the door frame, and instantly he's distracted. "mummy!"

william looks over his shoulder, and the sight of you and lennon has him grinning wildly. "hey you two."

"hello my boys," you hum, walking further into the vintaged decorated bathroom. "how's bath time coming along? you getting clean lukey baby?"

"i'm not a baby mummy." your 4 year old is ever the sassy one, crossing his slippery arms over his tiny chest. "i'm a grown up." although his attitude drives you up the wall slightly, his little lisp and side eye makes it a little more on the cute side.

you snicker. "oh are you now?"

"yeah. i'm the grown up and lennon is the baby." luke points a finger in your daughters direction, and with that momentary attention on her, lennon squeals happily, fisting your pyjama top in her chubby hand.

william quirks a brow in luke's direction. "santa doesn't come to grown ups lukey."

he gasps loudly, eyes widening to a comical state at his dads words. "okay, Im a baby!"

it seems that lennon has realized her dad is crouched by the tub in front of her older brother, and she instantly starts whining, her chunky little arms stretched out as she asks for william.

"mummy, when's santa coming?" luke questions.

you put lennon down between your bare feet, sitting her on her bum. she doesn't stay, immediately crawling towards your husband while babbling his name happily.

"not until you're sleeping, bub."

he pouts, "but what if I want to see him?"

"that's not how it works buddy." william sighs gently, scooping lennon into his arms. "his magic will go away if you see him."

luke gasps, eyes wide with panic and unshed emotion. "I don't want his magic to go away daddy!"

you coo, joining your husband and daughter infront of the tub, getting down to your knees. you mimic your sons pout, reaching out to run a hand over luke's wet, curly hair. "it's okay bub."

he leans into your touch, blinking up at you with his wet eyelashes. luke's always looked identical to his father, meaning it's always been hard for you to be mad it him—but you're working on it. "we just gotta make sure we get into bed soon! so santa can come and bring you and lenny some presents."

that seems to do the trick, and a smile pulls at his tiny rosebud lips. "okay mumma."

you help luke get out of the bath and wrap him in his favourite blue dinosaur towel, holding him in your arms as you help dry him off, as well as keep him warm. taking baths in the nylander house was never such an event, but as soon as luke turned 4, he decided that you and lennon could no longer share bath time with him.

you really weren't going to argue with him about something so insignificant—so separate bath times it's been.

"you've such a good boy this year, lukey." you mumble into your sons chubby cheek, pressing two kisses against the flushed skin. "I love you."

"I love you too mummy, but we have to put the cookies out now." his serious deadpan stare up at you has you giggling, and you nod quickly.

you get luke dressed in his matching candy cane pyjamas before taking him downstairs—joining william and your sleepy daughter who'd previously slipped back to the fire lit family room.

"baby do think santa wants chocolate chip or oatmeal? what should we leave out?" you eye luke from across the kitchen island, an empty santa plate between you.

"I think santa wants chocolate chip." william says enthusiastically, holding lennon in his strong arms. she's practically asleep now, blinking dangerously slow against his chest.

you send your husband a warning look, to which he sends you a quick wink.

you look back at luke, who is leaning on the counter top with a thoughtful finger to his chin—something you often do that's he's adorably picked up on. "mhmmm..can we ask uncle alex?"

"why do you want to ask uncle alex?" you question with amusement, brows pulled together tightly.

"because he's smart." luke says matter of factly, looking at you with a curious expression.

william snickers. "that's going to inflate his ego."

you shake your head, a gentle smile pulling at your lips—you already know your brother-in-law will absolutely eat up his nephew's statement.

"lukey, uncle alex is sleeping right now. but I think you're smart too and you should pick the cookies."

"okay," luke chirps, "chocolate mummy!”

william leans down and presses a firm kiss against his sons damp hair, clearly feeling at peace with luke's cookie choice. "good pick baby."

you help luke put two cookies on the plate, reminding him multiple times to not eat the cookies himself, especially before bed, which proves to be a bit of a broken record—but you get there eventually. luke takes the plate and glass of almond milk over to the coffee table, barley keeping the milk from spilling over the rim as he roughly places them down.

right before finally getting luke to head in the direction of the stairs, he turns back towards you and william with wide eyes. "daddy! we have to put out the reindeer food!"

aryne tavares had seen the cutest DIY reindeer food craft on pinterest a few days ago, and the two of you got a bunch of the leafs kiddos together to make some before santa and the reindeers arrival. luke's been so excited for days about the damn glitter oatmeal concoction, and you're surprised he's only just remembering it.

you look towards your husband. "yeah daddy, you gotta put the reindeer food out."

after william bares the freezing cold christmas eve temperature and sprinkles the magic food mixture on your front step, you finally get luke into bed. your read him a holiday book while william gets the rest of the unwrapped christmas gifts from your linen closet, bringing them to the living room for your last minute wrapping session.

as you finish the last line of the book, you watch luke's eyes flicker closed, some much needed sleep taking over as he goes limp against the lightning mcqueen pillow.

you slip out of the dark room and tiptoe down the stairs, joining william and the rather large pile of gifts by the couch. you exhale loudly, hands on your hips as you asses everything. "you're on tape duty."

he groans. "I hate tape duty."

your pout is exaggerated, walking towards him and wrapping your arms around his sweater covered waist. "awh baby, you'll be okay."

30 minutes later and what feels like a hundred presents later, william groans for the 10th time, falling backwards against the shaggy rug beneath you. "ugh my back is killing me." he peeks over at you. "how do you do this every year?"

you slide the scissors down the holly printed wrapping paper. "i'm very flexible."

a boyish grin tugs at his lips. "yeah you are."

you look away from the present and over towards your dramatic husband. despite your cheeks burning red at his insinuation, your give him a deadpanned stare. "willy."

"I think we should take a break." he hums.

you sigh gently, folding the paper over a box full of ella nylander's favourite sephora pieces. "honestly as much as I'd love a break, it's quite literally christmas eve, babe. these presents gotta be wrapped."

he pushes up to his elbows, looking at you pointedly. "my family doesn't need their gifts wrapped."

you laugh. "yes, they do."

"fine—but if I strain my back and can't play...i'm giving staff your number." he teases you, sitting back into a proper position, fingers fiddling with some bows spewn across the rug.

"yeah yeah, pass me the damn ribbon."

thankfully you're only wrapping gifts for another 20 minutes, wrapping a beautiful velvet ribbon over every single one. you're sure your limbs will punish you for the extra ribbon work tomorrow morning, but the perfectionist in you doesn't care about that with how aesthetically pleasing the gifts look.

you make william drag out the bags full of presents for luke and lennon, passing them to you while you put them next to the christmas tree, ready for the morning.

you've definitely spoiled your two kids for another christmas now, but you and william can't help it—this time of year is so special and magical, and your kids are so well behaved that it's hard not to get them lots of things to celebrate another year.

hours after you would've liked to go to sleep, you're finally walking up the stairs, william hot on your trail, when you suddenly stop, a low groan rumbling through your chest. "the cookies."

his head hits your butt in exhaustion and defeat. "fuck me."

—

"santa came!" the shrill squeal of luke is the first thing you can register, tired eyes blinking open in the dim room.

beside you, willy groans, rolling onto your side of the bed under the warm covers.

luke pushes open your bedroom door, bare feet smacking against the hardwood as he runs towards your bed. "mummy! daddy! santa came." he slaps his hands on the side of the bed, a command that he wants up.

usually you'd work on his method of asking, but not today, his haste much understood. you gasp loudly, sitting up so you're able to lift him onto your and william's shared bed. "what? are you sure?"

he giggles, crawling into your lap. "yes!" subconsciously he starts playing with the buttons on your pyjama top, something he used to do when he was a baby.

"oh my goodness." you grin, gently tickling his sides. "well should we get up and head downstairs?"

he squeals again, and the sound is like gold—instantly walking you up. "yes mummy!"

beside you, william sighs sleepily, pushing up on the mattress into a sitting position. his smile is lazy, hand pushing back luke's crazy hair.

"daddy, it's christmas!" you're quickly forgotten about, luke sneaking over to william's lap and cuddling into his shirtless chest.

"I know buddy." he smiles, kissing his head.

"let's get your sister first, lukey. and then we will go downstairs." you chime gently, already pulling the covers back to slip out of bed. luke follows suit, sliding belly first off the tall mattress.

lennon is already awake when you open her door, holding onto the crib railing as she bounces on the mattress. she makes an adorable cooing noise as you greet her, gummy smile making an appearance as you get closer.

as soon as you all make it downstairs, chaos ensues. it's a mess of ribbon, bows and teared  wrapping paper as luke quickly opens all his presents. although the mess is a bit overwhelming, it's overshadowed by the joy of watching your sons face full of excitement.

at every present, luke will stop and bound over to your husband, gift clutched in his hand. "daddy can you open this one?" or "look at this one daddy!"

and everytime william shows the most enthusiasm, making that christmas magic linger as long as humanly possible.

"look daddy I have a hockey stick just like you!" luke jumps up and down in one spot, practically vibrating with excitement as he holds up his brand new hockey stick from santa.

he'd been begging for a 'big boy stick' for almost a year, and william thought this christmas would be the perfect opportunity to wrap up his sons newest obsession.

you hold lennon on your knees, letting her play with the velvety green ribbon from her gift. like usual, you watch luke waltz up to william, displaying his new hockey stick like his life depended on it.

"wow!" william beams, "you're very lucky lukey."

your son nods with enthusiasm, eyes still tranced on the stick. "now I can come play with you and uncle mitchy."

"that's right baby."

you make them pose for a photo after that. william tucks luke into his side, a smile on both of your babies faces as luke holds the stick out. you make sure to send it to steph marner, followed by how excited he is to play with mitch. it's all so cute, and you're so in love with your little family.

luke plays with his toys while you and william make breakfast, lennon gurgling happily in her high chair, sucking on a strawberry while she waits for her food.

eventually you get him to stop playing and come get his serving of eggs, bacon and toast—although he does bring the hockey stick to the table, but you didn't expect anything else.

it's when william is tidying up the dishes and you're just getting lennon out of the high chair, william's family arrives, walking through the front door in a flurry of snow and presents, smiles on their faces.

"merry christmas!"

luke's tiny gasp is almost humorous, and he drops the hockey stick and runs towards his grandparents, tiny feet smacking against the floor. "papa! nana!"

"oh my goodness!" camila greets warmly, dropping her bag to embrace her grandson. "hello my baby." william's mom kisses luke's face multiple times, which sends the toddler into a fit of giggles.

"and here's the other little baby." michael smiles gently, reaching towards your daughter, running his index finger along her soft cheek. "hello lenny bear! merry christmas sweet girl." she smiles, shying away from her grandfathers tickle.

his parents greet you both briefly, but their too wrapped up in the magic of christmas with their first set of grand babies that you're not even mad about the hasty greeting.

"lukey!" ella looks down at her nephew, arms open expectantly. "do I get a hug?"

"yes auntie ella!" he runs into her arms, squeezing william's sister as tight as he can manage.

she pulls back, looking down at luke with sparkling eyes. "did you open your presents from santa?"

"yes," luke beams, blinking up at his aunt warmly. "and he got me a hockey stick!"

"what?! you're so lucky." ella relates the words he's heard a million times today, running her palm flat over his unruly head of hair. "I bet uncle alex will want to see it!"

at the mention of his favourite person in the world (besides his father of course), luke gasps so hard you think his little lungs might explode. he catches sight of alex in the kitchen, chatting with you while he plays with lennon's tiny toes affectionately.

"uncle alex" luke giggles, running over to his uncle.

at the sound of his name, the second eldest nylander sibling looks over just in time for luke to run at his legs. alex smiles, grabbing your son under the arms and swinging him to his chest. "hey dude."

luke immediately lays his head on his shoulder, rubbing his cheek on the soft fabric of alex's hoodie. it's a rather sweet sight, and you're instantly feeling emotional about it.

you clear your throat, adjusting lennon on your hip. "lukey, wanna tell uncle alex what you said last night?"

your son nods gently. "you are smart."

alex gasps happily, pulling down luke's pyjama shirt from where it's ridden up against his sweater.

"he wanted to call you and ask what cookies santa would like because you're smart." you continue, adding a bit more context to the story.

alex nods triumphantly, "you're right lukey I am smart." he kisses your sons cheek once, a loud smacking noise that has lukey laughing, trying to squirm away from the tickle of alex's beard—something he's used to with william.

you'll never get tired of the holiday season, and seeing your family so content and happy with one another just adds to the festive atmosphere and pure joy of christmas.

you feel your husbands arms wrap around your waist from behind, william gently kissing the side of your face as he greets you. "merry christmas, babe."

lennon gurgles happily as she catches sight of william, reaching over you to touch his face, fingers raking through his grown-out facial hair and running over his lips. william nips her tiny hands gently, making her squeal with laughter.

you smile warmly, watching with loving eyes. "merry christmas willy."

[disgustingtwitches]

A Rose in Harlem

New York is supposed to be the city where people vanish into the chaos, but somehow, Simon Riley has found his way into your life. He’s managed to slip past your defenses, filling a void you didn’t realize was there. But when the closeness starts to feel too real, you pull back, desperate to hide your vulnerability. Simon, however, has already bared his own scars and expects you to do the same. Suddenly, your life feels like a romcom you never signed up for, starring the one man who’s impossible to ignore.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete, when no one else ever cared.

Masterlist

PART 4

The Sweetest Taboo

So, you're sleeping with your neighbor. This is fine. Totally fine. You're two consenting adults; no one needs to know. Except Simon seems to disagree.

You wouldn’t peg him as the "kiss and tell" type, but much to your duress, Simon is unapologetically the "kiss and show" type.

At the grocery store, he casually shows up at the same time, grabbing your bags like it’s second nature and walking you home. The stares from the neighbors make your face burn.

Morning run-ins in the foyer have evolved into something dangerously inappropriate. He refuses to let you leave without a kiss. Sometimes it’s just a fleeting brush of lips; other times, it’s deeper, lingering, and edging into the territory of lewd, making you shove his face away.

Then there’s the hoodie. One of his oversized ones, soft and smelling faintly of him. He bullied you into wearing it. You caved, of course, but it stays hidden in the back of your drawer when Ishta comes around—there’s no way you’re dealing with opening that can of worms.

It’s not just the overt gestures, though. It’s the way he lingers too long at your door after you’ve kissed him goodnight. Watches you through the fire escape, like he has every right to. Sitting there with his legs sprawled, a cigarette lazily dangling between his fingers, he makes no attempt to hide it.

You tried to put an end to that one. Bought curtains on a whim, feeling smug about the newfound privacy they’d grant you. But they mysteriously disappeared the day after you installed them—conveniently after you’d gone to work.

Simon played dumb when you confronted him, leaning casually against his doorframe.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, angel. Someone breaking in while you’re away? Maybe I should stick around your place and keep watch.”

His grin was infuriatingly smug, as it usually is.

It’s all becoming a little too real, a little too… loud. And yet, when you’re pressed up against him in the quiet of your apartment, his hands framing your face like you’re the only thing worth holding onto, you almost forget about his wrongdoings.

***

“Brought out the good shit tonight.”

Ishta grins, popping open a bottle of prosecco—the cheap, overly sweet kind she adores. You hold back the urge to grimace as she pours, passing you a glass.

“What's the occasion?”

“Me and Mr.Scottsman are official!”

She squeals lifting her glass high. You mimic the gesture, the clink of glass on glass ringing lightly through the room.

“Wow, it's so official you still won't tell me his name.”

You quip, rolling your eyes as you take a cautious sip. The sweetness of the wine hits immediately, and you fight the reflex to wince.

“John. Johnny.”

She sighs dreamily, hearts in her eyes.

“I call him Johnny because John is way too serious for my liking.”

You raise a brow at her,

"Sounds like you’ve got it bad, Ishta.”

She doesn’t deny it, swirling the prosecco in her glass like it’s some romantic prop, her grin widening.

"Oh, you have no idea. He’s got this laugh—it’s ridiculous—and he can’t make tea to save his life. But, ugh, he’s perfect."

You shake your head, taking another begrudging sip of the prosecco, already bracing yourself for what’s sure to be a night of gushing anecdotes about Johnny.

“Perfect,”

You echo with a laugh, setting your glass down.

“You’ve been together for how long now? A month?”

“Three weeks,”

Ishta corrects.

“But when you know, you know.”

You snort, leaning back against the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, sure. You’re gonna marry this man, huh?”

“Don’t tempt me,”

She says, her grin widening.

“He’s already invited to meet his family. Can you believe it? His family, and I’m just over here trying to not come off as a complete lunatic.”

“Well, you’re failing spectacularly.”

You tease.

She throws a pillow at you, laughing.

“Says the one who’s been mysteriously glowing these past few weeks. Care to spill why?”

You freeze for half a second, a sip of prosecco poised at your lips.

“Glowing? What are you even talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,”

Ishta says, narrowing her eyes.

“You’re hiding something. Someone.”

You feign indifference, shrugging.

“Maybe I’ve just been using better skincare.”

“Bullshit. Spill. Who is it?”

She leans forward, her gaze piercing.

There’s no way you’re telling her. Not about Simon. Not about the fire escape. Not about the way his hands feel against your skin or the things he whispers in the dark.

“No one,”

You say firmly, hoping she buys it.

“And stop projecting your ridiculous love life onto me.”

Ishta squints at you, unconvinced.

“Uh-huh. Sure. For now, you’re off the hook. But mark my words,”

She wags a finger at you.

“I’ll figure it out.”

You laugh nervously, downing the rest of your drink.

You’re grateful for how easily distracted Ishta can be, her attention now fully locked onto the trashy dating show the two of you watch every Thursday. It’s a routine you’d both adopted more for the chance to mock strangers' poor life choices than for any genuine investment in the drama.

Occasionally, she’ll pipe up, her voice dreamy as she recounts the latest romantic gesture from Johnny, her “Mr. Scotsman." She compares him to the guys on TV, and each time, she insists that Johnny does it better. You can almost hear the wistful sigh in her voice as she talks about how much she adores him.

You smile at her, teasing lightly,

“Gonna end up as one of those military wives?”

Ishta laughs, a genuine, carefree sound that rings out in the space between you. She shrugs with mock indifference, but there’s a spark in her eyes.

"Maybe. I mean, he’s a loverboy under all that wildness, but yeah… I’d say I’ve got it bad.”

You smirk at her, shaking your head.

"You’re hopeless."

"And you’re one to talk,”

She fires back, leveling you with a knowing look.

“Sexy British neighbor still got you tied up in knots?”

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink to stall. The wine’s still too sweet, sticking to your tongue, but you focus on the tang that lingers at the edges.

“I’m not ‘tied up’ in anything. Haven't even spoken to him since the noise complaint situation.”

“Riiight.”

She side-eyes you, unconvinced.

“Something tells me that's not entirely true. You get this weird look on your face every time I bring him up.”

You try to keep a straight face.

“Maybe you’re reading too much into things.”

“Uh-huh.”

She leans back, crossing her arms.

“One of these days, I'll catch you slipping.”

You roll your eyes, desperate to redirect her attention.

“I think you’ve had too much wine.”

“Or not enough,”

She shoots back, taking another sip with a knowing smirk. She hums, like she just remembered something important.

“I forgot to tell you, Johnny invited you to come with me to meet his family.”

You make a face of confusion.

“Me? Why?”

“I talk about you a lot, believe it or not you are one of the most important people in my life.”

The statement takes you back a bit, makes you feel a twinge of guilt lying to her.

“But his family?”

“Well…”

She tilts her head, searching for the right words.

“They’re not exactly blood relatives. They’re his squad, I think that’s the term he uses. He trusts them with his life, so he sees them as family—or the closest thing to it. Something like that.”

It’s her turn to hesitate, her fingers absently trailing the stem of her wine glass.

“Anyway, he thought you might want to come along. Besides,” She adds with a grin, peeking up again.

“It'll be fun. Think about it! Drinks, charming military men, and me as your entertainment. What more could you want?”

With Simon in your life, you think to yourself, you find yourself wanting for nothing lately—except maybe a little less suffocating attention.

“Yeah, what more could I want.”

You say aloud, masking the weight of your thoughts with a light laugh.

Ishta beams at your answer,

“That’s the spirit! You’ll see—it’ll be good for you. And hey, if nothing else, you can help me judge Johnny’s friends. Who knows, maybe one of them is a secret disaster like the guys on this show.”

The conversation shifts back to the TV, her playful commentary dragging you out of your head. But even as you nod along, your mind is already working on an escape plan.

You’re just gonna text her some excuse when the day comes. She’ll understand. Probably.

***

“How can you breathe in these?”

You groan, tugging at the waistband of Ishta’s skin-tight leather pants as she twists and wiggles, trying to pull them up.

“Breathing isn’t a priority here.”

She huffs, planting her hands on her hips and giving a final shimmy.

“Looking good is. Besides,”

She admires herself in the mirror.

“Johnny will love it.”

“Yeah, he probably cares more about how easy they’ll be to take off, Ishta.”

She grins, running her hands down the smooth fabric.

“Yeah. My man, the most efficient guy I know.”

You laugh, shaking your head as she strikes a dramatic pose.

“Efficiency—truly the cornerstone of romance.”

“Don’t knock it,”

She quips, spinning around to face you.

“He’s got it down to an art. Makes him a great lover.”

“Ishta.”

“I mean seriously, when I'm running late he knows exactly what to-”

“Ishta!”

“What? Someone has to get laid here, and it sure isn't you!”

You groan in protest, grabbing a throw pillow and launching it at her. She ducks, her laughter ringing out as she returns to inspecting her reflection in the mirror, twisting to check out the back of her pants.

“I think my butt’s getting bigger.”

She declares, completely unfazed.

“Aren’t we running late?”

You ask, exasperated.

“We’re fine. He’s getting us an Uber.”

She replies, adjusting the waistband of her pants with a smug little smile.

“To Brooklyn? Ouuu, big money.”

You tease, rolling your eyes as you grab your bag.

She grins, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“I just got him trained right. I'll show you how to do it when you get your own man. Or woman. Or anyone.”

Before you get to have your say her phone dings, and she grabs her keys.

"C’mon, Uber’s here."

You give her one last look before following her out the door, ready for whatever insanity lies ahead.

***

The bar you stand outside of is dingy and small, a stark contrast to the sleek black SUV Johnny arranged for Ishta and you. You raise an eyebrow, already feeling out of place.

“Are you sure this is the place?”

You ask, rocking side to side in your heels, feet already hurting.

“Too good for it?”

Ishta teases.

“No, just… aren’t we a little overdressed?”

You reply, glancing down at your outfit. Her red-bottoms are going to get ruined by the sticky floors, and your top is way too low-cut for a place like this.

Ishta smirks, giving you a look.

“You’ll be fine. Besides, if anyone stares for too long, the guys will probably scare them off— if they are anything like Johnny describes.”

And so, you step hesitantly into the grungy spot, thinking of what shitty liquor you need to get you through the night.

The bar is dim, louder than you expected, the scent of stale beer and fried food heavy in the air. Ishta leads the way with her usual confidence, weaving through the mismatched tables and chairs. You follow, heels catching on the sticky floor, your stomach tightening as she heads toward a table in the back.

That’s when you see it: the large black hoodie. The person wearing it is turned away, broad shoulders hunched slightly. Something about the way they hold themselves makes your chest tighten. You tell yourself it can’t possibly be him. The odds are ridiculous, almost laughable.

And yet, your feet falter.

Johnny spots Ishta first, lighting up with a grin so wide it makes his eyes crease at the corners, laughter lines deepening across his face. There’s a boyish enthusiasm in the way he waves her over, unrestrained and unabashed, like a pet spotting its owner after a long day apart.

You remember her mentioning once, in passing, that he was born the year of the dog. It’s funny how fitting that feels now. Loyal, eager, a little too earnest. He all but bounces out of his seat, the movement causing a ripple of attention to shift across the table.

The ridiculously pretty man seated next to him glances up first, his expression brightening with easy charm. Across from him, an older man with a beard you could only describe as unnecessarily dramatic turns and nods politely.

Then, the hoodie moves. Your stomach plummets.

Simon.

His expression is unreadable, but the sight of him freezes you in place, and before you realize it, you’re standing there looking like a deer caught in headlights. The rest of the table follows his gaze, looking at you with various degrees of curiosity.

Ishta grabs your arm.

“Oh my God. Girl, is that your man? What’s wrong? You can’t back away now!”

She says in a low voice, dragging you forward before you can recover.

“That is not my man,”

You hiss back, but it does nothing to stop her relentless pull.

Johnny grins as you both approach, his voice warm and thick with his accent.

“Almost scared her off, Ghost.”

Ghost?

Your eyes flick to Simon. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say a word.

Johnny, takes over the introductions.

“This is Simon. Don’t mind him, wasn’t properly socialized as a bairn.”

There’s some shifting around as the group makes room. To your dismay, Simon stays tucked into one side of the booth, leaving Kyle and Price to scoot out. They pull over chairs from a nearby empty table, and you find yourself awkwardly squeezed beside Simon while Ishta takes the seat across from you.

“Finally nice to put a name to the face.”

Ishta beams at Simon, and you can see the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes, though he doesn’t respond. She laughs when Johnny makes a confused face, giving a brief rundown to the table.

“She says you haven't seen each other since that incident.”

Ishta waves her glass in Simon's direction.

Simon leans back in his seat, mask still up.

“Avoids me like the plague, she does. Must’ve left quite the impression.”

Kyle snorts, leaning forward with an amused grin.

“That’s just his thing. Simon’s got a talent for being a nuisance, don’t you, mate? Knows exactly how to make people’s lives hell.”

“Only when they deserve it.”

Simon replies smoothly.

The table chuckles, but you stay quiet. His knee bumps yours under the table and you shoot him a sharp glance. He doesn’t even look your way, focused instead on swirling his drink he hasn't touched. You drink more than you probably should, hoping it’ll dull the awkwardness.

Thankfully, the rest of the table carries on without issue, their conversation flowing easily.

“Military, huh?”

You ask eventually, your voice quieter than intended.

Simon doesn’t look at you, but Johnny leans in with a grin.

“Yeah, we're stationed here for a while, so get used to seeing my handsome face around.”

The ease in his tone does little to settle the tension twisting in your chest. Simon doesn’t so much as flinch, remaining a stoic, unreadable presence. His silence feels deliberate, heavy, but Johnny’s brightness seems determined to lighten the mood.

“Maybe you’ll even get used to this one,”

Johnny adds playfully.

“Though I wouldn’t hold your breath. He’s got the personality of wet cement.”

That makes you laugh a little, along with the rest of the table. Younod toward Simon.

“So… Ghost. That’s a call sign?”

Simon hums, noncommittal, leaving Johnny to fill the silence.

“Wish I got something cool like that,”

Johnny says, shooting Simon a look that’s both teasing and fond.

“Guess he earned it, scary bastard.”

You glance at Simon again. His face gives nothing away.

Ishta leans over and whispers something into Johnny’s ear, her lips brushing against his ear with a playful familiarity. Whatever she says prompts a crooked grin to spread across his face, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief.

The two of them fall into their own little world, lovebirds whispering and laughing softly, entirely lost to anyone else at the table. Their giddy exchange contrasts sharply with the tension simmering between you and Simon.

You shift in your seat, feeling the press of his knee against yours again. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but the contact makes your pulse quicken. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if it’s intentional. If he notices your reaction, he doesn’t show it.

Across the table, Price and Kyle keep the conversation flowing, their camaraderie effortless. You envy the ease they seem to find in this dynamic, the sense of belonging that eludes you in this moment.

Eventually, you decide to call it a night.

“Think I’ll head out, guys.”

You say, grabbing your bag. You glance toward Ishta, but she’s too busy twirling a strand of Johnny’s hair between her fingers, practically sitting in his lap.

Kyle stands, reaching for his jacket.

“Want me to walk you home, love?”

Before you can answer, Price butts in.

“Think Simon’s closer. Said you're neighbors, right?”

Your mouth goes dry.

“Oh, uh. Yeah.”

“He'll take you home. Don't need Kyle chasing up your dress.”

Simon finally looks at you, dark eyes unreadable. Without another word, he gets up.

***

The train ride back is painfully silent, tension coiling thick between you. Simon doesn’t make small talk, doesn’t fill the awkward space with meaningless words, and you can’t decide if you’re grateful or annoyed.

When you finally reach your apartment, you stop at the door, fumbling with your keys. You unlock it and step inside, turning to offer a polite, “Goodnight.”

Before you can close the door, Simon’s boot wedges into the frame.

“No kiss goodnight?”

He murmurs, pulling down his mask, voice low.

“Do you always have to be like this?”

You mumble, leaning forward and tilting your head up.

“You like it.”

He replies, pressing his scarred lips against your glossed ones.

The kiss lingers in your mind longer than it lasts, the warmth still spreading through your limbs. He pulls away, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. You stand with the door still open,

“Ok, well, goodnigh-”

“Not gonna invite me in for a drink?”

The way he says it—like he’s giving you the option, but he knows exactly how this game goes—brings a rush of heat to your cheeks.You hesitate for a moment, the weight of the night pressing down on you, but it hits you then—you’ve been waiting for him to make this move. Simon knows exactly how to push just enough, always teetering on the line between being too much and just enough.

You tilt your head, playing the game, your voice teasing.

“I don’t believe in letting strangers into my place, Ghost.”

His jaw tightens at the name, a flash of something flickering behind his eyes, but he recovers quickly, scanning your face with a quiet intensity.

“Hit your head, angel? The name’s Simon, remember?”

“Hmm,”

You cock your head, a playful smirk curling on your lips as you tease,

“Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

Simon’s expression shifts, eyes narrowing just a fraction as his lips curl into a grin.

“No? Thought you’d remember it with how many times you say it when I’ve got you bent over that couch.”

“Simon!”

You gasp with a smile.

“Glad to see your memories back, love. Had me worried there for a moment.”

His voice drips with smug satisfaction, fingers creeping around your waist as you step backward into your apartment. His movements mirror yours, closing the distance, the same familiar rhythm between you two. Except this time, the dance ends in your bed, bathed in silvery moonlight that filters through the windows, casting shadows and soft glimmers over the room.

What he says to you in that space, the things he says are as depraved as they are tender, sinful words laced with something softer, gentler. And in that moment, you realize they’re the sweetest things Simon is capable of offering.

Lying on his chest, you let your thoughts drift, his sparse chest hair tickling the side of your face. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat drums against your ear as your fingers trace lazy circles on his skin. His hand mirrors yours, gently skimming the small of your back in slow, soothing motions.

You enjoy these moments just aas much as the more heated ones—maybe more. They feel almost domestic, like peeking through the keyhole of something you tell yourself you can’t have. But for now, it’s enough. It fills that quiet loneliness you feel some days.

Simon presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his lips lingering there for a beat longer than you expect. It feels like him savoring the closeness he so rarely allows himself.

“Mind if I sleep here tonight?”

His voice low and casual.

Your body goes stiff before you can stop it, and his hand on your back stills.

“Oh,”

You say, forcing a laugh that cracks at the edges.

“Didn’t think you’d grown tired of your bachelor setup. What happened? Mattress on the floor finally giving up on you?”

Simon hums, unbothered, his fingers resuming their lazy path.

“Figured I’d upgrade. You offering?”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you sit up quickly, putting a small but deliberate distance between you.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He doesn’t move, watching you with hooded eyes, his expression calm, unreadable.

“Why not? Thought we were comfortable now.”

His tone is deceptively light, but you can hear the challenge beneath it.

“I don’t sleep well with someone else in the bed,” You say, crossing your arms, covering your bare chest.

“It’s just a thing—I’m used to having my space.”

“Space, huh?”

He sits up and leans back against the wall, hands clasped behind his head, looking entirely too at ease.

“Didn’t seem to need space a few minutes ago, angel.”

You frown, heat rising to your face.

“That’s different. Sleeping is… it’s personal.”

He smirks, tilting his head slightly.

“And what we just did isn’t?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your irritation in check.

“You know what I mean, Simon.”

“Not sure I do,”

His tone is playful, but there’s a stubborn edge to it now.

“Seems to me like you’re just makin’ excuses.”

“I’m not.”

The words come out sharper than you intended. You sigh, running a hand through his short hair, an apology of sorts.

“It’s just… I’m not ready for that.”

“A lil sleepover?”

He tilts his head. Before you can respond, he grabs your face with one hand, his fingers pressing against your cheeks to make your lips pout.

You yank your head away, sucking your teeth in frustration.

“You’re impossible.”

He grins, leaning back against the wall like he’s won something.

“Am I? Or are you just makin’ this harder than it needs to be?”

“Simon,”

You snap,

“It’s not about being hard or easy. It’s about boundaries. Respecting them.”

“Boundaries?”

He raises an eyebrow, the smirk slipping just slightly.

“Since when have we had those?”

Never, you think to yourself. It's a little distressing if you think about it too long, letting a man have such sway on you.

He pulls you closer, his thick arms wrapping around you with an ease that feels as natural as it is intrusive. You don’t resist, though. Instead, your fingers trace the inked lines on his forearm, a distraction, an excuse not to look him in the eye.

“Think you got one more in you?”

His voice is low, dipping into something softer, coaxing.

“I’ll be out your hair after that.”

You can’t help the faint smile that tugs at your lips, even though you hate yourself for giving in so easily. It’s always like this with him—pushing, pulling, finding that sliver of space where you’re weak enough to let him in.

“Yeah,”

You murmur, leaning just slightly into his touch,

“Think I do.”

His lips curve into a grin, satisfied, but he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he pulls you into his lap. And just like always, he gets exactly what he wants.

Prev | Next

[daniiiboo]

day 12 - a christmas proposal - qh43

summary - On christmas day, quinn takes you to a beautiful, snow-covered park. He tell you that this is the place he first knew he was in love with you. As you stand there, he pulls out a small box and ask the most important question of your life: will you spend forever with him?

trigger warnings - cuteness

dani's thoughts - im so sad this has to come to an end, but im glad it ended w/ this fic <3

word count - 518

find the rest of my 12 days of chrismas here !

The air was crisp and fresh, the kind of cold that made your breath visible in the air as you stepped into the quiet, snow-covered park. The world around you was a winter wonderland, with glistening icicles hanging from tree branches and snow blanketing the ground in a peaceful silence. Everything felt still, except for the gentle crunch of your boots in the snow and the sound of Quinn's footsteps beside you.

It was Christmas Day, and Quinn had insisted on taking you somewhere special. You couldn’t deny the magic of the moment. The park was beautiful, the soft glow of the Christmas lights strung between the trees adding a warm touch to the otherwise chilly surroundings.

He stopped by a frozen pond, where the snow had gathered into perfect little mounds. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the silence, the only sounds the distant chirping of winter birds and the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees.

“Do you know why I brought you here?” Quinn asked, his voice soft but filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

You turned to him, your heart skipping a beat at the look in his eyes. “I’m guessing it’s not just for a walk in the snow,” you teased, though your voice betrayed the curiosity building inside you.

Quinn smiled, but there was something deeper in his gaze, something more serious. “This is the place,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with meaning. “The first time I knew I was in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You had always known that Quinn had a special way of making ordinary moments feel extraordinary, but hearing him say those words,especially in a place so perfect, so serene, took your breath away.

“Really?” you whispered, your heart swelling with emotion. “Here?”

He nodded, taking a small step closer. His hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of warmth through you.

“Yeah. We came here last winter, and I remember looking at you, the snow falling softly around us, and realizing that I wanted to spend every moment of my life with you.”

You felt your pulse quicken at his words, and your gaze softened as you held his eyes.

“I had no idea,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t say it then,” Quinn said, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. “But I knew. And now…”

He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. Your heart skipped, and your breath caught in your chest.

“Quinn, what are you—”

Before you could finish, he opened the box, revealing a sparkling engagement ring that caught the light of the setting sun. You couldn’t speak for a moment, your eyes locked on the ring and then back to him.

His hand was steady as he held the box out to you, his voice filled with sincerity. “Will you spend forever with me? Will you marry me?”

Your heart raced as you stood there, the snow swirling gently around you, the world falling away until there was only Quinn, only the two of you in that moment. You couldn’t help but smile, tears threatening to well up in your eyes.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word coming out like a breath of relief, joy, and love all at once. “Yes, Quinn, I will.”

His face broke into a grin, and without missing a beat, he slid the ring onto your finger. In that moment, everything felt right, everything you had ever wanted, everything you had ever dreamed of, was standing right in front of you.

Quinn pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as he kissed you gently, the snow falling around you both like the world was celebrating with you. As you kissed him back, you realized that this was only the beginning of forever, and there was no one else you’d rather spend it with.

[4rlekino]

i'll touch that fire for you ' enjoji "jiji" jin

cws. 18+ NSFW MDNI. jiji x fem!reader. aged up characters. fingering. dick prep. size kink + size difference. praise. implied edging. squirting (like a bit?? some??). use of babe/baby, sweetheart, good girl. cocky to needy jiji pipeline. missionary. unprotected ptv sex. no aftercare/pillow talk i didn't write it. 1.7k words.

notes. SIGHS fuck um merry christmas. ty to the prettiest @shoyoist for beta reading <3

"yeah, baby?" he laughed softly. "you want me inside, hm?"

jin's grinning against your neck, thrusting his fingers into you at a steady pace. the feeling of your wetness, your whimpers, and the squelching sounds your cunt's been making was spurring that feeling in his lower stomach and coaxing him to moan with you.

he stops after a couple hard thrusts of his wrist, his thumb reaching up to rub circles to your clit instead. jin has his front pressed to your back, the both of you laid on your sides with his non-dominant arm wrapped underneath you, pinned between your side and the mattress with a hand squeezing at your breast.

he grinds up against you, cock still sheathed under his boxers while he tries to satiate the desire with a bit of friction. not that it helps, of course, but his resolve was solid. it surprised you, honestly. that for a guy like him, he wasn't as hasty as you thought.

when you pleadingly mewl out his name, a part of you was sure you were going to cum from the prep alone. the leg you kept raised in the air is trembling trying to keep itself up, but at least your hole was stretched out enough to accommodate two and a little more of jin's fingers with ease.

though, judging from the way he lets out a wry chuckle at your pleasurable struggle, it's not nearly enough.

"that's it, that's my girl. you're being so good for me." he sighs, exhaling through his nose as he's peppering kisses along the curve of your neck and shoulder, dragging his lips in between locations. "you doing okay?"

you nodded for him, still catching your breath from the moans he'd effortlessly pulled out of you. having been on the brink of orgasm twice from jin just fingering you was dizzying. you figured his arm, his fingers, his wrist, something must be cramping by now.

"jin, i think i can— mmf!" these were the first words you've managed to speak without slurring on your moans, but your boyfriend just thought it would've been so funny to slip a third finger in and cut you off.

he hums disapprovingly by your ear, now deliberately pumping all three digits to get his newly added ring finger coated. "need to get you prepped, sweetheart. i said three fingers. you can't take me if you're not ready for me, can't you?"

your leg was too tired to be kept up at this point, your knee now lowered to give your muscles some rest. it still gave jin access to your pussy, fingers continuing working into you at a building pace.

there was a slight burn to the added stretch, but with the previous prep, it was almost nothing. still, he made sure to be gentle. the last thing he wanted was to hurt you, but the first was wanting to see you writhe, to make your clamp around him just the way he liked.

"jin... please—"

"not yet," jin says, nearly breathless with his cock still rock-hard against your ass.

the sound of your wetness only made him want more, so he pumps his fingers slower. "you're so wet," he continued, pulling out and rubbing your slick all over your cunt before putting them back in.

he's still muttering husky praises and dirty musings into your ear, grinding his hips in an inconsistent rhythm against you. his cock's desperate for some decent friction, needing to be wrapped up in your wet walls the way his fingers were.

"i wanna put it in, baby. want you to tell me i can." his tone was convincingly whiny as he returned to his earlier bruising pace, wholly fixated on the sounds of your pussy to realize how close you were.

you were clenching around his digits, your hips even twitching as you unintentionally neared your climax.

"jin. jin, don't!" you pleaded, but of course, it was too late. you were gushing around him, suddenly feeling at a loss of control with your own body.

he looks over, trying his best to see you, but with his arm still pinned under your side, he was stuck in place. even so, he could feel the little spurts on his palm, thrusting his fingers into you harder.

under the orgasm's intensity, you trembled, helplessly moaning as jin helped you ride it out.

"good girl, keep going, m'kay?" he praised, his chest flush to your back and his non-dominant arm keeping you in place. "i know that felt so good for you. fuck, that was so hot."

when he pulls his fingers out of you, you take the time to catch your breath. it's clear you've never done that before, or at least it's never happened to you until now.

you couldn't express it, but thank god jin was still talking you through it post-release, kissing your skin and uttering some praises before he left your side to let you lay on your back. as your body was trying to catch up to you, he carefully parts your thighs and trails his lips up your stomach.

"sweetheart," he coaxed, his hands roaming up your sides as well. your voice shudders, still reeling while he speaks. "my pretty girl."

he'd taken off the last of his clothing at some point, his hips lined with yours.

"let me have you… please?" he can't suppress the need anymore, earnestly asking as he looks up at you from the valley of your chest.

he hovers over you, hands planted on either side with his lips slotting up against yours, kissing you slowly and peppering kisses from your cheek to the skin by your ear, still asking for permission, even going as far as saying your name in a honeyed tone.

"please, baby," he says. "i want you, wanna feel you so bad. you're gonna feel so good with my dick inside you, i know it."

the heat radiating off his body was intense. he's still kissing your skin, still pleading with you. getting you to squirt definitely did something to him now that the neediness and desire was suddenly surfacing tenfold.

when your mind clears, you finally respond with a turn of your head, letting him feverishly kiss you.

"i'll make you feel good," he mumbles into it. "i'll make you feel so good, baby, i swear. let me fuck you."

"please," you responded, not wanting all that prep to go to waste. "don't hold back."

he lands a chaste kiss to your lips and straightens his back. his hands, gentle and calloused, smooth up underneath your thighs and stop under the fold of your knees. his eyes were trained to where you connect, watching himself rut a couple experimental thrusts into you. the pace he sets is slow as he spreads your legs further, deliberately watching the way he disappears so easily inside you and savoring the ecstasy of it all.

he eased into you with a groan, sinking in until his pelvis was flush up against yours.

"shit," he hissed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips for a moment.

he prepped you well, and just like he thought, the first orgasm made your walls wrap around his length perfectly.

if he wasn't still grounded to reality with his hold on you, pulling out would've felt impossible. he shouldn't, but just thinking about emptying his load into you had jin subconsciously increasing his pace after he lowers himself, planting his hands to your sides once more.

when your nails dig into his back, he slows and takes brief pauses between thrusts, nearly pulling out just to slam back in.

a moan emits from you every time, punctuating each snap of his hips, feeling just how far he could reach. you try not to press your nails too deep, but you desperately needed something to hold onto.

either way, jin didn't seem to mind. he might've liked it.

"you're so perfect." he whispers, words he only wanted you to hear. "so perfect for me."

he lands one more deep thrust before stilling, his own breath shuddering from the pleasure before he moves back into a more consistent pace.

he brushes some strands that have stuck to your forehead, and he revels in the way you could barely keep your eyes open while soft, panting moans escaped your mouth.

with him hovering over you like this, it makes you realize just how big he is up close. how broad his frame was, how big his hands were next to your face. jin completely covered you, completely filled you, his thick shaft brushing up against your sweet spot and giving your hole a satisfying stretch with every pass.

"you have no idea… how good you feel… too good for me," he pants.

jin's eyes watched your expression with a cloudy sense of euphoria the louder you got. the needy moans of his name escaping your lips were like praise to him. your pussy walls even fluttered with each call, encouraging the deliberate thrusts to pick up into a more bruising pace.

your boyfriend was splitting you in the best way possible, and your body was letting him know. it was definitely an exaggeration, but you could feel it in your stomach. not the knot that tightened its way to your climax—the way he made you feel so goddamn full.

your brows drew together in a delicate scrunch, a faint crease in between as you peeked at him through your lashes, grounding your gaze to his in that same hazy euphoria. but just looking at you causes a wave of pleasure to cut through him.

his eyes nearly roll back and he has to grit his teeth and keep his mouth occupied against your neck when a moan bubbles up in his throat.

"i don't know if—" jin's eyes fluttered shut first, then his lips part, his open mouth huffing warm breaths to your neck. "—i don't think i can stop."

he was cutting it close, that feeling in his lower gut was only getting tighter and tighter. he nearly forgets to pull out after you finish. his hard thrusts were making the slap of your skins louder, the mess of tongue you both called a kiss, and all the moans you were swallowing for each other.

it was all so distracting, but you can both thank his stuttering rhythm and greedy reel of his hips for causing his dick to slip out at the right moment. jin finally stops when his member slides upwards between your folds, spurting ribbons of cum over your lower stomach.

[tinybeetiny]

Back to You: P.S

SMUT | 18+ | MDNI

Sigh I hate to admit it but I would 100000% run back to Seonghwa every single time

->Starring: Rockstar!SeonghwaXReader

->Genre: Smut, little bit of angst, fluff

->Cw: Explicit language, blowjob, cum eating

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Rock Never Dies Masterlist

Seonghwa picked up his phone, his finger hovering hesitantly over your contact before pressing the call button. With each ring, his heart beats faster until "Hello?" your voice is soft and he's speechless for a moment "Seonghwa?" "Yeah, yeah I'm here" he breaths out. He hasn't heard your voice in a few months and he didn't realize how much he missed it, how much he missed you. "Are you okay?" His heart flutters at your question. Even after everything you still sound so caring "Uh yeah no I'm not okay. I know it's been a while and I know I'm the one who ended things but fuck (y/n) I miss you" It's silent and he's starting to regret calling you "I miss you too Hwa" you whisper so quietly that he almost misses, almost "Can I, Can I come see you? I just finished a show and I just really want to see you" his tone is hopeful and he hears you sigh on the other end "I don't know. It's late and what you said last time I-" He cuts you off "I know what I said and I can't tell you how sorry I am but I really don't want to do that over the phone. Please (y/n)." he knows how he sounds but he's desperate. He thought ending your relationship was for the best, he could focus on the band more but it did the opposite. His mind has been filled with thoughts of you and guilt. He knows he should've done this a long time ago but his pride got in the way, he's just happy you actually answered. "Okay." Did he hear you correctly? He did, he most certainly did “Really!? I’ll be over in 5 minutes.” he said before hanging up and hastily grabbing his things. He’s moving so fast he doesn’t notice his bandmates calling him “Hey. Where are you going?” “Are you good?” “Seonghwa?” Their words go in one and ear out the other.

Seonghwa arrives in front of your apartment building in record time. He flies up the stairs not wanting to wait for the elevator, his heart pounding with anticipation. He hasn't seen you in over three months. "Hi." He breathes out. You haven't changed a bit, still as breathtaking as he remembers "Hi Hwa" You say nervously "Do you want to come in?" 'ugh duh (y/n) he didn't come all this way to just stand in the hallway' you think as you internally cringe "Oh um, if you're cool with it" You nod before stepping aside and inviting him in. He looks around the apartment noticing the little changes to the decor "You got a fish?" He points to the little tank in the living room. You let a little chuckle "That would be Mars. He eats a lot." His eyes light up at the name. You motion him to sit on the couch and you occupy the space next to him "Sooo... how ya been?" You ask looking down at your lap "I've been okay, just super busy with the band and touring. What about you? How are you?" You let out a small breath "Honestly... Not so good." Seonghwa grabs both of your hands "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You don't know how stupid I felt after I left you, how stupid I still feel. I know I should've reached out sooner but I figured you didn't want to hear from me" you shake your head "I waited for you to call" and his heart clenches "Fuck (y/n) I'm so so sorry. I know there's no excuse and I know I'm an idiot and you shouldn't forgive me bu-" You cut him off with a kiss. He wastes no time kissing you back, sighing at the feeling of your lips on his. He pulls you closer to him and you climb onto his lap, straddling him. You turn your head, deepening the kiss and his hands find the plush of your ass. The sound of lips smacking and little moans fill your apartment and your hips subconsciously grind against his.

You climb off his lap and drop to the floor reaching for his zipper but he stops you "You know you don't have to do this" You give him a little smile "I know Hwa but I want to do this" He leans back as you unbutton his jeans, slowly pulling them down his legs. You gasp when his cock springs out almost hitting you in the face. You drool at the sight of his angry red tip that was just begging for some type of release. You grab ahold of the base and he sucks in a breath. You press a sweet kiss to his tip before giving it a little kitten lick savoring the salty taste of his precum on your tongue. A dribble of spit falls from your mouth landing on his tip and you use your hand to spread it around. He lets out a little sigh, he really missed you. Your lips finally wrap around his mushroom head giving it a small suck and he swears he could cum just from that. When you move your head down Seonghwa takes your hair in a makeshift ponytail, not pulling just holding it in place. You start to bob your head up and down starting at a slower pace, your hand stroking whatever you can't fit. You feel his grip on your hair tightening as you speed up "That's right baby. Suck it just like that. So good for me" His words make you moan around him. His breathy moans are so sweet, a contrast to his harsh grip on your hair. The pain on your scalp only seems to encourage you as you hollow out your cheeks to take him further. You look up to see his head thrown back and his chest moving with each breath. With a small push, he pushes his cock deeper hitting the back of your throat, causing you to gag “Oh shit. Hold on baby m’gonna cum” his hands go to stop you it only causes you to move your head faster. Your eyes roll as he cums, thick ropes of white painting your throat. You pull off his cock swallowing his load, some of it dribbling down your chin. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out showing him you swallowed every bit "Good girl. Such a good girl for me" he sighs his hand caressing the side of your head and you lean into his touch "I love you (y/n) and I just wish I could take everything back" You give him a small smile "Well I guess you just gotta make it up to me"

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[cherie-doll]

Could you do like a scenecore reader that also dyes their hair? and cod men? Like dunno giving them a handmade bracelet I dunno? *pokes my fingers together*

-🪒(Reserving a Anon cause i'll be back!)

hii 🪒 anon!! glad you're reserving! and if anyone else wants to do the same then feel free to do so :D

ミ☆ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Scenecore!Reader x COD Men

★ Price...

sometimes when he comes home he'll find you in the bathroom dying your hair, he loves seeing you do fun stuff with your hair and will even run to buy more box dye incase you run out or you got the wrong color (which happens often)

there's a hc that he was prob a punk or some sort of alternative when he was a teen so he's familiar with you customizing and diying your stuff

he also never thought to be into the scene subculture but he can't help but smile when you leave a handmade kandi bracelet for him, even if it looks a little out of place for him to wear, he doesn't care

he will put that on his wrist and wear it around like he wears his ring

★ Ghost...

it's funny when walking around together in public with the tall intimidating guy who's always wearing a face covering and dark clothing and then there's you, the bright clothes, the dyed and teased hair, arms covered in kandi bracelets looking like a rainbow vomited on you

they should really see your house... his side of the closet is almost the same outfits just different shades of dark colors and your side has possibly every color ever made

still, if people looked close enough they would be able to see the bracelet you made for him that just barely peeks out from underneath the sleeve of his jacket along with some jelly bracelets

people often assume Simon is some former goth dating the scene/scenecore

★ Soap...

you wonder why you ran out of dye so quickly when you need it, you had bought a couple new boxes of hair dye only to find them gone when you needed them, when you see Johnny it all makes sense; he had attempted dying his own hair

according to him he wanted to try wearing your hair extensions first but quickly realized they wouldn't stay in, you can't help but laugh at how his hair turned out, the front looks kinda good it actually surprises you, the back however...

when at a store he's actually the one hyping you up when you find something you could use to incorporate it into your look, he buys whatever for you and loves wearing matching kandi bracelets with you

his whole forearm will be covered in kandi and jelly bracelets he doesn't care he loves it!

★ Gaz...

he knows where you are in a store by the ton of jewelry you wear with charms and beads, or you might accidentally drop a bracelet or lose an earring leaving a trail he can follow to find you

ofc he knows to find you either in a thrift shop, in the jewelry section or where the box dye is at, he's quick to offer to buy anything you might want

he knows how much you love experimenting with your hair, maybe you like adding animal prints in your hair :D

in the car he likes to put your playlist on that will have you both vibing together throughout the entire car trip, poor soul to whoever is travelling with you tho

★ Roach...

loves wearing anything you gift him, especially if you customized it or made it yourself, he wants to feel included, often times when you're touching up on your hair or dying it again he'll sit in the bathroom with you

sometimes it takes a long time dying your hair, especially if you like to do prints on your hair because you're tired of your extensions falling out all the time :(

and the entire time he's sitting there keeping you company looking at you like this :D

he even helps you pick out which color you should do next when you can't decide!

he gets all giddy when you sit down and make kandi bracelets together <3 and then gift him the one you made and he gives you the one he made, so now you're wearing bracelets the other made!

★ Alejandro...

your style was definitely something new to him, due to the great war of emos vs punks in '08 in Mexico he assumed you were what he described a 'colorful emo', until you corrected him

he really likes it actually, he's seen how you manage to coordinate your outfits and even cut, dye and style your own hair, talk about being resourceful!

when your hair is freshly dyed, you'll wash it and go to sleep with it slightly damp, the next morning you wake up to find your pillow stained, it used to scare him real bad when you had it dyed red and he assumed the stain on the pillow was blood

★ Rudy...

he loves learning about what you're into, your interests are now his!!

he's also tried styling you before and he actually managed to do a pretty good job! you asked him how he did it and he mentioned he's seen you coordinate your outfits and so he was able to pick up off that

on his days off, he loves spending them with you and taking you to all the stores that have deals on their bundles so you can get a ton or new hair clips and silly accessories you end up trying on Rudy only to take a 0.5 pic of

and vice versa ^^ he loves taking pics of you in your outfits, in fact, on his phone lock screen he has you with your best outfit yet posing as his wallpaper, just to be smug he likes leaving his phone face up on the table just so that he can see that picture of you when a message lights up his screen

★ Phillip Graves...

won't ever ask you to "tone it down", it's your style and he thinks you should proudly wear it, you look unique and he personally loves it

he will definitely glare at anyone who scoffs or says a rude remark about you, especially if the area you live in is known to be more conservative, he loves seeing the look on people's faces when they see you walk past

sometimes his shadows like to tease him when they notice him wearing the bracelet you made for him, they keep saying it looks like some little kid made it but he quickly states that you made it for him

i can just imagine the whiplash when his playlist goes from his average dad rock/country music to your liked songs invading his phone when on shuffle, he might bop to it tho but won't ever admit it

★ Makarov...

he's told you multiple times he can just take you to get your hair professionally done, there is no need for you to buy cheap box dye for your hair but you like it better this way

this way you can add your own unique and personal touch to it that you love, and no professional hairstylist will be able to do it how you like it, he gives in and stops insisting after you remind him that every time

but he definitely loves your creative diy and style, he just wanted to make sure you weren't staining the bathroom towels with your box dye because you were too shy to ask him to take you to the hair salon but that's not the case :)

and he treasures the bracelets you gift him more than he does the expensive watches and jewelry he buys for himself

★ Keegan...

yk how kandi bracelets can say crazy stuff on them sometimes?

yeah so, the first time he noticed your bracelets and read some of the words you've arranged on there he was flabbergasted to say the least

you put diabolical phrases on his kandi bracelets when you make some for him, and when you put them on for him you make sure the words are upside down so HE doesn't notice it but the person who's in front of him will if they glance at it

it isn't until later when he takes them off that he notices they have sexual phrases, your favorite one for him to wear is one that says "suck me off"

★ König...

it took him a while to understand your texting whenever he peeked at your laptop when you left it open, he didn't really consider himself to be behind on trends until now even if it wasn't anything new but it was to him

he also doesn't know what half the references the words on your kandi bracelets mean either but he rolls with it anyways, you've probably told him before but you ramble on so much that he can only remember a handful of stuff you say

one of his favorite moments of the day are when he arrives home and you're just on your laptop scrolling and vibing to music, you even get up and dance to it inviting him to join you even if he's terrible at it but hey, at least you're having fun together :)

★ Horangi...

he knows how much you love thrifting for new clothes so he likes finding good thrift shops you can go crazy in and then show him the new outfits you put together with them, he also likes surprising you with brand/label clothes and items

you often feel guilty bc you know how expensive those brands can get but he insists on it, he loves you showing your colors and taking you out

he's even dyed his hair colors to match with you! you can't tell me he isn't a little into the alternative side as well, he's definitely expanded his style since he met you

you two even have your matching jewelry for almost every occasion that you've handmade when out on dates, like those places that are for couples to book so they can diy stuff together (if ykyk bc i forgot what they're called)

★ Nikto...

i can just imagine the first time you shuffled up to him and extended your hand to open it and he sees a colorful little bracelet there

he tilted his head, confused what you were offering to him, oh a bracelet? that little thing? it doesn't look like something he'd wear himself but... since you made it he slips it on, good thing the cord is elastic and stretchy therefore he can pull it through his burly, big hand

he shrugs but on the inside he feels his heart beat a little faster, later he forgets to take it off or you slip a bracelet in his duffel bag when he leaves another member will notice the colored kandi bracelet and ask about it

he's not in the slightest bit embarrassed to say it was you, no amount of teasing will make him take it off

[fluentmoviequoter]

Shoulder to Cry On

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (w/ 3 y.o. daughter)

Summary: When your daughter Mia is taken hostage, Tim Bradford holds you together and offers a strong shoulder to cry on.

Warnings: child abduction, discussion of past criminal activity, r has a daughter from a previous relationship, angst to fluff

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

Your phone rings, and you reluctantly pull your hand from Tim’s to check it. The caller ID displays ‘Unknown,’ and you send the person to voicemail.

“Everything okay?” Tim inquires. “Was that the babysitter?”

“No, everything’s fine. Where were we?”

“We were talking about your dream date.”

“I don’t remember that,” you reply with a smile. “But I think I might already be on it.”

Your phone rings again, and Tim gestures for you to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Four… hundred… thousand,” the distorted voice says slowly.

“I think you have the wrong number,” you reply.

The voice says your name, then asks, “Mother of Mia? I’ll take that sharp inhale as a yes. The price is 400 grand.”

“Price for what?”

Tim watches you with pinched brows, and you avoid meeting his eyes.

“Say hi,” the voice demands.

“Mommy,” your daughter Mia cries.

“400 grand by tomorrow night.”

Realizing that this unknown person has your daughter, you raise your wide eyes to meet Tim’s.

“What?” he asks.

“Ooh, is that the cop? Put him on,” the man on the other end of the phone demands.

You pass the phone to Tim without a word, then grip the napkin in your lap tightly. Tim doesn’t speak, but his jaw tightens with each passing second. He ends the call and then stands.

“Tim,” you whisper.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he promises, offering his hand. “Let’s go.”

You allow Tim to lead you out of the restaurant. Once outside, your chest grows heavy as an uncomfortable pressure builds behind your eyes.

“Tim, I can’t breathe,” you tell him, gripping his hand as you panic.

He turns toward you, releases your hand, and holds your eye contact. “Listen, hey, eyes on me.” When your eyes meet his, he lifts your hand to his chest and presses your palm over his heart. “Breathe with me. In… and out. Good, again. In… out through your mouth. I have no idea what you are feeling right now, but I need you to trust me. I called it in, and I’m going to the station now. We’re going to get Mia back.”

You nod quickly, keeping your hand against Tim’s steady heart as he speaks. “What am I supposed to do?” you whisper.

“Stay strong for Mia. Can you think of anyone who would do this?”

“No. I don’t… no.”

“Okay, well I know people who can find that out. Do you want to go home or come with me to the station?”

You grip Tim’s shirt as you plead, “Please don’t leave me alone.”

Tim pulls you against him and promises, “I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to bring Mia home.”

“Tim, what do you know about the father?” Angela asks. Tim doesn’t acknowledge her, staring out into the bullpen at you, where Luna Grey is consoling you. “Tim?”

“Hmm?” he hums without turning.

“Mia’s dad,” Angela says. “What do you know about him?”

“Not much. He hasn’t been in the picture, ever.”

“She hasn’t told you anything?” Nyla inquires. “No name, no complaints, just that he’s gone?”

“It’s not something I’m overly interested in, Harper.”

“You stand from your seat and rush toward Tim. He extends his arms toward you, but you press your ringing phone into his hand.

“He’s calling again,” he tells Angela.

“Answer it,” she tells you. “We’ll try to trace it.”

“Hello?” you greet.

“I’m not seeing any money,” the voice chides.

You hear Mia crying in the background and bite your lip harshly. “Where is my daughter?” you ask.

“She’s fine. Won’t stop crying, but she needs you to get me my money, understand?”

Angela shakes her head and moves her finger in a circle so you’ll keep talking.

“I don’t have that kind of money,” you explain. “Why me?”

“Because he stole it.”

You glance at Tim as you ask, “He who?”

“Mia’s father! I lost half a million because of him. I knocked a hundred grand off but if I don’t see my investment returned, I’ll make a new one.”

“I can’t get that kind of money,” you say through your teeth. “What else can I do?”

“Find a way. You have twenty hours, so find it quickly.”

The line clicks before you drop your hand away from your face. A tear tracks over your cheek, and you don’t do anything to stop it.

“No location on the trace, but I have the internet number’s information,” Angela explains. “Tech might be able to do something with it.”

“Excuse me,” you mumble.

Tim watches you walk into the restroom. He rubs his hand across his face before Lucy pushes him toward you.

“Go,” Angela encourages him. “We’ll find Mia’s dad and go from there. She needs you, Timothy.”

Tim knocks on the bathroom door as he opens it. He says your name as he steps in, but he’s only met with muted crying and sniffles.

“I can’t do this,” you whimper.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says, stopping outside your stall. “I can’t take it away, but I’ll do everything I can to get her back.”

“It was… I know it sounds bad, but I don’t know anything. He was working with someone or something, and they lost the money, and then- then he lost everything else. I don’t even know what the money was for or where he went after the fallout. He may not have realized that what they were doing was wrong.”

“It’s not your job to know all of this,” Tim reminds you. “He did something wrong, and he lost the best people I’ve ever met.”

You sniff before you begin crying again, and Tim nudges the door open. He pulls you from your slouched position against the partial wall and into his arms. Running his hand over your hair, Tim grounds you and reminds you that you’re not alone, you’re cared about and loved.

“Wait,” you say against his chest. “Did he say half a million?”

“Yeah, but he dropped it to 400.”

“I remember hearing something about the biggest ‘donor’ and they called him… it was something about a shark, like great white or… maybe it was hammerhead?”

“Mako?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, that was it.”

“He's wanted for dozens of crimes. I need to go tell Angela, but…” Tim hesitates and pulls you into a tight hug.

You carry the duffel bag filled with seized money in both hands as you approach the darkened warehouse at the Port of Los Angeles. Tim, Angela, Nyla, Nolan, and Lucy are somewhere behind you, and a Metro team is waiting for their command. After you knock four times, the door slides open, and a man dressed in black steps out.

“Where’s Mia?” you ask.

“She’s close, ready to go with you,” he answers cryptically.

“Stall him,” Angela says in your earpiece. “We’ll find her.”

“Can you- can you tell me what he did?” you ask the man.

“You really don’t know, do you? You have no idea about how many people he robbed, how many lives he destroyed.”

“No, I don’t. All I know is that he left me and my daughter, and now you’re trying to ruin our lives.”

“Fool me once.”

“But I didn’t. I had nothing to do with losing your money.”

The man barks a laugh and tries to snatch the duffel bag from you, but you step back quickly.

“Not until I know my daughter is okay,” you snap.

“She’s waiting in a Corolla on the other side of the building, ready for you to drive her home,” he says. “Money, now.”

“I’ve got Mia,” Tim says in your ear. “Metro, move in.”

You sigh in relief just before a swarm of armed officers surround you and your daughter’s abductor. They pull him away from you just as Tim rounds the corner, your daughter safe in his arms.

“Mia!” you call, running toward them.

You crash into them, wrapping one arm around Mia and the other around Tim’s waist. Mia wraps her arm around your neck and shifts her weight toward you as Tim holds you close. She rambles against you until you wipe the tears from her face.

“Are you okay, baby?” you ask.

She nods, then reaches toward Tim. He takes her hand, and Mia lowers her head to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whisper to Tim, standing against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he replies. “You too, Mia, and I meant what I said.”

You look at Tim with your brows raised, and he whispers, “I promised a trip to the toy store and her favorite diner for milkshakes.”

Mia nods against you as you ask, “Am I invited?”

“What do you think, Mia?” Tim asks. “Can Mom come?”

“Yeah,” she answers against you. “Love you.”

“I love you so much,” you tell her.

She mumbles something, then says, “Love you, Daddy.”

You look at Tim and smile as you raise your hand to his cheek. He looks like he might cry, but he has a much better story about how Mia made him cry today.

[mochiwrites]

SCARIAN PARENTHOOD ARC????? I just saw that post Mochi PLS make this canon this is so fucking sweet ;~; grrgrhhhhhhh that would be so adorable 😭

canon you say? 👀

——————————

Of everything Grian expected from this day upon waking up with a snoring husband in his ear, a secret breach was not a part of the list. Trying to break into Mumbo’s vault, restock The Entity, get Hotguy’d by Scar, all typical occurrences. Searching the server far and wide for a strange anomaly that got past the firewall? Not even close to a thought on his mind.

Still, here he is, checking around the Rift for any strange or unusual entities. Grumbot Prime beeps behind him, watching as he looks over the shifting portal. He doesn’t see anything too unusual upon a surface level gleam of the place.

Up above, he hears the telltale flap of an elytra, along with a call of his name. Looking up, he spots Scar gliding into the cave, landing nearby. “There you are! I swear you took off like a rocket as soon as Xisuma finished explainin’ everything!” Scar heaves a breath as he pauses to catch it. “Have you found anything?”

Grian steps back from the Rift as he shakes his head. “Not yet. I was just about to open my Eyes to search for anything that’s hiding,” he answers. Easily does he slip his hand into Scar’s, lacing their fingers together. “What about you?”

Scar’s lips tilt low in a light frown. “I checked by the Elven Tree and Cookie Emporium but couldn’t find a thing,” he sighs, squeezing Grian’s hand. “Was just about to check Scarland if you’re willing to come along?” His voice carries something hopeful in it, making Grian smile despite the pile of nerves that sit in his stomach.

There’s only a handful of things that can break through a server as strong as Hermitcraft, and Grian has every reason to fear it.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Let me do a quick sweep of the place first.” Grian leans toward Scar to press a kiss to his cheek before looking back toward the Rift. He shuts his eyes with a quiet exhale, internally flipping the switch of his Watcher magic. Keeping his normal eyes shut, a ring of purple eyes float around his head, painting his view in a mix of code and a lavender tinted haze.

He hears Scar mutter beside him, “hot.” Grian promptly elbows him, the feathers of his wings fluffing. Scar laughs in return, although the sound is a little breathy.

Ignoring the distraction of his husband, Grian scans the Rift. Almost immediately is he overwhelmed with the strings of code before him, making him wince. He’ll be feeling that later in the form of a killer headache. But that’s a problem for future Grian. Present Grian has a completely different problem at hand. Lying within the code of the Rift is lines of broken numbers, a small hole. The numbers flicker in and out, and Grian swallows thickly.

“Well,” he starts, voice weak, “I’ve figured out how the anomaly got in.” Guilt already starts to flood him, as he realizes this is his fault. Who knows what he’s gone and accidentally allowed in. Stupid.

“That’s great!” Scar cheers, though one look at Grian’s uneasy expression and he wilts. “Or… maybe not?”

Grian doesn’t answer, Eyes still reading through the ruined code. He picks up on some kind of trail of numbers, and realizes it’s traceable. His eyes open and he looks at Scar. “I think I know where it is.”

Scar squeezes his hand again, a silent reassurance of I’m here. “Lead the way, G.”

——————————

Of all places, they’re brought to a forest not so far from Scarland. The warped numbers twist around the leaves and branches, creating an easy enough trail for Grian to follow. They walk along a path as they look around, keeping an eye out for anything strange.

They come to a small clearing within the forest and that’s when they find their anomaly. Sitting by a pond is a little girl who looks no older than six. On her back are two little wings, the feathers in a complete state of disarray. She wears what looks like an old dress, tattered and singed at the edges. Bandages cover her hands and arms, and she has some light scrapes and bruises.

Grian and Scar share a look before they look back at the child. He gestures for Scar.

“Uh—hello there!” Scar begins, sounding a bit unsure.

The girl startles, her wings fluffing up as she whips her head toward them. Her eyes widen with fear as soon as she sees them, hurrying to her feet.

“Wait!” Scar exclaims as she goes to run. However, he doesn’t have to do much for she trips and lands on the ground with a pained cry. He looks at Grian, who wears a similar expression of concern. Scar looks at the girl again, taking a few small steps toward her. “Are you okay?”

Hastily, she pushes herself up onto her knees, wings opening in an attempt to make herself bigger. Her big brown eyes are filled with tears, expression tight in terror. “S-Stay away!” she shouts, her voice shaking and wet. “I don’t wanna go back!”

“Go back?” Scar repeats, confused, taking another small step forward. “We’re not gonna make you—”

“I said s-stay away!” she yells again, her eyes flashing purple. Grian’s breath catches at the sight of it, and if he needs further evidence of this little girl’s identity, she looks right at him. Afraid. “H-He’s gonna bring me back! He has the big scary eyes like all the others do!”

Grian thinks he’s going to be sick.

“What?” Scar looks over at Grian, confused. He stares at the avian for a second before his eyes widen in realization. “G, your magic thingy! Make them go away!”

Right, he didn’t shut his Eyes—that’s what’s scaring the poor kid even more. Letting them close, he feels a soft pressure against his skull, and Grian grimaces. Lovely time for a headache. Pushing that aside, he looks at the girl. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologizes. “They can’t reach you here, I promise.”

She still looks afraid, and Grian winces.

“Why don’t we introduce ourselves, hm?” Scar smiles at her as he sits down on the ground. “I’m Scar, and this lovely man right here is Grian. We’re members of Hermitcraft, the server you’ve stumbled into,” he introduces cheerfully as Grian sits beside him. “What’s your name?”

“I…” the girl begins, though her eyes well up with tears. “I don’t remember…”

“Hey, hey, that’s alright! Why don’t you pick a nickname to be called for now?” Scar’s smile doesn’t waver, staying warm and gentle as he speaks to her. He never fails to amaze Grian, truly. Scar really is a wonderful man.

The girl blinks at Scar, looking confused. “A… nickname?” she asks.

“Yeah! It can be whatever you want, we just need a name to call you by,” Scar explains. “Everyone deserves a name.”

Her expression scrunches as she tries to think of a nickname, deep in thought. Grian can’t help finding the sight adorable, watching her wings twitch. “I… I wanna be called Sunny,” she decides on, and the smile Scar gives her is so bright.

“I think that’s an amayzin’ choice, Sunny!” He grins at her, watching the way her eyes light up. “Do you think you could tell us what happened to you, Sunny? You said you didn’t want to go back… did you run away from someone?” The two of them already know the answer to this, but they have to be sure.

Sunny flinches at the question, her wings folding tightly to her back as her shoulders rise. The tears are quick to return as she looks down at her lap, shaking. “T-They… they were really tall and had a-all these big wings…” she sniffles. “They w-were really scary… and they’d m-make me do training that really hurt…”

Grian’s hands curl into tight fists, some protective feeling clawing at his chest. Just hearing how trembly her voice is leaves Grian’s blood boiling. Seeing how little she is, knowing what the Watchers are like, his heart cracks. Judging by the hitch in Scar’s breath he has the same reaction, the man frowning.

“I-I’m sorry,” the little girl apologizes, looking up at the two of them as she sniffles. “Please don’t t-tell Them I’m here..! Don’t make me go b-back! I just… just wanted to see the sun…” Her tiny wings wrap around herself as she trembles, and Grian feels his heart breaking in half. She looks so small and afraid, he can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for someone at her age.

“It’s okay,” Grian’s speaking before he thinks, avian instincts crying for him to protect her. “No one here is going to make you go back. Not if I have anything to say about it.” There’s a stubbornness to his voice that catches him off guard, and he can feel Scar’s eyes on him. For the moment he ignores it, focusing only on soothing the scared child before him. He’s not good with kids like Scar is, but he’s sure going to give it his best shot. “Hermitcraft is a safe place for runaways like us. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”

Sunny stares at him with open surprise, her brown eyes shiny as new tears start to form.

Scar doesn’t bother hiding his own shock from Grian, but he quickly covers it up after, keeping it for much later, when it’s just the two of them together. For now, he nods earnestly in agreement, “You’ll be safe here, promise. Once we explain everything to our admin I’m sure he’ll have no problem with you staying!”

Grian watches as the girl begins sniffling before her little wings flutter and she’s flying right into them. It catches both of them off guard, Grian’s own wings flaring as he and Scar hurry to catch her. She presses her face into Scar’s shoulder as she shakes and cries and Grian looks at his husband. He sees the same protective gleam within the depths of his eyes, and Scar nods at him.

They’re going to do whatever it takes to make sure she stays here.

[sissylittlefeather]

If I Can Dream: The End

A/N: Well, friends, here it is! The end of this beautiful saga has come. I have loved this series so much. I hope you all have too! Let me know your thoughts in the comments! Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one.

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), getting caught, p in v sex, hot tub sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~4.4k

She's never been one to worry about the future, but the thought of losing him makes her stomach turn over. Still, right now he has his arms around her and she's perfectly content to stay there forever, looking out over the untouched snow with the moonlight sparkling like diamonds.

******

Elvis wakes up unusually early on Christmas morning and kisses Jo awake. She groans and tries to roll away from him to get more sleep– they were up until after 2am getting things ready for Lisa Marie and it's only 9 now.

“Tink… wake up honey… it's Christmas…”

“Mmm babe it'll still be Christmas in an hour…” She grumbles.

“Yeah, but I wanna give you this before Lisa comes.” She rolls over and he's sitting there with a little box wrapped in red paper with a gold bow. Her heart stops and panic sets in when she realizes she doesn't have a gift for him.

“Oh, Elvis, I didn't know we were doing gifts… I haven't… I didn't…”

“Hush. Just open this.” He sets the small box on her stomach, so she sits up, yawning. She undoes the bow and starts to unwrap it.

“You already gave me a necklace. I don't know what else–” she holds them up. “A set of keys?”

“Yes!” He's about to burst with excitement and she suppresses a giggle at how childlike he is when he's overcome with joy.

“Keys to what?”

“Well, this one–” He takes the key ring and pulls out one. “This one's for Graceland. Your own key, since this is your home now too. And this one… well, c’mere.”

He gets out of the bed and walks to the window and she begrudgingly follows him, shivering. She's always freezing, so he wraps his arms around her from behind as she looks out the window. There, in the driveway, is a shiny new Mercedes-Benz in candy apple red.

“I just took a guess on the color. If you don't like it, we can trade it for something–” She turns and kisses him with her arms tight around his neck.

“It's perfect. Why did you pick red?” He shrugs.

“You wear a lot of red and your toenails are red. It just made me think of you. But seriously, if you don't like it, we can get something else.”

“Red is my favorite color.” She raises an eyebrow quizzically. “You noticed my toenails?”

“Yes. Don't make it weird.” She giggles and kisses him softly again, mumbling against his lips.

“It really is perfect.” She starts to walk him backwards towards the bed until he sits on the edge and she crawls into his lap, straddling him. His hands roam over her sides and back and then up the front of her pajama shirt to cup her breasts.

“Honey, we only have–” He whispers between kisses– “about an hour before Lisa Marie gets here.”

“You're the one with your hands all over me.” She whimpers as he leans forward and presses his lips to her neck. Then he murmurs against her skin.

“Can't help it. You crawled in my lap.”

“Then I guess we better hurry.” She squeals as he picks her up and flips her over so that she's laying on the bed and he's standing next to it.

“Guess so.” But he's not quite hard yet, so he drops to his knees and pulls her pajama bottoms and panties off.

“Elvis, what are you–? Oh… oh!” She moans. He's got her legs open and his tongue pretty far in her pussy when there's a knock on the door. Neither of them notices.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Jerry starts to open the door. “It's time for– oh God.”

“Ahhh!” Jo screams a little and Elvis looks up confused. He quickly stands up and throws the blanket over her whole body, face and all.

“Jerry. You knock, wait for a response, and then open the door. How old are you?” Jerry is still just standing there with his mouth open in shock. It's been a while since he's walked in on Elvis with a girl. His eyes drift down a bit to little Elvis standing at full attention and he looks away quickly, clearing his throat. Elvis realizes what happened and turns away. “Goddamnit. Now you're hard?!”

Jo is in a fit of laughter where she's laying underneath the blanket.

“Cool it, Giggles.” Elvis hollers at her playfully.

“I'll just… go…” Jerry turns and walks out, shutting the door behind himself. Elvis uncovers Jo and she cackles out loud.

“Oh my God!” She can barely breathe, she's laughing so hard. Elvis just stands there with his hands on his hips for a second before he gets tickled too and his laugh fills the room. She finally slows down enough to talk. “Think we scarred him for life?”

“Nah, Jerry's seen way worse. At least this time it wasn't my naked ass.” That sets Jo off again and she sits up with tears sliding down her cheeks as she giggles. Elvis sits down next to her on the bed and throws his arm around her, kissing her forehead. “Guess that kinda ruined the mood a little, huh?”

She tries to even her breathing and slips her hand between his legs where his cock is now soft.

“Yeah, I guess it did. I could try to get him back?”

“Nah, honey, we gotta get ready anyway. We will finish this tonight when it's just us again.”

“You promise?” He holds his hand up and nods.

“On my honor as a gentleman. I will make you cum tonight. Probably twice.” She laughs and pushes his shoulder.

“You're no gentleman, Mr. Presley.”

“And you're no lady. Now let's get that sweet little ass of yours in the shower before anything else happens.” She giggles and kisses the end of his nose.

“I love you, Elvis.”

“Nah, Tink. I love you more.” She pushes his hair back off of his forehead and there's a brief moment where they look into each other’s eyes and wonder how they got so lucky. Then, they peel themselves off the bed and get into the shower together.

Somehow, they manage to get ready with about three minutes to spare, so they're headed downstairs when the doorbell rings. At the bottom of the staircase, Jo sighs nervously. Elvis turns and takes her face in his hands.

“It'll be fine, Tink. She's gonna love you.”

“I hope you're right.” He kisses both of her cheeks and whispers.

“I'm Elvis Presley. I'm always right.” He winks and then turns to open the door. Jo smiles. It's nice to see his natural confidence back.

As soon as the door is open, Lisa Marie bounds in the room and launches herself into her daddy’s arms. He catches her easily and the two of them share a moment that is totally and completely theirs. Priscilla notices Jo standing there awkwardly and reaches her hand out.

“I'm Priscilla.” Jo nods and tries to smile affably.

“I'm Jo. Jo Bellamy. It's nice to meet you.”

“Mhmm. How long have you all been… whatever you are…?” Jo blinks, not sure how to answer. Priscilla's tone is friendly, but the question feels loaded.

“Long enough, Cil.” Elvis cuts in and saves Jo from having to explain that they've only been together a week. They exchange the rest of the necessary pleasantries without Priscilla asking anymore questions. Eventually, she leaves and it's just Elvis, Jo, and Lisa Marie, who turns to Jo and gives her a skeptical look. She doesn't trust any woman who takes her daddy’s attention. Elvis notices the interaction and interjects.

“Yisa, this is Jo. She's daddy’s new… friend.”

“She's your girlfriend, daddy, you can just say it.” Lisa is sassy for a 7-year-old, but Jo is not thrown off. She fakes a gasp.

“Am I your girlfriend?! No one told me!” She turns to Lisa. “He's a mess.”

Elvis watches the interaction anxiously. Most of his girlfriends haven't really interacted too much with Lisa, especially not at first. To his surprise, Lisa giggles.

“He is a mess. But he's your mess now!” Jo laughs and looks over at him.

“I'll accept that challenge.” Elvis smiles softly at Jo. Lisa Marie looks back and forth between them and grins. She hasn't seen her daddy happy in a long time and if this woman makes him this happy, she's ready to play nice.

“I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?” Lisa asks loudly. Elvis bites his lip. He was in such a good mood yesterday, he gave the staff the day off– with rather large bonus checks– but he's not sure how they'll eat.

“W-well, baby– I-I-I–” He stutters, trying to come up with something.

“I'll cook. Let's go see what we have to work with.” Jo holds her hand out to Lisa Marie, who takes it easily, and they head into the kitchen. Elvis follows them, intrigued. He remembers that while they were making candy, Jo told him about how she had spent weekends with her aunt when she was a kid. Her aunt had learned to cook from her mother, Jo's grandmother, before she passed away, and she didn't have any kids of her own, so she taught Jo everything she knew. He hopes this includes breakfast.

In the kitchen, Jo moves around looking for what she needs. She manages to find eggs, bacon, and stuff to make biscuits and she puts Lisa Marie to work helping her. Lisa makes a huge mess with the flour, but Elvis is impressed with how little it bothers Jo to clean up as she's cooking.

“I like my eggs fried hard, honey.” He hollers at Jo as she cracks eggs over a pan.

“Hard? Why?!” He laughs.

“That's just how I like ‘em.”

“Alright, you're allowed to be wrong about that. I still love you.” Lisa giggles as Jo makes a disgusted face.

“Tell me you don't eat runny eggs, Tink.”

“I definitely eat runny eggs, Elvis.” He groans in disgust and pretends to fall off his chair. Lisa is beside herself laughing at the two of them. She decides at that moment that Jo can stick around. “Lisa Marie, how do you want your eggs?”

“Hard like daddy’s.” She gets a bashful look on her face. “But can I try yours?”

“Oh no! No ma'am. I'm not letting Tink corrupt you.” Elvis grabs her and puts her on his lap. Lisa laughs and puts her little hands on his cheeks.

“Oh, silly daddy. Why do you call her Tink if her name is Jo?”

“Doesn't she look like Tinkerbell?” Lisa turns to look at Jo, who is taking the biscuits out of the oven. She nods and then looks back at Elvis.

“Does that make you Peter Pan?”

“I guess it does, Yisa.”

“Good. It means you'll never grow up.” He smiles and kisses her forehead. Jo walks over with their breakfast plates and they settle in the dining room to eat.

After breakfast, they make their way to the living room for Lisa to open the mountain of presents surrounding the tree. Elvis fetches a camera and Jo snaps a couple of photos as they sit in the living room like a family. Once all the presents are open, Lisa sits on the couch between them with a doll on her lap. She turns and looks at Jo.

“How old are you? You look old enough to be my mom. Most of daddy’s girlfriends don't.”

“Oh, Yisa–” But Jo interrupts him.

“I'm 36. I am definitely old enough to be your mom.” Lisa sits up and looks at her, shocked.

“You're older than my mom!” Jo nods.

“I am. Is that okay?” Lisa settles back between them.

“It's fine with me.” Elvis chuckles.

“Good, I'm glad we have your approval, babygirl.” They sit there for a little while longer. Eventually Lisa sighs.

“Now what are we gonna do?” Jo clicks her tongue.

“Snowball fight?” Lisa scoffs.

“Daddy won't–” He jumps off the couch.

“Let's go. Me against you two girls. Unless you're scared?” Lisa’s face breaks out in the widest smile and she hops off the couch too. The three of them get bundled for the snow and head outside. The rest of the afternoon is spent in the yard. The girls win the snowball fight when they tackle Elvis and bury him in snow. Eventually, the sun starts to set and they go back inside to warm up with cocoa that Jo makes on the stove with milk. They're sitting in the TV room watching A Charlie Brown Christmas when the doorbell rings and Lisa Marie groans.

“Your mom’s here, babygirl.”

“Can't I stay with you guys?” Jo can see the pain on Elvis's face as he shakes his head and starts up the stairs with Lisa and Jo not far behind. In the foyer, Priscilla gathers Lisa Marie and the presents she can carry. Lisa grabs Jo and hugs her tight.

“Bye Jo.” Priscilla purses her lips.

“I'll send the rest of it soon.” Elvis says sadly. Just before she leaves, Lisa Marie gestures for him to come close to her. He squats down and she wraps him in a hug.

“Don't lose this one, daddy. She's special.” She says it in his ear, but both Priscilla and Jo can hear her. He pulls back a little and kisses her cheek and then looks her in the eye.

“I won't, babygirl.”

“She’s your Tinkerbell. She's magic.” Elvis stands up and puts his arm around Jo.

“She is magic. Don't worry, Yisa. She's not going anywhere.” Priscilla watches the scene with her mouth open a little.

“Come on, Lisa. Let's go home.” She tries to hustle her out the door, but they hear her little voice just as the door closes.

“I am home.”

Elvis breaks down as soon as the latch clicks and Jo grabs him and holds him on her shoulder as he sobs.

“I miss her so much when she's gone. And her mother…” He chokes a little. “I need her with me all the time.”

“I know, babe. I know.” They stand there for a while, with Elvis crying on her shoulder. Finally, he stands up and wipes his face.

“I'm sorry; I just–”

“Elvis, you don't have to apologize. I understand.” He smiles weakly and holds her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“I love you, Jo Bellamy.”

“I love you too, Elvis Presley.” He kisses her softly and notices she's shivering again, his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Are you cold, honey?”

“I'm freezing.” His weak smile turns to a grin.

“I know what we need.” He leads her through the house out to the carport.

“Elvis, where are we going?!”

“Just trust me.” She follows him across the yard to the brand new racquetball building.

“I'm not playing racquetball–” He turns and gives her a look.

“Will ya just hush and follow me?” She nods and follows him inside and up the stairs. He uncovers the surprise and exclaims. “Ta-da!”

“Woah…” Jo is almost speechless. He has a whirlpool spa full of already-hot water.

“Let's warm up. What do ya say, Tink?”

“Fuck yes.” He frowns.

“Language, honey, or I'll put something in that dirty mouth.”

“Oh, I'm counting on it.” She laughs. “I don't have a bathing suit, though.”

“Do you need one?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Sure don't.” She smiles and starts to undress. Elvis turns to go back down the stairs. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Figured you might like a drink. There's a bar downstairs. Wine?” She nods and then stops him.

“I thought you didn't drink? I don't really want to drink alone.” He clicks his tongue and strokes her cheek.

“It's Christmas, honey. I'll have a drink or two with you.”

Elvis fetches the drinks while Jo strips down and settles into the hot tub naked. When he returns, he hands her the glass of red wine and then starts to take his clothes off too.

“Mmm, honey you look so good like this. Almost hate to ruin the picture by getting in there with you.” She stands up out of the water and moves over to him, grabbing his face.

“Stop it. You do this all the time. I love the way you look.”

“I just don't feel good about it. And it hurts. I'd like to be healthy for you. I want to stick around.”

“Okay, well that's different. That we can work on. But no more of this talking bad about yourself nonsense. I love you just the way you are. You hear me?” He nods and she kisses his forehead.

“Yes ma'am. You'll help me get healthy again?”

“Of course I will.” He looks down sheepishly.

“Already cut down on my pills a lot. Been only takin’ what's necessary.” She smiles.

“I noticed. I'm proud of you, babe. Whatever you wanna do, I'm here. Look at me.” He moves his eyes back up to meet hers. “I'm in this with you for the long haul, no matter what that means, okay?”

“Okay.” He finishes undressing and slides into the water with her. She sips her wine as he lights a cigar and takes a sip of whiskey. They sit in silence for a bit, just enjoying the warm water and each other's company.

“I'm sorry I didn't get you a gift.” She whispers. He sets down his drink and the cigar and lifts her into his lap facing him.

“Tink, honey, you are a gift. You've given me my life back. That's enough.” He leans forward and presses his lips to her neck. “Besides, I can think of something else I want from you that doesn't require you to buy anything at all.”

She moans softly as he kisses down to her collarbone.

“Yeah, what is that?” His fingers find their way between her legs under the water and start to make circles on her sensitive bud. She leans her head back and moans.

“This little pussy. Little Elvis has been missing her all day.” He kisses up to her ear and nibbles on the lobe.

“Oh is that right?” She whimpers as he works her clit with his fingertips. He uses his other hand to grab hers and put it on his erection. “Mmm, I guess so.”

He groans, slipping two fingers inside her to pump them in and out with his thumb on her clit as she begins to stroke him. Something about being in the hot water makes the whole scene even more erotic.

“Love how you touch me, honey.” His breath starts to come a little faster as she moves her hand on him. He grits his teeth and leans his head back, his hands drifting to her hips. “Fuck.”

“You wanna feel this little pussy, babe?” All he can do is nod.

“Mmhmm…” She moves over him to tease her clit with the tip of his cock and then starts to sink down onto him. His mouth falls open in pleasure. “Fuck yes, honey…”

She braces herself with her hands on his shoulders and starts to bounce on him. He looks up at her with her lower lip pulled between her teeth. She's so beautiful like this, lost in the ecstasy of loving him. His heart swells and he reaches up to pull her forehead down against his. She moans as he guides her movements with one hand on her hip and the other on her neck.

“God, I love you Tink. I love you so goddamn much.” She smiles and feels the lump form in her throat as she rubs her forehead on his.

“This is everything I've ever wanted. You are everything I've ever wanted. I love you too, Elvis.” His hands move to her back and he lifts his hips a little to thrust into her from underneath. The subtle shift in angle makes the tip of his dick rub against the sensitive spot inside her and she moans loudly. He pulls one of her nipples into his mouth and runs his tongue around it as he slides in and out of her, the water rushing against her clit with his movements. “Oh, God, Elvis. It feels so… fuck.”

“Come on, Tink. Cum for me, honey.” The sweat drips down his forehead as he works to push her over the edge, his own release gathering in his balls. The water splashes over the edge of the tub as they fuck, but neither of them cares. They’re too caught up in the pleasure of being together. He moves his thumb back to her clit as he slams into her as fast as the water will allow. Finally, her orgasm snaps wide open inside her and she moans, her body shuddering around him as she cums hard on his dick.

“Yes, honey, that's it. Yes, Tink, fuck!” He gets louder with each word and holds her still as he empties himself deep inside her, his cock twitching with the release. After a few seconds, they both relax against each other, sweating and panting.

But Elvis isn't finished. He kisses her shoulder and neck and lifts her off of him, turning and setting her on the corner of the spa.

“Elvis, what're you doing?” Jo asks, exhausted. He looks up at her and smiles, pushing her thighs apart.

“I promised you two.”

“Oh!” She moans and damn-near falls off the side of the tub when he dives into her pussy tongue-first. “Oh. My. God.”

Her clit is so sensitive, the rest of her so puffy with use, that his mouth is making her wild. She tries to stay still as he licks her, but she writhes and grinds against his face. He holds her ass cheeks with both hands in an attempt to keep her from moving, but he kind of loves that she's so turned on she has to move. Her hands are in his hair, pulling as she pushes against his mouth and he grunts. If he was twenty years younger, he'd be hard again already. It's so hot to listen to the little sounds that drip from her mouth as she loses control. He feels her tighten around his tongue and knows she must be getting close, so he slips two fingers up inside her to pump in and out while he licks her clit.

“Elvis! Oh, oh, oh!!” She exclaims as she cums again, her release splashing out of her onto his hand as he fingerfucks and licks her through her orgasm. Her whole body trembles as the wave of ecstasy rushes over her, knocking out the hearing in her left ear. When she relaxes, he pulls away and she slides back into the hot tub. He catches her and turns with her sitting sideways in his lap, resting her head against his chest.

“You okay, honey?” She sits up and shakes her head.

“No. No I’m not.” His eyes fill with concern and he holds her face in his hands as a single tear slides down her cheek.

“What is it?” He moves her hair off her forehead and strokes the side of her face. “Honey…?”

“I lied to you.” He blinks, a gnawing fear setting in. She tries to breathe and continues. “I said I didn't care how long we were together. I said all I wanted was right now and that would be enough, but it isn't. I don't want to live without you, Elvis. Not ever. And I'm terrified that you're going to go on tour or back to Vegas and that'll be it and I can't… I can't…”

She's overcome with emotion, sobbing into his chest. He relaxes significantly and smiles, kissing the top of her head.

“Honey, listen.” He rearranges to hold her face in his hands again, wiping the tears away with his thumbs and looking her in the eye seriously. “I meant it when I told Lisa Marie I wasn't going to let you get away. When I go to Vegas or on tour, you'll come with me. It's as simple as that. You think I'd forget my magic girl? My Tink? I'm not living this adventure without you. You got it?”

She sniffles and nods and he leans in and kisses her softly.

“I know this has been your dream for 20 years, but it's not just yours anymore. It's ours. And I'll be damned if I let it end any time soon.”

“Our dream?”

“Ours, honey. You and me. Forever.”

“Forever…”

******

New Year's Eve 1975 - Pontiac, Michigan

Elvis is on stage, doing his normal routine with as much enthusiasm as he's ever done it before. He moves around, jokes with the audience, and kisses fans– with his mouth closed– as much as he ever has. People in the crowd will talk about this show as a comeback of sorts. A reporter will write “1970 Elvis has returned.” He looks better, he feels better, he is better. Just before he sings Can't Help Falling In Love and ends the concert, he stops the music and starts talking.

“I wanna introduce y’all to someone. Tink, honey, stand up.” The spotlight falls on her and she stands up, blushing and giggling. “Isn't she beautiful, folks? This is my fiancee, Jo Bellamy.”

Jo’s mouth pops open and she stands there in shock. Elvis continues.

“She looks like that because I haven't asked her yet. You wanna marry me, honey?” The crowd goes wild as Charlie hands him a ring box that he opens and holds out to her. She laughs and nods, waiting for them to settle before hollering up at him.

“Of course I do!” There’s more raucous applause from the audience, but Jo and Elvis might as well be in a room alone. Eventually, the cheers subside.

“See folks? Fiancee. C’mere, honey.” Jo is beside herself with joy as she makes her way to the stage. He bends down and slips the giant diamond on her finger before kissing her. He holds the mic to the side and whispers. “I love you, Tink.”

“I love you more, babe.” He winks and then stands up. Jo makes her way back to her seat and sits down. She's already pregnant with their boys, Elvis Jr. and Jessie Garon, but neither of them know it. The music starts up and Elvis says one last thing before he breaks into song.

“To live would be an awfully big adventure, right honey? That's exactly what we plan to do. Come on guys, let's sing the song…”

And they lived happily ever after.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

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[kickingitwithkirk]

Christmas Wish

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1975

Warnings: Some cursing, bit of flangst

For: @starrylanex @spnfanficpond secret santa exchange

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Opening the bar's door, you sigh in happiness as warm air flows outward. While Vancouver wasn’t the coldest place you’d lived, the dampness made it feel worse. Hanging up your outerwear, you make a beeline to the bar and order from the holiday drink menu.

Thanking the bartender, you sip on the Spiced Silver Bell, gazing about, understanding why it’s the SPN cast's favorite hangout when Jared's voice booms over the party noises. “Hey, Y/N! I thought you bailed on us tonight!” Spotting them crowded in a circular booth, you squeeze in next to him, noticing the tipsy flush on his face, “I got stuck doing last-minute ADR thanks to a couple of petulant children on set today.” 

Jared gives an unabashed laugh and slides you a half-filled cup of eggnog when Mark piped up. “Don’t drink that, luv, it’ll put hair on your chest.” 

So, it has finally come: your trial by fire as the newest cast member and that onscreen Christmas gag flash through your mind. Determined to prove you can roll with this crew, knock back the overly rum-laden nog without a flinch. “Damn, sweetheart, color me impressed!” Jensen said, sitting down, draping his arm across the seat back behind you. You grin and hold the out cup, asking, “Please, sir, I want some more.”

****

It’s late into the night, and most everyone is well into their cups (except Mark), sharing what holiday plans they’d made when you felt Jensen’s fingers playing with your hair, making all sorts of naughty ideas about the man you’ve had a crush on for ages run rampant when you realize he’s speaking to you. Your huh response makes him chuckle, “I said your ass is ringing.” You felt his broad hand sliding slowly down your back before dipping into your pocket, retrieving the phone, felt a sudden panic seeing the number and knowing how mischievous Jensen gets when drinking, started wrestling him for it. But it's too late, and in his best British accent, he answers…

“Y/N Y/L/N, wanton sex goddess, with a very bad man between her thighs.”  

Jensen’s eyes widened. He sat straight and spoke most respectfully: “Mr. Y/LN, I...I apologize. Yes, sir, my mama raised me to know better, sir. " Jared was in hysterics, and Jensen flipped him off while handing you the phone. You put on your sweetest voice while glaring at Jensen. “Hi, Daddy! How are you? Give me a sec; I can barely hear you.”

Once outside, you regret not grabbing your coat, feeling Vancouver's damp coldness seeping through your thin shirt, and start to pace back and forth to stay warm. “Can you hear me? Yes, sir, I’m sorry about that. My coworkers tend to get silly after a few. What were you saying? Oh, when do you head out?” 

You’re filled with that particular disappointment you knew too well, having been raised by a single father in the military. Being a brat has prepared you for the life of a working actor, never knowing how long any job would last or where you’d end up next. The downside was that your father often deployed to places you couldn’t go and missed a few holidays, birthdays, and other milestones in your life. 

Peering through the window at the ongoing merriment inside felt a twinge of envy. “Yes, sir, I’m disappointed too. Perhaps we can try again next year. Be safe, love you.” You sit down and locate the information needed to cancel your holiday trip. You must have been outside longer than you realized when a warm coat draped around your shivering shoulders looked up to see Jared's and Jensen's concerned expressions.

****

Jensen had begun wondering what was taking you so long when he walked to the bar front and saw you sitting at one of the outdoor tables, typing on your phone. Shaking his head, he grabbed his coat, knowing Jared would be right behind. Draping the coat on your shoulders, neither could miss the unshed tears glistening in your eyes. Pulling up the other chairs, they sat down with you, and Jensen asked, “I take it your dad's not going to make it?” 

 “Yeah, he got called up for some yada yada. Wouldn’t you know it? The one time I didn't have a backup plan.” Jared frowned, “You canceled the whole trip?” You wave the phone, “Dad was using his military discount for the plane tickets.” You weren't making above scale since you hadn’t been in the business long. “I checked around, but the fees are out of my budget.”

 “So what are you going to do now?” Jensen asks, and you shrug, “I’ll just hang around till hiatus is over.” You miss the look the guys exchange as the three of you return to the bar; you pause. “Do me a favor. Keep this between us. I don’t need everyone feeling sorry for me.” 

Oh, jingle bell,s batman smells

Robin laid an egg

The god-awful singing outside your apartment’s front door jerks you awake, wishing upon the Christmas star that you hadn’t had that fourth eggnog last night; stumbled around the unpacked moving boxes, yanking open the door to find Jensen, clad in an elf hat and ugly Christmas sweater, continuing his off-key caterwauling when you neighbors poke their heads out, scowling as his voice boom out the song's outro.

The batmobile lost its wheel, and the Joker got away!

You hustle him in before awkwardly waving to your shocked-looking neighbors and shutting the door. You close your eyes and slump against it, noticing the guy has become eerily quiet. Cracking open one eye, Jensen, who is more reserved than you or Jared (who literally and metaphorically showed his rear end many times), is blushing to the top of his elfin ears and comments, “Wow, I didn’t know you had a tattoo by your Lady Jane.” Snatching the afghan off the couch, you wrap it around yourself and ask, “If you’re done with classic literature references, mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here?”

“Jared and I got to talking, and we couldn’t let you stay in Van for Christmas by yourself.” You crossed your arms, “And?” He scratched the back of his head, “We umm, well, we rock, paper, scissored to see which of us you’re staying with, and I won.” 

“I can’t believe you guys!” You huff in annoyance, but Jensen sticks out his full bottom lip and makes that pouty face you can’t resist, “Okay, you win. Can I at least know where we’re going so I can pack? What a minute, strike that. I thought you were going home for the holidays?”

“It ended up being more of a couples thing.” Jensen awkwardly says, and you nod, understanding why it’d be uncomfortable with his recent break up with his longtime fiancée. “And Jared bought you some clothes for the trip.” He pointed to a bag you hadn’t noticed, and you groaned, “Oh god, please tell me there’s not a string bikini in there.”

Driving alone with Jensen was a much different experience than you’d imagined. You were used to having an overly hyper-sasquatch in the car. 

But neither felt the need to fill the space with constant chatter, comfortable in each other’s presence; the stretches of silence during the trip weren’t awkward. And sometimes you got a concert for one when Jensen would sing along with the radio. 

Passing through the small, historic town near your destination, you began telling Jensen about visiting a similar place as a child. He asks about the other places you’ve been to, and before you know it, he’s turning into a long drive. 

You glimpse the luxury mountain home in the evening light filtering through the trees. “Holy smokes! You rented this?” You inquired as he parked in front of the three-door garage. “No. A friend of mine is out of the country and lent it to me.”  

Shouldering your duffel, you follow him in and stop in your tracks, taking in the main room (holy moly, it’s bigger than your apartment). Despite its size, it felt homey with its natural woods and rock fireplace all aglow. Jensen bumped your shoulder, “Come on, speechless. Let’s unload the car, then I’ll give you the ten-cent tour.”

The days flew by in a whirlwind. Each one presented a new adventure for the two of you, doing something the other had never done before.

Jensen took you tobogganing, and you got him in snowshoes. You couldn’t stop laughing because he moved like a penguin. You talked him into ice fishing (something he’d never do again because he almost froze his balls off) but made it up to Jensen by cooking the best-steamed trout he’d ever eaten. 

There were trips to the quaint town where he would drag you into all its small shops, shocking you how much he liked shopping. Later, he’d take you to the local pub for warm drinks or dinner if neither of you wanted to cook.

Christmas Day arrives, and after a leisurely morning, Jensen wants to take you skiing, bewildering you, and ask why since you’ve demonstrated how uncoordinated you are when ice skating. Reassuring that he’ll take the easy slopes till you get the hang, you reluctantly agree. Jensen found he needed the patience of Job because your legs kept wobbling like a giraffe,  crisscrossing the skis and landing on your jacksie in every turn. You call it a day after your third run, telling him to enjoy himself, you’ll be in the bar.

Jensen shows up a couple of hours later, worn but happy, and after consuming a warming drink, you head out. When you reach the house, the day spent on the slopes catches up; you notice Jensens not moving too quickly when climbing the steps to the front door and mutually agree it’s time to test out that hot tub on the deck.   

You step out the glass door to find Jensen submerged to his neck in bubbling water. Crossing over, you handed him a bottle of champagne and glasses. You felt his eyes on you as he fiddled with the corkscrew. “Guess it's a good thing you’ve already seen me in the altogether, but remind me to kill Jared when we return.” Before he can ask, you drop it and watch his eyes pop, along with the bottle's cork, at the thong bikini that leaves little to the imagination as you climb in.

Taking the offered glass, you sip on it before sitting it by your head and sinking till the waters over your sore body. After a while, you are completely relaxed and slightly tipsy when the question on your mind slips out; feel Jensen's leg twitch.

”Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked about your broken engagement.” Jensen waves it off, and he responds that she’s the one who broke it because she thought he was seeing someone else. “What? When the hell would you have time? You’re on set at least twelve hours a day, not to mention all the cons.” 

“She was looking for an excuse, thought I should have moved on instead of sticking with some show on a low-ranking network. But I am grateful she did dump me.” You weren’t sure you’d processed what he said correctly, which must have shown on your face.

“I’m free to admit she was somewhat correct. I do see someone else almost every day who makes me want more. And since we’ve had this time to get to know each other better, hoping she’s willing to fulfill my Christmas wish and give my grumpy ass a shot?”

You move to him and, straddling his thighs, wrap your arms around his shoulders. “If you promise not to make me go skiing again, I’ll make all your Christmas wishes come true.” 

[pearl-blue-musings]

oh, um. I was wondering if you could do this thing where the reader is Shinsou’s comfort character and stood up to him when he was being bullied and all the villain insults. I know it’s not much detail but it would be nice if you could do it! Thanks!

Oh my goodness of course anon!! I love this idea so much. I used a fem/afab reader!

Age 4

The doctor hands your mom and dad a couple pamphlets as they hold back tears. Sitting in your own chair, you kick your little legs and stare at your feet in confusion. The x-ray on the wall shows your bones. There’s nothing wrong with them, you think. And that’s the problem.

There was nothing special about you.

Your parents both had quirks so you thought you also would’ve been special like them. But you’re an anomaly. An outlier. The rest of the conversation is a bit of a blur to you. Your parents had hugged you tightly, and you know that you said that you still love them and they love you. But all that’s going through your growing brain is that you’re not normal.

That weekend, your mom takes you to a support group of quirkless or shunned quirks. Your grip on your mom’s hand is tight as she encourages you to meet some new friends. You glance around shyly, slowly realizing that no one from your daycare or school is here. You let go and trudge along, your little legs taking you to a corner with some coloring books. A boy nearby with distinguishable purple hair sits by himself, and so you proceed to sit next to him. He gives you a guarded look.

You wave and he curls in on himself. “Hi,” you start before you introduce yourself. “My mom told me to make friends here. So I said my name, what’s yours?”

The boy interlocks his fingers and swings his feet.

“Shinsou Hitoshi.”

Age 8

Lunch time was always the best part of the day. It meant you could hangout with Shinsou uninterrupted. The two of you, through the networking of your mothers, realized you live close by and began to walk to school together. The friendship was a bumpy start, but what’s a little girl to do?

“Did you watch the new ranger show last night? It was an All Might special!”

Shinsou nods next to you eagerly, his bento half eaten. His chubby cheeks are full of onigiri as he swallows. “It was so cool,” he emphasized, “but I’m still waiting for the day they talk about Eraserhead!”

You giggle and stick out your tongue. “That’s only because he’s similar to you!” You lightly tease him and keep eating your lunch. “Are you gonna be at the group meet?” You frown as he shakes his head. Since his quirk has developed he’s been avoiding the support group. Why? Does he not want to hang out anymore? They all like him there!

You’re about to respond when a group of girls come up to you and Shinsou. You recognize these girls as the popular ones in your grade with cool quirks to match. Suddenly you’ve lost your appetite. You try to close your bento box and lay down but they speak first.

“Ew,” the ring leader starts, “why is your bento box a hero? You know that you don’t have a quirk right? It should be something lame and boring- like you!” They all laugh around you, pointing and calling you a quirkless loser. You try to drown out their laughter as you shrink in on yourself.

Shinsou stands up and puts himself in between you and the girls. He extends his arms out wide to block them from you. There’s a determined anger in his eyes that many have never seen. “Why don’t you just leave her alone?”

“Because it’s easy-“

The girl stops mid sentence and walks away. That’s when it dawns on them that he had accidentally used his quirk. The other two girls stare at him and start to yell out. “You’re not supposed to use your quirk in class you freak! Undo it! We’re gonna tell the teacher!”

Shinsou blinks quickly as he looks between you and your bullies. He can feel his throat getting clogged up but he removes the brainwashing through the threat of tears. When he sits down, you place a hand on his shoulder and softly ask, “are you okay?”

He shrugs you off and lays his head down. The girls had already called the teacher and soon Shinsou was escorted out of class.

You didn’t see him for a few days.

Age 13

You were lucky to have been in the same class as Shinsou throughout middle school. It was a relief to have someone you know as opposed to having to introduce yourself as the quirkless girl. It was so rare to not have a quirk that you only talked with Shinsou, and some boy online who also was born without one.

It was lonely, but you still did your best to be a normal middle school girl.

You got the trendiest clothes, kept up your grades, stayed out of drama, performed well in sports clubs and music clubs, and best of all you stayed friends with Shinsou Hitoshi. Although your growth was more positive, Shinsou had grown colder. He tried not to be seen around you, would keep to himself more as you began to flourish, and started getting bullied more and more. He tried to keep it from you, knowing you have your own struggles. You didn’t want to press it, and so you kept your emotions about the whole thing to a light simmer.

When different hero high schools began to come to the schools, tension began to rise. Sure, he had a couple of other friends, but the two of you had always maintained a special bond. After the recruit from UA left, most of the chatter was about what they’ll do with their quirks and what kind of hero they’ll become.

“I’m gonna apply to UA.”

Several heads in the classroom turned toward Shinsou, all of them with similar expressions. The first to speak was the “jock” of the class. He walks over to his desk and grabs a hold of the sides. The way Shinsou’s back tenses tugs at your heart as you start to struggle with what to do.

“You? Be a hero? Get real! You have a brainwashing quirk. Only villains do that, and UA doesn’t produce world class villains.” The class around him laughs as Shinsou stares at him blankly. Your jaw drops and you grab at the hem of your skirt. Hitoshi had mentioned the villain thing before but seeing it in person is more cruel than you can take. The rest of the class laughs and jostle him, saying he’s better off applying for a villain academy.

The taunting gets worse and you can’t take it anymore. You aggressively push up and out of your seat. You position yourself between the jock and Shinsou’s desk, arms stretched out wide. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare at the bully. “Leave him alone,” you demand. “He’s done nothing to you. Any of you! Anyone can be a hero!”

Another boy comes up next to the jock and stares you down with a smirk. “Oh look, the quirkless loser is standing up for him. Let me guess, he brainwashed you into being his friend?”

“No,” you quickly reply, “but it seems like you’ve been brainwashed into thinking your outfit is decent.”

Your arms start to shake from exhaustion as they stay extended. Your classmates laugh at your insult and it seems the whole thing is forgotten. When they step away, you finally put your hands down and walk back to your desk. Normally, you would have spoken with him but he couldn’t see you cry. Shinsou looks over his shoulder in attempts to get your attention, but doesn’t succeed. As the teacher returns, you ask to be excused for the restroom where you cried into your arms there. Even after all this time, you’re still an outcast.

A few minutes pass and you finally leave the bathroom. As you walk outside, you’re greeted by your long time friend. You pat your eyes quickly and croak out, “Toshi! What are you doing here?”

He smiles gently at you and gives you a warm yet quick hug. “I’m here to walk you back to class. I was worried… and I wanted to thank you. For you know standing up to them.”

You nod and walk with him. Your heartbeat calms down as you walk close together side by side. You take a deep breath as the classroom door approaches.

“I think you’re going to be a great hero.”

[whosscruffylooking]

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ The Beginning of Us- Chapter 3 ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

Joel Miller x Fem! Reader warnings: mentions of blood, severe injuries, and major character death. word count: 2k a/n: it has been almost 2 years since i last updated this story. i am so sorry! the support was amazing in the beginning and i hope we can get that level of excitement back. i won't be using the old taglist b/c I don't want to spam people who have lost interest, but if you find this story again and want to be re-added, let me know! Series Masterlist

September 27, 2003

The truck lurches forward, its tires screeching against the asphalt as Tommy swerves to avoid yet another police blockade. “We’ve gotta go around,” he announces, his voice tinged with panic.

As he rounds another corner, you see the full scale of the madness that’s overtaking the town. Screaming, desperate civilians rush in all directions. Some push others out of the way, some stumble, half-running, like they’re being driven by something more primal than fear. The streets seem alive with terror. Buildings burn in the distance, casting an orange glow over the chaos. The smell of smoke is thick in the air, mixing with the screeching sirens and the deafening roar of panic.

Joel’s grip on the door handle tightens as Tommy slows down, trying to navigate through the clogged streets—cars, people, debris. “Tommy, you can’t stop here! Just keep going!” Joel’s voice is strained with urgency, the reality of the situation sinking in.

But before Tommy can respond, the sound of a crash cuts through the madness. A stampede of people erupts from a nearby saloon, running in every direction. Some are still human, their faces twisted in terror, but others—others move with that same empty, unfocused stare, like the Adlers.

“Joel!” You shout, heart pounding as you notice more infected spilling into the streets, converging on the chaos like a tide.

“Tommy, back up!” Joel orders, his voice sharp with the kind of authority that leaves no room for hesitation.

“Dad!” Sarah screams, her voice laced with panic as she looks out the window, her eyes wide.

Then, a sound that makes your stomach drop—a roar of an engine overhead. You look up just in time to see a plane plummeting toward you, its engine sputtering, spiraling out of control.

“Tommy! Go forward!” you scream, instinctively grabbing the seatbelt, the panic escalating as the plane gets closer.

The aircraft’s landing gear rips off as it hits the ground with a violent crash. One of its wheels comes careening toward the truck. The impact is bone-jarring. The truck shudders violently, and Tommy swerves, trying to avoid the collision, but it’s too late.

With a sickening crunch, the truck’s wheel rips off, and in an instant, the vehicle flips over. Time seems to slow as the world tilts, your stomach lurching with the motion. Glass shatters, metal groans, and the air is filled with the shrill sound of twisting steel. The world goes black.

»»————————-««

You slowly come to, your head heavy, ears ringing faintly. Everything feels distant, muffled, as though you're underwater. Your body aches, but a sharp, searing pain in your side yanks you fully back to consciousness. Gasping, you try to move, only to find yourself pinned under the weight of the overturned truck. Panic seizes you as you realize you're trapped.

The air is thick with smoke, the acrid scent of gasoline stinging your nose. A faint orange glow flickers nearby, casting dancing shadows around the wreckage. You reach out, your trembling fingers scraping against the rough asphalt as you try to push yourself free. Pain flares in your side, sharp and unforgiving, and you cry out, your voice weak and ragged.

Looking down, you see the source of the agony-a jagged piece of metal embedded in your hip. Blood trickles from the wound, pooling around you, the sight of it making your stomach churn.

A voice breaks through the chaos, muffled and frantic. "Y/N!" It's familiar, pulling you from the haze of pain and fear. You turn your head, squinting through the haze of smoke, just as strong hands grip your arms.

Tommy appears above you, his face streaked with dirt and panic. "I've got you," he says, his voice tight as he pulls you free with a force that makes you cry out. The shrapnel shifts, sending fresh waves of agony through your body.

Tommy cradles you against his chest, his grip firm but careful. "Shit, you're hurt bad," he mutters, glancing at the blood staining your side. 

"We need to move."

"Where… where's Joel?" you manage to whisper, your voice weak and strained.

Tommy doesn't answer right away, his eyes darting toward the wreckage. You follow his gaze, spotting Joel a few yards away. He's cradling Sarah in his arms, her body limp, her head hanging at an unnatural angle. Your breath catches in your throat.

"Joel!" You cry out to him.

"Can you make it?" Joel calls, his voice desperate as he notices you leaning heavily on Tommy.

Before you can respond, the ground shudders beneath you. A police car barrels toward the wreckage, its tires screeching as it careens out of control. Tommy yells, dragging you back just as the car slams into the truck. The crash is deafening, and in an instant, the wreckage erupts into flames, the heat searing your skin.

"Go!" Tommy shouts, pulling you to your feet despite your injury. Joel's voice cuts through the chaos.

"I'll come back for you!" he shouts, but the flames rise higher, swallowing the space between you. Your heart sinks as you watch him disappear into the smoke, Sarah still in his arms.

Tommy tugs you along, his arm around your waist to support your weight. Each step sends fresh jolts of pain through your body, but you push forward, the adrenaline dulling some of the agony.

"Stay with me," Tommy urges, his voice strained but steady.

The sound of frantic footsteps makes you glance over your shoulder. A stampede of people surges toward you, their faces twisted in terror. Some shove past you, others stumble, the chaos swallowing everything in its path.

"Shit," Tommy mutters, tightening his grip on you. The crowd overtakes you both, pushing and jostling. You stumble, nearly falling, but Tommy holds you steady.

"Tommy, you have to go," you gasp, your voice trembling.

"What? No!" He looks at you, his face filled with disbelief.

"Help Joel. Help Sarah," you plead, your grip tightening on his arm. "You need to find them." His jaw clenches, torn between staying with you and the pull of his brother and niece.

"I'm not leaving you," he says, his voice rough with emotion.

"Go!" you shout, your voice stronger now despite the pain. "'I'll hold them off. Just go!"

Tommy hesitates, his face twisted with frustration and guilt. Finally, he nods, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment. "I'll come back for you," he says, his voice low but firm.

You force a nod, biting back the fear clawing at your chest.

 "Go."

He turns and disappears into the chaos, leaving you alone in the suffocating heat and smoke. The world feels impossibly quiet for a moment, the distant screams and growls fading into the background.

Then you hear it—a low, guttural growl. Your heart skips a beat as you turn, spotting an infected stumbling toward you. Its pale, bloodied face twitches unnaturally, its vacant eyes locking onto you. Panic grips you as it snarls, its jerky movements bringing it closer with horrifying speed.

You stumble backward, clutching your side, the pain making your legs weak. There's no way you can outrun it, not in your state. Your eyes dart around, searching for anything, anywhere to hide.

You spot an open dumpster a few feet away.

Gritting your teeth, you force yourself to move, each step agonizing. The infected lets out a bone-chilling scream, its footsteps pounding against the asphalt as it charges.

With the last of your strength, you dive into the dumpster, pulling the lid closed just as the infected reaches you. Its snarls and thudding fists against the metal send shivers down your spine. You press your hand against your mouth, stifling your ragged breaths as tears streak down your face.

The banging continues, relentless, until another noise distracts it—a distant scream.

The infected pauses, then lets out a shriek before stumbling off in pursuit of its new prey.

You don't move, your body trembling as you listen to its growls fade into the distance. The metallic tang of blood fills your mouth as you bite down hard, trying to steady your breathing. You're alive, for now, but you don't know for how long.

»»————————-««

Joel cradles Sarah’s limp body in his arms, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Her blood is warm on his hands, seeping into his clothes, but all he can feel is the cold weight of her lifeless body. His world narrows to her face, still and pale, her wide eyes unseeing.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Please, Sarah. Please don’t do this to me.” His hands shake as he brushes a strand of hair from her face, desperation clawing at his chest. “You’re gonna be okay. You have to be okay.”

Tommy crouches beside him, glancing over his shoulder at the chaos closing in around them. Fires blaze in the distance, screams echoing through the night, and the guttural growls of the infected grow louder. There’s no time—but Tommy doesn’t know how to move Joel.

“Joel,” he says softly, his hand resting on his brother’s shoulder. “We have to go.”

Joel doesn’t look at him. He stares down at Sarah, his face a mask of disbelief and devastation. “She was just a kid,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t…” His words break apart, swallowed by a sob that shakes his entire body.

Tommy glances around again, his grip tightening on his rifle. They’re running out of time. “Joel,” he says more urgently, shaking his brother’s shoulder. “Listen to me. We’ve gotta move. Now.”

Joel finally tears his gaze from Sarah, his face streaked with tears and looks at Tommy. For a moment, he seems lost, his eyes unfocused. Then something shifts. “Where’s Y/N?” he asks, his voice hoarse. “She was with us. Where is she?”

Tommy’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes flicking down to Sarah and back up to Joel. The weight of the question lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“Where is she, Tommy?” Joel’s voice rises, panic threading through his words. He stands, still holding Sarah in his arms as if letting her go will make it real. “Did she make it out? Where the hell is she?”

Tommy hesitates, his expression hard to read. “She’s gone,” he says finally, his voice firm but laced with something unspoken. “She left.”

Joel freezes, the words hitting him like a physical blow. “What are you talking about?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “She wouldn’t just leave. Not without us.”

“She did,” Tommy says, his tone resolute. “I saw her take off. She probably thought it was safer on her own.” He looks away, scanning the horizon for danger, his face set like stone. “She’s tough, Joel. She’ll survive.”

Joel shakes his head, the anguish in his eyes twisting into something sharper, rawer. “No,” he mutters. “No, she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t just leave us. She wouldn’t leave me.” His voice cracks on the last word, the betrayal cutting deeper than the chaos around them.

Tommy grabs his arm, pulling him back to reality. “Right now, we gotta focus on staying alive,” he says. “You hear me? We’ll figure the rest out later.”

Joel doesn’t respond. He sets Sarah down gently on the ground, his hands lingering on her face, his throat tight as he forces himself to let her go. He removes his watch—the one you and Sarah had worked so hard to get repaired. Now, it’s shattered, frozen at the exact moment his life changed forever. Gently, he lays it on his daughter’s still form. His movements are mechanical, his mind a storm of disbelief, grief, and the aching question: why would she leave?

Tommy leads the way, his rifle raised, and Joel follows, his steps heavy, his thoughts churning. Anger, confusion, and pain twist together in his chest, but above it all, one thought keeps circling back.

She left us. She left me.

Taglist: @si1versamurai

[heylittleriotact]

🎄 Merry Almost Christmas Have A Festive WIP 🎄

(It's not looking like I'll be able to finish this before the holiday chaos ensues and I won't have a moment to myself until at least the weekend, so Christmas came sort of early, Emmrook friends)

❄️ Yet Untitled First-Day Holiday Fluff Piece ❄️

She stares at the gold ring and twitches her finger slightly, capturing a beam of groggy winter sunshine in the impressive red jewel that adorns it. She raises and lowers the finger, mesmerized by the comforting silence of the wood paneled entryway, and the way the light catches so prettily on the stone, making it look like bright arterial blood: rich with oxygen and scarlet in colour. 

It’s no ruby though… not even relatively inexpensive garnet. It’s coloured glass, and the band isn’t gold: judging on the way it leaves a dull green shadow of itself on her skin by the end of each day, it’s brass or maybe copper. 

If one was to look at it closely - which she has numerous times over the past few months - they would see where the cheap metal has been repetitively worn down, buckled, been repaired, and worn down some more over decades. There’s an almost imperceptible chip in the stone near the upper left edge of the setting, and in the right light you can see where small spiderweb cracks have been painstakingly filled in with a strong, clear substance, sanded and polished to match the shine of the rest of the stone. 

She dare not ask how much coin Emmrich has spent over the years to keep this ring in good repair. 

He rather insistently offered to buy her a ‘proper’ ring to mark their betrothal the morning after they returned to Nevarra: his Father’s ring was only meant to be temporary given the timing of his proposal, and what she really needed was a ring befitting the enormity and depth of his love for her; a ring that would at least compare to her beauty, though no bauble existed that could ever equal it. There were a number of other poetic and deeply romantic sentiments that she patiently waited for him to list off, nodding politely as he worked himself into a veritable tizzy, snuggled up alongside her in the warmth of the plush feather bed in the master suite of his house in the city.

“If you wish to spoil me with a second engagement ring, I daresay I’ll be the talk of Nevarra, and I won’t utter a single complaint,” she grinned, rotating the priceless ring on her finger. “But I hope you realize I’m going to keep wearing this one. This is the real one: this one is you. And you could drop a small kingdom worth of gold on the finest ring from King Caspar’s personal collection for all I care, but it would still look like cheap junk next to this, so if this is all just a clever ruse to get me to give it back, you’re out of luck, love: it’s mine– just like your heart… but don’t fret: I’ll take good care of them both.” And she planted a kiss on the top of his head, burying her nose in tousled hair that smelled of ripe cherries.

He made her come three times in a row that morning. 

She smiles at the memory and tugs on a pair of lined leather gloves, looking around the inviting entryway of the house as she does this. It’s a level of status and comfort that she’s still very much getting used to. It’s not a palatial manor by any means, but rather a high-end rowhouse in a quadrant of the city where nobles, high-ranking Mortalitasi, and retired political advisors live. Rowhouse or no, it’s still got four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and the nicest kitchen Amina has ever seen. Emmrich worked hard for the comfort he enjoys, and Amina was no pauper before her break from the Watch, but getting used to having staff has proven… challenging. Blessedly with the holiday coming up, Emmrich has sent the housekeeper, footman, and butler home - with full pay of course, and some extra - to be with their families. The house is empty and quiet but for the two of them, and it’s been a boon to just feel able to fully relax without the ever-present awareness of someone perceiving her, even if it was done benevolently by the curious staff of Professor Volkarin.

She couldn’t blame them for their interest: their employer went on sabbatical months earlier and returned home, a lauded hero of Thedas, with a relatively young woman on his arm and rumours of an imminent marriage trailing the pair. 

She runs a gloved finger down the dark chestnut door frame (not a speck of dust) and shifts, feeling a bit warm standing inside wearing her thick, gray wool coat. It always takes Emmrich forever to get ready to go anywhere— they’re going skating, not attending high tea with the Empress of Orlais…

“Rook!”

She glances over her shoulder to see Manfred shuffling down the hallway towards her, a pair of ice skates held aloft in front of him as he races towards her. 

“Knives!” He declares, eyes flaring gleefully. “Knives!”

“Sort of,” she remarks wryly, her lip curling in an amused smile that she can’t help whenever the enthusiastic construct is around. “Best not let your Father see you running with those: you remember the incident with the scalpel, hm?”

“Pressure!” Manfred recites proudly, “Put! Pressure!” He grips Amina’s forearm with surprising strength to demonstrate.

“Very good.”

“Hurray!” He relinquishes his grip and hops from foot to foot, unable to contain his excitement.

It had been difficult to convince Emmrich to bring Manfred skating, what with her beloved citing the obvious incompatibility of brittle bone, hard ice, and gravity. 

“What if he falls?” Emmrich had queried, his brow knitting in consternation, his lips pouting, fingers laced over his heart - hell, his moustache might have drooped a little. 

Emmrich still turns brick red when Manfred calls him ‘Father’ and tries to correct him, but when he’s not within earshot, Amina tells Manfred not to listen: just this time - because he is Manfred’s father, and he’ll get used to it eventually, but denying it isn’t going to do either of them favours.

“He won’t fall,” she had promised Emmrich, tracing the shape of his shadowed jaw. “Not when he’s got both of us by his side.”

He made love to her twice that night: long, passionate encounters that left her muscles a bit achy and her brain a bit foggy come the morning.

She’s still been taking her weekly tincture to prevent pregnancy, but sooner or later she knows they’re going to have to talk about the future of that… and all that might come of stopping it. She could have broached the topic by now - could have said something, but he hasn’t said anything either, and even if she did float the idea of a child by him and he said no, that would be fine, but she hasn’t felt ready for the permanence of that conversation yet… the fact that once its had, it can’t really be taken back: she’s thirty-seven, and running short on time to act on such things…

“Emmrich is Father. Rook is Mother!” 

“Oh. Um… not… not just yet, Manfred… wait— who told you that?” She feels her face redden, feels even warmer in her coat and scarf than she already does: where the hell is Emmrich? “Your ability to speak is certainly coming along, isn’t it?” She pretends to take a nose he doesn’t have, sticking the tip of her gloved thumb out from between her index and middle finger. She shakes it tauntingly and bites back the laugh threatening to break loose at the sound of Manfred’s scandalized hiss. “Give you a few years and I bet you’ll be running entire lectures by yourself.” She ducks Manfred’s grab for the ‘nose’ in her hand, bobs under his skeletal arm and straightens: they’ve played this game before - it rapidly became one of his favourites once Amina made sure he was crystal clear in his understanding that it was a game and he was not to actually remove anyone’s nose. 

“Oh good, you’re both ready!” 

Emmrich traipses down the stairs, hauling his own dark green wool coat up over his shoulders, a man in his element with his hair impeccably coiffed, his charcoal trousers perfectly pressed even in the absence of his butler. His earthy, herbal aftershave follows in his wake as he squeezes past Amina, his hand trailing over her waist to tug a soft woolen scarf from one of the hooks lining the wall.

“The ice on the river might have started melting had we waited any longer.” She snags Manfred’s wrist and gently deposits the ‘nose’ in his hand. After he jams it back on his face, clacking madly the entire time, she turns to Emmrich and beams at him, watching him weave the brown scarf into a complex but distinguished knot, tucking the ends down the front of his coat before buttoning it and lifting the collar to frame his angular face.

He’s flustered - at odds. Is it because he hasn’t skated in years, or is he still preoccupied with worry over Manfred?

“I loathe feeling rushed,” he half mumbles into the scarf, verging on a proper strop. 

“No one’s rushing you.”

He’s taking this very seriously. Too seriously: the tension in his frame gives it away. So she catches his eyes with hers along with his hands, and rises on her tiptoes to press a long, soft kiss to his lips. He tastes like life and embalming fluid and strong black tea.

“You’re the one that wanted to take me skating anyway,” she purrs against his lips, half tempted to tell Manfred that skating has been cancelled so she can take Emmrich upstairs and put a properly fucked out smile on his face instead of the dour pout he’s currently wearing. “We’ll have a lovely time, and if it helps put your mind at ease, why don’t we bundle Manfred in your thickest down-filled coat?” 

His mouth turns up slightly at the corners after a moment of consideration. “What an excellent idea, darling.” He kisses her again, holding her chin with his thumb and forefinger, his fingers so wonderfully warm and real. For a moment she wonders if he’s having thoughts about calling off their excursion as well, but he turns from her to rifle through the closet. He leans further and further in, going further and further back through decades of fashions - some timeless, others dated and eccentric - she’s well familiar by now with the state of his sprawling closet upstairs: it’s little wonder he has this many coats too. 

Eventually she hears a muffled ‘a-ha!’ and Emmrich resurfaces gripping a massive down-filled jacket that’s a virulent shade of yellow plaidweave. It’s got about forty pockets, twenty-odd buckles, and a dozen black toggle style closures running down the front all shaped like skulls. The hood and cuffs are trimmed with…with some sort of fur? …Why is it bright green?

It’s hideous.

Actually, ‘hideous’ is a polite assessment: in fact, it’s so, so far beyond hideous that Amina is unsure if there actually exists a word to accurately describe the severe affront to all things fashionable that this jacket is. 

Unable to help herself, Amina bursts out laughing at the sight of the thing, mostly due to the immediate mental image of the man holding it, wearing it. 

“What?” He frowns.

“It’s so…” she gasps between giggles. “It’s just so… hah! Did you actually wear that?” She collapses in a fit of amused titters again as the love of her life holds the jacket at arms length and studies it. 

“Well… yes.” He states, sounding nonplussed. “Granted, I was in my very early twenties when this style was popular with the more… avant garde circles I ran with in those days…” 

“It looks cozy, I’ll give it that.” She gently tugs it out of his hands even though he’s still frowning at it, nostalgia evident on his face. “And we certainly won’t lose Manfred in a crowd with this colour combination.” 

[aishangotome]

[Nica Schwartz] I Can't Return to a Time Before You Part 2

Nica: Nica Schwartz, from Germany.

Nica: Birthday is March 2nd. Family is my younger brother, Ring. My curse power is to charm anyone whose hand I hold.

Nica: Special skill is... tying cherry stems with my tongue.

On the terrace seat, Nica pointed at his slightly protruding tongue with his finger and lifted the corner of his mouth. Despite his flirtatious aura, he was charming, and I almost found myself captivated.

Nica: They say people who can tie cherry stems with their tongue are good kissers.

Nica: Want to try it out?

Kate: No!

Nica: Too bad.

(...Geez!)

We entered a nearby café and started chatting, following his suggestion to get to know each other, but--.

(He says things like this from time to time, and it makes my heart skip a beat.)

Nica: What were you doing before you became a Fairytale Keeper, little Robin?

Kate: I was a letter carrier. That's why I know the streets of London quite well.

Kate: I walked a lot to deliver mail quickly.

The memory of working, which was a normal part of my life just a week ago, felt like a distant memory, and I gently sipped my tea.

Then Nica made a worried expression and said--

Nica: It must have been tough for you with such a sudden change in your environment.

Kate: Huh...?

His fingers touched my hand, which was resting on the table.

Nica: You were just working hard, and then you had the bad luck to run into Crown, right?

Nica: It's not your fault... You just happened to see something you shouldn't have.

The ring on his beautiful finger touched my fingertips, and the coldness unique to metal was transmitted to my skin, but--

(No one has ever said that to me...)

My body grew warm, and my nose tingled.

Kate: ...It's true that it might have been bad luck that I was there at that moment, on that day.

Kate: But I also think, just a little, that it might have been meant to be.

Nica: You mean it was fate?

He played with my fingers, intertwining them and poking them, but strangely, I didn't feel uncomfortable.

Kate: Because I met Crown, I was able to learn about the malicious things happening in this country.

Kate: If I hadn't met them, I would have lived my life without knowing anything.

Nica: ...You're strong, little Robin.

The finger that was stroking my ring finger stopped at its base.

When I looked up, his cat-like almond eyes were piercing me.

Nica: But I don't want my lover to see the dirty side of the world.

Nica: Since we're lovers for the day, just look at beautiful things today, okay?

His gaze pierced me, and I couldn't take my eyes away.

Kate: ...Like what, for example?

Nica: Like this.

Emma: Eh, whoa!

Just as I thought his hand had stopped playing with my fingers, a bouquet of flowers suddenly appeared from behind his back.

Kate: Where were you hiding those...? No, more importantly, when did you buy them!?

Nica: Aha, did I surprise you?

(But we haven't been apart since we came into town!)

He handed me the beautiful bouquet, and the floral scent gently tickled my nostrils, but--.

(Is there another, even nicer scent besides the flowers?)

I realized what the sensual scent was the moment the wind blew.

Nica: Whoa, it's windy today... What's wrong, little Robin? Your face is red.

(This is Nica's scent...)

The sensual scent of ylang-ylang was coming from him, and--

Kate: It's nothing... The flowers, I'm happy, thank you.

Nica: Bitte. They suit you well.

*Bitte means "you're welcome" in German.

I felt myself being drawn to Nica and hid my face behind the bouquet.

Nica: Well, since we're on a date, I have to make you happy.

Kate: I'm already happy enough, and besides...

Nica: Are you starting to enjoy being with me?

Nica said smugly, straightening his jacket collar and lifting the corners of his mouth.

Nica: I'll do something even better.

-

Kate: That was wonderful!

Nica: I'm glad you enjoyed it.

After that, he took me to see a play.

(I never told him I liked watching plays.)

While I was once again reminded of how well-informed he is, being escorted by him still made me happy...

(Nica is truly a smart and wonderful person.)

Holding the bouquet, I walked beside him, completely captivated after being escorted by him all day.

Then--

Emaciated Noblewoman: Oh my, aren't you that man from before?

(Ah, not again...)

I felt a little unpleasant when a woman called out to him, even though we weren't even lovers.

But I recognized this woman.

(This is the woman who often came to the theater with her husband.)

I had seen them having a couple's quarrel in the second-floor box seats several times, but--

(I remembered them because the things I overheard were always about him messing with other women.)

Seeing her worryingly emaciated figure, Nica whispered in my ear.

Nica: She confided in me about her troubles with her husband.

As I was feeling a bit sad about the unexpected truth that had come to light, the woman approached us.

Emaciated Noblewoman: Talking to you made me realize I can't stay with that man.

Emaciated Noblewoman: But when I asked for a divorce, he became violent... I don't know what to do anymore.

(That's terrible...)

I saw bruises on the woman's arm as she covered her face, and I couldn't help but frown in anger and disgust.

However, Nica gently took the woman's hand and said,

Nica: I can only listen to you, and I can't solve your problems, but...

He kissed the back of her hand as if to comfort her.

Nica: There are many people who find your free spirit attractive.

Nica: It's okay, be brave.

(Nica...)

As I watched them,

Emaciated Noblewoman: Yes... you're right.

The woman nodded repeatedly as if convincing herself, and Nica, releasing her hand, put his arm around my waist.

Nica: Well then, take care.

As he urged me to leave, I saw--

The woman glaring at me with an intensely angry expression.

(Did I do something?)

Nica: Little Robin.

He called me, and I looked away from the woman, letting him escort me as we started walking, but--.

Kate: ...Nica?

I looked up to see the corners of his mouth lifted.

Just as I was about to ask him why he was smiling---

???: Aaaaaaaaaah!!!

A scream from behind brought our sweet and happy time as lovers to an end.

.

.

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Part 1 | Bitter Ending | Premium Ending

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