#and i really hope you’re doing well too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovecla · 2 days ago

Text

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.”

#qh43 #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #captain quinn #vancouver canucks fic #vancouver canucks imagine #vancouver canucks #hockey x reader #nhl x reader #nhl fic

587 notes · View notes

hottiesforhockey · 2 days ago

Text

dicked down december ⎜q.hughes

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

(heavily unedited)

1st of December

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3rd of December

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An Excel spreadsheet, Quinn? Seriously?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6th of December

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Quinn, I swear—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your cookie tastes great, baby.”

9thth of December

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Comfortable?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

12th of December

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

17th of December

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby?”

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

"You doing okay in there?"

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

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

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

"You don’t have to—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So much better.”

20th of December

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You beam. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, is it something fun?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

25th of December - Christmas Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

484 notes · View notes

coldfanbou · 2 days ago

Text

Kinkcember Day 25: Mindbreak

This piece happened to fit perfectly with the little AU that I was creating, so I slotted it in with minor edits. Showtime and Be Sure of it are the other smuts that fit in this AU you can find them on my masterlist. This piece does have some Natty but is mostly focused on Tsuki. Also gangbangs for them

Length 3K

Tsuki gangbang, Natty x Mreader

Tsuki rushed into the building, passing staff. She went to the dressing room to change into her work attire, a skimpy light blue maid outfit: the tiny skirt she wore barely covered her ass, and a g-string pulled high, her top revealed the bottom of her heavy breasts and just about covered her hard nipples. Coming out the door quickly, she walked over to the lobby and moved straight to the staff member behind the counter. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Is there any chance you could recommend me to more customers tonight? I really need the money.”

“Tsuki…be honest, you’re on another buying spree, aren’t you?” Tsuki scratched her ear; of course, the staff knew she had trouble saving money.

“Yeah,” She admitted shamefully. “C’mon, please, recommend me. I just a lot of work.” Tsuki pleaded, knowing her bills were going to catch up with her.

“There is another job you can take, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Did you see the flyer on the wall in the dressing room?”

“No, what flyer?”

“It’s this year’s party job. You know the one, right? Yuna took it last year.” Tsuki nods, and foggy memories of it come to her mind. “Well, anyway, it pays a lot of money—more than you can make in a week here, no offense. I just mean with time limitations and everything. No one has taken the job; you can think about it.” Tsuki thinks about it and tries to bring up more memories of what the party entailed.

“I think I’ll take it.”

“Tsuki, are you sure you want to take the job? These tend to put a lot of stress on the worker doing it. You’ve seen how Yuna was left after going through with it.” Tsuki bites her fingertip as she considers her options. Her spending habits caught up with her, and she needed to make a lot of money fast. The usual visitors at Tinkerbell wouldn’t be enough this time. She also knew how Yuna had changed since she had volunteered for the job, and it wasn’t just her. Tsuki remembered hearing the stories from the older workers; some women were driven crazy and were kept in a special part of the building, the dungeon. Tsuki thought these stories were meant to frighten her, but now she wasn’t so sure. Yuna took the annual party job last year, and Tsuki had barely seen her since then. “Tsuki, you don’t have to take the job, you know. As much as they don’t want the previous girls they’ve had, they’ll choose one of them if they have to.”

As Tsuki continued considering her options, another worker entered the building. The staff quickly turned to them and said, “Hello, Natty. Are you coming in for a shift?”

“Yep! It’s about that time!” She chirps before noticing the Tsuki. “Hi Tsuki! What’s up?”

The staff speaks for the young woman, “Tsuki is considering taking the party job. You’ve seen the notice in the dressing room, right?”

Natty nods, “Yeah, I was considering it too. It sounds like fun.”

Hearing that, Tsuki spoke up. “I’ll take the job,” She says nervously.

“Aww, well, I hope you have a good time, Tsuki.” Natty pats her friend on the back before heading to her room.

“Alright then, Tsuki. I’ll put you down and make the arrangements; good luck. You better prepare yourself; I’d suggest taking the day off today. I’ll send you an email to give you the details when everything is set.” Tsuki gives the staff a slight nod and heads on her way, making it home and sitting on her couch, wondering what she just signed herself up for. The young woman waited for the email to come, starved for information on what exactly the party would entail. Soon enough, it arrived. “Tsuki for the party job will take place in a week. You’ll arrive at this address at seven p.m., wearing just a coat and nothing underneath. There will be about fifty guests, so I recommend taking an energy drink or something beforehand so you have the energy to last the entire time. BDSM is the theme here so you will be tied up. That is all the information I have, good luck.” Tsuki read and reread the email, which must’ve been a hundred times before everything finally settled in. She took a deep breath and laid back on the couch.

The next few days, Tsuki spent time with herself, trying to prepare mentally for the event. Once she got the money for the job, she paid her debt, having just enough to have some money left over for herself. When the day arrived, she went to the location, a large hotel. She was dressed as told, wearing just an overcoat with nothing underneath. Tsuki felt embarrassed to be walking around wearing nothing underneath. It wasn’t like at Tinkerbell, where the only people who saw her naked were the people she was trying to get to come in. Tsuki quickly walked to the hotel’s event hall and gave her name, being led inside and to the back. It was a rather large room, one that had a raised stage in the back. She was led there behind heavy curtains and given instructions.

The man leading her to the back watched her carefully. He was part of the group the event was for, “Thank you for accepting the job. I hope you’re able to have a wonderful night like the past workers have. Now, if you don’t mind, I can take your coat. We need to get you set up. Oh, and take this. It is a slight aphrodisiac. It always helps get people in the mood.” The man hands Tsuki a small bottle; it looks like water to the young woman. Tsuki didn’t dare drink it yet but handed over her coat. The young woman covered her body, using one arm to cover her breasts while the other was used to cover her slit. This only lasted so long as the other event workers got Tsuki ready to put her in the bondage she’d have for the night. Tsuki looked at the bottle she was given earlier and gulped it down before letting the men begin.

They began at her arms, moving them behind her back and tying them together tightly. The men tied the ropes around Tsuki's body, attaching her to a horizontal pole, making sure she was well supported. Tsuki answered their questions whenever they asked about how it felt. They worked together to make sure she was comfortable. They finished the process by spreading Tsuki’s legs, making her do the splits, and tying her legs to the pole. Tsuki looked down, embarrassed to see her legs spread so wide for everyone to see.

Strung up, Tsuki looked around; she saw all eyes on her. She wanted to shut her legs but couldn’t. When she tried to, she felt the ropes dig into her skin. She felt vulnerable, knowing that everyone was able to see her cunt. With her hands tied behind her back, she couldn’t even cover herself. “Welcome everyone to today’s event! This evening, we have Tsuki providing us with her service. We all know she has a very expressive face, so let's see what we can do with her tonight.” Tsuki’s body began to turn away from the audience, the rigging moving her back and to the side, making her face a curtain

. “Tonight, on top of Tsuki, another lady is joining us. Please lower the curtain!” The curtain drops at the announcer's command, and behind it is Natty. She is tied up in the same position as Tsuki, her tits hanging out just the same as she remains naked. The rigging begins to move, and the idols face each other; Tsuki stares at her friend, the slightly older woman, who is already wet.

Natty smiled at her friend, waving her hand as much as she could. “What are you doing here, Natty?” Tsuki was nearly yelling, but the announcer made it impossible for anyone in the crowd to hear her.

“I wanted to do this, so I asked the staff if I could join you.”

“Haven’t you heard of any of the stories of the older girls?”

“Yeah, there are a few, but I can handle it. I’m a strong girl.” Natty replies, a smug smile on her face. Tsuki worries for her friend, but any concern is brushed aside as Natty smiles at her.

The announcer begins the event with a yell that catches both women’s attention: “Let the show begin!” The women turned their heads toward the crowd, watching as a small group moved up some stairs toward them.

“Let’s get started!” Natty chirped. The women were blocked from each other’s line of sight as their group surrounded them. The men ran their hands over their bodies. In Tsuki's case, most found a place touching her legs and ass. The small woman couldn’t keep her voice hidden; the moment one of the men’s hands ventured to her sli,t she let out a loud moan. This only excited the men; they began to pull out their cocks. Some jerked themselves off to the sight of the young woman bound in the air; others became more proactive. Tsuki continued to moan as she felt hands move across her tits, squeezing the large mounds. They tugged and pinched her nipples while others sucked on her neck, marking her. The young woman squirmed, the pleasure becoming greater as the aphrodisiac she had taken really took effect. The moment she felt one of the men’s cocks rub against her slit, she groaned. Her body ached for it, wanting it to fill her. She looked at the man in front of her, barely able to read the name tag on his jacket. “Leo,” it read. The young struggled to keep a clear mind; she could only think about all the hands touching her. She gasped as Leo pushed his cock inside her, the first one of the night. Tsuki moaned his name as he held onto her waist and pushed himself deep inside her. The young woman continued to moan as they ravaged her; they turned her head and kissed her as she began to lose herself to the pleasure.

What brought her mind back for a moment was a man playing with her ass pushing a slick finger into her asshole. She could feel him rubbing her walls as Leo continued thrusting in her cunt. Tsuki grimaced, whining as she was made to cum, covering Leo’s cock in her slick. He continued thrusting, though, getting close to cumming when one of the men behind Tsuki pushed his cock against her puckered asshole. “Wait! I’m not ready!” Tsuki tried to shout, stopping midway as she felt the man’s cock spread her ass apart and push into her guts. Tsuki screamed out, cumming again as she became absolutely full. Like dominoes, this led to Leo cumming inside her, pumping her womb full of his cum. Tsuki’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, and her tongue wagged in the air as the rush of pleasure fed into her growing need for more. Another man, Eli, quickly replaced Leo, ramming his cock into Tsuki. He kissed the young woman as he thrust into her.

Tsuki could feel her entire body tingling as the hands never stopped moving on her; they squeezed her tits harder, played with her clit. It was all too much for the young woman who was cumming near constantly. The only thing Tsuki wanted was for this pleasure never to end.

Natty was getting the same treatment on the other side of the stage. Her body was being ravaged much the same, but she was faring better. It was your turn up now, and you slid yourself into Natty’s sloppy cunt. Four men had already cum inside her tight cun,t and now you knew why. Natty moaned loudly as you began thrusting. She leaned in, begging you for a kiss. You gave her one, exploring her mouth as she flexed her muscles and tightened her walls around you. You could feel your partner Al’s cock rub against yours through her thin walls. It was a wonder you hadn’t cum already, considering the young woman’s skill. You reached up and grabbed at her breasts, the heavy mounds filling your palms and overflowing as you squeezed them. Natty’s moans grew louder as you began, and Al moved in sync, punishing both her holes at the same time. Natty broke the kiss, throwing her head back as her walls clamped down on you and Al. The young woman made both of you cum. You poured your seed into her cunt while Al did so with her guts. You stayed inside her, though wanting to go a little longer. “Oh? Ready to go again?” Natty muttered as she took heavy breaths. You nod and begin to thrust into her again, drilling her womb with every movement inwards.

“Oh, god, yes. Fuck me up.” Natty groaned as she felt your cock ram against her cunt. Her moaning got louder as someone else took Al’s place and stuffed her ass. The Thai woman licked her lips and struggled against her bindings. She wanted more; she wanted every cock for herself. Your thrusts, combined with the other man’s, were enough to satiate her for now.

Natty was able to keep her mind on herself as she felt cum pouring out of her with every thrust. This might not have been what she imagined tonight to be like, but the constant sex was a highlight. You came inside Natty a second time before finally pulling out. Your cock was replaced by another soon enough, and you watched as Natty continued on.

When you turned to look at how Tsuki was doing, it was like night and day. Natty still had her wits, while Tsuki was completely mindless. She just begged for more cocks, cum was pouring out of her holes, puddling on the floor below her. You head back to your seat now that you are finished and begin to relax, watching as the two women are continuously fucked by your group. You chatted with the others, discussing everything from the women to the news and what was going on in your lives, all the while watching the women continue to moan and cum. It was amazing to see Natty hold up so well after a good two hours of nonstop sex. Tsuki hadn’t done so well; she was slumped over and passed out from the looks of it. The men had gotten messy on her side of things and painted her body with their cum, coating her legs and chest. You, along with the other, left once the event was over.

Natty got a closer look at the young woman. When the crowd had disappeared, she saw Tsuki’s tired body. She managed to hear the woman mutter something. Once she was unbound, Natty wobbled over to her friend and found Tsuki muttering about needing more cock. Tsuki tiredly reached for Natty, her mouth open like she was expecting one, only to shut when she saw Natty’s messy cunt. “Tsuki, are you okay?” Natty asked, shaking the young woman back and forth gently. Tsuki could only mumble the same word over and over again. Natty asked a staff member for help and got it together. They went to one of the bathrooms, where Natty helped bathe the younger woman, cleaning her body. At the time they were bathing, Tsuki slowly came back to reality.

Returning home, Tsuki didn’t feel the same. She felt like something was missing, her hand wandered down to her slit, and she began to play with herself. She moaned loudly, memories of the night floating through her mind. Tsuki rolled to her nightstand, pulling out a dildo and ramming it into her cunt. It triggered something in her; she came almost instantly but continued to pump it into her cunt. The dildo wasn’t enough, though; she needed to feel hands on her body, touching every part of her. Tsuki reached up, grabbing her tits and pulling on her nipple. She moaned loudly, cumming on the dildo again. As soon as she pulled it out, Tsuki sucked on it, filling her throat with the toy as she fingered herself. She could hardly sleep as the feeling stayed with her.

Tsuki was barely able to make it to Tinkerbell, and the need to touch herself almost overcame her. The staff stopped her when she came in, noticing her behavior. “Tsuki, it’s good to have you back, but you’re acting like Yuna after her time. We have a place for you,” he says before leading Tsuki down the spiral staircase she had used so many times to get to the dressing room. The staff continues down, though, heading two levels deeper. He pushes in a door, and instantly, he and Tsuki’s ears are flooded by the sounds of moans. “Welcome to the dungeon, Tsuki, or as the ladies in here would call it, paradise.” Tsuki takes a step inside; it is a long corridor full of large open cells, like a prison. As she looks around, she sees some old coworkers being fucked, a look of pure bliss on their faces. Tsuki can feel the arousal inside her growing. She thought she would fear the dungeon, but the more she saw, the more she wanted to stay here.

“The system is a little different down here than it is up top. You’ll still get paid and all, but it’s a flat rate. It hard to keep track of things when you girls get so cock hungry.” The staff sighs, “Well, join any cell you want. You’re free to move between any. Chase your pleasure; this is your welfare system of sorts.” Tsuki took in these words, rather than risk fucking strangers at random on the street; it was better to have the workers come down here to get their energy out. Tsuki said as much to the staff member, who nodded. “Exactly, the boss saw it a few times and made this place. Anyway…go, enjoy yourself. The girls will tell you everything you need to know.” The staff member placed his hands on the small of her back and pushed Tsuki forward before closing the door and leaving. Tsuki could feel the dampness in her panties growing as she listened to the sounds of the girls moaning. Seeing a group of men standing by around another worker, she walked to them and offered herself up, stuffing herself on their cocks. Tsuki felt content, her mind melting into pure bliss as she felt herself become full again.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #billlie smut #tsuki smut #natty smut #kiss of life smut

436 notes · View notes

rottenfyre · 2 days ago

Text

⸻ ᴊ ᴀ ʏ ʙ ɪ ʀ ᴅ ⸻

“ Twisted Wings: The Joker’s Plaything ”

Pairing: Dark Jason Todd x Fem Reader Part 4

Summary: Everything hurts... But... But he can take it... He can take it... He just have to wait... He just have to wait... You and Bruce won't let him rot like this... Right?

Warning: Physically and mentally torture, Joker being Joker.

Notes: Merry Christmas everybody! I'm about to ruin it for you... English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

When the cell door creaked open, Jason didn’t even look up. He kept his head down, staring at the cracked concrete floor.

“Oh, bird boy,” the Joker sang, his voice laced with mockery. “Still sulking, are we? What’s the matter? Don’t like the accommodations? Or is it the lack of fine dining?”

Jason didn’t answer. He barely even moved, his breaths shallow and labored.

The Joker’s boots clunked against the floor as he sauntered in, something dangling from his gloved hand. “Well, lucky for you, Papa J is feeling generous today! I brought you something special.”

Jason’s stomach churned as the Joker dropped his “gift” onto the floor in front of him.

Dead rats. Three of them. Their tiny, broken bodies lay sprawled on the floor, their glazed eyes staring up at Jason.

Jason’s lips curled in disgust, and he finally looked up, glaring at the Joker. “You’re fucking insane,” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

The Joker grinned, crouching down so his face was level with Jason’s. “Oh, come on, kiddo. Don’t be rude. I went through all the trouble of finding these little guys for you! Freshly caught, too. You should be grateful.”

Jason swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat. His stomach twisted painfully, but he refused to give in. He spat at the Joker’s feet, his good eye blazing with defiance. “Fuck you.”

For a moment, the Joker stared at him, his grin faltering. Then, to Jason’s surprise, the clown’s face lit up with genuine delight. He clapped his hands together, letting out a peal of laughter that echoed through the cell.

“Oh, you’re precious! You really think you can starve yourself to death, don’t you? You’d rather wither away than eat the lovely meal I prepared just for you. How dramatic! How noble!”

Jason clenched his jaw, his body trembling with rage and hunger. “I’m not eating your fucking rats.”

The Joker’s grin widened, and he reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a phone. “Oh, I think you’ll change your mind, bird boy. Because if you don’t…” He tapped the screen, and the phone lit up. “Well, let’s just say things are going to get a lot more interesting.”

Jason froze. His heart dropped into his stomach as he stared at the screen.

It was her.

She was standing in what looked like an alley, her arms crossed, her face pale. She wasn’t tied up or restrained, but the fear in her eyes was unmistakable.

Jason’s chest tightened, his breath catching in his throat. “No…”

The Joker’s grin stretched impossibly wide. “Oh, yes. You see, bird boy, if you don’t play along, I’m going to pay your little girlfriend a visit. And do you know what I’m going to do?”

Jason shook his head, his voice trembling. “Please… don’t…”

“I’m going to skin her alive,” the Joker said, his voice gleeful. “I’ll peel her pretty little face right off, inch by inch. Then I’ll cook her up into a nice, juicy meal—just for you! Imagine that: you, sitting right here, munching on her crispy little fingers. Doesn’t that sound delicious?”

Jason’s vision blurred with tears. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “No… Please, not her. I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt her. Please…”

The Joker tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “Then eat,” he said simply, gesturing to the rats.

Jason stared at the dead animals, bile rising in his throat. He wanted to say no, to refuse, to let himself starve. But the image of her face haunted him—the fear in her eyes, the trembling in her hands. He couldn’t let the Joker touch her. He couldn’t let him win.

With trembling hands, Jason reached for one of the rats.

“There’s a good boy,” the Joker cooed, clapping his hands. “Now, be a dear and eat up. And make it quick—I’ve got places to be!”

Jason gagged as he brought the rat to his mouth. The stench of decay hit him like a brick, and he had to fight the urge to vomit. He closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face, and bit into the flesh.

The Joker erupted into laughter, his cackles filling the room. “Oh, this is priceless! Look at you, bird boy, gobbling up rats like a starving stray. Faster now! Come on, show me how much you care about her!”

Jason obeyed, choking down the rancid meat as tears blurred his vision. The Joker’s cheers echoed in his ears, each word a dagger to his soul.

“Faster! Faster! Don’t keep Papa J waiting!”

Jason sobbed as he forced himself to eat, his body shaking with revulsion and despair. He couldn’t stop thinking about her—her smile, her laugh, the way she used to look at him. He clung to those memories like a lifeline, even as the Joker’s laughter threatened to drown him.

She loves me, she loves me. She was just scared. She’ll come back… She’ll come back…

His mind screamed at him to stop, to fight back, to do anything but this. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let her die.

Everything hurts…

But he could take it.

He had to.

They’ll come for me, he told himself, over and over, like a mantra. Bruce won’t let me die here. She won’t let me die here. I just have to wait. Just a little longer…

But deep down, a voice whispered in the back of his mind—a voice that sounded eerily like the Joker’s.

What if they don’t?

Jason didn’t know how long he’d been in the chair. Days? Weeks? Months? The passage of time had become a blur, a murky haze of pain, humiliation, and Joker’s laughter. He couldn’t tell what was worse—the physical agony or the constant barrage of words designed to pick him apart piece by piece.

The room was cold and damp, the stench of mildew and blood lingering in the air. His wrists were raw and bleeding from the restraints, his muscles aching from being held in the same position for hours—days, maybe. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore. But worse than all of it was the gnawing emptiness inside him.

The door creaked open, and Jason instinctively flinched. He hated that reaction, hated how the sound of that door sent ice through his veins. But it was impossible not to. Joker entered with his usual swagger, his painted grin stretching impossibly wide.

“Wakey, wakey, bird boy!” he sang, his voice grating and shrill.

Jason didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He focused on the floor, the dirt-streaked concrete beneath his feet, anything but the clown.

“Aww, what’s the matter, kiddo?” Joker cooed, circling him like a vulture. “Cat got your tongue? Or maybe…” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “Maybe you’re starting to break, hmm?”

Jason didn’t respond. He clenched his jaw, ignoring the sharp pain in his cracked ribs. He wouldn’t give Joker the satisfaction.

But Joker didn’t need words. He always found a way to dig his claws into Jason’s mind.

“I brought you a little present today,” Joker said, his tone sing-song. “Thought it might cheer you up, you know, brighten your spirits!” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. “It’s picture day, after all!”

Jason finally looked up, his good eye narrowing at Joker. The clown grinned wider and held out the paper, waving it in front of Jason’s face.

“Go on, take a look. Don’t be shy!”

His bound hands couldn’t reach, so Joker leaned in and shoved the picture into his line of sight.

Jason’s blood turned to ice.

It was a photograph. A grainy, Polaroid snapshot of her. She was smiling—laughing, even—standing beside someone in a Robin suit. But it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his suit.

“No…” Jason whispered, his voice cracking.

“Oh, yes,” Joker said, his tone gleeful. “That’s your replacement, kiddo! Isn’t he a real charmer? A little younger, a little smarter… and oh, so much shinier!”

Jason’s chest tightened. He couldn’t breathe. His mind raced, his heart pounding against his bruised ribs.

“She’s moved on, bird boy,” Joker continued, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You’ve been replaced. Forgotten. Left behind. And look at her—she’s happier, isn’t she? Laughing, smiling, all while you’re down here rotting away.”

Jason shook his head, his breaths coming faster. “No… no, she wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t what?” Joker interrupted, his tone suddenly sharp. “Wouldn’t forget about you? Wouldn’t find someone better? Oh, come on, kid. Look at the picture. You’re not even a memory to her anymore. You’re nothing.”

Jason felt tears sting his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He couldn’t show weakness. Not now.

Joker noticed anyway. He always noticed.

“Aww, poor little Robin,” Joker mocked, crouching in front of him. “Does it hurt? Does it sting? Knowing she’s out there, living her life, while you’re stuck here… forgotten… abandoned…”

Jason’s silence only seemed to fuel the Joker’s sadistic glee.

“You know, I bet she doesn’t even think about you anymore,” the clown continued, his voice turning cruel. “She probably doesn’t even remember your name.”

“Shut up,” Jason growled, his voice trembling.

The Joker’s grin widened. “Oh, struck a nerve, did I? What’s the matter, kid? Can’t handle the truth?”

“SHUT UP!” Jason screamed, his voice raw.

Joker’s laughter filled the room, loud and maniacal, echoing off the walls.

“Oh, this is too good! You’re just so much fun to play with, bird boy!” He stood, pacing around Jason’s chair. “You know, I should thank you. Breaking you has been the highlight of my days.”

Jason clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wouldn’t break. He couldn’t.

But then Joker leaned in close, his breath hot against Jason’s ear.

“You know what the best part is?” he whispered. “She doesn’t care. She never did.”

Jason’s resolve shattered.

Joker saw it—the moment the fight left Jason’s eyes—and his grin turned triumphant.

“That’s it, bird boy,” he said softly, almost lovingly. “Just let go. Stop fighting. It’s easier that way, isn’t it?”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Joker straightened, his grin returning. “Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts, birdie. But don’t worry—I’ll be back. And who knows? Maybe I’ll bring another little picture next time. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Jason didn’t watch him leave. He stared at the floor, the photograph still burned into his mind.

She was smiling.

She was happy.

And he was nothing.

Jason barely registered the blows anymore. His entire body was a mess of torn skin, bruises, and agony so deep it numbed him to everything but Joker's voice. The laughter. Always the laughter. It echoed in his skull, filling every empty space where his own strength used to be.

By now, Jason had stopped flinching. When Joker’s boot slammed into his ribs again, he just let his head hang forward, blood dripping from his mouth onto the filthy floor.

“Oh, come on now, kid!” Joker taunted, squatting down to meet his eyes. He tilted his head in mock pity, his crimson smile as wide as ever. “Don’t tell me you’ve got nothing to say. Not even a little squeak? No ‘stop it’ or ‘please, sir’? You’re usually such a polite little punching bag.”

Jason forced himself to lift his head, just barely, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Please… sir,” he croaked, his voice hoarse.

Joker’s grin split wider. “That’s the spirit! I knew you had some manners left in you.” He stood, pacing in lazy circles around the boy. “Now, I’ve got some questions for you, birdie. You’re gonna answer them, right? Be a good little boy for Uncle J?”

“Yes, sir,” Jason rasped, his voice trembling.

Joker clapped his hands together like a delighted child. “Oh, how precious! Alright, let’s get started, shall we?” He leaned against the wall, casually spinning a crowbar in his hand. “Tell me, Jaybird… what did you see in her?”

Jason blinked slowly, trying to process the question. His mind was a foggy haze, but when he thought of her—her smile, her laugh—it cut through the pain. His lips trembled. “She… she was everything,” he whispered.

Joker cackled, the sound sharp and cruel. “Everything! Oh, that’s rich! And what exactly does ‘everything’ mean, hmm? Did you think she loved you? That she cared about you?”

Jason’s throat tightened. He wanted to lie, to deny it, but he couldn’t. His voice was barely audible. “Yes, sir. I thought she did.”

Joker laughed harder, clutching his sides. “Oh, you poor, delusional boy! And what about you? What did you want with her? Hmm? Did you have plans, birdie? Little fantasies about your future together?”

Jason swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the floor. The words came slowly, haltingly, dragged out of him like a confession. “I wanted… I wanted a family.”

Joker froze mid-laugh, his grin twisting into something darker. He stepped closer, crouching in front of Jason. “A family?” he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery.

Jason nodded weakly. “Yes, sir. I… I thought we could have a life together. Away from all this.” His voice cracked, tears streaming down his battered face. “I wanted… to marry her. Have kids. Be happy.”

Joker stared at him for a long moment before bursting into hysterical laughter. “Oh, my God! You really are pathetic, aren’t you? A little boy playing house, dreaming of a white picket fence while Daddy Bats fights crime.”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

“And what about now, hmm?” Joker pressed, his grin predatory. “Do you still want that? After what she did?”

Jason’s head dipped lower, his tears falling freely now. “I don’t know, sir.”

The Joker’s smile faded slightly, replaced by something colder. He grabbed Jason by the hair, yanking his head up to force him to meet his eyes. “Oh, don’t go all quiet on me now, kid. You wanted her, didn’t you? You loved her. You would’ve done anything for her. So tell me…” His grin widened again, sharp and cruel. “Do you still love her?”

Jason’s lip trembled, blood mixing with tears as he whispered, “Yes, sir.”

Joker’s laughter exploded again, filling the room with its twisted echo. He shoved Jason’s head back, sending it slamming into the chair. “You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

Jason didn’t respond. He just sat there, broken and defeated, Joker’s laughter ringing in his ears.

“That’s enough for now,” Joker said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “But don’t worry, bird boy. We’ve got plenty of time to dive deeper into that broken little heart of yours.”

And as Joker walked away, Jason let his head hang again, wishing he could disappear.

Jason didn’t look up when Joker came back. He didn’t have the strength. His body was a wreck, each breath a struggle, each movement a new kind of pain. His mind… it was something else entirely. Foggy, frayed at the edges, and slipping into places he couldn’t pull it back from. It didn’t make sense anymore—none of it did.

The world was nothing but pain now. Pain and laughter. The Joker’s laughter, high-pitched and endless, reverberating through Jason’s broken skull.

"Alright, bird boy!" Joker’s voice rang out, sing-song and sharp, dragging Jason back to the surface of his nightmare. “Let’s play a game, shall we? I call it Truth… or Pain.”

Jason didn’t react. His body slumped in the chair, his head lolled forward. He could barely lift his eyes to meet the clown’s, blood and tears crusted to his face like a second skin.

Joker crouched in front of him, leaning close, so close Jason could smell the rancid stench of greasepaint and sweat. “Here’s how it works, kiddo,” he said, his voice mockingly gentle. “I ask you a question. You tell me the truth, or…” He smacked the crowbar into his palm with a wet thud, grinning wide. “You get the idea, don’tcha?”

Jason didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

The Joker’s smile twisted, his patience as thin as the thread Jason was clinging to. He grabbed a fistful of Jason’s hair, yanking his head up. “Nod if you understand, birdie.”

Jason nodded weakly, his neck too stiff and weak to do more than a faint dip.

“That’s my boy!” Joker chirped, releasing him and stepping back. He twirled the crowbar lazily, watching Jason with an almost fatherly gaze. “Now, first question.” He leaned forward, his grin sharpening. “What’s your name, hmm?”

Jason blinked slowly, his brain struggling to process the words. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

CRACK.

The crowbar slammed into his ribs, a sickening snap reverberating through the room. Jason choked on a scream, his body convulsing against the restraints.

“Wrong answer!” Joker sang, his voice bright and cheerful. “Let’s try again, hmm? Who’s Batman’s favorite? Which one of you brats he loves more?”

Jason wheezed, blood dripping from his lips as he forced himself to speak. “D… Dick…”

The Joker tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Oh, really? Are you sure?”

Jason’s throat worked, but the words wouldn’t come.

CRACK.

The crowbar struck again, this time across his knee. Jason screamed, the sound raw and broken, echoing in the dark room.

“Ooh, wrong answer!” Joker said cheerfully. “See, the correct answer is none of you! You’re all just little tools in his utility belt. Didn’t you know that?”

Jason didn’t reply.

“C’mon, birdie! You’re not even trying!” Joker taunted, twirling the crowbar again. “Alright, let’s make this interesting. What’s your biggest fear, hmm? What keeps you up at night, even in this lovely little hell of ours?”

Jason’s breaths came in short, ragged gasps. His vision blurred, but the question cut through the fog. His biggest fear…

The words spilled from him, trembling and desperate, like a confession to a god who wouldn’t listen. “I’m… afraid…” His voice cracked, barely audible. “I’m afraid of forgetting her…”

Joker froze, his grin faltering for just a moment.

Jason didn’t notice. He couldn’t stop now, the words pouring out like blood from a wound. “Please… don’t make me forget Y/N…” His voice broke, tears streaming down his battered face. “It’s only her… only her and me… in this whole world…”

The Joker tilted his head, his grin returning, slower this time. “Oh, kiddo…” he murmured, his tone almost tender.

Jason’s voice cracked again, his words dissolving into sobs. “Just… give me that. Please… please… don’t take her from me… Don’t make me forget her… please…”

Joker stepped closer, crouching again to meet Jason’s tear-streaked gaze. He cupped Jason’s bloodied chin, forcing him to look up.

“Oh, sweet, sweet birdie,” he cooed, his voice soft and mocking. “Don’t you know? She’s already forgotten you.”

Jason’s breath hitched, his chest heaving as the words tore through him like shards of glass.

“She’s out there, laughing, living, loving… while you’re here, rotting away.” Joker’s grin widened, his voice dripping with venom. “And when you’re gone, birdie, no one will even remember you. Not her. Not Batman. No one.”

Jason’s head dropped, his sobs choking him as the Joker’s laughter filled the room once more.

“Truth or Pain, birdie?” Joker asked, raising the crowbar again. “Oops! Looks like it’s both!”

And the blows rained down again, each one erasing a little more of Jason, until all that was left was a broken, empty husk whispering one name into the darkness.

“Y/N…”

Next: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 5.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

375 notes · View notes

ohsweetmiko · 3 days ago

Text

daisuke headcannons

daisuke [mouthwashing] headcannons!

happy holidays everyone! hope this brings you some joy during this holiday season. remember you are loved, and that people look forward to you. <3

warnings: implied fem! reader contains sfw, as well as nsfw. please read with caution!

loves and reblogs appreciated ❤️

SFW

· even if you guys are only just friends, he is always the first one to say good morning to you.

· wants to be the first one to put a smile on your face, especially on your bad days.

· hates sharing food, will swat away any hand that even comes close to him. however, only for you he will let his guard down.

· is obsessed with matching jewelry, especially necklaces, earrings and rings. letting you switch out his earrings is a must.

· loves being the little spoon. he just wants to ramble about his day as you hold him close to your chest. it’s always the best part of his day, aside from seeing you!

· pet names would include: love, baby, ma, sweetie, sweetheart, sugar, sweetener, mommy

· is obsessed with your scent. would openly just take a whiff, which would make you giggle. whatever shampoo you use—he needs to know. he’d randomly ask you during a cuddle session “how do you smell so good?”

· is an absolute gentleman. we all know this. will always hold the door for you and pull out your chair with a smile.

· loves watching you as you do something your passionate about. he loves to see you happy and smiling.

· he never really gives effort into his looks, but when you guys go out—thrown out the window. he’s panicking like crazy hoping he’s not underdressed.

· lives for when you play with his hair, especially while cuddling. he loves how relaxing it is for both you and him, as you trail your hand through his brown locs. loves when you pull it too

NSFW

· like i said, is obsessed with your scent. it turns him on so bad—even when you don’t even mean to. you guys could just be cuddling and suddenly he gets all hot and bothered muttering “..you smell nice.”

· mommy kink definitely. should’ve been expected as he has some bad mommy issues. one day you guys were fucking and it must’ve just slipped out. he was so relieved when you said it was fine and that it actually turned you on—is now his #1 pet name when making love.

· poor baby, please praise him. he loves hearing that he’s pleasuring you and that it feels good. it makes him so happy when you whisper how well he’s doing and how proud of him you are.

· hear me out—switch, but leaning bottom, a lot. i feel he’d be the best soft dom if you just need to relax and want him to take control that day. however most of the time your topping from the bottom, haha.

· very vocal in bed. he’s loud in and out of bed! huge, and i mean huge whiner. loves to whimper, as well as to be muffled by you. loves to be muffled by your pussy and chest.

· i think all mouthwashing writers agree he’s the aftercare king. like he’ll prepare a warm, soothing bath for you both and give you a nice massage after. of course it ends with a relaxing cuddle session, as well !

· loves your chest. sucking, squeezing, licking, anything as long as he’s touching your chest. loves putting hickies, definitely some of the deepest ones here.

· loves marking you. it messes him up so bad. he just loves showing everyone he’s yours and you’re his. also wants you to look in the mirror and remember he loves you. loves when you exchange the favor as well,

· makes him so flustered when anyone points out ones he thought he hid, or ones on his partner and they put the pieces together and find out what happened last night. (especially if you guys keeps your relationship low profile.)

· overall, this man is a walking green flag. i literally love him so much he’s my baby 🥹❤️

#mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #daisuke headcanons #daisuke mw #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing x y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #captain curly #curly mouthwashing #curly x reader #anya mouthwashing #nurse anya #jimmy mouthwashing #jimmy mw

337 notes · View notes

bones-mcjones-incorporated · 14 hours ago

Text

My gender is like the same one thing as a result I don’t think I’ve seen it myself since I’ve seen you too many different people lol I just don’t want you in my mind that you don’t have like that one too much but you know what I’m saying and I just can’t do anything like this that you have done and I just can’t really talk right right here because I’m just tired and tired lol I’m not feeling good I’m at work I’m going on a day off and I’m going on my way back home from work now I just have a few minutes I can’t think of anything else I just got done I got to work and then I’ll probably go to church and I have a lot to get to do you know when I’m done I don’t have a problem I don’t think I’m doing it but I’m just going on the road now I’m just trying not really get out to the park lol but I’m still going on the back side and I’m still trying my hardest thing I got out to do with the rest of the night lol lol I’m just tired and tired lol lol I just woke you so I’m just tired and I just can’t sleep I’m so sorry for my heart and I’m so tired and tired lol lol I just woke you so much and I’m sorry about the last night of my sleep I was thinking of something else but I’m going on the phone and I’m trying not really get out to the house but I’m still not tired but I’m just going on the road and I’m going on the back side and I’m heading back home right lol you got me to go get back home now I have a lot to get to my school I just don’t know if you have to go get back home or do something I don’t know what if you want me too I’m not going on the highway right lol I’m just going on my bike right lol I love it so I just don’t want you too much lol I’m sorry about the whole situation I don’t think so I’m just tired and I just can’t wait for the lord and I hope you’re doing fine I don’t think I’m doing it for now I don’t want you in my mind I’m just not going on the right thing to do with that lol I love it I just don’t want you too tired to be with me lol lol I’m just trying not really hard but I’m just trying not really hard but I’m just trying not really to do that but I’m not going on the same time with my dad on my own voice thing lol I love the sun but I’m just not really tired and I’m just not going on the back of the moon Signals I’m going on a different one lol I’m sorry I just woke you so much and I’m so tired I just don’t know how much to sleep I just woke you so much and I’m sorry about the time you woke me out but I’m just trying not really hard but I’m just trying not really hard but I’m just trying not really to be like that I’m just not feeling well I’m sorry I’m just not feeling well I’m sorry I’m just not feeling well I mean I’m sorry I’m just not tired and I’m not tired and tired lol I’m just trying not really hard but I’m just not feeling well I just got back from church I love it all too well I’m sorry I’m just not feeling well I mean I’m not feeling good I love it all but I’m not feeling well I’m just trying not really hard but I’m just not tired and I’m not tired

Type "my gender is" on your phone and let your phone finish the sentence, then tag your moots to keep the chain going, I'll go first.

My gender is a little bit more intense than I thought I could have done

@mirukosbitchywife @get-junpeid

#im having a fuckinf stroke #send help #mental atrophy

26K notes · View notes

honey-on-your-tongue · 2 days ago

Note

Hey, I wanna a a request from you.. about the worst wolverine!Logan (or the one in th x-men series) × mutant!fem!reader.

Reader may have powers like Wanda Maximoff or Jean Grey, but she's stronger. Anyway, there's my main plot; enemies to lovers, a HUGE breeding kink, possibly pregnancy(the a result of the kink hehe) Wade is the person who introduced them, and Reader's Wade' bestfriend. They saved the eart 10005 and they celebrated this at Wade's (and Blind Al's) house. Logan may be a complete jerk to the reader at first, and he may have attacked the reader in the scene in the Honda Odyssey, but then things change and so on. Can you write somethin' like that? If you do, thanks already!!! See ya, bub, take care of yourself.

I’VE HAD THIS IN NY DRAFTS FOREVER WHAT

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

I hope you enjoy this, babes ❤️

Ever since Wade came looking for him and took him to earth 10005, Logan’s life has been easier. There’s less hate towards him (which is an understatement, really; he’s now adored and it never ceases to surprise him) and it feels like, maybe, he’s redeemed himself from what he did. Maybe, his luck has finally started looking up.

But then there’s you. You infuriate him. Every time he sees you, he just wants to put his claws through your ribs. Although he did that already, in the Void, in that stupid fucking Odyssey. But it wasn’t nearly enough. God, he can’t stand you. The way you talk, the way you walk, the way you handle yourself. Sharing an apartment with Wade and Blind Al doesn’t bother him, he even stands Mary Puppins and her hairlessness. But you? You who likes to walk around at night in an oversized shirt and sweatshirts, who leaves the apartment smelling of your perfumes and shampoo after you shower, who he can hear as you fuck yourself with your fingers night after night.

His room is next to yours, he’s heard the way you work yourself up, how you eventually manage to get your pussy soaked enough to stuff your fingers into yourself. It pisses him off. And what he hates most is that his body reacts to it. Having been so hated in his world means that the last time he had sex was…Well. It’s been a while.

So he uses that as an excuse. Of course he doesn’t want you, his body just needs the sex, that’s all. He wants the sex, the release. Nothing more.

Maybe that’s why he does what he does.

On one of those nights where Blind Al is probably too out of it with her cocaine and Wade is probably at Vanessa’s, he hears you. The sweet sounds of your little whimpers and your heavy breathing, the obscene, slick noises that leave your cunt as you fuck her with your fingers. And Logan can’t take it. He just cannot take it anymore.

He barges into your room and delights in the way you react. Your wide eyes, the way you scramble to pull your fingers out of yourself and cover your body with the bed sheets.

“Logan!” you yell, cheeks blushing furiously. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“What are you doing, bub? Touching yourself like you think I can’t hear, or like you hope I will.”

“You didn’t even fucking knock,” you continue, mortified.

He closes the door after himself, locks it just in case. “You’ve been at it for hours, bub. Hours. Is something wrong?”

Still flushed, you refuse to reply. You just clutch the bed sheets tighter.

“Can the poor little girl not come on her own?” Logan insists, smiling. When you fail to answer again, he insists, “Hm? Do you need help, girl?”

The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know. The scent of your arousal thickens and he’s lost.

He’s quick to crawl onto the bed, prowling over you. He leans down, lips nudging at your neck as he gently pushes the bed sheets aside. “Let me see you, baby,” he says lowly, his eyes hungrily taking you in.

You’re so beautiful, prettier than he ever thought you’d be.

His already hard cock twitches in his pants, demanding attention, but he ignores it. For now.

“So pretty,” he says, mouthing at your jaw as his hand slips between your thighs. He touches the slickness spread over your skin, how warm your pussy is. Your folds are swollen, your clit throbbing. You’re probably raw from how long you’ve been touching yourself, so he’ll make sure to not overdo it. He’d hate to hurt you.

He slips a finger into you, groaning as he finds little resistance. “God, you’ve got yourself all stretched out already. All open for me.”

He leans back onto his knees, pushing your legs up to your chest and spreading them apart. He eyes your cunt, all needy and spread wide.

Growling quietly, he reaches for his pants. He pushes them down to his thighs, his eyes on you. “Let me put my cock in you, bub,” he says, almost begging.

You’re so out of it, dazed with the need to come and the lust that’s overcome you, that you just nod in agreement. “Yeah, yes.”

He wastes no time. Slowly, he nudges into you and fills you to the brim, the breath leaving his lungs. “Fuck, Logan.”

“Yeah, I know.” He grins, pleased with himself. He starts out slow, thrusting into you with care as he tests the waters. When your pussy releases its grip on him some, he thrusts harder, deeper.

You squeal, hands gripping onto his forearms as they hold your legs to your chest, keeping you nice and spread for him. Your nails dig into his skin, your eyes squeeze shut. He’s fucking you too hard for you to even say much. You just whimper, gasp, mewl.

It helps that you’ve been touching yourself for so long. You come around him with so much force that your body falls limp against the bed, your pussy spasming around his cock.

And it’s not fair to him. He hasn’t had sex in so long, how is he even supposed to hold back.

“Oh, baby. Oh, baby. I’m gonna fill you up, bub. Gonna put my child in you.”

You gasp at the words, whining lowly.

“Yeah? You want me to make you a momma? You can make me a daddy, hm, bub? Yeah?”

Your body writhes underneath his, your eyes wide as they meet his. “P-please, yes. Please.”

That’s all he needs. Not only did you just give him permission, but you’re begging him for it.

“Baby. I’m gonna fill you up, ‘m gonna fill this pretty pussy with all my come and you’re gonna keep it in you. You’re gonna give me a child, maybe two if you behave, hon.”

And he does. When he comes, rope after rope of thick, sticky come spurt into you. He fills you up until it’s dripping out of you, until he’s spent and he can’t come anymore.

You two stay there a while, trying to regain your breaths and let the high wash away. He kisses your forehead softly and lays own next to you, knowing he’s gonna be ready to go soon.

For the next few weeks, it’s more of the same. He fucks you again and again, filling you with his cum to the brim every time.

That’s why it’s no surprise to you when you miss your period. No surprise at all. In fact, you have no doubt that Logan is going to be thrilled. Now there’s only the matter of telling him…

---

Blog masterlist

#logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x you #logan smut #logan wolverine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine #inbox <3

191 notes · View notes

witchywithwhiskey · 2 days ago

Text

first christmas with trucker ari levinson

pairing: dark trucker!ari levinson x female reader

summary: you ask ari if you can hang up some christmas decorations in his truck cab, and after his initial refusal, he starts to come around to the idea—and has some fun making you beg for it.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, slightly dry/painful sex, creampie, cock warming, bondage, choking, breathplay, dirty talk, degradation, some praise, daddy/dad kink, begging, pet names (sweetheart, baby, kiddo), some aftercare, a mean hot man

word count: 2.0k

a/n: based on this ask from @veltana: Are trucker Ari's and trucker Jake's readers gonna decorate the rigs for the holidays? since Ari's canonically jewish, i wanted to work that in while still showing what he's willing to do for his girl. (also apologies if there's any tense switching in this one, i'm not used to writing in present tense 😬)

trucker king masterlist & dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

Trucker Ari Levinson isn’t the type of man to decorate for the holidays. By the time Thanksgiving rolls around, you’re well aware of this fact about your trucker, but you think it would be nice to put up some decorations in the rig, just to make it feel a little bit festive.

When you broach the subject, the two of you have just set off on a six-week stint of driving, which means you’ll be on the road through the new year. Already, the vast, snow-covered plains of the midwest have you feeling melancholy, so you’re really hoping Ari says yes to some Christmas cheer.

However, your trucker shuts you down with a curt, grunted, “I’m Jewish.”

You try not to show your disappointment, but you haven’t quite gotten used to the way you can never hide anything from your deceptively observant trucker. So while you think you do a good job of playing it off like you don’t care that Ari doesn’t seem willing to let you decorate, he knows he’s struck a chord—and it doesn’t sit well with him.

At the next rest stop, Ari’s grabbing snacks while you’re in the bathroom and he catches sight of a small display of Christmas decorations. They’re all cheap and plastic and poor quality, but before he can stop himself, he’s swiping one of the bright red Santa hats and adding it to his haul.

Ari shakes his head to himself, wondering what his mother would think of him if she could see him buying a Santa hat when he hasn’t worn a yarmulke or stepped foot in a synagogue in over a decade. But then he pushes the thoughts aside, reminding himself that his mother was gone, she’d left him, and she had no fucking right to judge what he was doing.

You’re settled in the rig by the time he gets back, an e-reader in your lap, and already engrossed in some smutty Christmas romance when Ari hauls himself into the driver’s seat. You don’t look up until a bag of Christmas candy lands in your lap, and you’re so taken aback, you glance at your trucker in surprise.

It’s then that you see the Santa hat pulled down over Ari’s slightly greasy brown hair. In his dirty red flannel, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Ari looked like the hottest, filthiest Santa you’ve ever seen, and your core quivers with eagerness as you suck in an excited breath.

Ari’s staring at your mouth, his eyes dipping lower to the way your tits are trembling as your breathing speeds up. You’re wearing nothing but one of his flannel shirts, the buttons undone an almost indecent amount, and nothing underneath. (You’d worn leggings into the rest stop bathroom, but taken them off as soon as you got back in the truck—Ari doesn’t like you wearing too many clothes and, truthfully, you don’t either.)

“Why don’t you come sit on Santa’s lap, kiddo,” Ari rumbles, his voice low and smooth—the charming tone of the man who’d coaxed you into his truck that first day. His hand pats his thigh enticingly as he spreads his legs, the fingers of his other hand deftly undoing the button and fly of his jeans. “Tell daddy what you want for Christmas this year.”

Your pussy is already wet with desire, so you toss your e-reader onto the bunk in the back and quickly navigate the space between your seats so you can throw a leg over Ari’s thighs and slide into his lap. Your ass lands on his legs, your pussy already slick enough that you whimper with the need to be filled.

“Beg for this cock, sweetheart,” Ari rumbles, stroking his thick length, his knuckles brushing against your damp slit and making your hips buck forward, seeking more friction. “Beg me to use your cunny like my own personal cock sleeve.”

“Please, use my pussy, daddy,” you beg breathlessly, fingers twining around the hair at the nape of Ari’s neck, careful not to knock the Santa hat off his head. “Use me to keep your cock warm, please—I want nothing more than to be your perfect little cock slave.”

“Good cock whore,” Ari purrs, one of his big hands grabbing your ass and urging you to lift up. Then he was notching the head of his dick at your tight little hole and helping you sink down on him.

A lewd moan slips from your lips as you take Ari’s cock. Your pussy isn’t quite wet enough to take his thick girth, but you don’t care. You’d take Ari dry if that’s what he wanted, and you both know it.

There’s a delicious sting as your pussy protests the thick intrusion but you push past it, forcing your hips down until your ass meets Ari’s strong thighs. You sigh with contentment, swaying a little in Ari’s lap, your eyes half-lidded as you stare into your trucker’s ungodly handsome face.

For some reason, the Santa hat is really doing it for you, making Ari even hotter than normal and you think, dazedly, you might have a Santa kink—so long as Santa is your dirty, filthy trucker.

“Feels s’good, daddy,” you slur, pleasure making your tongue feel thick and clumsy in your mouth.

Ari chuckles and gives your hip an affectionate pat before he removes his hands from your body and starts up the truck, the engine growling to life.

He’s pulled his rig back onto the snowy midwestern roads before he reminds you about why you’re on his lap in the first place.

“I wanna decorate the cab for Christmas,” you murmur, laying your head against Ari’s shoulder and enjoying the feeling of the truck rumbling beneath you, the warmth of the rig surrounding you.

Your eyes slide closed and you relax against Ari’s chest, letting the soothing vibrations and the perfect feeling of being filled by his cock lull you. Your whispered plea is spoken into the hollow of Ari’s throat, right above where the star of David he always wears is nestled beneath his t-shirt.

“Please, dad.”

You feel your trucker’s cock twitch inside you, and a second later he lets out a tortured groan. It joins the soft moan you bury in the shoulder of his flannel shirt, your hips rocking lazily on Ari’s lap. Your juices are soaking his cock already, dripping down to his balls, and his cock is throbbing inside you, both of you equally turned on by what you’d called him.

“Fine,” he grits out through clenched teeth, though you know he’s not angry, just trying to hold back from coming inside you so soon. He always reacts that way when you call him ‘dad’ instead of ‘daddy’. “You can have one string of lights, baby, but I’m going to test ‘em out before we hang ‘em up.”

Sucking in a sharp breath of surprise, you lean back and look up at Ari to make sure he’s serious. You find his jaw clenched tight and ticking, but when his eyes meet yours, there’s a sparkle of something like affection in them. Before you can be sure, though, he looks back to the dark road.

“Thank you, Ari, thank you,” you cry, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing kisses to his scruffy cheeks and burying your face in his thick beard to nuzzle his jaw. Happily, you lick and kiss down his neck, sucking on the spot at the base of his throat that makes his cock throb inside you.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he grumbles, one of his hands falling to the small of your back and urging you to settle. “Now be a good cock whore and sit still while you keep me warm, we’ve got another couple hours of driving before you can properly thank me.”

“Yes, sir, daddy,” you purr sweetly in Ari’s ear as you settle down on his lap. You lay your head on his shoulder and press your mouth to his neck, licking and sucking on his skin idly while you do your best to stay still and let him drive in peace.

When Ari finally pulls off for the night, you’re practically vibrating with a need to show him how happy he’s made you and as soon as he puts the rig in park, you’re riding his cock hard and fast.

Your hands are planted on his bare chest—since you made him strip out of his flannel shirt and t-shirt—and you lift your ass up before slamming it down hard, the tip of his cock pushing against your cervix with every thrust and making your cunt squeeze the life from his hard length.

Once he’s let you take control for long enough, Ari’s hand wraps around the front of your throat and he pins you back against the steering wheel, not caring that the horn blares while he fucks up into you ruthlessly.

All you can do is watch your trucker king, wearing a cheap rest stop Santa hat, fuck the hell out of you while your tits bounce and your mouth falls open in a moan.

Ari comes with a rough shout, yanking you down hard on his cock and making you grind your pussy on him, rubbing your clit against the coarse hair at the base. His hand squeezes your throat, choking you just hard enough to make your pussy spasm, and then you’re coming too, your scream of pleasure stifled by his grip on your neck.

After, Ari helps you into the bunk and tucks you into his big body beneath the blanket. He falls asleep wearing that Santa hat and some boxer briefs, while you’re naked in his arms. With your back to his chest, you can’t see the faint smile that curves his mouth as he drifts off.

When Ari finally buys you that string of lights he promised, you learn that the ‘test’ he wanted to do before you strung them up was to tie you up in them. He winds the cord around your calves, then your thighs, binding your legs together before he plugs them in to make sure they’re all working.

Ari takes a long moment to look at you like that, naked on the bunk in the back of his rig, save for the thick socks keeping your feet toasty, and the warm, golden lights of the Christmas decoration he bought for you.

It makes him want to buy you more, to see how you’d look laid out beneath a fully decked out Christmas tree while he fucked your pussy, or how you’d feel curled up in a blanket covered in reindeer while he held you on his lap, his cock buried in your ass. He wants to see you wearing a Santa hat that matched his own, sucking his cock on Christmas morning while he made you coffee.

Ari reminds himself that the two of you are spending Christmas in his rig that year, driving around the country until well into January. But he saves those ideas for another time, tucking them into a box in a corner deep in his mind reserved for all the softer, more domestic plans he has for you—the ones you’ve started to inspire in him despite the fact that he’s never thought of himself as a man with soft or domestic side.

To distract himself, Ari digs out the Santa hat he bought at that rest stop and puts it on your head, pulling it down over your ears and giving you a satisfied little grin. Then he folds your body in half, pushing your bound legs up to your chest and off to the side so he can watch your face contort in pleasure while he sinks his cock into you.

The string of lights are digging into your skin a little painfully and you’re bent in an almost uncomfortable position, but you can’t help but enjoy it when Ari plunges into your cunt and sets a fast, merciless pace.

You’d never expected a conversation about Christmas decorations to end up with you tied up in a string of lights, but then, nothing about your trucker was ever what you expected—and that was part of why you loved him so much. You couldn’t wait to spend that Christmas and many more with your trucker king, Ari Levinson.

trucker king masterlist & dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

#ari levinson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #trucker ari levinson #ari levinson drabble #ari levinson fic #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson au #ari levinson imagine #trucker au #dark ari levinson #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #christmas fanfiction

315 notes · View notes

azuresaqua · 3 days ago

Text

little gifts

warnings + notes: kinich x reader, fluff, 2,4k words, secret santa submission for @vxnuslogy :) HI VEE !!!! i am your secret santa this year i hope you liked the fic :] tried to incorporate the things you like in this fic so !!! <3

PRESENT TIME

You consider Kinich to be a sentimental person. Why? Because when you accidentally stumble upon a box in your shared closet with the label “from my love” which is filled with things you had gotten him before and while you were dating, everything is in perfect condition. Nothing is broken, dirty, not a speck of dust in sight - as if he’d been secretly taking care of it.

“You’re snooping through my stuff now?” Kinich’s voice echoes through the room, laced with a slight amusement. He walks closer to you, peering inside the box. “Oh, you found it.”

“You kept all this?” you ask, taking out the first item in the box which is a little dragon keychain with a broken handle.

FIRST GIFT - DRAGON KEYCHAIN

The first time you ever gave Kinich a gift was during one of your “dates”. It wasn’t really a date, now that you actually think about it. It was way before the two of you started dating and Mualani and Kachina were there with you, so basically it was more of a hangout rather than a date (but Kinich will still think of it as a one).

The four of you had just finished the final exams of your last semester in university (while Kachina had just finished her last exams in high school), and Mualani had suggested to go hang out at a nearby mall to celebrate finally finishing exams. Of course, you and Kachina agreed almost instantly while Kinich had to be dragged by you and Mualani to come along.

“Ah, the mall!” Mualani took in a deep breath of “mall air” as she calls it and placed her hands on her hips, a triumphant smile on her face. “I’m finally back!” she threw her arms open, people passing by staring at her weirdly. “Y/N, tell me, how does it feel to finally be back in the mall after that tortuous week of non-stop studying?” Mualani slung a hand over your shoulder.

“I was back here just a few days ago…” you admitted, Mualani giving you a betrayed look. “I’m sorry! My parents took me out for dinner when they saw how hard I was studying last week.” you gave Mualani an apologetic look and she sighs.

“Okay, I’ll forgive you this time,” Mualani said and then gave you a cheeky smile. “However…” she trails off, changing her cheeky smile into something more… suspicious.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked nervously. Mualani isn’t mean, everyone knows that, but sometimes her plans are extraordinary, to say the least. What you were afraid of was accidentally letting out your secret of having a crush on Kinich. “Don’t be-” you tried whispering in her ear but Mualani suddenly grabbed Kinich’s hand and pulled him closer to you.

“My plan for today is to give each other gifts for finishing our exams!” Mualani exclaimed a little too excitedly. You had your suspicions that she just came up with that idea like five seconds ago, but you had no energy left to argue with her. “I was going to use spin the wheel to choose who gets who, but since someone went to the mall without us knowing,” she gave you a side eye. “I’m pairing you with Kinich!”

“Isn’t this a little unfair?” you complained.

“What’s unfair?” Mualani gave you a wink. “I think it’s a perfect opportunity to show whether or not you know the other person well.”

Kinich, who hadn’t been saying anything for the past ten minutes or so, suddenly spoke up. “That’s fine with me. I think this is a fun event.”

“See?” Mualani said. “Even Kinich doesn’t mind. As a matter of fact, I think you’re the only one who disagrees with this plan of mine.”

You narrowed your eyes, spotting Kachina behind Mualani who was watching this whole ordeal with an amused smile on her face. “Hey! Kachina hasn’t said anything. Wouldn’t it be rude of us just to go along with this if one person hasn’t said anything yet?”

Kachina, thrusted into the spotlight, flushed with embarrassment. “I-I don’t mind, really. I think it’s a fun activity.”

You stared at Kachina with a ‘you betrayed me’ look in your eyes and groaned in defeat. Eventually, after some more discussions, you split up - Kachina with Mualani and you with Kinich.

It was a quiet walk around the mall, you not knowing what to say and because Kinich is… well, Kinich. It’s nerve-wracking, really, being around him alone. You opened your mouth to say something but closed it back again not knowing how to say it.

Kinich might have noticed you getting all nervous because he suddenly spoke up. “Wanna split up? That way we’ll be surprised when we see the items we got.”

“Oh, yeah sure! That’s a good idea,” you replied. “So…”

“I’ll go this way.” Kinich pointed to his left. “We’ll meet back here in 40 minutes?”

“Okay,” you replied and saw Kinich walk away with his hands in his pockets. You let out a shaky breath, lightly slapping yourself on your cheeks to focus. “I can do this. Just get him something he likes.”

Around ten minutes of you walking around five different stores, you felt defeated. There was nothing you could find for Kinich in this mall, heck, you didn’t even know what he liked! He’d never been vocal about anything that piqued his interest, and even if he does find something cool, he fixates on it for a few minutes and then suddenly seems to lose interest.

Then, an idea pops into your head. The few times you’ve been in Kinich’s home (with the others of course), you’ve seen a few dragon stickers on his table and his wardrobe. There are just a few, but you have noticed that maybe Kinich likes anything related to dragons.

Walking into a store that sells many little trinkets, you spotted a cute little dragon keychain. There were a few options on display, but the blue, black, and green dragon keychain caught your eye. It resembled Kinich so well that it’s basically him in dragon form. It was subtle but enough for someone to catch if you were to squint your eyes at his bag.

“Perfect,” you muttered, grabbing it and walking over to the cashier. Walking back to the spot you agreed to rendezvous in, you spotted him already waiting there for you, a bag in his hands and his attention focused on his phone. “Kinich!”

He lifted his head and placed his phone in his pocket. “You sure took your time.”

“Sorry,” you apologized. “It took me a while to choose the perfect gift.”

“It’s okay,” Kinich said. “Mualani said to meet up in this cafe on the second floor.” You nodded and followed him up to the cafe.

Mualani and Kachina were already sitting on the chairs with gift bags on the table. Mualani saw the two of you and waved her arm, signaling you to come over. “Hey! What took you guys so long? We ordered some cheesecake and drinks,” you and Kinich sat down on the sofa side, making yourself comfortable.

“You know me so well, Mualani,” you teased, taking one plate of the cheesecake. “Oh, this is yummy.”

“Right?!” Kachina exclaimed, almost too excitedly. “Best cheesecake I’ve ever tasted.”

Mualani laughed, giving her a pat on her head. “Seems like someone has been missing out on some cheesecakes during her exam period,” Kachina let out an embarrassed laugh. “Well! Since we’re all here, let’s get to the present exchange shall we?”

“Wait- now?” you almost choked on your dessert, “Shouldn’t we finish our food first?”

“Where’s the fun in that? Eating cheesecake while opening our presents is a fun time!” Mualani explained. “Since you complained, you’re going first.”

“Hey-!” you tried to complain, but Kinich handed his gift to you. “You could’ve at least waited for me to finish eating.” You took one more bite out of your cheesecake and exchanged gifts with him.

“You can go first,” Kinich said, urging you to open the present.

You hummed and opened the bag. You gasped when you saw what was inside. Now, Mualani didn’t specify how many gifts you were supposed to buy for the other, but anyone would have thought one was enough. But Kinich had in fact gotten you three gifts.

You took out the first two items which were books, the ones you had been dreaming of buying but didn’t have enough money for. “You got me Franz Kafka’s books?! Kinich, this is too much.”

“I don’t think so,” Kinich replied softly. “You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks for our exams so I think you deserve them.”

You swear you were about to cry from how sweet his words are. Taking out the last gift was what made you cry for real - it was a bracelet, and once again, one you have been wanting to buy for a long time but not enough money to buy it. The pretty pink charms captivated you the moment you laid your eyes on it. Happy tears streamed down your face as you looked up at Kinich. “Isn’t this over your budget?”

“I have been saving my money since I didn’t really have anything I wanted to buy,” Kinich answered, giving you the sweetest smile in the world.

“How did you know I wanted these?” you asked.

“You mentioned it a few times before,” Kinich replied. “During our hangouts and free time. The last time we went to the mall together I remember you walking into the bookstore, staring at those two in particular for a long time.”

“Huh? Wait a minute, when did the two of you go out together?” Mualani asked, wiggling her eyebrows. “I don’t think you’ve ever-” You almost leapt across the table to cover Mualani’s mouth, to prevent her from saying more.

“You and Kachina were busy, and I was bored, so I asked Kinich to hang out with me,” you said, clearing your throat. You grabbed the small bag next to you, suddenly feeling anxious about giving it to him. “I feel bad for only giving you this one item, but I tried my best, I promise.”

Kinich took the bag from your hands and retrieved the little dragon keychain you bought. He stared at it for ten seconds without saying anything, and you thought he was about to say he didn’t like it, but when a smile appeared on his face, you felt relieved. “This is really cute, thank you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything else,” you felt embarrassed only getting him so little. “This was the only thing I found that reminded me of you.”

Kinich blinked and you swear you saw the tip of his ears turn red, but you brushed it off, thinking it was just the lighting. “No, I love it, really…”

Mualani suddenly cleared her throat. “Did you two forget we were here or something? Stop flirting in front of us!”

You choked out an embarrassed noise. “We are not flirting!”

“Was too!”

“Was not!”

In the midst of bickering with Mualani it was a shame you didn’t notice how Kinich’s eyes were trained on you the whole time.

PRESENT TIME

“Remember the way me and Mualani were arguing on whether or not we were openly flirting in front of her and Kachina?” you giggle. “Pretty sure Kachina couldn’t look us in the eyes for a few days after that.”

Kinich squats down next to you, holding the dragon keychain in his hands. “Yeah, that was really funny to see,” he flips it around, examining it. “It’s a shame we can’t fix the handle. I really loved using it on my bag.”

“We can always get a new one, you know?” you reply. “Besides, I’m pretty sure this was cheap…”

Kinich laughs. “Now that I think about it, our gift exchange was unfair.”

“Stop that! I didn’t know what to get you!” you complain. “Your stupid mysterious aura made it hard to understand you better.”

Shaking his head, Kinich takes out the next item in the box which was a poorly made paper flower.

SECOND GIFT - PAPER FLOWER

The first few weeks of going out with Kinich was… awkward, to say the least. Yes, you’d had a major crush on him ever since you started university and had been friends with him since high school, but that didn’t mean you knew how to act around him (especially since you were now his significant other).

When he asked you out on a date - to which you agreed without a second thought - you had this tiny paper flower you had made in art class. It looked… good, but it wasn’t quite beautiful. You tried your best, really. You wanted to give Kinich a handmade flower you’d seen everyone make on TikTok, but it failed and now you had to give Kinich a poorly made rendition that looked like it got run over by a car.

When you walked out the door, Kinich was already waiting outside of your dorm lobby dressed in casual clothes (which honestly made him look even cuter). He noticed you slowly walking over to him and he smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said, almost sounding breathless. The paper flower in your hand almost was crushed in your hands because of how nervous you were. “Um, I have something for you.” you hesitantly showed him the paper flower and Kinich blinked twice before taking it from you. “I know it looks ugly, but I swear I tried my best.”

You could see him stifling a laugh and you immediately frowned. “Stop laughing!”

“Sorry, it’s just-” Kinich tucked the flower safely in his pocket. “I love it, I promise.”

“You were laughing,” you pointed out.

“Because I find it cute,” Kinich replied. “You made a really pretty flower.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why do I feel like you’re lying?”

“I promise I’m not,” Kinich said, taking your hand in his. “Now, shall we get going with our date?”

PRESENT TIME

“I can’t believe you kept this!” you exclaim in disbelief. The paper flower still looked like the first time you gave it to him. “I thought you threw this away.”

“Why would I?” Kinich asks. “Both of these gifts from you are special and I’d like to keep them with me forever if I can help it.”

“So sappy,” you tease. The box still has a few items in it but you’re about to run late for the restaurant reservation Kinich booked for your date night. “Come on, let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

Kinich hums. “Do you have a present for me tonight?” he teases, giving you a smile. “Perhaps another poorly made paper flower?”

“Keep that up and you’re having dinner alone,” you say sternly.

Kinich immediately stops talking.

281 notes · View notes

heart-eyed-love · 2 days ago

Text

Charms

Summary | Eddie has a small gift for you before you both leave for Christmas break

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers, Cursing

Word Count | 1.2k

An | Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates, this is coming out late :( but I hope everyone had a good day!

It was the last day before Christmas break, and you were more than relieved to say the least. You need a 2 week break away from this shit hole. And while you had your friends, you still needed a break from this place.

You were gonna go visit some of your family members during the break, not the plans you had originally hoped for, but in your opinion just about anything was better than this school.

You had slightly brought up to your friends in passing that you were gonna be out of town during break, but it wasn’t something you had necessarily thought they’d care to remember. And it wasn’t something you’d be offended about them forgetting either way, you knew something you tend to fade to the background of settings.

So that afternoon, as you shoved all the books and papers you’d no longer need in your backpack over this break back into your locker, you let yourself sigh in relief as you now held a significantly lighter backpack.

“Hey…” The voice sneaks up behind you, causing you to jump. And when you turn to look at the source and smirking Eddie comes into view.

“Hi?” You answer back, raised brows at the boy in front of you, “What’s up?” You ask, shutting your locker as you do, and he can’t help but take notice of the jangling of your charm bracelet he knows all too well.

“Oh you know, nothing much. Excited to get out of here?”

“Yeah, I mean, who isn’t? It’s school… so I’m pretty sure everyone is eager to get out of here… aren’t you?” You ask back, looking up at the boy in front of you. Even after hanging out with him and the hellfire, you still feel a little awkward around him.

“Oh yeah totally, I’m gonna spend my whole break probably getting high, and doing jack shit, you know, basically the whole point of the break for me, right?” He’s all smirky and it’s so distracting when he gets like this… well when he gets like this with you. You never completely got used to the times where you’re the center of his attention.

“Yeah, right… Sounds nice…” You nod softly as you throw your backpack over your shoulder.

“It will be… if you weren’t going out of town I’d invite you over…” He’s hasn’t necessarily gone shy but he’s not as confident as he normally is and it’s throwing you off a bit. And If what he says is true, and he’d really like to invite you over, you’d take that over this trip to see a few family members who don’t necessarily give too much of a shit about you. But no. Now you have to miss out on the one thing you’ve always wanted.

“That sounds a lot better than having to go hang out with a bunch of family members who don’t even know who I am…” You chuckle slightly to yourself, and he smiles sweetly back at you and you can’t help yourself from feeling distracted from the look on his face.

“Yeah? Well that’s kinda why I came over here…” He pulls his back from his shoulder and unzips it, digging through it for a second, before pulling out a poorly wrapped box. A small bow sitting on top of it. Your brows raise in question, “Uhm… I got you something… you know, for Christmas.” He smiles.

“Oh shit, really? I- I didn’t get you anything….” You feel bad immediately, you had no idea he was gonna get you a gift, if you had you wouldn’t allow yourself to go all out for him like you always truly wanted.

“Oh no! No, don’t worry about it… it’s more like just so you don’t forget about us while you’re gone…”

“Forget about you?”

“Yeah, you know… Hellfire… me.” He smirks. To be quite frank he didn’t give a shit about Hellfire in this stance, forget about them all you want just don’t go forgetting about him.

“I’m only gonna be gone for like 2 weeks, if that.” You say with a teasing laugh, that has the soft smile reappearing on his face, and you don’t notice it, but his face heats up.

“Yeah, well here anyways…” He hands the box with a shrug.

You grab the box from him with a smile, “Do you want me to open it now?”

“Yeah, go for it…”

You pull the nicely tied bow from the top, leaving only the terribly wrapped box, and you couldn’t help but feel a swarm of butterflies. It was cute. He was cute. “Sorry, apparently I’m shit at wrapping.” He chuckled lightly.

“It’s alright.” You smile up at him, before looking back down to ripping the paper off the gift and a small box is now in front of you, Eddie grabs the wrapping paper from your hands for you, shoving it into his backpack.

You open the box and a small charm is revealed to you, it’s a small black bat. It’s beautiful, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a charm. It reminds you more of Eddie than the rest of the boys and you can’t help but like it more for that fact.

Eddie inspects your face as you look at the charm. He saw it at the mall while he was trying to find something for Wayne and for some reason he just needed to get it for. But damn, for some reason this small piece of metal was more expensive than he thought it needed to be.

But whatever it was for you anyways.

“You like it?” He asks, slightly nervous at the lack of words coming from you.

You look up from the charm in the box and see that smidge of fear in his face, “What? Oh my gosh! Yes, of course!” And the smile you love so much graces his face, “I love it, thank you, Eddie.”

“I’m glad you like it… thought it would go nice with all the other ones you have…” He lets his fiddle with the charm bracelet on your wrist, and you blush a tad bit at the feeling of his fingers against it.

“I really do…” You watch as the hallways drain of students and you know your time with him is limited, your bus is gonna leave soon, “My bus is about to leave… but thank you again, Eddie. It means a lot…”

“Yeah, of course… Uh, I mean I could drive you home if you want? Are you leaving today?”

“Oh, uh… No, we’re leaving tomorrow. Like ass crack of dawn.” You roll your eyes.

“Damn, first day of break and you’re still having to walk up early?” He laughs, and you can’t help but smile at the sounds.

“Right? That’s what I said, she just told me to get over it so it looks like I’m waking up early… but uh, yeah… a ride would be really nice…” I nod with a shy smile.

“Sweet, follow me…” He leads you out to his van, one you’ve seen time and time before but only ever rarely been in it. Definitely never just the two of you. He opened the van door for you and everything.

You were definitely gonna come back from break with a gift of your own for him.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #heart-eyed-love

225 notes · View notes

croissantsandblackcoffee · 3 days ago

Text

luigi mangione ⊹ rumination

— he was literally glowing !!!!!! i’m so happy for him. also, i hope they dress him up in winter clothing more often. every single pic of him before he got caught is wearing sleeveless shirts, shorts and flip flops, and the occasional suit. link to the masterlist ;)

riker’s island. thursday, 5:00 PM

you’re feeling really nervous as you walk through the security checks, heading inside the facility to wait. you’ve tried your best to hide the symptoms, but you’ve been feeling a bit of nausea off and on, as well as a bit bloated. nothing too noticeable as of yet.

you take a seat at one of the empty seats, waiting for the guards to bring luigi out. your fingers play with the cord of the telephone, a habit out of nervousness.

as you sit there, waiting, you can’t help but get lost in your thoughts. all sorts of possible conversation starters are going through your head, but none of them seem good enough. how do you even tell someone you’re carrying their child?

eventually, you’re broken out of your thoughts by footsteps, and you look up to see luigi. he seems happy to see you right now, his gaze sweeping over you in that usual fashion he does; a mixture of curiosity and… something else.

“hey, sweetheart,“ he starts as he takes a seat opposite you, putting the phone to his ear. he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re fidgeting in your seat, or the way you seem a bit more stressed than usual. “how’ve you been?”

“i’ve been alright,” you say, nodding. you try to control your expression, but you’re sure some of your stress is showing. despite everything though, seeing luigi again feels… nice. “how about you?”

he lets out a huff, and he sounds a little annoyed as he speaks.

“bored out of my mind. i mean, seriously — how do these guys expect people to stay sane when there’s nothing to do all day? it’s torture. i swear the only thing keeping me going is these visits with you.”

“oh, yeah?” you raise an eyebrow at that, managing to break past your worries for a moment and feel a bit smug. “so you look forward to my visits? that much?”

“what? of course i do,” he answers immediately, sounding a little incredulous that you’d even ask that. “i mean, sure, the guards are rude and the food sucks, but i… i look forward to seeing you, sweetheart. you’re the best part of my day.”

a small part of you wants to feel smug about it — that luigi finds so much enjoyment from seeing you, that it’s the highlight of his day. but the rest of you just feels guilty. because right now, you know there’s something you need to confess to him. but how the hell do you even bring it up?

eventually, after a small moment of silence, you take a deep breath and decide to hell with subtlety. this is luigi. he’s a mature adult who can handle tough conversations.

“luigi, i… i need to tell you something.”

he notices the change in your tone right away, hearing the more serious edge to your voice. a line appears in his brow, but it’s not a scowl. he looks more confused than anything.

“alright… what is it?” he tilts his head slightly. “you can tell me whatever’s on your mind, baby, you know that.”

“yeah, i know,” you nod, letting out a small sigh and shaking your head. “i just… it’s…”

you stop, taking another deep breath and preparing yourself for what you’re about to say. how the hell do you even bring this conversation up?

“just… don’t interrupt, okay? just let me talk for a minute.”

he looks more confused now, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, but he nods.

“alright,” he says. “i’m listening. go ahead.”

it takes a few more moments before you finally gather up the nerve to start talking. you take a deep breath, trying to arrange your thoughts properly.

“okay,” you begin, looking at him. “do you… do you remember that last time we were together? the conjugal visit a few weeks ago?”

he nods, his eyebrows pulled together. he seems to have an idea of where this conversation is going.

“of course i do. what about it?”

“right. right.” you nod, running a hand through your hair nervously. “well… i… i think something might have… happened, during that time. something that i only discovered a few days ago. and it’s kinda…”

you trail off, taking another deep breath. God, how the hell do you say this?

“it’s kinda what, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, his gaze fixed on you. he looks a little bit worried now, sensing that this is something big.

“well…” you struggle for another few moments, your hand basically gripping the telephone cord. you take another deep breath, steeling yourself as best as you can. “i… i think I’m pregnant.”

there. you said it.

there’s a few seconds of silence between the two of you, and it’s so thick you swear it could be cut with a knife. luigi has just been dropped a massive bomb, and he’s taking a few moments to process it.

right now, you can’t even tell what he’s thinking. his face is completely impossible to read.

eventually, he sighs.

“christ…” he mutters under his breath, before looking back up at you. there’s a mix of emotions in his expression — disbelief, shock, more disbelief, etc. “are… are you sure?” he asks. “like, 100% certain?”

“i’m sure. i took two tests, and both of them came up positive. and i’ve… i’ve had some other symptoms as well. so… yeah. i’m positive. i’m pregnant, luigi.”

his eyes are fixated on you, his mind racing as he processes this big ball of information that’s just been thrown at him. he looks a little less shocked, and now he seems to be moving towards acceptance.

“jesus… well, shit,” he mutters under his breath. he runs a hand over his face, thinking. “and, uh… it’s… it’s definitely mine, right? no doubts about that?”

you nod, your fingers still fiddling with the cord as you speak.

“yeah. yeah, it’s yours. i’ve had no one else but you, luigi. and we didn’t exactly consider using any protection during our visit, so…”

he lets out a huff at that, shaking his head. he doesn’t seem mad, just… worried.

“yeah, i suppose we didn’t… damn.” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “so… what are you gonna do? about the pregnancy, i mean.”

you shrug, chewing on your lip a bit. you’re not completely certain yourself, right now.

“i… i don’t know yet,” you admit. “i mean, it all just happened pretty damn recently, so i haven’t had time to really think about it yet. but… I guess i just wanted to know… what you thought about it. it is your kid too, after all.”

he nods, biting his own lip as his gaze drifts down to the tabletop.

“right… i mean, of course it has something to do with me as well… right, so…” he sighs, and glances back up at you. “are you sure you want to keep the baby, sweetheart? i mean, a baby is a pretty huge deal. it changes a lot of things.”

he pauses before continuing, “listen, it’s a big deal. and it’s gonna affect you way more than it’ll affect me. i mean, i’m the one who was able to just walk away after our little… visit. you’re the one who’s been left with the after-effects. i just… i just don’t want you to feel like you have to keep the kid just because it’s mine. it’s your body at the end of the day, so if you don’t want to carry, then you don’t have to.”

you bite your lip, knowing that that probably the reasonable conclusion to come to. but honestly, you don’t have the first clue what you actually want to do right now. this whole situation has got your head all over the place, and you’re not entirely sure how you feel about it.

“i don’t know, luigi, i…” you pause, taking a deep breath. “i don’t know if i want to keep it or not. i have no idea what i want to do right now. i just… i don’t know.”

luigi watches you, and his expression visibly softens as his shoulders relax a bit. he can tell that you’re overwhelmed, and honestly, he doesn’t entirely blame you for being so.

“hey," he starts, his voice quiet. "it’s alright, sweetheart, it’s alright. you don’t have to decide anything right now, alright? just… just take some time, think it over. no rush.”

he pressed his hand against the glass, as if taking your hand in his and squeezing it reassuringly. if only he would able to do so.

“i just want you to know that… whatever you end up choosing to do, i’m gonna support it. whether you want to keep or not, i’m gonna be there for you. you’re not by yourself in this. i’m not gonna let you deal with this all on your own, you hear me?”

it’s a comforting thought, knowing that luigi is going to support you no matter your decision. you’ve worried that perhaps he’d feel upset that this has happened, or that he’d somehow blame you for this happening. but no, he seems focused on making sure you’re supported through this.

you let out a breath, and nod, managing a weak smile. you press your own hand against the glass, wishing that you could feel his touch on your skin.

he mirrors you with a weak smile of his own. he watches the hand that’s pressed against the glass, as if imagining that he’s holding your own. despite the thick glass and the guards, luigi wishes that he could just take your face in his hands, and press a soft kiss to your forehead.

instead, he just has to settle for watching you.

you feel almost lonely just sitting there. it’s such a simple thing, but seeing luigi sitting on the other side of that thick glass, not even able to hold your hand, it makes your heart ache a little bit.

you’re not usually needy, you don’t usually desperately crave another person’s touch like this, but right now, you wish more than anything that you could just be in luigi’s arms.

he wishes more than anything in the world that he’d be able to just have you in his lap right now, to hold you close and have his arms wrapped securely around you.

he doesn’t even want anything more from you. no, right now his mind isn’t focused on anything sexual. he just wants to comfort you, hold you, and reassure you.

he wants to show you how much he cares about you. he wants to be able to hold you in his lap, and bury his face against your hair while he whispers soothing words into your ear. he wants to be able to run his fingers through your hair, and press kisses to your lips until that worried expression is gone.

right now, he wants to be able to be your comfort, the way that you’ve been his.

unfortunately, the glass that separates you prevents him from doing any of that. but he can’t not do something. no, he can’t just sit by, and simply watch you.

despite not being able to hold you in his lap, he does the next best thing, and starts talking with a soothing voice.

“hey,” he says quietly, his voice low. “it’s okay, sweetheart. everything’s gonna be alright, you hear me?”

his tone is gentle, and soft. the complete opposite to how he sounds when he’s teasing you. no, his teasing voice is cocky and smug.

this voice is just soothing, a quiet whisper that’s designed to comfort you.

“i mean it, alright? you’re not alone in this. i’m not leave just abandon you, or something. if you keep it, i’ll be there. if you don’t, i’ll still be there. i’m gonna be right by your side. you got it?”

he watches you, his eyes flickering over your face as he waits for your reaction to his words. he’s hoping that what he has said will have some sort of soothing effect on you, that at the very least it’ll help a little bit.

“i’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he says again, his voice still quiet. “you’re stuck with me. no matter what you choose.”

in spite of the difficult situation, a warm feeling starts to spread inside you. luigi’s soothing words are working — they’re helping to comfort you. the fact that he remains so unwaveringly supportive, and has even promised to be there for you, regardless of what choice you make, has a calming effect on you. not a massive effect, but enough to take some of the stress away.

luigi can tell that it’s working. it’s subtle, but in the slight change of your face, your body language, he can see the effect that his soothing words are having.

he can see that you’re a little bit more relaxed than you were at the beginning of the conversation — and that makes him slightly more relaxed.

“you know,” he starts gently, “you’re surprisingly calm for someone who just told their boyfriend that they’re pregnant.”

he says it jokingly, his tone still just as soft and gentle. however now there’s a slight hint of amusement in his expression. the fact that you’re relatively calm about the whole situation is a bit surprising to him.

the words have an effect though, as you give a small shrug, and let out a soft snort.

“do you want me to start panicking or something?” you ask, one eyebrow raised.

luigi lets out a huff, shaking his head.

“well, no, of course not. it’s just that, well… i mean, not that i think it’s bad, but i expected you to be at least a bit more stressed than you are right now.”

he tilts his head slightly, a hint of curiosity in his expression.

“i don’t know, sweetheart, you’re handling this surprisingly well.”

you shrug again, not really having an answer for that. honestly, you can’t even really explain it yourself.

“i mean, it’s not like panicking is going to help anything,” you say, letting out a soft huff. “and like i said, i’m not exactly sure what i even want to do yet, so why freak out over nothing?”

he stares at you for a moment, a slight smile on his face as he takes in your words. he’s actually a little bit impressed with your calmness right now. despite not having any idea what you actually want to do, you’re not losing your head completely.

there’s a hint of appreciation in his expression.

“you’re amazing, you know that?”

he says it more to himself than to you, shaking his head slightly and running a hand through his hair.

“i mean, seriously, you tell me that you’re pregnant, and what do you do? you stay perfectly calm and level-headed. and, i mean, it’s not like i was expecting you to freak out or anything, but i have a feeling that most women would not be as composed as you are right now.”

you give a small huff at that, a light smile appearing on your face. despite everything, that praise from him makes you feel a bit warm inside.

“i don’t know about ‘amazing’,” you say quietly, fiddling with the phone cord. “more like ‘not completely insane’.”

“hey, it’s amazing to me.”

he leans forward slightly, his expression softening. he watches you fiddle with the cord of the phone, wishing more than anything that he could be there with you right now.

“trust me, sweetheart, right now i think you’re amazing. the way you’re taking all this so calmly? it’s pretty damn impressive, if you ask me.”

you give a small scoff, rolling your eyes a bit, but you can feel a hint of colour rising to your cheeks. despite your best efforts, his compliments get you flustered.

“alright, stop it… you’re gonna make me embarrass myself,” you mutter, shifting a bit in your seat.

that subtle hint of colour in your cheeks isn’t subtle to him. luigi notices it immediately, and a smug grin appears on his face. you always get so adorably flustered when he compliments you.

“oh, is that so?” he murmurs, enjoying the way you’ve shifted awkwardly in your seat. he can see how flustered you’ve become just by a couple of innocent compliments.

seeing you like this, blushing and shy, makes him want to just take your face in his hands and kiss you senseless.

however, of course, that’s not possible at the moment. because there is a thick sheet of glass in the way, and he’s a threat to the public, apparently. it’s frustrating as hell, to be so close to you, and yet still be unable to actually reach you. unable to grab you, hold you, touch you.

instead, he simply lets out a huff, and continues to watch the way you look. he can see how your hands are fiddling with the phone cord, how your cheeks are flushed a little bit. how you’re shifting a bit in your seat, as if uncomfortable by how flustered he’s making you.

“would it be… selfish for me to keep it?” you ask, almost out the blue.

you asked the question to the air, seemingly more to yourself than anything. but luigi responds anyway.

“no. definitely not selfish.”

he shakes his head, his expression firm. he doesn’t want you to have any doubts, not even for a second.

“what makes you think it would be selfish?”

you give a soft exhale. luigi’s reassurance helps, a little bit at least. however, the fact that your mind immediately went from ‘should i keep it?’ to ‘is it selfish to keep it?’ is a worrying sign.

“i mean, what if they never let out you? i’d want to have something of yours, as weird as that sounds.”

you pause, biting your lip.

“but then i’d make you feel obligated to be a dad.”

it takes a moment for the full weight of your words to settle in, and when they do, luigi visibly stiffens in his seat.

that thought hadn’t occurred to him at all. but you’re right, it is definitely something that needs to be taken into consideration.

the possibility of him being released, and getting out, is next to none. and he might never get to be a dad, not properly anyway. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

but he swallows it nonetheless, his shoulders tensing slightly. he knows that you’re just saying that you want something of his; but the idea that you might keep the baby just for that reason alone hurts.

he can’t give you a proper life. he can’t give you the family that you deserve. he can’t give you or the child that you might possibly have the life that you want. even if he was released someday, he’d be labeled as a threat, and it would always hang over his head.

he swallows again, watching you through the glass. he can see the way your eyes won’t quite meet his, the way that your fingers are still fiddling with the phone cord. You look almost embarrassed, in the way that your cheeks are slightly flushed.

“sweetheart,” he starts quietly, his voice low. “please look at me. can you give me that much, at least?”

you hesitate for a brief second, before meeting his gaze through the glass. it’s surprisingly intimidating, having him looking at you like that. the expression in his eyes is a mixture of softness and firmness — and you’re suddenly reminded just how intense his gaze can be, when it’s focused on you.

although it isn’t at all intentional, there’s a hint of authority in it. a reminder of the fact that he is dominant; and right now, he wants to talk with you, and he’s not about to let you shy away from him.

you feel your face getting a little bit hotter when you finally return his gaze, and you can feel your heart rate picking up just a little bit. there’s something about the way that luigi is looking at you that’s almost a little bit intimidating.

the softness in his gaze, paired with the firmness. the slight command to it, as if telling you to look at him. it makes you feel almost a little bit flustered, a shiver running down your spine.

for some reason, you feel like he’s dominating you right now, even from behind the glass.

“don’t keep it just for that reason.”

he practically demands it. he can see that you’re getting flustered just by him looking at you like this, but he doesn’t care.

the thought of you having the baby for that reason alone makes his heart hurt. it’s a reminder that there’s a very decent possibility that he’ll never get to be an actual father. he’ll never get to hold his child in his arms, take his child to school, watch as they grow and go through life.

it sucks. knowing that if you keep the baby, you’ll probably be a single mother.

luigi knows that he’ll never get to see his child. he can barely even see you — and chances are high that any visits you’d make to him while you’re pregnant would stop as soon as the baby is born.

he won’t ever get to see them growing up, get to watch their milestones — their first steps, their first words, their first day of school. he won’t be there for any of it.

“please.”

he repeats himself, the firmness in his gaze hardening just a little. he needs you to understand.

“don’t keep it just for that reason, okay?”

the thought has lodged itself in his mind now, and there’s almost a pleading tone in his voice. he’s practically begging you not to make your decision just to have something of his.

to have something of his. he knows that you didn’t mean it badly, that the intention behind the words wasn’t negative. but the words still hurt.

like a knife, going straight into his heart. the thought that you might keep the baby just to have part of him — not because you want to have a baby, that you want to be a mother.

the fact that you’re willing to make that sacrifice for him, makes him feel both touched and sick at the same time.

he hates it. he hates that the thought even crossed your mind. that you would possibly keep it just to have a part of him.

it’s touching that you care enough that you would do that, but it’s also not the reason why a child should be born. if you were to keep it, he wants it to be for the same reason anyone else has children.

because you want to be a mother. not because you feel like you need to for him.

he takes a breath, his hands clenching his thighs slightly under the table. the thought that keeps spinning and spinning around his head is that he won’t be able to be there.

he won’t be able to hold your hand while you give birth. he won’t be able to be there for any check-ups. he won’t be able to see you with a baby bump, your body changing to accommodate the child growing inside you.

he won’t get to hold you when the pregnancy gets uncomfortable, won’t be there to rub your swollen feet. he won’t get to feel the baby kicking in your belly and the joy of that first movement.

he won’t get to be there for any of it. no doctor’s appointments, no late nights, no first words, no first steps.

he hates it. he hates it so much.

he won’t get to experience any of the good aspects of parenthood. he won’t get to hold you when you’re stressed, won’t get to rub your back when you feel sick. he won’t get to take care of you during your pregnancy, comfort you when you’re in pain.

his arms won’t be the ones that you curl against when you’re feeling exhausted, when the pregnancy becomes exhausting.

he won’t get to walk with you through the store, picking out cute little clothes or toys for the baby. he won’t be the one to buy the first cute little onesie, the one to assemble the cot, or the changing table. he won’t be able to help you buy all the necessary baby supplies, won’t be there to shop for a stroller or a baby carrier.

he won’t pick out your hospital bag and fill it with all the necessary items when the time comes close. he won’t get to hold your hand as the labour pains start to hit, won’t get to comfort you when the pain gets too intense.

he won’t get to watch you as you bring a tiny, screaming, beautiful little human being into the world.

if you choose to keep it — and he hopes that you’ll make that decision because you want to, not because it would give you a tiny piece of him — he won’t be the one to cut the cord.

he won’t be the first one to hold the baby after the nurses weigh it and clean it up. he won’t even be allowed near the baby, because he’s a prisoner.

it’s the worst of both worlds. being a father and not being able to be a father at the same time. being a parent, but with none of the joy. none of the happy moments, none of the milestones. he’d be a father on paper only, but in reality it would all mean nothing.

no memories, no moments, no happiness. just emptiness on his side, and the exhaustion and stress on yours.

the worst part of it all is that he can’t even be mad. if you say yes, if you choose to keep it, how the hell would he be able to be mad at that? how could he be angry at you when you’re willing to give up so much just to have a part of him?

his mind keeps going back to the first thing you said, when the conversation started.

“would it be… selfish for me to keep it?”

and he’d been willing to say yes, because it was what you wanted. because this was about you, not him.

if you want to keep it, he isn’t going to stop you. but please, please, please don’t keep it just to have a part of him.

he can’t handle that. he won’t handle that.

as he watches you through the glass, his expression is carefully stoic and neutral. he’s trying to stay controlled, trying not to let the emotions show through on his face. he’s trying to keep his tone steady as he speaks.

“please, sweetheart,” he starts again, his tone a little bit more quiet. “please, don’t use that as an excuse to keep it. don’t make your choice based on that thought.”

he holds your gaze intently, silently begging you to understand.

it’s obvious that you’re struggling to stay emotionally composed, and it’s hard for him to watch. the way that your fingers are fiddling with the phone cord, the way that you’re shifting awkwardly in your seat. it’s all evidence that you’re having a hard time handling this.

he’d give anything to be able to hold you, comfort you. but the damn glass is in the way.

he wonders, idly, if you’ve been holding it together just fine in the past few days. If you’ve been strong and brave, putting on a facade of composure.

or if, when you were alone. when there was nobody around. when you were behind an closed door.

if you’ve collapsed to the floor. if you’ve cried into your hands, let out all the stress and confusion and anxiety.

he wonders if you’ve slept at all, at night. if you’ve been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, overthinking every possible scenario until you’re exhausted. if you’ve tossed and turned, unable to turn your brain off.

wondering. questioning. overthinking. freaking out and stressing and worrying.

he wonders if you’ve even been eating properly. if you’re taking proper care of yourself.

he wonders how much the whole thing has been stressing you out, if the uncertainty is taking a toll on your mental health.

the look in your eyes now tells him that you’ve definitely been holding it together. but he doubts it’s been easy.

he knows that you’ve been going back and forth with your thoughts, second guessing yourself constantly. overthinking everything, every possible scenario. trying to figure stuff out, trying to process everything.

it’s clear to him just how much of toll this is taking on you, even if you’ve been struggling to keep it under control so far. even if you’ve been putting on a strong and mature front in front of him.

he can see the stress in your eyes now, just how much the whole situation is messing with your head.

the way that you’re sitting now. the phone cord in between your fingers, fidgeting nervously with it. the way that you’re shifting your weight from side to side, your feet tapping anxiously against the floor. the subtle nervous expression on your face, how your cheeks are flushed a little bit. your slightly heavier breathing.

it’s all proof that you’re struggling to keep it together. struggling to keep yourself composed.

he feels a wave of helplessness rush over him, as he’s forced to sit there, separated by the glass from you. he wants to comfort you so desperately. hold you in his arms, rub your back, kiss your forehead.

but he can’t. he can only sit there, watching, as you struggle to keep your composure.

are we keeping it or what? 👀

— TAG LIST —

@ga33y3 @icedchailattebabyy @betty-boop-lips-05 @harrysbestiee @badaspice @tsukishimawhore

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader

300 notes · View notes

hyper-fixated-delusions · 3 days ago

Text

You’re insecure (don’t know what for.)

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader.

*Credit to the owner of the gif.*

A/N: Here’s a little Christmas gift for you all!! 🎄🎁 I hope you enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes! Also comments, reblogs, shares and likes are super appreciated, thank you! :) (p.s I didn’t really proofread this as much because I was getting self conscious and yeah. Happy reading!)

Word count: 1,698.

Masterlist

It was a Friday night and you were lounging in your apartment feeling like the absolute scum of the earth over bouts of insecurity arising in you over some comments made about you throughout the past few weeks.

Comments about how Wanda was too good for you.

How she was way out of your league and how people were clueless as to why she was with you. How a stunning woman like her, could be with someone as simple looking as you.

Thoughts that you yourself have had with your girlfriend basically being a walking goddess and all, how could you not let your mind stray to think those things when you've seen firsthand more attractive people vying for her attention.

So there you were feeling like utter shit while playing video games, when a call from an unknown number came into your phone.

"Hello?" You answer cautiously.

"Y/N?" You hear exclaimed through the phone, having a hard time hearing due to the music blasting from the other side of the call.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me, who is this?" You ask not immediately recognizing the voice.

"Hey, it's me, Nat," the voice supplies, "my phone died so I'm using someone else's. Anyway, so you know how we went out to the bar to grab a few drinks? Well, as we were making our way back to your place, your girlfriend found a club and made her way inside. She's on the dance floor crying, she won't let me take her home, she wants you," Natasha yells through the speaker causing you to immediately stand up and begin looking for your keys.

"Is she okay?" You ask worriedly, your movements halting momentarily.

"Yeah, yeah, she's fine, just super drunk," Natasha says, her voice muffled by the sounds around her. "Hey, no Wanda, get off of there, you can't do that!" You suddenly hear Natasha say and you hurry your movements once again, "listen, we're at the Avengers Night Club in uptown, it’s not too far from your place so there's no rush, but the faster you're here, the better. So please, don't take too long," the redhead pleads and you nod, realizing after a moment she can't see you.

"Uh, yeah, don't worry. I'll be there as soon as I can, thank you Nat," you say appreciatively.

"No worries, see you soon," she replies breathless, "Wanda, oh my god, no you can't eat that, that's a candle-" you hear suddenly and the call disconnects.

When you locate your keys you hastily make your way out of your apartment and into your car. The 10 minute drive to the club feeling eternal.

When you finally reach your destination you park your car and make your way inside the club, immediately finding Natasha.

"Nat!" You exclaim over the music.

"Hey!" The redhead turns to greet you pulling you into a hug.

"Where is she?" You ask Wanda's best friend when you pull back.

The shorter woman frowns, "wait, what the fuck, she was just here a minute ago!" She yells over the music, eyes scanning the club and immediately landing on your girlfriend that is taking shots with a group of people across the bar from where you stand, "there she is!" Natasha says, finger pointing in Wanda's direction.

Once you spot her you nod and with Natasha make your way towards your girlfriend, trying your best not to bump into people in the process. As soon as you reach Wanda, you immediately realize she is much drunker than you have ever seen her be in the two years that you've been together.

"Hey Wanda, Y/N is here, let's get you home," Natasha says as she gathers your girlfriend into her arms.

"That's not gonna work Natty, I know she's not here, you've been saying that all night you little liar," Wanda singsongs, bopping Natasha's nose, causing the redhead to roll her eyes in annoyed amusement.

"I'm serious Wands, she's right there," Natasha says as she turns the redhead to face you.

"Oh, my god! Baby!" Wanda exclaims excitedly, hands thrown up in the air, a drunken smile on her lips.

"Hey Max," you greet with an amused chuckle.

"New friends, hey, hey," Wanda says, waving at the other patrons she was drinking with, "this is my amazingly beautiful girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N," she beams, pulling you in by your waist to introduce you to the group of strangers.

"Hey!" The group exclaimed loudly.

"Hey," you say softly, waving shyly at the sudden attention.

"Aren't you just the cutest thing," you hear Wanda say, turning to face her and you see green eyes glossed over with adoration and love, "my beautiful baby, my stunning lover, I love you so much," she yells, voice full of affection.

"How much have you had to drink, amor?" You ask, blushing red.

"I'm not drunk," Wanda slurs, and you raise a challenging eyebrow, "okay, I am drunk. Drunk in love," she says with a dopey smile.

You shake your head, "okay, you're definitely wasted," you say with a laugh.

"No. No, I'm not baby. You really are my beautiful lover. So so beautiful," she pouts, hands cradling your face as tears gloss over in her green eyes. "I really wish you could see yourself the way I see you my love, because you're so stunning. You think I'm the most beautiful person you've ever seen, but that's bullshit! You are the most beautiful person ever! You're so amazing Y/N, you make me so happy and you're so nice, all my friends love you, you treat me like a queen. You're perfect," Wanda says, tears rolling down her face, "I just- I love you so much," she says as she begins sobbing into her hands.

"Okay amor mio, let's get you going," you say, gathering Wanda into your arms as you begin to make your way out of the nightclub. "Hey Nat you good, do you need a ride or something?" You ask the redhead once you make it outside.

"No, I'm good, I think I might stay a little longer, I definitely just saw someone check me out and I want to see where that goes," she smirks and you chuckle, "you just get home safe and call me if you need me alright?" Natasha says as she pulls you and your girlfriend into a hug.

"Yeah sure, thank you," you say appreciatively, "and if you need anything please don't hesitate to call," the redhead nods her head and makes her way back into the club as you walk to your car. After placing Wanda in the passenger side, you buckle her in and make the drive back to your apartment.

Getting Wanda into your home seems to be a much more difficult task than you anticipated, the redhead more asleep than awake to properly walk, the alcohol in her system causing her to slightly sway back and forth as you take her up to the apartment.

Once you make it inside you take Wanda to your room, laying her down softly on the bed as you begin her nightly routine.

First you take off her shoes, placing them in your closet. Then you grab one of your t-shirts for her to sleep in. Taking off her dress being nearly impossible as Wanda softly snores.

Once you complete your mission and dress your girlfriend you make your way to your bathroom to grab some makeup removing wipes. As you sit beside your girlfriend you begin gently cleaning off the make-up Wanda wore, your soft swipes across her face causing the redhead to stir awake.

"Hmm, baby, what are you doing?" Wanda asks, voice thick, full of sleep.

"Just taking your makeup off amor, go back to sleep," you whisper, continuing with your task.

"It's okay, leave it on, just lay with me," your girlfriend pouts, tugging on your arm to pull you into bed beside her and you chuckle softly.

"I will in a bit Max, let me just take this off so you can sleep comfortably," you smile as Wanda's eyes slowly open, unshed tears building in her beautiful green eyes. "Hey. Hey, what's wrong?" You ask slowly, a look of confusion on your face at your girlfriend's sudden change in mood.

"You're so good to me baby. So good," Wanda whispers, tears pouring down her face.

Cupping her face gently you wipe her tears away, "hey, none of that Wands, you're my girl. I love taking care of you and you do the same for me, so it's all good," you say smiling softly.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you, but you're everything to me,” Wanda sobs, voice full of emotion, "and don't think I haven't noticed how in your head you have gotten as of late. I know you, and I know what people have been saying has been affecting you. But just know that I put them in their place and that I love you and only you detka, I don't care what they have to say, you are my person and they can all fuck off if they think you’re no good for me, because they don’t know you the way I do,” she monologues. “They don’t know how truly happy you make me. They don’t know how well you take care of me. They don’t know that just by being with you it makes me want to be a better person. They don’t know anything, my love,” she says and you let out a sob.

“God, I love you so much Max, you don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that,” you say, crying.

“You’re it for me detka, before you I wasn’t truly living, it’s like everything was preparing me for this moment, now come on, get in bed, let’s go to sleep,” Wanda says as she takes your hands, pulling you into the space beside her.

As you crawl in behind her, you wrap your arms around her frame, “I love you Wanda,” you whisper, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“I love you, my love,” she replies before you both drift off to sleep.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #marvel #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff marvel #wanda maximoff au #wanda mcu #wanda fanfic #wanda marvel #wanda x reader #wanda x you #Wanda x y/n #my fic #no beta #scheduled post

171 notes · View notes

harmonyrae · 2 days ago

Text

A Not So Silent Night...

Merry Christmas, again! This is the NSFW continuation of A Christmas Kiss - things do be getting spicy on this Christmas night...

Synopsis: You surprised him with a Christmas office makeover. But the best decoration? The mistletoe. The angel is on the tree, the halls are decked, it's time for presents. And one present is... it won't be a silent night, that's for sure.

The crackles and pops of the fire and the sultry notes of Santa Baby drift through the air as Sylus kisses you once more. After placing the angel on the tree, he resumed kissing your neck. Gently at first, but an occasional bite nearly caused your knees to give out. Sylus, of course, noticed, but he didn’t tease or slow down. He spun you around and lifted you up, his arms tucked under your ass. He smiled up at you as he made his way to the couch.

“Do you want to continue?”

His question surprised you. He lowered you both on the couch, moving your legs to straddle him comfortably. You lock your fingers behind his neck, playing with the ends of his hair with your thumbs. You swear you had so many plans for today, but they all flew out the window when you hung that damn mistletoe.

“I do have other presents for you. And I know you got me presents, the twins already tattled.”

“I hope they don’t know about their presents then.”

“You got Luke and Kieran presents? That’s so sweet!”

“I got them muzzles cause they can’t keep their mouths closed.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles. The thought of the twins in muzzles to punish them for yapping too much is just too good. Come to think of it…

“Did you really get muzzles for them? Or are you joking?”

“Why? Did you want one for yourself?”

“Might be useful… for things…”

Sylus’s eyes darkened, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His gaze dropped to your lips and you couldn’t help but lick them. The idea of Sylus in a muzzle so he can’t sass you while you explore his body has made your mouth very dry all of a sudden.

“Is that so?”

You smile, shifting your hips slightly. The subtle grind forces a groan out of Sylus, it takes you by surprise and you let out a breathy laugh. You trail your hands down his chest as his circle around and under your ass. He leans forward to capture your lips once more, but you lean back suddenly. He glares at you.

“Something wrong?”

“No, nothing. I just…” You hesitate, you can feel the warmth in your cheeks.

“You just what, sweetie?”

“I’ve thought about this moment and I guess I had… thoughts? Plans?”

“Oh, you’ve thought about this, have you?”

“And that is why I want you in a muzzle.”

Sylus lets out a laugh and tucks his arms under your ass once more, lifting you off the couch with ease. You wrap your arms around him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Sylus…”

“Let’s get in those matching PJ sets and I’ll have the chef bring our dinner in here. We can open the presents after. How does that sound?”

“Damn, Luke and Kieran do need those muzzles. Those PJs were supposed to be a surprise!”

Sylus chuckles as he carries you out of his office to change.

An hour later, you’re in your festive sleep set and sitting on the floor next to the coffee table. Sylus’s chef had prepared roast pork and your favorite potato dumplings. Sylus brought out one of the rarest wines in his collection and instructed the chef to bring the dessert and leave it on a cart outside the door. With that, Sylus sent him, and the everyone else on base, home early and you both settled in for the night.

“Do you like the pajamas I picked?”

Sylus glanced down at his pajama pants covered in candy canes. It came with a matching shirt, but Sylus opted to go shirtless for the evening. Damn him. You were already regretting the pajamas you had chosen - long pants and long sleeves? You were burning up from the inside out at this point next to the fire and Sylus sitting there looking, well, perfect.

“They’re very comfortable. I’m just glad you didn’t make me wear those reindeer antlers.”

“Luke and Kieran put those on voluntarily! They’re really embracing the holiday spirit. It’s cute.”

Sylus nods before sipping his wine.

“They’ve never celebrated the holiday. Even before finding me.”

“Then I’m glad they’re having fun. You should take a page from their book. You’d look adorable in antlers!”

“Do I not look adorable already?”

Your cheeks flush and you sit up on your knees to stand before Sylus can make another joke. You gather the presents from under the tree. Sylus had brought in a few boxes while you were taking off your makeup. You were shocked at how many boxes there were now.

“Sylus.”

“Hmm?”

“Please tell me these aren’t all for me.”

“And if they are?”

“Sylus!”

“I won’t apologize for spoiling you. Especially during a holiday you love so much.”

You can’t argue with him there. You finish hauling the boxes over to the coffee table as Sylus clears the dishes and takes the cart back into the hallway. There’s one gift you are terrified to give him and no matter how perfect this day has been, you can’t convince yourself to give it yet. You quickly stuff it under the couch next to you before Sylus comes back in the room. Maybe later?

“Okay, who goes first? Or should we go back and forth?”

“This is your holiday, sweetie. It’s your call.”

You pick up a small box from his pile and hand it to him before picking up one from your own. You’re careful not to shake it, no matter how tempting.

“We open at the same time, okay?”

He nods. He starts peeling the sparkly green paper off the box. The golden wrapping paper on all of your gifts feels fancy and it’s wrapped so perfectly. It almost feels like a crime to tear it off, but it doesn’t stop you from shredding it like you are a kid again.

Your stomach flips when you see the tiny box, it’s a ring box. You had wanted to take the next step, but this is several steps… You slowly open the box, holding your breath. The ring inside isn’t an engagement ring, and you almost laugh at the fact you thought Sylus would propose like this. Or that he’d propose at all after a few months of dating.

The ring is a tiny ruby on a silver band, but there are cat ears attached and accent stones making them shine in the firelight. A tiny cat ring with a bright ruby gem. It had to be custom made and it fit perfectly on your middle finger.

“Is it a little too on the nose?”

You’re about to make a joke, but when you see his brows pinched and his ears nearly glowing red, you hold your tongue. You realize he’s nervous.

“It’s adorable. I mean it.” You slip the ring on and hold your hand out to examine it. You look over to see Sylus smiling while he fiddles with the unwrapped box in his hands. “Your turn, open it!”

Sylus returns his focus to the box in his hands. He opens the box and pulls out a book. He takes a moment to read the cover, but a smile crosses his face before he can say a word.

“A book about history's most notorious criminal masterminds?”

“From Al Capone to Jack the Ripper and it even covers the legend of that guy from Philos who started the illegal protocore trade.”

“I look forward to reading it, thank you.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, his approval of his gifts mean more to you than you realized. You turn to pick up the next two gifts. Neither of you hesitate to start opening the boxes now. Yours is a bit larger and you gasp when you see the brand on the heavy wooden case.

“Hero Leather Works? Sylus!”

You open the box to reveal a brand new custom holster. The deep chocolate leather and shining golden buckles take your breath away.

“You mentioned your holster was getting old.”

“You remembered? I said that nearly 3 months ago!”

“And you still haven’t replaced it. So I called in a favor.”

“With the most famous leather artisan in Linkon? They’ve been booked for months!”

“Like I said, Hero owed me a favor. And you needed a holster.”

You drop your gaze and hold the holster in your hands, stroking the leather slowly. Tears build up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Without looking up you urge Sylus to open his present.

“Okay, okay, your turn.”

He opens the bag and tosses the tissue paper over his shoulder onto the sofa. He stares into the bag, he chuckles under his breath. He finally pulls out two plushies. A dove and a crow, connected at the wings, their heads turned toward each other so their beaks touched.

“I got it custom made from the same company that made the big crow plushie you got for me. This one is a bit smaller, since I know you’re not a huge fan of plushies. I just thought –”

Sylus leans over and kisses you, effectively shutting you up. He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours.

“I take it the crow is me and the dove is you?”

You smile and he pulls back to kiss your forehead.

“I love it. It’ll have a permanent spot on my desk.”

The tears you fought off a few minutes ago threaten to fall once more. You clear your throat.

“How about you pick the present we open next?”

“Now that is a good idea. I was wondering when I’d have a chance to ask about the box you stuffed under the couch, guess I won’t have to.”

You stop breathing. Your heart pounds in your ears. How had he seen you do that?

“Oh I just…”

He reaches past you and pulls the box from under the couch, setting it on the table in front of him. You’re tempted to grab it and chuck it in the fire, but you can’t seem to move. Is this what they mean by “frozen in fear”? Sylus lifts a small slender box from your pile and sets it before you before leaning back on the couch and holding his present up to examine.

“Why would you hide this one in particular? How curious.”

You shake your head trying to pull yourself out of this paralysis.

“I wasn’t hiding it, it must have just slipped under there by accident.”

“Kitten, I always know when you’re lying.”

You glare at him.

“How?”

“Oh no no no. I’m not revealing that. It’s too much fun watching you try to wiggle your way out.”

You sigh and cross your arms in defeat. Your heart is racing so fast your chest hurts. How could you have been so confident and sure when you bought it, but now you are convinced you are going to ruin everything? Sylus pushes your present closer to you.

“Open.”

You take in a ragged breath. You tear off the red satin ribbon and tear off the gold paper to reveal a long slender velvet box, much like the ring box. You tentatively open it and gasp when you see its contents.

A silver chain necklace holds a delicate silver charm in the shape of an elegant dragon. Its tail wraps around the ruby heart shaped stone while its wings curve inwards to secure the sides. The head rests on the gem, its eyes two smaller rubies. You find yourself captivated by the charm, your hands tremble slightly and a tear spills over.

Sylus reaches out and wipes away the tear with his thumb. He shifts closer to you, placing an arm around your shoulder. He doesn’t speak, he just holds you and lets you take in the gift. A gift you didn’t understand, but loved instantly. You finally turn to face him.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Would you like to put it on?”

You almost blurt out yes, but your eye catches on Sylus’s gift, still sitting on the table. Your stomach flips and you feel heat spread from your chest to your center. The only thing you can think of is that gift and this one.

“I would, but only after you open your gift.”

Sylus squints at you, but doesn’t argue. He pulls the gift over and starts to peel the paper away. He is purposefully going as slow as possible, he can feel how nervous you are. He is enjoying this way too much. You lean over and press your mouth to his ear.

“If you keep teasing me, you won’t get to see me wear it.”

You feel his body tense, his jaw clenches. You place a soft kiss on his cheek and lean back. The nerves you were feeling earlier vanish. If he could tease you, you could tease him. He picks up the pace and finally reaches the thin box. As he opens the lid, you watch his face. His eyes widen, his breathing quickens, a blush spreads across his cheeks and down to his chest. He sets the box on his lap and pulls out the contents.

His fingers trace the thin red lace of the bralette. Tiny red hearts adorn the sheer fabric, but not nearly enough to hide anything. The matching red lace thong follows, the ribbons at the hips tie together to secure it to the body. A matching garter and red lace robe lay at the back of the box. You can help but smile as you look down at the necklace you still hold in your hand. The red matches the ruby perfectly.

“So you hid this present because you changed your mind?”

His voice is gruff and breathy. You almost jump up to straddle him at that very moment. His words are full of doubt, but his voice is full of desire. You dare to shift closer to him, lifting your hand to pull his chin in your direction.

“I was worried you wouldn’t want to go there yet. But I never changed my mind.”

His eyes drop down to your lips, then down to your neck and chest. You drop your hand to his chest and feel his heart racing. He lets out a shaky breath before returning his gaze to the box on his lap. He returns the contents and closes the lid. He turns to you, the box directly between you both. That familiar smirk returns.

“Change. Now.”

You place the necklace back in its box and close it. You hold it out next to the box he holds.

“But first, put this on me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He takes the box, removes the necklace and unclasps the hook. You reach to pull your hair up and he wraps his arms around your neck to secure the necklace. The cold metal almost stings against your hot skin. Sylus reaches down to straighten the charm, allowing his fingers to linger on the exposed skin of your chest.

“Hurry.”

You stand and calmly walk out of the room, but as soon as you reach the hall you are a fumbling mess. You damn near skip down the hall to the nearest room. You slip into the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. Is this really happening? Are you about to put on sexy lingerie and parade around his office like you’re a present to be unwrapped? Oh god you hope so.

You strip out of your festive pajamas and freshen yourself up a bit before slipping on the silky two piece. You’ve never been one to love or hate your body, but as you look in the mirror now, you can’t help but feel unbelievably sexy. The red is bright, the ribbons delicate, your skin soft, your nipples hard and the butterflies in your stomach are making it hard to breathe. You slide the garter up your thigh and drape the robe over your shoulders, not bothering to tie it. You gently open the bathroom door and look both ways up and down the hallway. You know Sylus sent everyone home early for the holiday, including Luke & Kieran, but you were not used to walking around wearing so little, especially here.

You speed walk to the office and pause before placing a hand on the handle. Would he like what he sees? Would you be enough for him? Would you satisfy him? Would he still want you to take the lead or would he take control? What if you couldn’t get there? Would that make him feel bad? What if you can’t get him there?

You take a deep breath, you knew you were being ridiculous. The way he kissed you earlier? He wants this. God, he wants this. Memories of your kiss flood your mind and you press a hand to your chest trying to slow your breathing. Open the door. You just need to open the door. Everything else will come naturally. So you do it. You open the door.

Most of the lights have been turned off, the glow of the fireplace and the candles around the room cast dancing shadows against the walls. Sylus leans against his desk with a glass of whiskey, facing the door. He glances up at you as you slowly make your way towards him. He drinks you in, his eyes barely knowing where to look first. They linger on your chest before lowering to your nearly completely revealed cunt. He nearly breaks the glass when he sets it on his desk with a clink.

You stand in front of him, his eyes now locked on yours. He slowly lifts his hands to your shoulders, stroking the sheer fabric. He tugs at the fabric and pulls it over your shoulders, you let it fall away and onto the floor. His hands return and finally glide over your skin. Chills spread over your arms at his touch. His fingers glide down your arms to your hands, he pulls you closer to him placing your hands on his hips.

“If you had taken any longer, I would have come looking for you.”

You laugh and gently squeeze his hips, his fingers trailing up and down your arms.

“Maybe we’ll play hide and seek later?”

Sylus laughs, it’s not his usual laugh - it is darker, you feel electricity flicker across your skin. He moves his hands down to your bare waist and you nearly moan. His hands on your skin feels even better than you imagined.

“I doubt I’ll be letting you out of my sight the rest of the night, sweetie.”

And before you could say another word, he leans down and presses his lips to your neck. His hands circle around your waist and pull you to him, your hardened nipples press against his chest. You let out a breathy moan, your hands grasping onto his shoulders. He reaches down and tucks his hands under your ass, pulling your lower half directly to him, his thigh settling between your legs. He slowly shifts his leg, the friction just enough to make you painfully aware of how wet you are.

“Sy…”

He grunts against your neck before straightening and swiftly turning you both around. He lifts you and places you on his desk before spreading your legs and slotting himself between them. You feel his erection now, pressing against your stomach. God, he’s big. Your mind goes blank as his lips meet yours again and his hands move your arms up and around his shoulders.

He grinds against you, letting you feel him. You are thanking every deity that Sylus is the one taking control because your brain is short circuiting. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, your core is so tight like you did countless sit ups, what is this man doing to you?

His mouth has moved from yours to your neck and down your chest. You tilt your head back and close your eyes, trying to make breathing your only priority. His fingers trace the lace of your bra from the back to the front. The throbbing between your legs is getting so intense you barely register that he has pulled one of the straps of your bra down exposing your breast. His lips close around your nipple and you gasp. He keeps a hand on your back, giving you the resistance you need to arch and press your chest into his mouth. His other hand squeezes your breast, peaking your nipple and making it easier for him to suckle. He gently bites down and you moan loudly. No one has made you moan just from nipple play, but you realize now, it doesn’t matter what Sylus does, you’d be moaning for him.

He unclasps the bra with his hand at your back and pulls the straps down your arms. He tosses it to his desk chair before diving down to give your other breast the same treatment. Your hands thread through his hair and down his back. You’ve started grinding against him now, desperate for more. He finally reaches a hand down to run a finger along the fabric over your entrance. As soon as he feels the wetness he releases your breast with a loud pop and meets your eyes.

“Already soaking through your present?”

You glare at him, but he presses his fingers firmly against the fabric leaving you gasping. You nod frantically trying to get him to stop teasing.

“We should get those off before you ruin them.”

As he says this, he tugs at the ribbons on the sides. The fabric falls away and settles onto the desk. He wraps an arm around you, lifting you off the desk leaving your panties behind. He bends to pick you up properly and you wrap your legs around him. He lets out a soft whimper when he feels your bare cunt against his stomach. That sound alone nearly made you come.

He lowers you down onto a soft blanket in front of the fireplace. He places kisses all over your face, your neck, your chest. He starts lowering himself to your stomach and when he places a kiss to your hip you finally register his intentions.

“Sy, wait –”

“Shh…”

You look down at him and see his eyes sparkle in the firelight before he lowers his mouth onto your throbbing clit. The sight was intoxicating enough, but the feeling of his tongue lapping at your swollen clit over and over before sucking it into his mouth was euphoric. He pressed his tongue against your entrance, his nose pressing perfectly against your clit. You arch your back and feel your hips twitch with need.

“Sy… Sylus… I need… I need more– oh god…”

The rumble of his response against you sent your hips thrusting upwards. He tucked his hands under your ass, giving you the leverage to continue the movement. He finally pressed his tongue into you, swirling against your walls, his nose massaging your clit. And every time you grind yourself against his face, his grunt of approval sent vibrations up your spine making your legs shake.

You had no time to warn him, the pressure built and spilled over so rapidly you would feel embarrassed if you weren’t so deliriously happy. You hear him groan and his hands knead your ass as he takes everything you gave him. When he lifts his head, his face is coated in your arousal, a love drunk expression painted on his face. You smile and giggle at the sight.

“Sorry I couldn’t warn you…”

He gets onto his hands and knees crawling back on top of you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Always keeping me on my toes.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck. You let your hands drift down his chest. You wanted to feel him, to see him, to not be the only one exposed. Your fingers trace the hem of his pajama pants. He lifts his head to stare down at you.

“Already wanting more?”

“From you? Always?”

Your quick reply surprised even you. But you weren’t lying, “always” was the right word. Being with him made you happy and horny and peaceful and daring. His eyes dropped to the necklace, the charm still cool against your skin. Sylus runs a finger over the charm, a small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. You wanted to ask why a dragon, but you also didn’t feel like you needed to - it just felt right. You pressed your fingers against the hem harder, pushing the fabric down to his hips.

He looks into your eyes as he pushes himself up to his knees. He tucks his thumbs into the hem of his pants and boxers and pulls them down letting his cock spring forward. He tosses the clothes onto the couch before returning his gaze to yours. You felt your chest tighten, he was big, but not scary big. You’d always wondered what you’d do if he was too big - like in those trashy romance novels.

He lowered himself over you once more. His tip grazes your inner thigh making you spread your legs wider on instinct. He looks down to see you spread yourself for him and he lets out a soft moan.

“Stop that.” You breathe.

He looks at you, his brow raised in surprise. You reach up and pull him down on top of you. You nearly swallow his tongue once he parts his lips. All the fear and nerves from earlier are long done, you needed him inside you. Now.

You reach a hand down and wrap it around the base of his cock. His breath catches and he pulls back to look down at you holding him. You stroke him gently, building intensity based on his breathing. He sinks his head into your neck as you continue to pump him. When he starts placing messy kisses to your collarbone and those soft moans start slipping out one after the other, you line him up with your entrance.

When he feels his tip press against your folds, he pulls back and looks down at you.

“Are you… on the… pill? Do I –”

“I’m on the pill, I want you – god, I want you inside me Sy. Right fucking now. Please…”

Hearing the urgency in your tone, he reaches down and moves your hand away. He presses his tip further into your entrance, your arousal making it easy to initially slide through. You feel his breath against your ear.

“I won’t take it easy on y– you kitten. Remember you asked – fuck… you asked for this.”

You dig your nails into his back as your chest heaves, your chest brushing against his with every breath.

“Fuck yes…”

At your response, he sinks himself into you. Not too fast, but he doesn’t slow down, he doesn’t take breaks to let you adjust. You feel the delicious stretch and cry out, letting your nails drag across his back. You feel his muscles ripple in response. His pelvis now pressed against yours, his cock twitching as your walls squeeze him.

He lets out a deep groan before he pulls back and starts thrusting into you, slow and deep. You lock your ankles around his waist. His movements pick up pace, you hear the slapping of skin against skin. Your chest burns, tears spill from the corners of your eyes, pressure builds once again, but you’re determined to ride this high as long as he lets you.

The way Sylus moans is unexpected. It’s needy, but he meets those needs himself. It’s like he knows how badly he needs you and he has no doubt he’ll get what he desires. You know if you were in control he would be desperate, but how your body is responding to his has proven to him that you will never deny him. Even if you tried, you would give in eventually.

You curl your fingers into his hair and hold him against you as his thrusts turn savage. He’s hitting that spot that makes you see stars with every brutal thrust. Your moans turned to grunts and then screams of ecstasy. His moans have been replaced by soft whimpers of your name in your ear. Your heart flutters, his desire has taken over and the only thing he can say is just your name.

His whimpers stop suddenly, his breathing shakes, you know he’s close. You start thrusting your hips upward and before long he is coming, hot and fast. Your second release of the night is almost immediate once you feel his body shake and his lips find yours again. You whimper and moan into each other's mouths as you ride out your high together.

The crackle of the fire and the soft Christmas music slowly comes back into focus. He rests his forehead against yours, keeping himself tucked inside your warmth. You unhook your ankles and let your legs fall open. He sinks down to his elbows, your chests pressed against each other.

“I think I might like Christmas.” He sighs contentedly.

You giggle and press a kiss to his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @cordidy

199 notes · View notes

slimybeth69 · 2 days ago

Text

"i'll be here."

rating: explicit- for drinking and joel's dirty thoughts. This is pure fluff NO SMUT and it's probably kinda corny but I DON'T CARE.

summary: Joel wants to make sure your New Years Eve isn't lonely.

tags: jackson!joel, Joel's POV, no use of y/n, no physical description (just an outfit) fluff, so much fluff, pining, age gap, him being handsome and perfect, mentions of food, drinking, being intoxicated so maybe dub-con (but not really)

w/c: ~3.6k

a/n: the holiday was hard as hell this year and it really didn't feel like christmas at all, so i wrote this for myself because i was sad. i hope any of you all that needed Joel to come and sing you songs and play gui-tar find some comfort in this.

thanks for @creepycorbeaux for reading this over. thanks to @thelastofgala for those beautiful gifs and thanks to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

Joel wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing walking to your house with a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and his guitar in the other, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what you had said last night on patrol.

“Whaddya end up doin’ f’Christmas?”

The face you make when you look over at him almost makes Joel smirk for a split second. The way your nose scrunches and the corners of your mouth turn down slightly. Like you’re confused and upset with him ,and all he did was ask you a simple question.

Then you respond, “Whachya mean?”

Joel doesn’t know how to answer that because… what do you mean? Your eyes are still squinted— like there is some sort of distrust in your soul. Like Joel is playing a joke on you right now.

“Uh, well… Ellie and I went to Tommy and Maria’s...” Joel is uncomfortable suddenly; he forgets that not everyone is as lucky as he is to have family here in Jackson. He doesn’t know you nearly well enough, so now he feels like an ass. He shouldn’t be asking you anything like that.

Or anything at all not pertaining to patrol.

You don’t say anything for a while, you just hold onto the strap of your rifle over your shoulder, and then adjust your grasp on the reins with your other hand. “I just stayed home,” you answer him quietly, almost like you don’t really want him to hear you. “Made myself a nice dinner, read a book and went to bed.”

That ‘put your foot in your mouth’ feeling creeps into Joel’s stomach and he wants to ask if you’d like to give him a nice rocket to his left jaw. He doesn’t stay quiet for too long, he doesn’t want you sitting in this awkward smog he’s created. “That doesn’t sound t’bad, honestly. Whaddya make?”

Joel watches you out of the corner of his eye as you once again adjust the reins in your hand, waiting for you to either respond to his question or tell him to shut the fuck up.

He wishes you would tell him to screw off because he never tries to make small talk, and this is why! He always regrets it!

“Just a venison roast with veggies from the greenhouse.” You finally tell him with a little more life in your voice this time, like you were actually proud of what you cooked yourself. “What did you and Ellie do at Tommy and Maria’s?”

“Had a few drinks, ate some food. Nothin’ crazy.”

Joel didn’t have the heart to tell you that Tommy and him spent most of the day drinking and reminiscing, laughing about being young, stupid kids. Or that Ellie and Maria baked all day, listening to Christmas music someone had found a while ago. He didn’t wanna subject you to all that, knowing now you were home alone.

Since that night on patrol, Joel can’t get the image of you sitting at home on a holiday all by yourself.

Probably being sad.

There isn’t any particular reason why he feels so compelled to come knock on your door, there are plenty of other lonely souls that spend every holiday with no one else around.

There was just a pull. Something inside of him that said go go go.

Go to her.

He doesn’t really even know what he’s going to say to you if you decide to open the door for him. Hell, he’s not sure you’re even going to let him in! You’ve only ever gone on two patrols together. Y’all never really talk outside of that, but that’s mostly because he doesn’t see you around.

Not like he’s looking for you, or anything.

When he knocks, it’s like his heart might hammer right out of his chest. Why is he so nervous? He’s just here to offer you a couple drinks so you don’t have to ring in the new year all alone.

Ellie was with Dina and the rest of her friends, Tommy and Maria wanted to call it an early night because of the baby, and so Joel had two options: the bar, or sitting at home alone.

It’s not that Joel didn’t like being alone. He had been alone since Tess, and that was still something he didn’t like to think about too much.

Too much loss for not enough of — whatever they had been. Losing her had almost been the final nail in the coffin, and if it hadn’t been for Ellie -

Don’t think about it.

Now Joel finds himself on your front porch, holding the screen door open with his large frame, and knocking lightly with the ass end of the bottle of whiskey.

From inside he can hear you moving around. His breath hitches in his throat when you finally open up for him. Joel watches your eyes scan him very quickly, taking in the picture in front of you. Your eyes go wide for a second like you don’t understand why he’s here.

Joel Miller on your front porch with a bottle of whiskey and his guitar.

“Whaddya doin’ here?”

Joel holds the bottle up for you to inspect closer as you wrap your arms around yourself like you’re trying to hide from him.

Joel’s never seen you without your winter jacket, hat and gloves. Right now in your house, you have on a blue sweater, a pair of tight elastic tights that Joel wishes he could see you in more often, and the warmest looking socks he has ever seen.

His eyes scan the length of your body again involuntarily. His gaze lingers on your pants once again– so tight and they hug your curves (that Joel didn’t even know you had) in all the right ways.

“Well, I reckon I came over here hopin’ you had cooked another roast, since it sounded so damn good when you told me ‘bout it on patrol–”

Joel continues his bullshit rambles about why he came over here as you start to smirk, and take a step back so the door can swing open a little wider and he can make his way in.

“The guitar?” You ask as Joel toes off his boots so he doesn’t track snow through your house. He hands you the bottle of whiskey, shifting the guitar between his hands as he takes off his jacket.

“Figur’d if you wanted to share any of the food you made– I could share the whiskey… maybe play a lil gui-tar for ya.”

The last time he played the guitar for anyone besides Ellie– Sarah was still alive.

Who is this man?

There was just something about the way you said ‘I just stayed home’. Joel was thinkin’ maybe you didn’t read a book and go to bed.

Maybe you cried a little, missing whatever you remember from home.

Joel knows all about that, all about the sleepless nights when you just can’t turn your brain off. You can’t stop thinking about the people that are no more, about how different things are now and how you’d give anything for them to go back to the way they used to be.

Joel has Ellie and Tommy. Who do you have?

“You’re in luck because I did cook tonight,” you’re smiling at him and he thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen you smile, too.

So many firsts for Joel, he feels like a teenager as you lead him further into your house - which is clean and smells phenomenally good - and into the kitchen.

Joel hadn’t expected you to actually offer him food, he didn’t know if you cooked dinners like that for yourself all the time, or only on special occasions.

You take the guitar from him and pull out a chair at your kitchen table. For a moment he feels like his brain malfunctions and he’s not sure how to react.

“You can sit,” You’re already in your living room. “I’m just gonna…” Then you trail off.

When Joel peers around the corner to check on you, you’re very carefully leaning the guitar against the wall, holding your hands out to catch it in case it leans too far one way or the other.

Joel feels heat creeping up his chest and neck as he watches you, slightly bent at the waist. The tightness of your pants—

Nope.

Once you’re satisfied that the guitar won’t fall, you turn around and smile at him, even though he’s just standing there watching you like an idiot– blushing!

Blushing?

Part of him thinks this was the worst idea he ever had. How could you be doing this to him and you’ve done absolutely nothing?

He should go home.

“Sit!” You urge him to take a seat at the table while you basically prance into the kitchen to start serving him a plate. Everything is still sitting on the stove in the pots you cooked in.

You explain that you already ate because you weren’t expecting company.

Joel almost tells you not to worry about the food, but then what would he do? Play guitar for three hours? Getting drunk and talking all night seems like a terrible idea.

What the fuck was he thinking? This was the dumbest thing he’s ever done, it really was.

He shuts his mouth though when you set down a plate of steaming food in front of him.

“Dig in! I have more than enough if you want a second plate.”

The way you talk so casually, like you’ve known Joel your whole life while you walk back into the kitchen makes him jealous.

How are you so nice? Sweet?

You haven’t even been here for four months and this is the first time either of you have said more than ten words to each other that didn’t have to do with patrol.

It’s the way your body moves when you walk without all your winter gear on. You sway… almost like you’re floating.

Knock it off, old man. She’s half your age.

Joel has to squeeze his eyes shut for two seconds until he hears your feet padding back to the table. When he opens them, you’re pushing one of the glasses in his direction.

“You brought the booze, so you have to pour it.”

The smile on your face makes Joel feel a mix of pride and guilt.

What are you expecting of him? He can’t give you more than just tonight. He knows that, he hopes you know that too.

Joel opens the bottle and pours each of you a decent, sippable glass.He should have poured himself less.

Probably should have poured you less.

The food tastes better than Joel’s had in years. He even finds himself asking for seconds, something he rarely does.

You’re making small talk as he eats, asking about his travels and how long he’s been in Jackson. If he likes it here, how old is his daughter.

Joel decides not to tell you that Ellie isn’t really his daughter, because biologically she isn’t, but it hasn’t felt that way in a long time.

As he eats, and you chat, Joel starts to relax a little. Your presence is calming, and he finds himself enjoying your company more than he thought he would. He pours both of you another drink, his regrets of pouring less last time completely forgotten.

The food is gone and you’ve cleared his plate. But the two of you are still sitting at the kitchen table. He’s not sure if it’s the fact that this is another first— seeing you up close like this. In the light of your kitchen Joel can really take in your features; your cheeks when you smile, and the way your eyes light up when you laugh at some dumb joke he tells.

You ask him about his life before the outbreak, and Joel hesitates before giving a very brief summary of his past. He doesn’t like talking about it all, and he avoids bringing Sarah up completely.

Not tonight. Probably not ever.

You listen attentively and ask Joel questions that show you’re actually interested in what he’s saying.

Joel continues to pour the two of your drinks each time your glasses are empty and you never tell him to stop. You suggest moving to the living room where it’s more comfortable, and Joel agrees without hesitation.

Go home. This is going to end badly.

There is a fire going in your fireplace, and Joel can’t sit down until he puts another log or two on, and he has to move some things around to get it going again.

“I can do it myself,” you say from directly behind him, sounding a little offended.

Joel doesn't even look at you when he responds, "I know you can. Just helpin'."

When he finally turns around, you quickly look away. Joel can’t help but smirk and feel that familiar in his lower belly.

Had you been staring at him?

Joel watches as you sink down into the brown leather couch, curling up with your feet underneath you. He settles beside you with just enough distance to be polite.

“What songs do ya’ know?” Your voice is soft and your words are slightly slurred. The alcohol has definitely started to affect you, but Joel doesn’t think you’re that drunk yet.

Joel looks at the clock on your wall and it reads 10:45 PM. He can do this. An hour and fifteen minutes left, then Joel can escape.

Not that he wants to. He has to or something bad is going to happen. Something he regrets.

Something you might regret.

But when you ask him about songs, he can’t help but smile. The alcohol is going down too easily, way too easy for both of you.

Joel clears his throat. "Whaddya wanna hear?"

You shrug, your cute blue sweater sliding off one shoulder. Joel has to fight himself to keep his eyes on your face as you mindlessly tug the sweater up. It’s like you didn’t even realize it happened. You kept your eyes on him the entire time.

"Somethin' that makes you happy."

The fact that you’re moving your feet to tuck your toes underneath Joel’s right thigh is sending electric shocks to his brain. He leans and grabs the guitar off the wall– careful to not move too much so he can keep the contact between the two of you.

Shit. What is he getting himself into?

Joel holds the guitar, fingers tracing the old wooden curves. It's been a while since he's played at all. The strings feel ice cold under his calloused hands.

Joel strum a couple cords, “Know a few songs,” he says, clearing his throat. “Might be a lil rusty though,” he smirks at you and gives you a sideways glance.

You smile from behind your whiskey glass and Joel feels something shift inside him. Something he hasn't felt in a long time.

Something dangerous.

Your eyes are glittering in the firelight— different than they had looked in the artificial light of your kitchen. It casts a warm glow across your face, softening the edges that Joel has only ever seen sharp and alert on patrol.

He clears his throat once again and continues to move his fingers along the frets. The first few notes come out slightly off-key, but Joel quickly finds his rhythm. He starts with a Garth Brooks song.

Joel knows he’s not the best at the guitar and he doesn’t play it nearly as often now that Ellie is so busy with her own life.

You don’t seem to mind, and sometimes Joel misses a chord or messes up completely because he can’t stop glancing over to watch you watching him.

He starts to sing, his voice low and gravelly. It's not a perfect voice - never was - but there's something raw and honest in the way the words tumble out.

… Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots And ruined your black tie affair The last one to know, the last one to show I was the last one you thought you'd see there

You shift slightly, your toes still tucked under his thigh, and Joel catches you watching his hands. Even as he continues to sing. You never take your eyes off of him. Not once.

… 'Cause I've got friends in low places Where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away And I'll be OK Yeah, I'm not big on social graces Think I'll slip on down to the oasis Oh, I've got friends in low places

Joel's voice falters for a moment when he notices the concentration of your gaze. His fingers momentarily stagger on the guitar strings, creating a clashing note that lingers in the air for a moment before he continues.

You don't seem to notice, or care. Your eyes are locked on his hands, watching how they move across the guitar with a kind of reverence that makes Joel's breath catch.

Joel finishes the song, letting the last chord ring out softly in the quiet room. For a moment, neither of you moves. You're still watching him, your eyes heavy-lidded from the whiskey, but there's something else there too.

Joel’s eyes fall on the clock on your wall and it’s only 11.

He’s completely fucked.

Joel becomes acutely aware of how close you are.

Your toes are still tucked under his leg, and the warmth of your body seeps through the denim of his jeans. Joel swallows hard, trying to ignore the way his heart is racing.

"Another song?" you ask, your voice soft and slightly husky from the whiskey.

Joel clears his throat. "Sure," he manages, repositioning the guitar.

Joel starts strumming again, this time a slower, more mournful tune. His fingers find the familiar chords of an old country ballad, something he used to play for Sarah when she was real little. Before the weight of being a single dad started to apply pressure.

The memories threaten to overtake him, but he forces them down, focusing instead on the way the light flickers across your face. He can feel the heat of your body against his leg, the whiskey making everything feel soft and blurry around the edges. His voice is lower now, almost a whisper, like he's singing just for you.

Joel sings a couple more songs, a few at your request.

"That was really good," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. There's something in your gaze that makes Joel shiver - it’s a weakness, a longing that mirrors something deep inside himself.

When he looks at the clock again it’s 12:30.

“We completely missed new years,” Joel points to the clock and chuckles. He had completely forgotten that’s why he came over here originally. Once the music started, everything else kind of faded away.

It was just the two of you while the rest of Jackson, and possibly the rest of the world stopped existing in that short time.

“I was havin’ a good time,” you’re still smiling at him and now he can see how glassy they are from the whiskey.

“Y’look like y’were havin’ a good time, darlin’.” Joel smiles and starts to stand up from the couch. It’s not until he’s standing directly in front of you realize what’s happening, Joel watches your eyes shift and change.

Are you panicking?

“Are… were–” you cut yourself off and shake your head, waving a hand at Joel dismissively. “Nevermind. Thank you for coming over.” When you turn to look at him, your eyes are rimmed with a glossy sheen. The whites of your eyes had turned a hazy shade of red.

“S’wrong?”

You shrug your shoulders, your sweater falling off your shoulder again. You don’t notice and twirl your whiskey glass in your hand slowly. “Nothin’. I had a good time… just sad you gotta go.”

Joel knows he shouldn’t, but he gently replaces your sweater, his fingers lingering on the warm skin of your collarbone for a moment before he pulls away. “I’m all outta songs, sweetheart.”

“You don’t wanna stay?”

Joel swallows hard and then cuts you off, “For what?” Joel whispers it and you snap your head up to look at him, almost as astonished as he is. Joel knows that the liquor and the way you had been looking at him all night is a recipe for disaster.

Make me leave, please. Kick me out. Don’t ask me to stay again because I won’t be able to say no.

You finish the last of your whiskey before setting your glass down on the coffee table in front of your couch.

“You know what.”

“I do… but we’ve been drinkin’... ‘n I don’t want ya’ regretti–”

“What is there to regret?” you whisper. Your hand snakes into his and Joel doesn’t pull his away or nothing. “You gotta know more songs.”

Joel sits down beside you again, sighing loudly like this is a giant inconvenience to him, but a part of him knows that this isn’t going to end–

Not at all.

Once he takes you upstairs, it’s over for the both of you. It’s like he can taste it in the air.

“One more,” Joel nods his head at you. “Then I’m leavin’.”

He and you both know that’s not true.

His fingers find their holds on the neck of the guitar and he looks over at you before he strums the first note.

You shy away from him, tucking your toes back under his thigh. Joel lifts his leg slightly so you can slip them deeper under his leg.

There's no stronger wind than the one that blows Down a lonesome railroad line No prettier sight than looking back On a town you left behind There is nothin' that's as real As your face that's on my mind

Joel changes the lyrics just a little, and he doesn’t know if you notice, or even if you know this song. He's not ready to sing about love, not at all.

He confidently sings you the next part though.

Close your eyes I'll be here in the morning Close your eyes I'll be here for a while

hopefully y'all had a better time than I did.

love you all so so much

#jackson!joel #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel plays the guitar #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fics #pedro pascal character #joel tlou

177 notes · View notes

redvexillum · 3 days ago

Text

A/N: Hoe, Hoe, Hoe! Happy Holidays, folks! Can you believe it? We've made it to Day 25, and there's just one more story left before Smutmas officially comes to a close! This story is particularly special to me because it's a direct sequel to one of my very first ventures outside my comfort zone—Off Script—where I took on the challenge of writing Alastor as a sub. I really hope you all enjoy it! I did my best to keep him in character, so fingers crossed it hits the mark. And finally—Kit, let’s both finish Smutmas tomorrow with a… bang!

SUMMARY: Alastor thought he was being clever when he snuck extra spices into your gingerbread mix, but his bratty antics had consequences he clearly wasn’t prepared for. As sweet as you usually are, you’re also a master of dominance, and tonight, Alastor learns exactly what that means.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, pleasure dom! reader, bratty sub! alastor, alastor has a tail, oral sex, overstimulation, pegging, anal plug, aftercare, p in v, fluffy-wuffy, no ANGST (because people be thinking I'm writing angstmas??? >:U)

The first time you broached the topic of introducing your particular interests in the bedroom to Alastor, it did not go as planned. In fact, it spiralled into an entirely unforeseen direction. He veered off script, revealing an unexpected side of himself. It didn’t take long for you to realize something that honestly shouldn’t have been too surprising: Alastor was, perhaps, the most delightfully bratty submissive you had ever encountered.

At first, you had been hesitant, cautious even, testing the waters with a delicate touch. You started slow, pinning his wrists above his head while straddling him, your slick folds gliding teasingly along the hard length of his cock. His body was tense beneath you, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he fought to remain still. And yet, you could see it—the flicker of amusement, the glint of curiosity, and the unspoken challenge in his ruby eyes.

“Darling,” he rasped, his voice a mix of feigned irritation and genuine arousal, “you do realize I am the one in control here.”

You leaned closer, your lips brushing his ear. “Oh, of course, love. It’s all for you,” you whispered, your voice dripping with honeyed submission, knowing full well how the words would stoke his ego.

That balance—teasing the line between control and surrender—was crucial with Alastor. He was willing to explore these new dynamics with you as long as he felt the game was his to win. Over time, these intimate games deepened your connection, building trust in a way neither of you had anticipated.

It was in these moments of play that you discovered just how much he enjoyed being edged. He saw it as a competition, a challenge, and every false word of bravado he muttered only made you more determined.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted one evening, his hands tied above his head as you licked a slow stripe along the underside of his cock. His body betrayed him, trembling with the effort of restraint even as he smirked.

“Oh, you’ll see what I’ve got,” you replied sweetly, revelling in the sharp gasp that escaped him as you abruptly stopped, leaving him throbbing and desperate.

In time, Alastor even began to participate in choosing the tools for your escapades. When you brought out a selection of dildos, he would inspect them with a meticulousness that was almost comical, tilting his head and tapping his chin as though he were selecting fine wine.

“That one,” he’d say with a grin, pointing to the one you knew he loved. And when you took your time with him, thrusting the toy deep into his ass while your lips wrapped around his cock, he would surrender so completely it left you breathless. His body would go slack, his head tilting back as he moaned your name, every line of tension melting away. In those moments, he was utterly yours, and the vulnerability he showed was nothing short of beautiful.

But, as you learned, this came with its own set of challenges.

Take the time you had decided to edge him for hours as “punishment” for one of his pranks—spiking your tea with a hellpeppers just to see your reaction. He had whimpered, begged, and finally come undone in a way that left him breathless. But instead of deterring him, it only seemed to spur him on. From that day forward, his pranks became more frequent, each one more mischievous than the last, as though he were daring you to make good on your “punishments.”

Like today.

You had been looking forward to baking gingerbread cookies, humming softly to yourself as you worked. But when you took a bite of the first batch, you nearly gagged. The sweetness was overwhelmed by a fiery burn that made your eyes water. Whirling around, you saw him standing there, hands clasped behind his back, his signature grin stretching impossibly wide.

“Alastor!” you snapped, pointing accusingly at the tray of ruined cookies. “Did you do this?”

His laugh was a low, melodic hum, a sound that made your skin tingle. “Why, my dear, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” he replied, though his twitching nose and barely contained snicker betrayed him.

You narrowed your eyes, stalking toward him as he took a step back, his grin faltering just slightly. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” you said, your voice syrupy sweet and laced with intent.

The sharp click of your teeth echoed in the quiet kitchen as you fought to rein in the rising tide of frustration. Your eye twitched, your hands curling into fists at your sides as you surveyed the latest in a string of sabotages. The day had started with a simple enough task: helping Charlie decorate the hotel with festive holiday cheer. It should have been done in two hours. Two. Instead, six gruelling hours later, you were still at it, thanks to Alastor’s relentless interference.

Like a mischievous shadow, he’d been everywhere, undoing your progress with a gleeful flourish, all while flashing that infuriating grin.

Now, staring at the ruined cookie dough—a batch you’d painstakingly mixed, rolled, and shaped—your patience finally hit its breaking point. The thought of starting over from scratch, gathering ingredients, kneading dough, and baking again made your stomach churn.

But just as you were about to storm off searching for a quiet space to collect yourself, something stopped you.

The faintest movement caught your eye—the way the back of Alastor’s coat fluttered as he turned, the eager, almost expectant glint in his eyes as he glanced your way.

And then it hit you.

The realization came as a sharp pang of guilt. Between the influx of new sinners at the hotel, Charlie’s relentless schedule of events, and your constant involvement in helping out, you’d been neglecting Alastor. It hadn’t been intentional, but you couldn’t deny it either. Months had passed where you’d barely seen him outside of fleeting interactions, let alone shared any meaningful moments together. Even the intimacy of the bedroom had been replaced by nights spent alone in your own room.

You sighed softly, the frustration in your chest shifting into something else—understanding, perhaps even regret. Of course, Alastor, with his peculiar ways, wouldn’t simply say he missed you. That wasn’t his style. No, this was his way of communicating, as exasperating as it was endearing.

Walking toward him, your demeanour softened. Your fingers grazed lightly down the front of his chest, the movement enough to draw his attention. His grin faltered for just a moment as you spoke, your voice low and soft.

“I’m going to my room,” you murmured, offering no further explanation as you turned and walked away. You didn’t need to look back to know he would follow.

By the time you stepped into your room, the shadows shifted, and Alastor materialized before you with his usual dramatic flair.

“Already, darling?” he chimed, his tone as jovial as ever. “Oh, I pity poor Charlie for hiring someone who can’t manage such a simple task,” he teased, his grin widening as he prodded at your lingering frustration.

But this time, instead of rising to his bait, you smirked. Slowly, deliberately, you closed the distance between you, your eyes never leaving his. His playful expression faltered, just slightly, as you leaned in, resting your head against his chest.

“I’m so disappointed, Alastor,” you whispered, your voice carrying a softness that belied the weight of your words. His body stiffened beneath your touch, and a shiver ran through him as your fingers deftly began to unbutton his shirt.

“You’ve been so bad these last few weeks,” you continued, each syllable dripping with quiet reprimand.

Alastor’s breath hitched as the fabric slipped from his shoulders, exposing his skin to the dim light of your room. “Oh, that’s what I do best,” he quipped, though his voice trembled slightly, betraying the bravado in his words.

With a gentle push, he stumbled back onto the bed, his legs spreading instinctively as he leaned back on his arms. His cock twitched, already hardening, as he watched you climb onto him with methodical slowness.

“And what will you do about it, darling?” he goaded, his tone laced with challenge.

“Well,” you mused, straddling him without letting a single inch of your body touch his, “I suppose it’s only fair that I receive my recompense.”

Your fingers traced the sharp lines of his face, moving with tenderness that made him shudder beneath you. His grin faltered, his composure slipping as you let your touch wander downward. Your nails ghosted over his chest, tracing patterns against his skin, stopping just shy of his now achingly hard cock.

“Darling,” he rasped, his voice thick with need, his body trembling with the effort of restraint.

“Patience,” you whispered, a smirk playing at your lips as you leaned in closer. “After all, you’ve been so bad—surely you understand the importance of a little... delay.”

Alastor’s eyes burned with equal parts anticipation and defiance, but he made no move to stop you. For once, he was entirely at your mercy, and you intended to savour every moment.

“Since you love to play around so much,” you murmured, your gaze locking onto his piercing crimson eyes, “let’s playtogether, Al.”

Your words were honeyed, teasing, as your fingers finally wrapped firmly around the thick shaft of his cock. His breath hitched audibly, and for a fleeting moment, his ever-present grin wavered. That alone was victory enough, but you weren’t finished. Leaning in, you let your lips ghost over his, so close that your breath mingled with his.

“Hours, Alastor,” you whispered, your voice dripping with promise. “I’ll play with you for hours.”

The effect was immediate. His eyes fluttered closed, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from his lips. The usual bravado he wore like a mask began to crack under the slow, deliberate stroke of your hand. You could feel the way he melted into your touch, his body responding with a shiver as the tension in him ebbed away.

He no longer held back, no longer stifled the sounds he made or the soft confessions of what felt good beneath your touch. It had taken time, patience, and trust to reach this point, where he no longer masked his vulnerability in shame but surrendered to it with you.

You pressed your other hand to his chest, urging him back, and he complied without resistance, lying against the bed as you worked him with skilled hands. His cock throbbed hot and heavy in your grasp, silken beneath your palm as you pumped it with slow, deliberate strokes.

“D-Darling,” he breathed out, his voice trembling, his head falling back as his hips began to roll against your hand. His moans started low, rising in pitch as his body grew more desperate, his movements frantic in his chase for release.

You matched his urgency, your hand moving faster, guiding him closer to the edge. His foreskin slid over the glossy tip of his cock, only to be drawn back down, exposing the glistening head with each thrust. The slick sounds of your motions filled the room, mingling with his erratic breaths and soft cries.

“Darling, darling!” he cried out, his hips canting forward one last time before his release overtook him. Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted his chest, streaking his skin with creamy lines. His breath came in heavy, uneven pants as his body trembled in the aftershocks of pleasure. A haze of satisfaction clouded his crimson eyes, but beneath it, you saw the flicker of anticipation. He knew this wasn’t over.

Your fingers lazily dipped into the sticky warmth of his release, swirling through it before lifting to your lips. Your tongue darted out, tasting him with a soft hum of appreciation. “Mmm, it’s been a while, hasn’t it, Al?” you teased, pressing a lingering kiss to the oversensitive tip of his cock. He jolted, his hips bucking instinctively at the sudden contact.

“You haven’t been finding release without me, have you?” you asked, your voice sweet but laced with mischief.

“Hah!” His laugh was strained, tinged with his usual bravado as he tried to recover some semblance of control. “Please, darling, I can hold myself back just fine,” he quipped, though his eyes darted away, betraying him.

“Is that so?” you murmured, your tone light and teasing. Without warning, you leaned down, engulfing his still-soft cock with your mouth.

Alastor hissed sharply, his claws sinking into the bedsheets as you drew back his foreskin with your lips, swirling your tongue over his sensitive head. His body jerked beneath you, trembling as overstimulation began to set in.

“Ah, d-darling,” he panted, his voice shaky, the usual radio-filtered crackle distorted by the raw edge of his cries. “A-ah, ah!” His cock twitched weakly in your mouth, his body entirely at your mercy.

You didn’t relent, your tongue working over him with precision, coaxing out every last tremor of pleasure you could draw from him. His head fell back, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat, as his hands fisted the sheets in a futile attempt to ground himself. His breath came in ragged gasps, his voice breaking as he moaned your name again and again.

But you remained attuned to him, careful to read the signals of his body. Alastor, ever stubborn, would never admit when pleasure teetered on the edge of too much, and you wouldn’t let him push past his limits. For you, his pleasure was your greatest reward, the sight of him unravelling before you igniting a heat in your core that left you clenching and aching with need.

Still, you slowed your ministrations, pulling back just enough to let him breathe, to bask in the blissful haze that softened his sharp edges. His trembling body told you everything his words wouldn’t—that he trusted you completely, in this and in everything else.

The moment his thighs began to tremble, instinctively closing around your head, you knew it was time to stop. With a calculated precision, your lips tightened into a seal around his cock, sucking deeply one last time before pulling back. His length slipped free with a loud, wet pop, leaving him quivering and gasping beneath you.

Alastor's abdomen fluttered with each shallow breath, his chest rising and falling erratically as he tried to gather himself. A thin sheen of sweat coated his pale skin, catching the soft light and accentuating the slight tremor that rippled through him. His crimson eyes, glazed and unfocused, stared blankly at the ceiling, his usual composure nowhere to be found.

Your gaze softened as you admired the rare vulnerability etched into his features, but a spark of mischief flickered in your chest. Leaning forward, you dragged your tongue languidly along your middle and index fingers, wetting them thoroughly before trailing them downward. When you pressed the slick pads of your fingers against the tight ring of muscle between his cheeks, his entire body jolted as if struck by lightning.

His sharp intake of breath was followed by a low, trembling moan as his crimson eyes flicked downward, meeting yours. That familiar grin of his began to reappear, albeit strained, but you matched it with one of your own. Slowly, deliberately, you worked your fingers inside, the tight, hot walls clenching around you as you sank deeper.

“Ohhh,” he moaned, his voice pitching higher as his hips began an instinctive, grinding motion against your hand. Each stroke and press of your fingers sent shockwaves through his body, and you couldn’t help but relish the way he cried out your name, breathless and desperate.

“Is this what you missed, Alastor?” you murmured, your voice dripping with sultry amusement. The heat pooling between your thighs was almost unbearable now, your soaked underwear clinging to your skin. You punctuated your question with feather-light kisses along the sensitive curve of his balls, earning another full-body shudder from him.

“D-don’t be ridiculous,” he managed to huff out, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his bravado. His hips bucked against your hand, seeking more, needing you to go harder, deeper, faster. “You—hah—you’re the one who seems to need it more than I do!”

His words faltered into a broken cry as you curled your fingers inside him, pressing directly against his prostate. The reaction was instant—his cock, already half-hard, twitched violently before stiffening completely, precum dripping steadily from the swollen tip. Thin, sticky strands pooled on his stomach, glistening in the dim light.

“I-I c-can smell you,” he groaned, his voice cracking with static as the radio distortion flickered uncontrollably. “I can s-smell your arousal, d-darling.”

His eyes fluttered as he struggled to focus on you, the effort clear in the way his brows furrowed, and his lips parted with ragged breaths. You smiled wickedly, never ceasing the relentless rhythm of your fingers as you leaned in close.

“Is that your way of saying you want me to ride you, Alastor?” you teased, your tone saccharine sweet, as you slowly withdrew your fingers.

The way his ears flattened against his head and his lips pressed together to smother the pitiful whine that escaped him was nothing short of endearing. You straightened up, locking to his gaze as your hands moved to peel away your clothing.

One by one, the layers fell away, revealing more of your heated skin to him. Alastor’s crimson eyes darkened with unrestrained hunger, his slender fingers flying to his cock, stroking himself slowly as he devoured the sight of you. The moment your panties slid down your legs, his attention zeroed in on the dark, damp patch that clung to the fabric.

The sight of how soaked they were made his breath hitch. His grip on his cock tightened, his strokes quickening ever so slightly as he watched you stand before him, completely bare, the evidence of your arousal dripping down your thighs.

Picking up your damp underwear, you held it delicately between your fingers, bringing it close to Alastor’s face. His eyes, smouldering with unrestrained hunger, followed the movement intently. A sly grin curled your lips as you whispered, “Go on. I know you’ve been dying to taste me.”

In the past, he would have resisted—an adamant refusal to entertain such a base desire. But now? Now, his restraint was a distant memory. He eagerly took the fabric from your hand, his sharp grin widening as he pressed it to his lips. His tongue darted out, licking and suckling on the soaked material, his moans vibrating softly into the delicate fabric. He savoured every drop, his eyes fluttering shut as if lost in your essence.

While he indulged, you turned your attention to the drawer by the bed, fingers searching for a specific item. A soft laugh escaped you as you pulled out the toy you’d been looking for—one of his favourites. The memory of the day he wore it, the secret only the two of you shared as he moved through the hotel with it snug inside him, made heat rush to your cheeks.

The anal plug, adorned with curvy ridges and capped with a glittering pink heart at its base, glinted in the low light. Alastor froze mid-lick, his gaze snapping to the toy. His tail, which had been lazily swaying, thumped excitedly against the bed.

You teased him further, holding his gaze as you slowly lowered the plug to your wet core. You pressed the tip to your entrance, coating the ridges in your slick. Alastor’s breath hitched, and a groan slipped past his lips as he watched you pump the toy in and out of yourself, each movement deliberate, each moan of yours feeding his anticipation.

By the time you pulled the toy free, glistening and dripping with your arousal, Alastor had already lifted his legs, spreading them wide to present himself. His sharp grin turned expectant, almost demanding, his crimson eyes glinting with challenge and desire.

You chuckled at his eagerness, running your free hand along the curve of his thigh. “Patience, darling,” you murmured. He squirmed beneath you, his cock twitching against his stomach as you pressed the slick plug against his entrance. Slowly, you began to work it in, the ridges catching slightly against his tight walls before sliding deeper, inch by inch.

Alastor’s breath came out in stuttering gasps, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as the plug seated itself fully to the base. His cock throbbed, a bead of precum trailing down to pool on his stomach. He looked utterly wrecked, his body trembling and his chest heaving as he adjusted to the sensation of fullness.

But you weren’t done. Without giving him a moment to recover, you straddled his hips, gripping his throbbing length and guiding him to your entrance. In one fluid motion, you sank down onto him, taking him to the hilt. His reaction was instant—a sharp gasp, his hands flying to your hips as his back arched off the bed before collapsing again.

The tight heat of you gripping him drove him wild. His cock twitched inside you, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through both your bodies. But your focus wasn’t on his body—it was on his expression. His usually sharp grin softened, his crimson eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. His body trembled beneath yours, the rare vulnerability in him stirring a possessive warmth in your chest.

He hummed low in his throat, a sound of pure, unfiltered delight, as you leaned forward. Pinning his wrists beside his head, you met his gaze, your movements slow at first. Each roll of your hips elicited a delicious tremor from him, his breath climbing with every downward thrust.

“Y-you’re i-insatiable, d-darling,” he managed, his voice trembling as your pace quickened.

You smiled wickedly, increasing the rhythm, the sound of skin meeting skin mingling with his stuttering breaths and deep moans. His sharp cries soon gave way to something softer, more desperate, as his body began to tense beneath you. His head fell back, exposing the long line of his neck as his eyes squeezed shut.

“Look at me, Alastor,” you commanded softly, and his gaze snapped back to yours. The raw, unguarded desire and faint embarrassment in his expression sent a thrill through you. His cries grew louder, his hands flexing against your grip as he reached his peak.

With one final, broken moan, his body shuddered violently beneath yours, his cock twitching as he spilled into you. The hot flood of his release filled you, his seed coating your walls as he gasped for air. His body remained taut for a moment before he melted into the bed, utterly spent, his eyes glazed with lingering satisfaction.

Catching your breath, your body hummed with unresolved need, but it didn’t matter. Watching Alastor surrender beneath you, unravelling with every calculated touch, was pleasure enough.

His lips were parted, a thin line of saliva glistening at the corners as his chest rose and fell in uneven gasps. The edges of his crimson eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his expression—dazed, undone—was utterly intoxicating. His usual composed veneer had crumbled, leaving him bare in every sense.

A quiet chuckle escaped you as you finally lifted yourself from his trembling form, feeling the warm trickle of his release sliding down your thighs. “We’re not done yet, Al,” you teased, your voice carrying a sing-song lilt. “We still have one more of your favourites, remember?” Reaching for the strap-on, you held it up—a big, crimson silicone cock gleaming in the dim light, its impressive weight resting heavy in your hands.

You caught the way his body tensed, his tail twitching in anticipation, but there were no sharp remarks, no coy retorts. He was beyond that now, surrendering completely. With a sluggish roll, he shifted onto his stomach, his cheek pressing into the bed as his hips lifted, presenting himself to you. His red-and-white tail puffed out and flicked upward, revealing the sparkling jewel of the heart-shaped plug still nestled snugly within him.

“Good boy,” you purred, and his tail wagged weakly in response. His fingers reached back, spreading himself open, stretching his cheeks taut in a silent plea.

You smiled, strapping the harness to your hips, the familiar weight grounding you in this moment. Slowly, deliberately, you began easing the plug from his entrance. Each inch coaxed a muffled whimper from him as he buried his face in the mattress, his body trembling beneath your hands. The resistance gave way, and with a final tug, the jewelled plug slid free, leaving his entrance clenching and exposed.

The sight of him, so open, so needy, sent a surge of heat pooling low in your core. You rested a hand on his hips, guiding the slicked synthetic cock to his waiting entrance. Without hesitation, you thrust forward in one fluid motion, burying yourself to the hilt.

Alastor choked on a cry, his body jolting forward before he melted into the bed, a low, guttural moan spilling from his lips. His claws raked over the blankets, shredding the fabric in a desperate bid for control.

But there was none to be had—not here, not now.

You set a relentless rhythm, your hips snapping forward with precision, filling him over and over. The wet slap of skin meeting skin filled the room, mingling with his muffled cries and the breathless moans you couldn’t suppress. The way his body clenched around you, his walls tightening with every thrust, only spurred you on.

“Ah—ah—darling,” he panted, his voice breaking into a mix of static and white noise as pleasure overwhelmed him. His body arched beneath you, his hips rolling back to meet your thrusts with desperation.

“You like this, don’t you?” you murmured, your breath hot against his ear. “Being filled so completely… You’re so beautiful like this, Al.”

His only response was a shattered moan, his body spasming violently as he came again, thick ropes of his release painting the ruined bed beneath him. But even as his trembling form sagged into the mattress, you didn’t stop.

“Isn’t this fun, Alastor?” you panted, your grin wicked as you leaned over him, your pace unrelenting. “I could do this all night.”

His claws curled into the shredded fabric, his body shaking with overstimulation as he gasped and whimpered beneath you. He was utterly wrecked, undone, every piece of him yours in this moment—and it was everything you had missed.

Your hands slid to either side of his trembling frame, hovering over him as you moved with deliberate intensity. His voice had dissolved into a symphony of broken moans and guttural grunts, his ears pinned flat against his head in a rare display of vulnerability. Leaning closer, your breath ghosted over his ear as you purred, “Let me see your face, Al. Don’t rob me of my pleasure.” Your fingertips traced the back of his head, the touch tender yet insistent.

He shivered at your words, slowly turning his head to meet your gaze. His lips hung open, strands of saliva pooling beneath his cheek. His crimson eyes, distant and unfocused, shimmered with tears that spilled in streaks down his flushed cheeks. And yet, despite his unravelling, the faint trace of a grin lingered—a testament to his unyielding spirit.

“More?” you asked, voice laced with teasing affection. Alastor’s only reply was a low, ragged moan as his hips pressed back against you, silently pleading. A soft chuckle escaped you as your fingers danced down the curve of his spine, drawing a visible shudder from him. “You really are a masochist, aren’t you, Al?” you murmured, your words barely above a whisper.

When his moans faltered into silence, his teeth clenching as he fought to muffle the smallest of whimpers, you knew he’d reached his limit. Carefully, you slowed your movements, easing out of him with a touch as gentle as a whisper. Both of you were coated in a thin sheen of sweat, your breath coming in soft pants as you sat back.

Alastor lay trembling, his body spent and quivering in the aftermath. Every so often, his legs would twitch, jolting with the lingering aftershocks of overstimulation. His hand reached out, trembling and seeking, and you didn’t hesitate to meet it, intertwining your fingers with his. The silent gesture spoke volumes—his need for your warmth, your gentleness, your grounding presence.

With care, you removed the strap-on, setting it aside before sliding into the bed beside him. Your body folded seamlessly into his, your hand cradling his as you pressed a tender kiss to his knuckles. His half-lidded eyes locked onto yours, filled with exhaustion and unspoken affection, unable to look away.

Smiling softly, you lifted his hand, your lips brushing over each finger with reverence. One by one, you kissed his thumb, his index finger, trailing your touch over his palm. The gesture was unhurried, filled with tenderness, as you snuggled closer to him, your lips finding the curve of his shoulder.

A warm chuckle rumbled low in his chest, his voice soft and worn. “Darling,” he rasped, his tone laden with affection as his tail gave a lazy thump against the bed. He sighed deeply, basking in the featherlight kisses that travelled up his neck and over his face. His cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyelids—all received your gentle attention before your lips finally found his.

The kiss lingered, a soft press of emotion and intimacy. When you pulled back, his voice, though hoarse, carried a familiar teasing lilt. “You’ve been far too busy this month,” he murmured, his crimson eyes slowly opening to meet yours.

Your heart swelled, warmed by the rare vulnerability in his gaze. You smoothed back a stray strand of hair from his face, your fingers brushing his skin with care. “I have, haven’t I?” you answered softly. Your lips curved in a tender smile as you leaned down to kiss him again, the touch light, barely there. “I missed you,” you whispered against his lips, your voice thick with sincerity.

He chuckled again, though it was tired and weak. “And yet, you chastise me about your cookies,” he teased, his grin slipping back into place.

“Ruining my cookies,” you corrected with a mock glare, your tone playful.

“You love it when I spice up your – ah – cookies,” he countered, his voice carrying a faint echo of words he’d said long ago—a callback to the early days of trust and intimacy you’d built together.

A soft giggle bubbled from your lips as you pressed your forehead against his, your eyes brimming with affection for the cunning, mischievous demon you adored. “You’re such a silly man,” you whispered, nuzzling your nose against his.

His arms came around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear was a comforting reminder of the unspoken bond you shared. In that quiet moment, you held each other close, the world beyond forgotten. Only the warmth of his body and the soft hum of his love remained.

“And you, my darling, are my special girl,” he murmured, his voice a tender caress against the quiet of the room. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head, his lips warm and soft. Slowly, his breathing steadied, each exhale becoming longer, deeper, until it melted into the gentle rhythm of sleep.

You stayed there, cradled in his embrace, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. A gentle smile tugged at your lips as your fingers traced small, absent-minded patterns along his side. The warmth of his words lingered in your heart, a balm to the chaos and distance of recent days.

As you listened to the quiet thrum of his heartbeat, you made a silent promise to yourself. Next time, you’d find ways to give him the attention he deserved, to show him how much he meant to you—perhaps even preempt whatever mischievous “spicing up” he might dream up to draw your focus.

For now, though, your heart felt full, brimming with love and contentment. Snuggling closer to him, you let yourself be enveloped in his warmth, your body fitting perfectly against his. The steady cadence of his heart matched your own, the two rhythms intertwining as if they were always meant to be.

You closed your eyes, a peaceful smile lingering on your lips. Wrapped in his arms, you let sleep claim you, your dreams filled with the love you shared and the quiet promise of all the moments yet to come.

Please follow #DRP Smutmas 2024 to get all the latest updates of our stories!

Wanna hang out with me? Come talk to me at Voxtek Server!

159 notes · View notes