#it is nice having someone do them for you

[yerchokito]

PRETTY KITTY TURNS PRETTY HORNY .ᐟ FT SATORU GOJO

synopsis - finally you decided to adopt a new friend at the adoption centre! only, he wants to be more that friends…

warnings - p in v, brief oral sex (fem receiving) unprotected sex, slight manipulation(?) creampie, shitty smut, petname: master used mockingly, not thoroughly proofread, talk of potential children, lowk masochist gojo, ect ect. fem reader

notes - yay I finally got this out! lol it honestly did get a bit sloppy at the end but I wanted to get this out b4 christmas!enjoy! the smut is lowkey short but I don’t want to fix it..

edit - I just realised I posted this on his death date

Phew, you did it.

You finally grew a pair and adopted a newly rescued snow-leopard hybrid! After months of your self-pitying you managed to convince yourself to adopt a friend!

You spent many, many hours contemplating on whether to actually adopt. And many hours more watching sad videos on hybrids, how mistreated they are out of the adoption centre.

That was more than enough to convince you.

Now you have an exotic hybrid of your own! And he’s just the cutest little—er big thing! He’s got fluffy little ears, a handsome face, striking blue eyes, and the fluffiest tail in the world!

You’ve learnt a lot about him. His name is Satoru Gojo, around the same age as you! Unfortunately, he spent a lot of his life in illegal fighting rings. Poor thing almost got killed a while back. Luckily, his caretakers at the agency have had no aggression problems with him! He’s affectionate, friendly, reckless at times, but overall great to have as a first time owner!

He’s really—really big. His head just about reaches the ceiling of your small apartment. It's gonna be hard finding clothes for the man. Let alone a bed.

But that’s all a problem for future you!

Packing him in the car was a hefty thing, his tallness being the main problem, a little cramped (he had to lay half his body on the floor) but it worked in the end!

As soon as you bought the little—uh, big critter home, you pampered him with affections. Petting his head, rubbing his ears, scratching under his chin all that stuff that makes him mushy in the brain!

The only problem would be leaving him alone… he’s fairly clingy. You’ll just have to work on that. He seems capable enough. Hopefully…

Note to self: get a baby cam.

˗ˏˋ — ˎˊ˗

Maybe this was a mistake.

Satoru’s a really good guy, he’s friendly, definitely affectionate and really clingy. All good qualities that you love about him!

But, there are qualities you come to… dislike, so to say.

He’s bratty. defiant against your house rules, a back-talker.

He always wants attention. Pushing things off counters or using his tail to block your eyes whenever he wants to annoy you.

He’s very manipulative. Using his wide eyes to trick you—or anyone—into giving him sweets!

He’s also unbearably horny, probably his worst trait. Always trying to rub against you, heck even mount you! For someone so angelic-looking, he sure ain’t an angel.

And you can name a couple of… embarrassing incidents.

Incident #1

“Hey—Toru! What are you doing, stop that!” You shout, trying to push him back and away from— wait, are those your panties he has in your mouth!

“Satoru! Bad boy, get those out of your mouth!” You splutter, face flushing red.

But, apparently you adopted the devil.

He tilts his head in an innocent way, ears flopping to the side as he deviously munches on your precious—and very expensive—underwear.

You try to wrestle them away from his maw, unlucky for you, you’ve also adopted an abnormally tall hybrid. His innocent act drops as he dangles them above your head, laughing at your embarrassment.

Of course, he gave it back. Not without it slicked in his spit and now turned crotchless.

It was… not a great moment for you or your hopes of being dominant over him.

Incident #2

It’s a nice sunny morning, you got up earlier than your alarm, made a nice breakfast, and finally got that darned work assignment finished.

A peaceful day.

Until your precious kitty takes his biting urges on you.

“Satoru, do-don’t bite meee!” You whine, once again trying to push away the snarky beast. God, why must he be twice your size.

He chuffs, pining you with his weight as he nibbles at your skin. Tail swaying mischievously behind him.

“Mn—be still, lemme jus’…” He whispers. Devious man he is. His nibbling becomes full-blown bites, decorating your neck and collarbone in a bazillion bite marks.

Satoru only giggles at your pathetic attempts of squirming away. Pfft, you think he’ll let you walk away? Nothing gets away from his keen eyes.

Needless to say, the bite marks were not a fashion statement at work. Didn’t really capture as many complements as it did laughter.

Note to self: Invest in a muzzle.

Incident #3

Now, maybe this is your fault. You did notice the change in behaviour, he’s always been clingy— the staff at the agency did say he was… the possessive type. But! You didn’t notice the possessiveness until now! So it’s not entirely your fault.

Okay, maybe his growling at your friend— male, should you note— was a teensy red flag, the constant butting of his head against you was also alerting you. So you maybe-sorta-should’ve predicted this.

Maybe if you realised that Satoru is not entirely human (even though he acts like it), you would’ve remembered he has an amazing sense of smell.

“aaahnn… mornin’ Toru’, how did you sleep hm?” you yawn. The lack of response is unnerving, and rude.

“Hey now, ts’ not nice to ignore me, Satoru.” Again silence, wait—what the-?

“Oof! Satoru—gah!—get off!” You struggle, your overgrown hybrid kitty has decided to pounce on you, his full weight crushing you.

“H-hey—oh!” Did.. did you feel that correctly, is your boy.. oh gosh.

“Mrrow…mn, you smell s’ good.” His breath is hot against your neck, sniffing at your throat, his fuzzy ears rubbing under your chin.

“Mnh—heat, in heat? mrr..” He purrs, big hands encasing yours as the big idiot rocks his hips against your backside— oh my.

“H-huh? No, down Satoru! Bad boy—ooh!—don-don’t!” You try not to moan out as he ruts against you. Licking at the nape of your neck, almost mockingly.

“Heh— shh, I’ll take care of ya. Aw’ you’re so small compared to me..” Satoru breathes, chuckling like he always does.

…

Lets just say, Satoru has become real good friends with the spray bottle.

Note to self: Get him neutered.

˗ˏˋ — ˎˊ˗

And there are way more incidents as… sexual as these ones. You love the big guy, he’s cuddly, got a fuzzy head, really warm, but he seems to really enjoy mounting you. Like, really badly.

He’s become a menace! I mean, you knew he wasn’t neutered, but you didn’t think he’d be interested in you!

It's almost everyday he tries to get in your pants! Gotta hand it to him, he’s really persistent.

Well, you won’t be taking any of his nonsense today!

“Satoru! Breakfast!” You yell out. You hear him scurrying around the corner, jeez food fein.

“Heh, mm waffles..” He purrs at your feet, nuzzling against the back of your knee.

He wraps his tail around your ankle, hands gently kneading at your leg. Nose twitching at the sugary smells.

“You hungry, sweetie?” You coo, petting the big oafs head.

Awh, maybe you’re being too harsh on him. He’s your baby, he doesn’t know any better!

˗ˏˋ — ˎˊ˗

Oh who were you kidding, of course he knows what he’s doing! Why are you so gullible?

What was supposed to be a nice, calm, peaceful, non-sexual breakfast, ends up with your mischievous kitty munching on your pussy instead!

He’s got your legs up, knees having small-talk to your shoulders whilst he ��quite literally— devours you.

“Satoruuu!— don’t do thaah! Oh!” You squeak. You weakly push on his head, trying to get him away from your front.

Unfortunately, Satoru is a determined cat.

“Mnn, be still. M’ hungry.” He purrs between your legs, the vibrations of his voice send tingles up your spine.

For Satoru, that delicious nectar leaking out of you is heavenly. Until this thin, pathetic piece of fabric ruins his meal. If only he could just…

rripp!

“H-huh? S’toru! Those were expensiveee— haa!” You scold. well, try to. It’s hard to speak when you’re literally breathless.

He tongues at your now naked pussy, slurping all that gooey goodness you so graciously produce. So sweet.

He pulls back, your cunt and his mouth connected by a sloppy string of spit. He coo’s and presses a kiss hard against your clit, making you twitch and moan.

Out of the corner of your eye you see the devil incarnate smiling so sweetly, his tail curling around your ankle. What was once a sweet gesture is now no longer reassuring.

Your ‘innocent’ kitty now has free rein to your more… primal parts. The stronger scent pulls on Satoru’s will, he whines at the sudden, yet aggressive urge to bury himself inside you.

Hmm maybe he should.

Hoisting himself up, Satoru leans back on his calves, admiring the little mess he’s made of you. Flushed red, panting, drooling, and completely high on the pleasure. His pants tighten.

He’s been blessed with such a cute owner!

˗ˏˋ — ˎˊ˗

Plap! Plap! Plap!

“Haa— d’aww don’t be so shy, master. Heh—fhuck!” Said the devil incarnate, mockingly.

Satoru is a condescending bunch, cute but really full of himself. It’s shows in his way of fucking.

He has you on your back, legs resting on his broad shoulders as he literally folds you in half. Your head is just reeling, your face is covered in his spit, hairline all sweaty, jaw hanging open, and you're burning all over!

His cock is big, too big. It nearly split you in half when he tried to fit it in. He’s never been a patient kitty.

“Awhhh— masterrrr, you’re tightenin’ up sho’ muchhh…” He purrs. Tail swaying mockingly.

Leaning forward, Satoru nuzzles his ears against your cheek, wanting to be pet.

Unfortunately, you’re incoherent to his requests. Too focused on the harsh rutting of his cock into your sticky cunt.

“Heyyy… pet meee,” He whines, “Hm? Heh— tappin’ out already?” His eyes gleam with mischievous-ness as he grins a toothy grin. You’re not gonna make it out alive.

He bites his lip, giggling at your pleasured face. If only he could take a picture, save this moment forever. He cups your face, caressing your sweaty cheeks, then presses a loving kiss to your lips.

“Mwah! Hehe— you’re so cute,” He whispers against your lips.

In midst of this somewhat sweet moment, the pace of Satoru rolling his hips against you increases. Then turning into him full on slamming his hips into yours, huffing as he focuses on pounding you into next week.

All you can do is grip onto him, tugging on his ears. He moans pornographically, drooling as you harshly grip his sensitive ears. The painful yet pleasant sensation sparks something new in Satoru.

With the intent to breed, Satoru turns you over. His chest to your back as he leans his weight on you, arms wrapping tightly around your sweaty skin.

This new position gives Satoru a better chance at giving you some cute mini him’s!

“Oh! Oh!—Toruuu’!” You squeal, tears now brimming in your eyes at the overwhelming feeling that is undoubtedly him.

Without warning, you cum. Hole clenching and spasming and coating his lower body in a translucent liquid.

“Hm—hah— I knew you wan—ahn—wanted me!” He mewls, quickly pounding in and out, creating a wet ‘schlick!’ sound.

Oh you’re so perverted! Letting your precious kitty take you like this!

You’ll never live this down.

Satoru doesn’t seem to care.

“Oooh— m’ cumming, nng— masterrr!” He moans, non-stop humping into your creamy pussy, drooling all over you.

“Not—not insideee! Toru’!” You cry out, pushing your hips back to get him off of you, it does the opposite.

His tail wraps around your thigh as he cums. It splurts frantically inside of you, his cock twitching violently as he whines in pleasure.

It’s hot, sticky and definitely a thick load. It feels endless, liquidy rope after rope. But it feels so refreshing.

He pulls out (you didn’t think he would), nuzzling and purring at the nape of your neck. Innocently licking at your tear-stricken cheeks.

…

It’s been so long since you last experienced this pleasure.

You’ll definitely regret this later.

˗ˏˋ — ˎˊ˗

Oh god, why did you do that!

Having sex with a hybrid is just a different type of low, even for you!

Oh jeez, you're just as perverted as him! Oh whywhywhywhy! He was just supposed to be a companion! Not a—

“Mrr, pet meee..” Satoru whines, pawning at your chest. He’s back to his old self again.

Mostly. He’s become more… confident in his abilities over you. Let’s just say after your regrettable (not in his eyes) playtime with him, he has no restraint on mounting you now. The idiots even started humping you in public!

Which is why you’ve been leaving him at home.

Now more than ever, you two spend a lot of time together. Mostly consisting of naps, him licking you, more naps, eating… recreational activities, blah blah blah. He now sleeps on your bed, he’s more like an overstayed one night stand than an exotic cat.

At Least he’s extra cuddly!

[misswynters]

Royal Harbinger

featuring. ekko x princess! reader

Hailing from the Grand Kirzean Empire, you were a princess. The only one wielding the blood technomagic abilities. Having such powerful abilities yet you are one of the most sweetest person, ekko has ever bet.

Glittering starlight pierced through the thick smog that veiled Zaun, casting faint halos of silver over the jagged metal and broken cobblestone streets. Neon lights pulsed faintly from signs above cluttered alleyways, their buzzing hum blending into the mechanical symphony of the Undercity. Amid the chaos, there stood a figure who seemed so out of place it was almost comical—wrapped in delicate silks and adorned with intricate, glowing lines of red that shimmered faintly with every step.

You, a princess of the a Grand Empire, wielder of forbidden blood technomagic, and to Ekko, someone who had no business wandering these parts.

Perched atop a railing on one of Zaun’s crumbling platforms, Ekko crossed his arms as he watched you. At first glance, you were every bit the image of innocence. That soft smile you offered the street urchins as you handed them what little supplies you’d brought from above. The way your delicate hands caressed the head of a stray Zaunite mutt, soothing its bony frame. Your voice, lilting like a melody, apologizing for taking up space in an already-crowded alley.

It didn’t make sense.

“Hey,” Ekko called from above, leaping down to land lightly on his feet a few steps away from you. “What are you doing here? This place isn’t exactly royal palace material, Princess.”

Your head turned, the faint light catching your gentle features. “Oh, Hi Ekko! I was just… exploring.”

“Exploring?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying an edge of disbelief. “Kirze’s finest blood mage is just out here sightseeing?”

The smile on your lips didn’t falter, though your fingers twitched at the mention of blood magic. “I needed to see this place for myself. You’ve told me so much about Zaun… I couldn’t stay away.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, glancing around. “Zaun isn’t exactly a tourist spot. Especially for someone like you. People see those glowing lines on your arms? They’ll think you’re carrying something valuable and won’t ask before taking it.”

You tilted your head, the light in your eyes curious rather than offended. “Is that why you’ve been following me for the past hour?”

His composure faltered, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the cobblestones. “But you don’t have to protect me, Ekko. I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, sure,” he scoffed. “Handle yourself like when that drunk guy in the bar tried to grab your hand last week, and you just smiled at him like he was your best friend?”

Your laugh was soft. “I didn’t want to cause a scene.”

“You’re too nice,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. “You’re in Zaun now. Being nice gets you hurt.”

But even as he said it, something about your presence made the buzzing tension in his chest loosen. Maybe it was the way you didn’t flinch at the harshness of his words, or the way your kindness didn’t feel forced. It wasn’t fake or performative—it just was.

Before he could say more, a low growl rumbled from a nearby alley. Ekko tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for the bat strapped to his back. Two figures emerged from the shadows, their faces obscured by bandanas, their postures predatory.

“See?” Ekko muttered, stepping in front of you. “This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

The larger of the two men chuckled, his voice gravelly. “A couple of lost little birds, eh? Let’s see what you’re hidin'.”

Ekko’s grip tightened on his bat, his stance shifting. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, well we do,” the smaller man sneered, pulling a knife from his belt.

Before Ekko could spring into action, a faint crimson glow bathed the alley. The air grew heavy, almost suffocating, as the markings on your skin flared to life. The metallic scent of blood hung in the air, and the two men froze, their bravado crumbling as their bodies seized up, limbs locking unnaturally.

Ekko turned, his jaw slack as he watched you step forward, your hand raised delicately. The men’s weapons clattered to the ground, and with a flick of your wrist, they crumpled, gasping for breath but unharmed.

“Leave,” you said, your voice calm but commanding, as if the very air bent to your will. The men scrambled to their feet and disappeared into the shadows without a second glance. The glow faded from your body as you turned back to Ekko, your serene smile returning as though nothing had happened. “See? I told you I could handle myself.”

He stared at you, his bat still half-raised. “What the hell was that?”

“Blood technomagic,” you said simply, brushing an invisible speck of dust from your sleeve. “It’s a bit… intimidating, I know. I don’t like using it unless I have to.”

“Intimidating?” he repeated, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “You just turned two full-grown men into rag dolls without breaking a sweat.”

You shrugged, your smile faltering slightly. “I don’t want people to see me as a monster. That’s why I try to be kind—to balance it out.”

“Balance it out?” Ekko stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not a monster, Firefly. You just saved both our asses.”

The nickname caught you off guard, your cheeks warming as you looked away. “You don’t have to call me that.”

“Uh! Yeah, I do,” he said, his tone softening. “You’re out here lighting up Zaun like no one else can.” Silence stretched between you for a moment.

“Come on,” Ekko said finally, offering you his hand. “Let’s get out of here before more trouble shows up.”

You hesitated, glancing down at his outstretched hand. Despite the power coursing through your veins, the ability to command life and death with a flick of your wrist, something about the gesture made you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to.

But then you took his hand, his grip warm and steady, and for the first time in a long while, you felt safe with him. As he led you through the winding streets of Zaun, he glanced back at you with a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know, Firefly, you’re full of surprises.”

“Jeez! You’re full of compliments,” you teased, your voice light despite the lingering weight in your chest.

“Do i?, or do you just deserve all the praise one can get.” he shot back, his grin widening.

. . .

Oh, how you wished that it was just the end. But it wasnt, not in a place like this. Soon after both smoke and ash swirled in the air, a haze of chaos and destruction painted Zaun’s underbelly in muted tones of gray and orange. Shattered pipes hissed steam into the atmosphere, nearly drowned out by the growing fires. The air was thick with tension, each explosion sending shockwaves through the cracked streets.

Amid the wreckage, Ekko’s heart raced as he sprinted through the winding alleys. His boots echoed sharply against the metal ground, his bat swinging at his side as his thoughts churned. Where are you?

He had only taken his eyes off you for a second, just one second. He thought you’d be right behind him as the bombs started going off, but when he turned, you were gone. He didn’t see the men closing in on you until it was too late.

Ekko gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting. He had heard of the Empire you were raised in and its unparalleled mastery of technomagic. But meeting you: sweet, kind, and carrying an unfathomable power, had shattered all his assumptions. You weren’t just a mage but a princess as well. But to him, you were simply you. His light in the dark. And now you were in danger. Seemingly.

When you woke, the metallic tang of blood clung to the air. The room was dim, lit only by the faint red glow of the bindings around your wrists. Your gown, once pristine and clean was dirty by the scuffle, and your heart pounded with a mixture of fear and adrenaline.

“Stay calm,” you whispered to yourself, your voice soft, barely audible.

A group of men stood a few feet away, speaking in low voices. Their uniforms were unmarked, and their expressions betrayed no fear as they glanced at you.

“They doesn’t look like much,” one of them sneered. “For someone called the 'Royal Vermilion of Chaos', I expected… more.”

“It’s a stupid nickname at that” someone else said, though you couldn’t see them.

You flinched inwardly but forced yourself to remain composed. “I don’t suppose you’d let me go if I said please?” you asked, your tone almost playful despite the trembling in your hands.

“Cute,” another said with a scoff as his hand cupped your face. “But we know what you are. What you’re capable of. Better to keep you tied up.”

Your smile faltered slightly as your blood hummed beneath your skin, an ever-present pulse of magic just waiting to be unleashed. You had always been careful, never letting your power consume you. But now, fear began to stir something unstable.

Ekko burst into the place like a storm, his bat taking down the first guard before the man could even draw his weapon. The second came at him with a blade, but Ekko ducked and swung upward, sending the man sprawling.

“Where is they?!” he growled, his voice echoing through the metallic halls.

The third guard hesitated, and Ekko pressed the bat against his chest. “Talk, or you won’t have the chance to regret it.”

“Down the hall,” the guard stammered, eyes wide. “In the main chamber!”

Ekko didn’t wait for anything else. He tore through the hallway, his chest tightening with every step.

The explosion was deafening. The bindings around your wrists melted away as your magic surged to life. Crimson veins glowed beneath your skin, and with a single wave of your hand, the room erupted in chaos. The men who had mocked you moments before were now scrambling, their weapons useless against the tidal wave of energy that lashed out.

Walls were cracked, the ceiling shuddered, and the air itself seemed to bend to your will. But as your power spiraled, a sharp pain shot through your arm. You looked down to see a jagged cut along your forearm, blood dripping onto the floor. The sight steadied you. Taking a deep breath, you channeled the magic inward, watching as the blood wove itself back into your skin. The wound closed, leaving only a faint scar that glimmered for a moment before fading. When the door burst open, you turned, your energy still crackling around you like a storm.

“Firefly!” Ekko’s voice broke through the chaos, and for a moment, you hesitated.

His eyes darted across the room, taking in the destroyed walls, the unconscious bodies, and you, standing at the center of it all. Your gown was soaked in blood, and your face bore streaks of crimson, but you were alive.

“Hi,” you whispered, relief flooding your voice.

In an instant, he was in front of you, his hands cupping your face. His thumbs brushed against the bloodstains on your cheeks, his eyes filled with worry. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” you said softly, a shaky smile forming. “But I think you should ask them if they’re okay.” You gestured to the men sprawled across the floor.

Ekko’s lips twitched, a short, breathless laugh escaping him. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you might disappear. “Y’know I was so scared,” he murmured into your hair, his voice cracking.

You hugged him back, your fingers curling into his jacket. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean for it to get this bad.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze intense. “This isn’t your fault. None of it is.”

You met his eyes, the tension slowly ebbing away as his warmth grounded you. For a moment, the chaos around you faded, leaving only the two of you.

“That was incredible, y’know?” he said, a teasing grin forming.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound light and genuine. “I’ll take that as one of your compliments.”

Ekko shook his head, his grin widening. “Come on, let’s get you out of here before you decide to redecorate the rest of Zaun.”

As you left the hideout, his arm stayed firmly around your shoulders, his presence a constant reassurance. Despite the destruction you had left behind, Ekko’s steady hand in yours made you feel like everything might just be okay.

Later, the two of you sat in the a garden. It was one of the few quiet, untouched spots in Zaun. Ekko couldn’t help but tease you. “So, Firefly,” he began, his tone playful. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “I wouldn’t hurt you, though.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softer now. “But next time, maybe warn me before you turn an entire room into a scene from a horror movie?”

You laughed, the sound bright and free, and Ekko felt his chest tighten. Despite everything, you were still you. His sweet, kind Firefly who somehow carried the weight of a mage’s power with grace. And as the neon lights of Zaun reflected in your eyes, Ekko leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you,” he said quietly, the words simple but sincere.

You smiled, leaning into him. “I love you too.” The two of you stayed at the garden until dawn. You were practically sleeping on his shoulder, exhausted from today, but he didn’t mind. Because he knew soon that you would have to leave, and god knows when he will see you again. So he wanted to cherish every moment he had with you.

taglist: @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights @chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct @celineandtulips @stuckinaoaktree @fxxvz @jadziulaa @luclue @1intrustivethoughts @finnsky666 @blkmystery @serena6728 @mvistl @kaedeprinz @alientee @ametheslime @turquoizxe @emforjin @ekkosh @tadomikiku @sugaaawaraaa @sunshiines-stuff @night-fall-moon @moonccakes @endedlover @autumn2534 @deathweapongirl @girlistrange @auraa @ilovesugurugeto69 @zwr1tx @bitchydragonparadisee @chewbrry @lashawna200 @xaydria @aliives @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @catsf0rlife707 @pixieswashere @adesum @sorrows-song @hearts4li @qualityearthquakes @honeyfewr @littlegrapejuice @potatointhedirt @comfortweeb

[covetyou]

solstice

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader  rating: Explicit (18+ only!)  warnings: smut (PiV), competency kink, grumpy/sunshine, he falls first, yearning, angst, almost enemies to lovers, Tommy being a little shit, no use of y/n, Jackson!Joel word count: 4k  summary: Three little words. Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days least of all.

A/N: happy holidays @trulybetty! thank you for being so lovely about this being a little late. I was only going to go for one or two of your prompts for the @pedrostories secret santa, but then my brain went why not all of them, and now here we are. 

divider by @saradika-graphics

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

Three little words.

"I got it."

Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days the least.

You said other things too, of course. He heard you speak to other people. Not always nicely, but he heard you. You said more to him on occasion too. Out my way or put it down were some particular favorites, but none said more so than those three, tiny, little words.

I got it.

Because you did. He had never met a woman who had got it more than you. Strong, capable, and everything he ever tried to be. He watched every day how you'd got it. Climbing up ladders with tiles stacked on your shoulder, hauling wheelbarrows full of gravel, chopping wood in bitter wind and cold. You had it, and he watched, wanting it too.

The only problem was, he wasn't too sure what it was.

To begin with, it was the respect you commanded that he yearned for. He had that, once. Not here. Fuck, never here. The people here would barely look at him for the first few weeks. But you? They listened to you. If you said move they listened, even if it was with a roll of their eyes. If you told someone to fuck off to medical, they went without a grumble. They trusted you. Even if you weren't particularly generous with your smiles.

You were the exact opposite of what Joel was finding he had to be.

In Boston, people feared him, and that kept him, and Tess, safe. It was for the best. The people here feared him too, at first. Maybe even still now, if he was to be honest with himself, but he'd worked hard to change that. He met the mumbled good mornings with as much of a smile as he could muster. He went for drinks with his brother, made small talk with the locals even when he didn't want to. He tried to get into Maria's good graces, but never quite succeeded.

And he worked. With you mostly. Jackson didn't have much use for hired muscle or someone who could smuggle shit discreetly - not outside of the daily patrol shifts they wouldn't let him on yet, anyway - but they did have use for contractors. Plumbers, electricians, carpenters, anyone who was good at doing shit with their hands. Those were things that had value behind these walls and, luckily for him, that meant he had value too. For the first time in a long time, he meant something to people.

Just not to you.

As much as he smiled, and made small talk, and helped out fixing shit in this place that was now his home, he could never get through to you. He'd try to help you out, only to be knocked aside - sometimes literally. You barely looked at him. Spoke only when necessary. Once, you'd even told him to fuck off.

He did.

At first he took it all personally. He moped, and kept his sour mood hidden from his brother and Ellie. Then, he saw how you were with, well, just about everyone else, and that lessened the sting.

But, as time wore on, Joel saw other things too. Where at first you'd seemed rude and abrasive, he now saw the kindness and compassion you treated everyone with. If you told someone to go the fuck home, it wasn't because you wanted them gone it was because you wanted them rested. If you let people struggle, strike their thumbs with a badly aimed hit of a hammer, it was to help them learn. You never did let anyone make the same mistake twice. And, because of you, no one did.

It was with the waning of spring that his desire to be you changed into something different and entirely more confusing.

As the gardens and trees exploded in the frenzy of summer, you shed your layers. Literally, not figuratively. You still stayed firmly closed up as your jacket disappeared and made way for a shirt hung loosely about your shoulders. Then, even that found its way around your waist and Joel had to come face to face with the bare, strong expanse of your back while you worked in nothing but a tank top, the patch of sweat at the small of your back blooming while he watched.

It was for the best that he didn't think about what you looked like walking towards him during those relentlessly hot months, with nothing but a thin tank top pulled across your chest. It wasn't something he should think about in public, anyway. It was something he kept for late at night, when those three little words echoed around his head and you showed him just how much you really, truly got it.

By October, Tommy had caught on. Your jacket was fastened back around you, and you were as hostile as ever. You breezed past him one morning, hooking a ladder over one shoulder, toolbag gripped in your other hand.

"I got it."

By now, Joel knew you did.

By now, he wanted to come with you anyway.

So he did, grabbing his own set of salvaged tools and heading up to the latest reno with you, only to have you square up to him the second you saw him.

"I said, I got it."

Five words. It was a good day.

So good, that he couldn't keep his eyes off you in the Tipsy Bison that night. You weren't in here often - from what he could tell, you didn't do much outside of work - but the people who shared your company seemed to enjoy it. You sat soft and quiet in the corner, listening in to their conversation more often than you contributed. But, when you did, they laughed, and Joel caught himself smiling, and Tommy caught him too.

"Never thought you'd be more of a ray of fuckin' sunshine than anyone else, but there's a first for everythin', I guess," he'd said, tilting his glass to the table in the corner where you sat. 

Joel took a swig of the last fresh cider of the season and shrugged.

"You got an eye for her."  

He sputtered, choking on the tart, sweet liquid. "No I ain't."

"Well you got somethin'," said Tommy, clinking his glass against Joel's own. "If it ain't an eye it's your-" 

A harsh kick, and a grunt loud enough to turn every head in the bar later, and Tommy dropped it entirely.

For about a week.

Tommy ribbed him at dinner, drinks, lunch and just about every time in between. Called Joel 'Sunshine' even as he scowled. Asked about his girl as if you were anything other than a person who hated him. Slung his arm around Joel's shoulder and told him all about the birds and the bees, as if he'd ever forgotten.

He couldn't forget. Not with you running around barking at him and keeping him in a seemingly permanent state of arousal. If it wasn't your voice and that angry way you talked at him, it was just about anything else. He couldn't escape it.

It was how you did everything he could do, and more. What he had in strength, you had in technique. Your hands - fuck, did he watch your hands - were rarely unblemished with dirt or scrapes, but they were adept at everything you put them to. He couldn't look away, even if he knew each minute he looked was a minute quicker he'd be when he touched himself to the thought of you later that night.

The taunts stopped with the first snowfall.

"If you're really that interested, should talk to her," Tommy said instead. "Bark's worse than her bite."

"You're still sayin' she bites, though."

"Sure she would if you asked nice enough, brother."

Joel didn't ask.

He didn't ask the morning he woke up early to see the town blanketed in thick snow either. He simply went out, picked up a snow shovel and began working until the sun came up. He didn't expect to find you at his door that evening, or for you to grab him and throw him outside, pushing him up against the side of his own house.

"What do you think you're playing at, Miller?" you growled up at him, pushing him firmly against the siding.

Joel stared, dumb-founded, your hands curled in the front of his shirt - touching him - and blinked down at you.

"I don't give a shit who you are or what you've done out there. I am not scared of you and I am not having you take my job."

You ignored him more after that. Days went by with barely a word to him - not even a scowl thrown his way if he made too much noise or offered to help someone out on a job.

As for him, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Every day for weeks that night played through his head, memory of the feel of your hands on his chest and your face so close he could feel your breath, until Christmas was on the horizon and a pit of fear began stirring in his stomach. You were a balm to it, somehow. Something to focus on when the fear got too much and kept him inside, away from the crowds of happy people.

Every single I got it was more of a comfort than the last. It could have been the familiarity of it, or the way those words came softer and softer as the season wore on. Sometimes he'd head by the workshop to ask if you needed a hand, just to hear that soft rejection one more time.

Until late one cold afternoon, it didn't come. You were alone, blowing warm air onto gloved hands, and when he asked you simply nodded, and he followed.

You worked together in silence until the sun set, when you turned to him as you parted ways.

"S'hard this time of year, but joy and grief can exist at the same time, y'know."

He didn't go to the Bison that night. Or the next. He let the grief crack open his chest instead, and let it pour out over his bedroom floor for two whole days.

On the third, he let the joy back in. Ellie reeled off new jokes from a book she found in the Jackson library. He held his nephew and rocked the teething babe to sleep. He went back to the Bison - you weren't there - and celebrated the impending holiday.

Seven months, three days, and about as many hourssince he stepped foot back in Jackson. Damn near every day he's heard those three little words, and he'll be damned if he goes another without them.

With the day as short as it could ever be, the sun tracking low in the sky, he finds you.

"I got it," you say softly, when he asks you that very same question he always does.

"I know."

He doesn't know how your lips end up on his - because it is you who kisses him. He doesn't know how his fingers find themselves under your shirt either, the coldness of them making you gasp into his mouth until you're pulling apart, both wide eyed.

He does know you taste like fruit, even in the dead of winter. He always suspected it - knew your sweet tooth by the berries you couldn't resist and the sweet treats gifted to you. He knows your fingers are as cold as his when you hand him a shovel.

He does know, even though you got it, you let him help anyway.

You clear streets and roofs of snow together until the sun goes down. He follows at your heel in the dark, cold biting through your layers as you both stomp the snow off your boots, shovels thrown down, workshop locked up. You barely even look at each other until you're staring through the fog of your own heavy breaths on Joel's front porch. He doesn't know how to welcome you in - he never was too good with words - so he simply unlocks the door and pushes it open.

You step inside.

Layers are shed before the door even closes. Heavy coats dumped on the couch, boots toed off and left this way and that. The hat on your head stuffed in a pocket - he can't remember which.

You move upstairs - worked on this house, you say - and pull him into his own bedroom before his lips even touch yours again. But when they do, they do. Joel's frantic with it, feeling the softness of you so close to the hardness of him. His hands hold your waist, rooting you to him, but then you're moving them up and under your shirt to the flair of your ribcage. The curve of your breasts fit perfectly against the cradle of his thumb and forefinger, and he thinks of everything his hands have done, this is what they were made for.

It must be. When you whine at the feel of this thumb stroking across your pebbled nipple, he thinks for the first time in a long time that maybe his hands aren't so monstrous if they can pull such pretty noises from you.

In fact, the things they've done don't seem to matter at all when he gets to touch you, to pull sounds from you so sweet he'll be tasting you on his tongue all over again just from the memory of them. For all the harm these hands have done, they could never hurt you. You would never let them. You'd tear him apart first.

And he'd let you.

You swallow his groan when you palm his length over his jeans. He stiffens beneath your touch, warm and firm, and grinds into your hand. It's been so long since he's felt the touch of anyone other than himself. He could come just grinding himself against the firm press of your hand against him, if he thought about it too hard.

So he doesn't. He focuses instead on the soft plink plink plink as you run a nail up his ice cold zipper, the way you bite his lip, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He tries to take off his own belt, cold fingers fumbling against even colder metal, but you mumble I got it into his mouth, and his knees quiver.

You do. You always do.

His belt is pulled off and you're tugging him by the loops of his pants and pushing him against his own bed, the sheets still rumpled from the morning. You slip off your own and toss it to the side too, tangling it with his on his bedroom floor. Then, you're so very close to him again, his thigh between your legs as you nip and suckle on his bottom lip. He holds you close - one hand finding its way under your shirt again, cupping your breast fully this time, and the other pulling you firmly against his strong thigh.

You warm his thigh with the burning heat between your legs, grinding yourself against him, the seam of your jeans pulling tight against you. Moans you were pulling from him a moment ago are silenced by your own, your nails digging crescents into his arm as you burrow your face into his neck in an attempt to stifle them.

You're better than he ever dreamed. Softer. Warmer. Stronger. The sounds you make so much prettier than he ever thought. Those three little words so much sweeter within these walls than any other.

Even when you strip off layer after layer, it's better than he dreamed. Summer was barely a taste of you, he realises, when your shirt, your tank, your soft bra, all tumble to the floor and you climb onto the bed behind him.

You kick your jeans off, and he pulls his down too. He can't get his shirt off quick enough, the scars on his body forgotten as he strips bare for you as you watch, lust barely turning to curiousity as you take in the sight of his body.

"Come here," you tell him, and he obeys. You're softer with him when he lies beside you then. Grasping hands turn to gentle strokes, his own hands on your bare flesh mimicking your gentle movements across his skin.

When your hand trails down to his cock, squeezing once again when you feel him throb in your palm, he has to pinch his eyes closed and pretend he's anywhere but here.

"Been a long time," he says through gritted teeth. "Long, long time."

Me too, he thinks he hears you whisper before your lips latch to his again and his soft, worn boxers are slipped down his legs, kicked to the side, forgotten.

You don't look at him, and for that he's grateful. He's less grateful when you start to play with your own nipples and toy with the edge of your panties. He presses a kiss to your shoulder instead, hiding his face against you and breathing you in.

When he opens his eyes again, your panties are off, thighs spread, one hooked lazily over his own, the other stretched out on his sheets.

"Don't have to," you mumble, when he looks down at you, stunned look obvious on his face.

"I want to."

He touches you and you let him. His hands run all over your body, rough, calloused palms dragging across your soft belly, your hips, your thighs. He's dreamed of this, and still it's better than his wildest fantasies.

When your hand wraps around his bare cock, pumping his length once, twice, he thinks that's better than any fantasy too. You practically drag him by the cock, tugging gently to pull him towards you until he's kneeling between your thighs. You lazily stroke him, swiping precum across his tip and making him jerk in your grip. His own hands play with your thighs, massaging and squeezing them, drawing his fingers closer and closer to your apex.

Seven months, three days, and twenty-something hours since he stepped back into Jackson, he slips into you for the first time.

And, fuck, is it divine.

You're slick, and wet, his cock gliding across your skin before he pushes into you, and you both gasp.

He's slow. He trembles. His fingers make dents in your thighs as he grips them. You shuffle your hips, make yourself comfortable, and he holds steady while you adjust to the intrusion. Then, you pull him in, grabbing him by the neck to steal a kiss while he makes space for himself deep inside you, rocking each tentative inch into you until he's rooted inside.

You adjust - let the tenseness in your core release - and he barely holds on. And, just when he thinks he's got a hold of himself and begins fucking you in slow, languid movements, your hand moves and you say those three little words.

"I got it."

For the first ever time, he stops you. His hand pins yours to your hip, his movements stilling as you frown up at him, a threat on the tip of your tongue. So, he begs.

"Let me. Please."

And you do. He slowly swipes a spit slicked thumb against your clit, and watches as you melt into his sheets. By the look of you, the pure relief on your face, he thinks this could be the first time you've ever truly let go, and his ego soars.

It soars again when your legs tremble, rocking his thick cock in you as his thumb works slowly over your clit. You moan his name, and he groans too. He can't keep it back. It's the first time he's ever heard you say it, and he doesn't think it could sound better. Your eyes find his when you say his name again, testing him, only to pull another groan deep from his chest.

A small nod is all you give him as a sign you want more. His thumb moves quicker, popped into his mouth to taste you just for a moment before it swipes around your cunt where you grip him, and back up to your clit.

You come on him, face turned into his sheets, brow furrowed, mouth open as you moan and shake, trembling and pulsating on his cock as you come.

For you, he keeps going. Let's you ride out the waves, fluttering against him, as he barely holds back from the brink himself.

If this is all he gets - if you push him off and walk away now - it would be a good day, he thinks. But you don't. He doesn't even get chance to ask if you want him gone when you're pulling him down, kissing him, rocking your hips against him and murmuring against his throat for him to fuck you.

So, he does.

It feels sloppy, and awkward, his hips not quite knowing how to move any more as he snaps them against yours.

"Don't stop," you whisper to him with a scrape of your teeth against his shoulder. "Don't stop."

He's never been able to disobey you, he realizes. He's never had reason let alone want to. Even now, he does as he's told, keeps fucking forward into you, mattress squeaking and bed rocking as he finally, finally, finds his rhythm.

It's easy then. You spur him on, grip him tight, wrap your legs around his waist. He grunts, growls, can barely stop himself from panting, looking down at you and how you stare back at him and he thinks fuck, this is what it's like to be trusted by you.

With a sudden gasp, he pulls out, slipping from your wet heat to rut against your sopping cunt until he's spurting ropes of come against your mound and belly.

He apologizes, tries to admonish himself for being so quick. You tell him to shut up, hitting his shoulder. He does.

You both sigh in the afterglow. Even in the before, he never had times like this, he doesn't think. It was always frantic, too quick, too drunk, too fumbling. In the after, he could never quite relax enough to enjoy it fully. In the now, it's just about the best he's ever had.

You're still covered in him. Your fingers play idly in it on your belly, and he glows. He'd trace patterns with it over your skin, if only you'd let him. But then, you're up and gone, and he fears you're gone for good until you waltz back in and throw yourself next to him, mess cleaned from your skin as you stretch and yawn beside him.

"I aint tryin' to take your job, y'know," Joel tells you some time later, when the afterglow wanes and sleep pulls at him.

"Right."

He looks to you, the roll of your eyes and tug of a disbelieving smile on your lips visible in the glow of the bedside lamp.

"I promise. I'm just tryin' to... be some place."

You're still. And silent. He thinks he's fucked up for all of one second, until you're smiling sadly up at the ceiling.

"I get that," you say softly. "This is a nice place to be, all things considered."

And, though he thinks he knows what you mean, Yes, he thinks, this is a nice place to be.

This is a good day.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @joelsdagger @titlee78

[provecfy]

The batfam is sitting around the cave for patrol routes on the 24th (crime doesn't stop for Christmas Eve), when Batman breaks the news towards the end,

Batman: And, finally, there has been an intel breach at the North Pole, so the Justice League has decided to assign Orphan as Father Christmas' bodyguard for the night.

A beat of silence.

Nightwing, unimpressed: Is this a joke for the holidays?

Batman: I am serious. We would assign a flying hero to escort him throughout the night, but we believe a silent and skillful bodyguard would be better, so we moved for Cassandra.

Red Robin: I'm gonna give it to you, B, it's the first time I've seen you commit so hard to a prank, but nobody believes you.

Batman, dropping the Justice League approved files on Father Christmas in front of Cassandra:

Robin, raising from his seat in alarm: So all of those times you said you were gonna call Santa Claus to tell him I was being rude to my siblings-!

Batman: It was true. Everybody knows all the parents have Father Christmas' phone number. *Spoiler raises a hand.* Not your parents, I have been given the responsibility of informing him of your actions even though you're not my legal child. I speak of you better than you think I do.

Orphan, still a bit surprised: Why me?

Batman: He asked for you, ask him yourself, and cheer up. Even if it's for a mission, you're gonna meet Father Christmas.

Highlights of the Christmas Mission:

Father Christmas apologizes to Cass when he sees her, and tells her he has been trying to reach her to give her presents for years. He tells her none of what happened to her was her fault and that she has never been on the naughty list. Not a single year.

Cassandra gets to hug Santa.

Tim and Steph go to the Toys Factory in the North Pole to find the breach.

The North Pole's privage intranet is codified on the soundtrack of Christmas Walmart movies. Tim takes three gulps from spiked egg nog and begins a holiday-theme musical hack battle against the mole.

Steph keeps trying to unionize the elves as a joke but halfway through the night she starts finding actual issues created by some mean-spirited middle-manager and slowly gets more and more serious about the union.

Robin keeps talking to Nightwing about Santa in front of criminals and they all look at Nightwing like "does the kid not know" and Robin keeps insisting that Santa is real and his father talks with him on the phone but nobody believes him.

Red Hood hears about everything and now that he knows Santa is real keeps trying to speak politely to people and doing nice things in efforts to get back on the nice list before Christmas.

He gets Charcoal anyway.

Babs gets a message towards the end of the night. Cass has managed to get a selfie with Santa and her nineteen late Christmas presents after beating the bad guy.

Signal finds out that all the Christmas lights through the street illuminate the street to the degree he can pull all of his day shift shenanigans at night.

Every time he has to fight someone throughout the night he just yells "Holiday Attack!" and flashes them in the face with industrial levels of festive red and green light.

[galaxyedging]

This says a lot. How many times have you heard someone has killed someone, and all the interviews with people who knew them are like 'I knew there was something off about them'?

How much pain do you have to take as a 'nice guy' to decide to shoot someone?

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.6

christmas special

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

summary : Christmas has arrived and so has Y/n and Lando’s final night together…

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : kissing! very suggestive! swearing!!!

words : 4870

⋆༺

I turn up the volume on my phone while P is singing along loudly to ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus’. Y/n is dancing in her little ‘kiss the chef’ apron while Max makes hot chocolate.

I cut up carrots and mash the potatoes, getting hit when I try to eat some of the pigs in a blanket Max is making.

I take the liberty of doing the one thing I know how, making drinks! I opt out considering my head still hurts but eat the leftover olives.

Max laughs while I shake the drinks and dance around as Y/n tries to get past me. I block her way, singing the words and shake the metal in her face.

She gives me a frown that I know is just a front. I take her hand and spin her around as she tries to keep her plate still, “Norris!”

“Fewtrell!” I echo, laughing as she sets the plate down. She’s smiling now, hands on hips and everything.

It’s moments like these where I wish I could tell her, where I wish I could ignore her brother and P and just kiss her.

I’m immediately sobered when Max starts choking on a carrot and makes it all about himself.

⋆༺

I find Y/n in her room, bent over and digging around her closet. The creek of the door shutting behind me makes her turn back, “Don’t stop on my accord.” I mumble, walking closer.

A week ago, she would probably just roll her eyes, and she does, but this time she’s got a smile on her face. It’s a weird feeling, not having to chase her for those little glimpses of affection. I like it.

“You look really nice.” Her lips are dark red, her dress is short and black and based on her one heel, I'm assuming she was looking for her other shoe.

“I’d look better with two shoes.” She says, sticking her head back into her closet. I lean over her shoulder, peeking in, “Hey!”

She turns quickly, a hand on my chest, “No looking! I have presents in there.” I walk backwards with the force of her hand.

I smile, “You still haven’t wrapped them?”

“I’m a busy girl and last night I was busy taking care of some drunken idiot who just wanted to kiss me.”

The back of my legs hit her bed frame, forcing me to sit on her bed and turn my head upward to look at her. She’s between my legs as I move my hands to the back of her thighs, just above her skirt hem.

I run my hands up and down slowly, “Can you take care of this sober idiot who just wants to kiss you?”

She moves her hands to slide past my chest and onto my shoulders. Her hair is curled and falling into her face. My heart genuinely hurts for a second because how can someone so perfect even care about me?

She leans in and kisses me in a way that’s so soft and makes me want to hold her forever. I like how her nails scratch my skin and drift into my hair, I love how she lets me touch her.

A knock at her door makes us both jump and as soon as P starts talking, she walks backwards while I stand. “Y/n!” She knocks again and when I wipe my mouth, I see red lipstick on my hand. “I can’t find my Tory burch bag and it has all my lip…” Her speech slows when she enters the room and sees the two of us, “products in it…”

“Sorry! I haven’t seen it.” I don’t dare turn around in fear of what I look like, but I hear Y/n pretending to look for it.

“Oh. Alright…” P hums as I pretend to be extra interested in the snow outside, “I’ll go check my room again.

I know P and I know she doesn’t shut the door on purpose. As soon as I look back at Y/n, her hand goes to her mouth.

“Oh no…” She laughs, taking my hand and dragging me to the bathroom. I’ve got lipstick all over my mouth and hers is a bit smeared in the corner.

I take my thumb and fix hers, smiling as she eyes my face, “You look ridiculous.”

“Worth it.” I laugh and go to kiss her again but she backs up.

“Lando, you’re already a mess.”

“Yes, so it's not a big deal if you get more on me.” I try again, her face in my hands as she laughs and stops me.

“It’s a big deal if you fuck up mine even more!” She shakes her head in my hands which just messes up her hair, “Lando. I’m not above having Max see.”

I shrug, “Let him. I don’t care.”

I realize she didn’t mean her words the second I speak. She twists her mouth up, looking down. The issue isn’t that I don’t care, it’s that she does.

I drop my hands and breath out, “Right.”

I use her makeup remover, she doesn’t help me, just sits on the counter and watches me.

“You look really good too, you know.” She says it quickly and looks back down at her swinging feet after.

I bite back a smile and keep moving the towel over my face, “Thank you.”

We sit in silence for a bit longer, taking extra time to wash my face. I splash myself with water, flicking her with what’s on my hand.

She laughs just before we hear Max’s voice, “Lando?” He sounds hesitant but very loud.

“Yes?” I yell back as Y/n hits me. I look at her in confusion because what else am I supposed to do?

“Where are you?”

“Y/n’s bathroom!” I yell as Y/n hits me repeatedly, “I couldn’t find… hair gel!” She groans and hops off the counter as I laugh to myself.

“Oh. Okay.” Max says back, “Well, come here!” I go to kiss Y/n on her cheek but she slips out of the bathroom.

“I’m still missing a shoe!”

⋆༺

I’m being forced to take photos of Y/n and P. Luckily they moved inside because I was freezing my ass off. The two of them laugh and hug in front of the fireplace when Max comes in, “Alright, parents want a photo.”

P moves and Max and Y/n just smile, Y/n putting bunny ears on Max when he isn’t looking.

“I can’t believe it’s Christmas eve.” P sighs, opening the oven to check on her so called ‘masterpiece’.

“Honestly, this trip has been the best.” We all turn to Y/n, almost surprised at her clear joy.

“I thought you two would have killed each other by now.” Max says honestly, helping P take the roast out of the oven.

“I was not that pissed at him!”

At Y/n’s words, My jaw drops, “Not ‘that’ pissed!? You hated me! You never even smiled around me!”

She scoffs as Max laughs, “It’s true, Y/n. Why did you even hate him?”

“I… that’s not important! Lando you’re not so innocent either! You took every opportunity to bug me!” We all sit around the small table that’s filled with food, Max and P sitting across from the two of us.

I’m smirking now, “Yeah maybe.”

“Either way, you two were annoying as fuck.” P shakes her head and pours everyone wine, “But I love you both so much more now that you’ve made up!”

“Yeah… what’s up with the sudden change anyway?” Max cuts into his meat while I look at Y/n. That’s something for her to answer and me to avoid.

“I matured.”

Max laughs, “In a week?”

She kicks him under the table, “Do you want me to go back to hating your best friend?”

He shakes his head with a laugh on his face. P is the best cook I know and our food is devoured quickly. We all stay in a food coma, slumped in our chairs and laughing at old stories.

I watch Y/n laugh, swirling her wine in her glass as she tells a story from highschool. I wonder what we would be like if I went to school with her back then… That and if she didn’t hate me.

“You guys should all come to australia.” I say before I even think about it, “In march for the race.”

“I’m always down for a free race pass.” Max says while P nods.

“That sounds really great, Lan. Thanks!”

“I can’t, gotta work.” Y/n shrugs as I roll my eyes.

“Just tell your boss your-” I want to say her boyfriend invited her to his race but I choose life right now. I don’t think Max will kill me, But Y/n might. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

I tap her knee with my fingers as she looks at me. It’s that look she gives when she doesn’t want to give in. “Please?”

She bites her bottom lip, looking back to her plate and shrugging, “I’ll ask.”

“Yay!” P squeals, “I love australia! Except the spiders in beds.” She sobers and I let out a laugh, reminded of how Y/n screamed when the spider crawled on her.

Y/n laughs with me, starting to cough and shake her head. Max and P stare at us like we’re delusional, “What?”

“Nothing….” Y/n looks at me, smiling still, “I hate the spiders.”

We stay at the table while the Christmas lights and decorations light up the kitchen. Max and I clean the kitchen while the girls tell us new gossip and old drama.

As the night whines down, I start thinking about Y/n’s present more and more. I’m scared to give it to her, not because I don’t think she’ll like it, but because it proves how much I like her.

Fuck I sound whipped. I am whipped.

Y/n has her knees up to her chest in the dining chair, laughing at something P said and nodding enthusiastically. She flips her hair over her shoulder as I turn back to Max.

He’s looking at me funny but I just continue washing the plates.

⋆༺

you

There’s no knock, no voice, just the slight creek of our connecting door. My room is dark but the lights are on outside so they shine through the windows.

I see him walk closer, he’s in a hoodie and pajama pants, “Hi.” Is all he whispers.

“Hey.” I say back.

I realize he’s holding something when he sits on my bed, “I have your present.” He says as I reach for the lamp and turn it on.

Turning back to him, he looks happy and a bit shy. It’s a small box, wrapped nicely in brown paper which is a surprise.

“You want me to open it now? You know tomorrow is Christmas, right?” A small smile plays at his lips as he nods and scoots closer, fully on my bed now.

“I just wanted you to open it alone. I mean, without Max and P.” I raise a brow, “It’s nothing bad… I'm just, honestly, a bit embarrassed.”

I rip the paper open carefully, a bit nervous at what awaits me. It’s a leather box and when I open it, my jaw drops a little. “Lan… it’s beautiful.”

It’s a locket. Simple yet so stunning.

It’s a heart, with tiny engraving of swirls and hearts on it. “Well, that’s all I wanted to say.” He goes to leave but I grab his hand.

The touch makes him look back, and sit down. “I just don’t get it… why would you be embarrassed?”

He thinks for a moment, opening and closing his mouth before laughing dryly, “You hated me. And I really liked you- I do really like you. I guess it’s just… to me, jewelry is meaningful and something I shouldn’t give to someone who hates me.”

He likes me. He really likes me… “You got this before the trip?” I ask as his hand goes to the back of his neck.

“Mhm. Actually, in barcelona.” Oh.

I went to the spanish grand prix with Max, he was in such a bad mood the whole weekend that we only got him out to go drink.

On the way, though, we started arguing about the importance of gift giving. Max shut us up after five minutes of non stop chatter and we stayed far away from each other while we drank.

But after… “We went past that thrift store.” I say, “The one with the locket in the window.” I was so drunk I'm surprised I even remember, but I snapped a photo and saw it in my camera roll months ago.

“You really liked it.” He shrugs, “I thought it would look good on you.” I think he’s about to rest his hand on me, but instead he gently presses his finger against the side of the locket, opening it.

On one side, there’s a photo of us. It’s from days ago when I was face down in the snow, still on his shoulders. I laugh as I look to the other side, smiling at the group selfie we all got with Santa.

“I love it.” I say, “It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.” It’s odd, actually accepting how much Lando cares.

He laughs a bit, “It was like twenty pounds…”

“That doesn’t matter.” I hold the cold piece of jewelry in my hands, “It’s too lovely for the value to be decided in money.”

“Since when did you get all philosophical?” He laughs a bit, running a hand through his curls as I rest the gift in the box and put it on my bedside table.

I shrug, “Since this really cute guy decided to do something really sweet.” I take his hand in mine, “Mines not nearly as nice as that.”

Lando doesn’t miss a beat, “Maybe I should cash in my whole drunken karaoke prize.”

I don’t think for once, just laugh and hold the back of his neck, kissing him. “Stop.” He says, making me frown.

“Just one more thing… I don’t want this to be some throwaway vacation thing.” He takes a breath of confidence, “I meant what I said, I really like you. I think you’re really beautiful, Sunshine… and I'm not just saying that to get you in bed because well… we’re already in bed.”

I’m not shocked, more surprised? And happy. And laughing. “I really like you too, even if you are an idiot.”

He sighs, resting his forehead against mine, “Good because fuck you’re scary and-”

“Just shut up and kiss me.” And he does.

I fall back onto my pillows, the weight of Lando over me making me smile against his lips. “You’re so perfect.” He whispers as his hand goes under my shirt.

I moan a bit under his touch, his tongue slipping into my mouth. He knows me partially already, knows my body, knows that I go weak in the knees when he kisses the crook of my neck.

“Lando.” I say, already breathless and leaning back into the bed.

“Say my name again.”

“Lan…” His hand gropes my boob, making me moan and bite my lip to quiet it.

“Good girl, stay quiet for me.” His words make me squirm and cause my panties to wet, “Just to be clear, I did not come in here with the intent on staying.”

This makes me laugh, tugging off his hoodie. No shirt under, of course. Slut. “I don’t care, fuck me.”

His breathing is the only thing I can focus on in the quiet of the night, on top of me, shirtless, and hard. “I mean, if this is my prize, i’ll take it.”

He kisses me again, mentioning the words that have been circulating my brain for the past day.

‘What’ll you give me if I do?’

I push him off me, smirking as he groans, “Y/n-” He stops when I hop off the bed, turning towards me.

“I have a better prize in mind.” I slip the hair tie off my wrist and wrap it into my hair, Lando shakes his head in disbelief as he watches me.

His legs swing over the edge, waiting, practically drooling. I smile as I sink to my knees and his hand goes to my face, then hair.

His finger hooks into my hair tie, pulling it out and grinning as he replaces it with his hand.

His hands are so big that he only needs one, scooping up my hair and holding it tight, “Feel okay?” He whispers as I tug down his sweats, “You don’t have to.”

I blink up at him as my hand makes contact with his clothed dick. He whimpers a bit, “Your turn to be quiet.” I tug off his underwear. He's hard and staring down at me, his arm behind him to brace himself.

He sucks in a breath as I take his dick in my hand, teasing the tip with my tongue, “Fuck, I used to dream about this.”

“Don’t worry love, you’re not in a wet dream.” I grin before taking him into my mouth, watching his head tilt back and listening to the little moans that slip out. Best Christmas ever.

⋆༺

lando

I’ve been told my ‘love language’ is physical touch.

I never really believed it until I became close with Y/n.

I want to touch her all the time, I just want to be close to her.

I wake up with her in my arms, still peacefully sleeping. She’s naked in a sort of euphoric way, the true sort of intimacy.

She stirs against me, her hair falling over my arm as she cuddles into my chest. Last night was… everything. She’s so fucking amazing and, i’ve learned, very talented.

Her eyes open slowly, looking up at me and immediately smiling, “Merry Christmas.” I whisper, kissing the top of her head.

“Very merry.” She kisses my neck because she’s too far down and doesn’t seem like she wants to move. I drift my fingers over her neck, absolutely, and sadly, spotless.

But then I slip the blanket off of her, admiring her body and every freckle on it. I move my hand between her thighs, which she squeezes together and groans, “I’m sore.”

“That tracks.” I say, moving my hand to her knee and looking down at her bruised thighs. “You look incredible with my marks on you.”

She laughs when she sees them, still half asleep, “Mmm…” I squeeze her ass just because I can, “Santa came.” She mumbles.

“Someone else came too-” she hits my arm at the joke. I laugh and climb over her, kissing her again. Her lips are swollen and is still making those noises that shouldn’t affect me as much as they do.

She tugs the blanket over us, “I’m freezing.” She says, wrapping her legs around me. My cock practically screams at the content, “Warm me up, Lando.”

I groan at her words, “Say please, Sunshine.”

“Please.” She whispers in my ear and in this moment I realize, I would do absolutely anything she asked of me.

⋆༺

“Happy Christmas!” P sings as she plops down next to me, hugging me tight and handing me a gift.

I throw Max my present as Y/n opens one from P. I got Max a new computer and a hat. I rip the wrapping off and laugh at the shirt P got me.

It’s got her and Max’s faces on it. “Wow that’s P, I look forward to burning it.” She shoves me and smiles at the present I got her.

I got her a card game and a pair of shoes she wouldn’t shut up about. Y/n pulls a santa hat onto my head and I don’t object, just watch her open her second present from me.

“Look… I got this when I knew you hated me a bit more than you do now.” Yeah my other gift was before too, but that was drunken and I didn’t expect to actually give it to her.

Her jaw drops when she opens the gift, “I hate you again!” She throws the stuffy at me. I may or may not have gotten her a pillow… with her face on it… edited onto an elf’s body. “Freak!”

“Come on, you look cute!” I laugh, showing Max and P, “How’d you get back so fast from working all night? Aren’t you tired?”

She frowns, “I could ask you the same question, you look tall next to a thirteen year old! That’s it!” I scoff as she throws me a wrapped box, “From me, to you.”

I open it. It looks like a padel racket but has a string and a ball attached. “Innovative.” I say, bouncing the ball back and forth. I like it, but the gift she gave me last night was much better.

Max settles us down as she sticks her tongue out at me. We finish opening presents and with Max and Y/n’s matching sweaters, I take just about a million photos before Y/n pulls it off in a huff.

Max makes us all coffee and we stay around the tree, sitting in wrapping paper and miscellaneous gifts.

Y/n grabs a candy cane off the tree, popping it into her mouth. “Why do you love peppermint coffee so much?”

She eyes me, grabbing another candy cane and handing it to me, “You try.” I go to sip my coffee but she stops me, “Wait I added peppermint in mine!” So I sip hers, accidentally making eye contact with her and almost spitting the coffee out.

I start to cough and laugh at the same time while Y/n just giggles, “You like it?”

I lick my candy cane and nod, still recovering,“It’s alright.”

She smiles, satisfied that I didn’t dislike the drink. She’s dressed in pink sweats and a white hoodie P got her. Her hair is up and practically falling out of her bun. Her hands wrap around the mug, pulling her knees to her chest and humming.

She’s so beautiful and it makes me so happy that she looks so content. Her nails tap against the ceramic, making a satisfying sound in the peacefulness of our little christmas.

She notices me staring, our eyes meeting in a familiar comfort. A small smile tugs at her lips as I can’t hold back mine.

My happiness is broken by my friends words, “Hey Lan, I need to talk to you.” I look around awkwardly as he leaves the room, so I follow.

“Hey thanks for the-” As soon as we step outside and he shuts the door behind him, I know.

“Lando. What is going on with you and Y/n?” His voice is stern and not something I usually hear.

I swallow as he crosses his arms, wondering if Y/n knows I'm about to meet my doom.

I back up, my uggs crunching the snow under me. Max looks at me, waiting so long that I'm about to beg him to say something else. But then he says, “Oh my god, You’re in love with her.”

“I…” What do I say to that? What do I say to someone I don’t want to lie to?

He scoffs, rubbing his hand over his mouth before walking closer to me, “Lando. It’s been a week.”

I shake my head, giving in, “It’s been longer than that.”

He groans, “I mean- I knew you had a crush on her but I thought you got over that!” I wasn’t the most inconspicuous as a kid, and apparently I'm even worse now.

“Well I didn’t…” My arms fall to my sides as he stares at me like I'm the most delusional man on earth.

“She doesn’t like you!” His words feel like a stab to the heart, even if I know they’re wrong. “She barely likes you as a friend!”

“Respectfully Max… She does.” He scoffs and looks away from me as if i’m an idiot, “She didn’t want to fucking tell you because of this shit!” I raise my voice but remember that the girls are still inside.

He turns back to me, “What?”

I shrug, too annoyed to care, “We’ve been hooking up.”

“Fuck you. How could you not tell me?”

“Right, like I was just going to drop that I fucked your sister!” He goes quiet, jaw dropped and me just now realizing the magnitude of what I said.

Max screams. “Oh my- I take it back! Wash my ears out! Ew! Lando, I'll kill you! Ew!” He goes through about a hundred emotions as he paces across the back porch.

I let out a dry laugh, “Max.”

“Norris.” He mimics me, “I’m mad you didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry.” I say it and I mean it.

“And I'm mad that Y/n thought I would be pissed.”

“To be fair… everytime I would joke about it, you would throw a fit.” I shrug as he rolls his eyes.

“It’s just weird. But I'm not blind… it’s the way you look at her.” His words mean way more than I expected, “And don’t get me wrong- I hate the idea. It’s gross actually. But I know you’re being honest.”

“I really appreciate it.”

“And if you hurt her I will never speak to you again.” I laugh as he pats my shoulder, being 100% serious and straight faced.

“Okay.”

“Does she love you back?”

I shake my head, “Nah mate… She doesn’t even know.”

“Um…” Y/n’s voice makes me freeze, my smile dropping. “I do now…”

Max looks at her, then me, patting my shoulder and leaving us as if he wants no part.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” I laugh awkwardly, turning around to see her standing in the snow. She looks like an angel, dusted in white.

“I came to tell you guys we’re gonna watch home alone…” She rubs her hand on her arm, “I heard yelling.”

I nod, “Max knows. He's fine, don't worry.”

A small smile appears on her face, “Are you okay?” She steps closer, putting her hands onto my cheeks. They’re warm and I know i’m already blushing.

“Mhm. Embarrassed, but okay.”

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed.” She looks to her feet.

“I know you’re not in love with me- Just to be clear.” I clear my throat and look down at her shoes.

“I’m sorry for always being so mean. I didn’t know how you felt. Maybe if you manned up and told me earlier-”

I scoff and hit her waist playfully, “Don’t lie, Sunshine. You would have laughed in my face.”

She nods, smiling wide, “Yeah I would have.”

“You know… I was thinking. Maybe when we get back to our real lives, no snow in sight type of thing…” Her brows raises, “We could go out. Like on a real date.”

She kisses my cheek, “I’d love that.”

I kiss her on her lips, my hands over hers as the snow falls around us. I’m freezing yet I don’t feel cold… Maybe it’s because I have my sunshine right against my lips.

I get hit by snow in a flurry of laughter as Y/n and I pull away. Max and P have started throwing snowballs at us, Max yelling, “My once chance to get you back for not telling me!”

He hits his sister right in the face as she screams and wipes off her eyes. The next thing I know, we’re all yelling and hiding, trying to make as many snowballs and pelt each other with them.

Y/n hits Max square in the chest and he falls down like he’s been shot. P is set on me and with each snowball, I get a reminder of what will happen if I do anything to hurt Y/n.

We fall to the ground, out of breath from running and screaming and laughing. Y/n falls on top of me and it’s the first time I can hold her in my arms openly.

Max rolls his eyes but does the same with P, kissing her head as she rests it against his shoulder.

“This has been…” Y/n starts, trailing off as I brush the snow off of her hair.

I finish the sentence for her, smiling at my closest friends and basically family, “The best Christmas ever.”

⋆༺

you

I didn’t expect my Christmas holiday to be so life changing. I didn’t expect him.

Lando Norris was the thorn in my side and now he’s just by my side. With his arm around me or kissing my cheek or holding my hand, I don’t think I could ever get rid of him.

And I truly love him for it.

writers note : while writing this i wondered, what should be the downfall or bump in their relationship?? then i remembered free will exists and im truly just a wattpad writer at heart. so happy days for all!!!!! thanks for all the support on this little series it’s absolutely made my break! merry christmas my lovies <3

[lovecla]

STUCK WITH YOU ; QUINN HUGHES.

❄︎ pair: quinn hughes x y/n.

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

❄︎ word count: 5.6k

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

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

𖧷

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

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

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

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

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

Turns out, Luke is your sister’s.

And, well. Quinn’s not yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n? Are you—”

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

“Who’s he? Why are you whispering?”

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

“Who’s… Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

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

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

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

“What do you mean be normal I can’t—”

“I gotta go. I love you. Bye.”

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

“Y/n? Are you playing hide and seek?”

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

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

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

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

“She is, yeah. She’s working.”

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

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

“Luke’s coming?” You ask.

“He is, yes.”

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

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

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

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

You frown, shaking your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever.

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need any help?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It looks great, Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you… like… serious?” You frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bye.”

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

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

“They’re not coming.”

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

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

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

You frown. “I wasn’t pouting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you were asleep.”

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

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

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

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

You shake your head. “No. You?”

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

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

“I— I’ll leave you to it then—”

“Why are you always running away from me?”

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

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

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

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

“Then, you just don’t like me?”

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

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

“What.”

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

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

“Quinn—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here?” he asks, chuckling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Quinn—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of what happens is basically history.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Quinn—”

“Say it, sweetheart,” he whispers.

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

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

“Only yours.”

“Good,” thrust, “Girl.” Thrust.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile. “Merry Christmas, Quinny.”

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist.

[pilsbury-bland-bread]

I wonder if the confusion here is from disagreeing about what kind of rule social rules are. Because sometimes, saying "I get it, I'm just not gonna do it" means you actually don't get it.

Like a mathematical rule. If you say "I understand [e.g. distributive law,...], I'm just not gonna do it", I am well within my rights to say that no, you actually don't understand it. If you "don't do it", you aren't doing maths.

Similarly, take the rules of a board game. If you say "I understand that rule, I'm just not gonna follow it", maybe you do understand the rule, but you don't understand the context. You can't just not follow the rules of a game you're playing with other people. No one will want to play with you.

This is how a lot of people view social rules, and in some ways they're right. There are some social/moral/cultural rules that you can't just not follow, even if the only actual consequence is no one wanting to spend time with you.

Most social rules are more like the rules of d&d. If everyone present agrees to ignore them, then great! No pajamas with strangers, but everyone's cool with it in the flat. But if not everyone's happy, you ought to just follow the book.

The issues come when people disagree on how to categorise things. If someone thinks something is a mathematical rule and you think it's a d&d rule, even if you agree on what to do, you might fight about it. If one person thinks something is a d&d rule they want to ignore, but everyone else thinks its a board game rule, just asking to violate it might seem rude.

Autistic people might have more of these conflicts with neurotypical people that they know, but in my experience it isn't any different to a normal culture clash. If person A thinks you can wear anything to church, and person B thinks you have to dress up nice, no one need be neurodivergent. It's just that to person A, the "dress nice for church" rule was a d&d rule that it became commonplace to ignore, while to person B, any church that doesn't dress up is playing a different board game.

[I'm intentionally ignoring the "well the book is bad and by following it you're being bad"-type disagreements. They're both more complicated and context-dependent, and imo also rarer.]

[helpimstuckposting]

From Santa

Prompt: Magic | Rating: G | Wordcount: 2,957 | AO3 | @steddiebingo

Steve was seven when he found out that Santa did not exist. He tried, once, the whole ‘Santa’ thing. After hearing the stories from kids at school, he ran over to Melvald’s and bought a tin of cookies with his allowance before skipping excitedly home. Some of the kids mentioned feeding the magic deer, because flying took a lot out of them obviously, and Steve wasn’t quite sure what magic deer ate, but he left out a few carrots in the yard just in case.

He was so excited, setting out the cookies in front of the big tree in the living room and hoping he’d wake up to find a present underneath, just for him. Maybe it would be a cool Hess Truck like Tommy wanted, or maybe it would be an action figure, or comic books, or maybe his parents would come home. The other kids said Santa was magic, that he could do anything, so Steve wasn’t picky.

He went to bed excited and could barely close his eyes to sleep, but the other kids said Santa didn’t come if you were awake so Steve tried his very best. He finally fell asleep with the taste of ginger snaps on his tongue (there was a whole tin, and Santa had hundreds, maybe thousands of cookies every night, so he didn’t think Santa would mind one less).

He woke up to a spotless and quiet house, no puddles from snow on Santa’s boots, no bites out of the cookies, and no present under the tree. No parents either. Steve didn’t have any more cookies that day. He couldn’t bear it.

When his parents arrived a week later, Steve was greeted not by hugs and exclamations of how much his parents missed him, but by his mother loudly and forcefully demanding answers to why her yard was scattered with gross old carrots, drying and cracking and covered in mud from the melted snow. So he told her. He told her about Santa and how he wanted him to come, how he went to bed early like a good boy, and waited all night. How he didn’t show up.

She laughed.

It was cold and icy, like the shards still hanging from the gutters on their roof. She told him he shouldn’t be impatient for his presents — they were in the car like always — and really, Steven, it doesn’t look good for a boy to be so demanding, and the presents certainly weren’t from Santa because the man did not exist.

Santa didn’t exist.

So yes, Steve knew from a young age that the jolly man in the coat and hat was simply a lie — told to children to excite them and give them something to look forward to. He didn’t really get it at first; were the presents not enough? Was the week off from school not exciting? Did they not look forward to Christmas morning without the story of a man sneaking down the chimney? But he’d also fallen for it. He was so excited, he liked the idea of feeding the magic deer, and leaving a treat out for someone delivering gifts out of kindness. He liked the story, that a man with so much power wanted to use it to make children happy. He liked being thought of, liked being remembered by someone he didn’t even know, liked that it was a reward for being nice throughout the year.

But it wasn’t true. And that was fine, Steve tried to convince himself. He still got the presents, and he still got his parents, even if they were a week late. He still got a hug from his nanny, and his mom let him have the rest of the ginger snaps, and he didn’t even have to clean up the carrots from the yard.

His parents left again, and school started again, and it was fine.

It was fine, until Tommy came barreling through the door with his Hess Truck held high and the praise of Santa spewing from his lips, and Steve noticed that not everyone shared in Tommy’s delight. Most of them did, and a lot of them brought their favorite toy to school just like Tommy, but a few kids (maybe three) sat still in their chairs — like they could avoid any questions if they blended into the background. They ducked their heads and they sank in their seats, and Steve wondered if they also found out Santa wasn’t real.

But Tommy singled one kid out at recess. He dragged him out, to the center of the playground, and told everyone that Santa didn’t go to trailer parks, that the kids in Forest Hills didn’t get presents from Santa, because only good kids got presents, and how could they be good if they lived in a junk yard. Those words didn’t sound like Tommy, but he was always repeating things his dad said, copying him and taking his word as gospel.

The kid, scrawny with a shaved head and angry brown eyes, sank into his shoes. Not in retreat, not in a cowering way. He sank into his shoes like he was grounding himself, like he was making sure his footing was firm and steady, and he shoved Tommy right into the ground.

Of course, only then did a teacher interject, and only the boy Steve didn’t know the name of was dragged away to the office. Tommy angrily scrambled to his feet and spat at the ground where the kid had stood, remarking that he was right and the Forrest Hills kids were definitely on the naughty list, Steve, wasn’t he right? Did he see that? What a freak that kids was.

Steve rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything. He knew interrupting Tommy was just more hassle than it was worth, and Tommy was wrong anyway because Santa wasn’t real. He’d figure it out eventually, Steve supposed, but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

It was his walk home that gave him an idea. He saw the bus pass by as he trudged along, down the road and off in the direction of Forrest Hills trailer park. He wondered if that kid from recess was there, if he saw Steve out the window as he passed, if he really didn’t get any presents. He thought about all the gifts his parents gave him that were still packaged up in his closet because he had too many and he didn’t really like them all. And he thought about how much he wanted someone to think about him on Christmas, with no other purpose or desire but to make him happy.

So, with an inkling of an idea creeping its way through his head, he ran the rest of the way home and pulled out the phone book from the hallway table, as well as his yearbook from the previous year. There weren’t many numbers from Forrest Hills, but he did find the three kids from his class and a couple from the year above. He picked out which of his unopened presents he thought they’d like the most, and he wrapped them crudely in leftover paper he found in the study. He ripped off a few pages from the note pad by the phone, and wrote out in his best writing:

From Santa, sorry I was late

And then:

P.S. my elf wrote this

Because his best writing was still pretty bad.

It took him a couple days to plan and gather things, but in the dead of night — after his neighbors clicked off their porch lights — he piled all five presents into a little red wagon and tied the wagon to the end of his bike. He took off toward Forrest Hills, a little list of names and addresses crinkled in his pocket. He tip-toed around the dirt paths, freezing in fear every time his little wagon’s wheels squeaked, and placed the presents and the notes from ‘Santa’ on the doorsteps that matched his little list. He checked it twice, just for fun.

He felt lighter on the ride back home, and not just because his wagon was empty.

Steve was seven when he decided to become Santa himself.

It wasn’t obvious, the next day at school, and Steve didn’t do it just to listen to kids whisper about Santa visiting Forrest Hills a week late, but he did notice something. The three kids who had sunk low in their seats the first day back, who avoided talking to the others to brag about their presents, were no longer trying to blend into the background. They sat comfortably in their seats, and whispered among themselves, eyes twinkling a little more than they had a few days ago. Steve was ecstatic. He sat, buzzing silently with excitement as he tried to keep his face blank and neutral. Santa had to be kept secret, after all.

He did it again the next year, adding the newest kids to his list from the years below him, and saved up his allowance to get some cuter presents for the girls; some nail polish and art supplies, some coloring books and beads. This time he wasn’t late, and his handwriting had improved a lot from the year before (though he still blamed the elves for his wonky letters).

He had fun, learning how to wrap the paper around each gift, saving up his money to pick out presents he hoped the other kids would like, wondering what their faces looked like when they opened the door to find a present on their front step.

He was a little worried that the kids would be concerned Santa hadn’t made it inside, being magic and all, but he also noticed that none of the trailers had chimneys so maybe that was okay. He also learned that most of the kids in Forrest Hills did get presents, and he felt a little stupid for assuming they didn’t just from Tommy’s dumb comments, but he also knew they weren’t the fancy presents other kids got like bikes and new games.

He tried making his Santa presents a little more extravagant. After all, why would Santa give Tommy a brand new Lego set, but give Willie across town a pack of baseball cards? Steve just wanted to even the playing field a bit, knock Tommy down a peg or two when he tried humiliating another kid on the playground and that kid said Actually Tommy, I got the new Hess Truck from Santa, too! And Steve remembered wrapping it up, much neater this time, and almost getting caught on the stoop when a dog started barking at him. He muffled a giggle into his hand when Tommy floundered for something to say, coming up empty handed.

As the years passed and the kids in his grade stopped believing in Santa, he scratched their names off his list. He kept adding to it as well, though. He paid attention to the new kids in each grade, noticed if they had a little less than those around them, noticed if they were on the outskirts or if they looked a little nervous as the holidays drew nearer and nearer. He left presents for the Byers one year when he heard that Jon’s mom lost her job after his dad left. He left presents almost all over town, had the phone book highlighted with every address he wrote down in his notebook — a much needed upgrade from the crumpled piece of paper in his pocket. He wrote a list, he checked it twice, and he made sure to slip through the dark like a shadow, avoiding anything that might give him away.

He was always surprised when no adults tried to stop him. Surely, the stoop presents were well known throughout town by the time Steve reached high school, but maybe they didn’t want to know who was behind it. Maybe they wanted to keep the magic alive, too. Either way, Steve played a successful Santa for nearly two decades before anyone found out.

It was Eddie.

It was always Eddie.

Eddie, the boy who knocked Tommy clear to the ground that first winter. Eddie, the boy who made Steve want to help. Eddie, the boy who received the first ever gift from Hawkin’s own Santa, though Steve kind of hoped that was a secret he could keep.

They were putting up the tree in their apartment, the first Christmas they were spending together. Eddie had brought several old ornaments from the trailer, ones that he stole from right under Wayne’s nose because lord knows the man wouldn’t want to part with them if he didn’t have to — a collector, that man was. Steve picked up one that, at first, had been unassuming, a clear bauble filled with glitter. Hanging it on the sad twiggy branch of their Charlie Brown tree, however, he noticed a little piece of paper inside. It was aged and a bit crumpled, but not too shabby for how old it was.

From Santa, sorry I was late, it read in squiggled, messy handwriting, the wonky letters leaning to one side more than the other.

P.S. my elf wrote this

Steve stared at it for entirely too long, catching Eddie’s attention as he hung the last ornament.

“Wayne made that one, if you can believe it,” Eddie said, tapping the plastic bauble with the nail of his pointer finger. “I mean, not the note,” he clarified, “that was Santa.” He whispered the last part conspiratorially, as if letting Steve in on a huge secret. Steve felt like he was going to cry, suddenly, the tears pricking behind his eyes. With a start he realized, selfishly, that he didn’t want Eddie to know. He wanted to keep this mystery alive for just a little longer, like a parent too sad to let their child grow out of the world of magic and wonder, like it was too soon though the secret had been brewing for nearly twenty years.

Eddie wrapped a cautious arm around Steve’s shoulders, unsure of where his sudden teary-eyed expression came from. Instead of facing his questioning look, Steve tucked his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck and listened as the man regaled him with the story of his first ever gift from the Santa Claus.

That year, Wayne had lost his job as a trucker because Eddie had fallen into his lap. He couldn’t leave the kid all alone, had to stay and take care of him, and he was between jobs until the holiday snuck right up on them both. They had a tree, just as shabby and sparse as the one they currently stood in front of, but there was no money to spare for gifts. Wayne had apologized, and Eddie had been very understanding for an eight year old — after all, he had been learning not to rely on adults, anyway.

He’d gotten in trouble when the school year resumed, however, for shoving an insufferable Tommy Hagan to the ground during recess. Of course Tommy hadn’t gotten in trouble, since vigilantism was an under appreciated form of justice, Eddie declared. Steve snorted into Eddie’s neck, just imagining the ranting tirade the skinny boy with a shaved head must have gone on, trying to defend himself to the principal.

Eddie was furious as he got back home, pissed off at Hagan, pissed off at his parents, pissed off at the world. And then — what to his wondering eyes did appear — two days later, Wayne had opened the door to the shittiest wrapped present he’d ever seen. Steve bit his tongue. It was for Eddie, according to the name scribbled onto the wrapping paper, and the little note declared it was a lost gift from Santa.

“Like magic,” Eddie smiled.

Steve had no idea that was his first Christmas at Wayne’s, and he had no clue what that first shove on the playground could lead to. He could still picture Eddie’s scrunched brow as he glared daggers at Tommy, could still remember the way he sank into his shoes and grounded himself for a fight, like he was used to it, like he knew what was coming. He wished he could picture Eddie’s face as he realized Santa hadn’t forgotten about him.

“Anyway,” he said, startling Steve from his thoughts, still tucked away in Eddie’s neck, “Wayne kept that note, and I think he’s got the one from the next year, too. He’d saved enough money for a couple presents that year, but I think he was grateful for a little extra help.”

Steve pictured himself, a tiny little thing, curled up in the living room, all alone on Christmas Eve as he wrapped up presents and wrote out his Santa letters. He remembered feeling less alone for the first Christmas in forever, because he was too busy sticking too much tape onto glittery wrapping paper and worrying about not getting caught to care that his parents weren’t home again.

He thought about the bag full of presents, tucked away in the back of the closet so Eddie wouldn’t find them, and his list of kids he collected from the library’s giving tree. He had planned on sneaking out, planned to slip away from Eddie’s prone form and deliver the gifts alone, like always, but Eddie squeezed his shoulder and kissed the top of his head and he realized that he didn’t have to be alone anymore. Maybe this year there could be two Santas, delivering gifts to the children of Hawkins in the dead of night. Maybe this year he could have some help. Maybe this year, there could be twice as much magic as the year before.

—

Bingo Prompts

[jayktoralldaylong]

One of my favourite things about Arcane is that all the couples can be read as toxic, which is GREAT.

I'm tired of people bringing morality debates into dark media. Let dark media be fucking dark. You guys wouldn't survive a day in the TMA fandom, needing everyone to be as good as gold. How are they going to make for enjoyable complex characters if they're not morally grey. In fact, I wish there'd been more expansion on just how morally black they can become!

"CaitVi is so toxic" According to lesbian statistics, that sounds just about accurate. 💀 Heck, I wish Caitlyn had done more (Not really, but it would have been nice to further explore the darkness in her heart). Isn't it adorable how she immediately folded as soon as Vi called her cupcake? Caitlyn's like one of those villains that will consistently do the most....until it comes to someone else hurting her girlfriend. The only one allowed to hurt her girlfriend is her. 💀

Then let's talk about Vi. Someone pointed out how Vi never cared about Zaun's independence in the first place and many people yelled that they were wrong. But actually, they were right. Vi never wanted Zaun. Zaun was Silco's dream, and Jinx inherited that dream cause Silco would never shut up about it. Vi wanted Piltover to take responsibility for all the shit they allowed to happen in the Undercity. That's a part of the reason she joined up with Caitlyn in the first place. Let's not forget she wasn't dissuaded when she dragged Jayce down to fight with her and he killed a child. Children been dying, it's been her whole life. Someone needed to do something about it, and Zaun would have just isolated the people from all the privileges that Piltover SHOULD have been providing for them. Some people just can't accept that Independence cannot in fact solve every problem, and sometimes independence is colonisers running away from the responsibility of fixing the mess that they started in the first place.

Besides, we all know Vi joined up with the Enforcers because "I feel like I am worthless if I can't be of service." She'd already run out of family members to serve, Caitlyn was the next best thing. She's just like Jayce.

And speaking of Jayce, let's talk about his violent levels of codependency with anyone who'll give him attention. People LOOOOVE to talk about Mel, but it's there with Viktor too. When bro wasn't basing his worth on his inventions, he was centering it around Viktor.

Viktor who decided at some point in his life that he would not LIVE without Jayce. He was fine dying without him, but living without him was unacceptable. Oh how healthy. 🙄😂 Viktor be the kind of toxic ex to threaten divorce 500 times over, then burn the world when you actually leave him. Jayce is no better cause he's the kind of guy to keep going back to his toxic Ex.

Yes, Mel is manipulative. That's what I love about her. How are you guys failing to give this woman the praise of being an outsider in Piltover, but running their entire council. 💀 Girl raises her hand once and the whole government starts spinning. She was the best sugar mummy Jayce and Viktor could ever ask for. She kept the whole city running. Literally the entire of Piltover dancing on her palm. And yes she manipulated Jayce but let's not forget she thought that was a love language. 💀 You wanna be mad at someone, be mad at Ambessa for raising her that way.

I also don't think it's fair to blame her for the Undercity situation, she's not native. Monkey see, monkey do, and not a single one of those Council members actually cared about the situation down there, it was deplorable. 💀 Jayce did way more in his two weeks as Councillor than any of those drug pushing, money laundering, Piltovian heads of government.

And that just covers MelJayVik, we don't even need to get fully into TimeBomb, cause we know what's wrong there. 💀 Surely we have not forgotten the many teammates Jinx has killed, but making sure to never kill Ekko cause that's her man. Ekko has a lot to unpack, like how his consistent and unwavering love for Jinx is an indication of a lot of doors he might not be ready to open. I know they dynamics go crazy and I love to see it.

Ambessa and Sevika are a crack ship but I'm sure we all know bedroom dynamics go crazy with Mrs. Warlord and Miss Liberation. I love it when characters clash in a toxic heap. It's insane and should be explored.

Quit saintifying my toxic ships with your woke morality debates. If you want everyone to be sunshine and rainbows then you should be watching literally anything else. 💀 "It's not healthy." GOOD, I like it that way. 💀 Angst, spice and trauma are the recipe for a plethora of explorative fanfiction. Any of their dynamics can be taken in any toxic direction and I want that EXPLORED.

[croissantsandblackcoffee]

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

[neuvilette-tea-party]

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ Mon petit coeur ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Steb x F!reader

Words : 7679

You borrow a shirt from your lover for a lazy morning, unaware of the turmoil it will create in your boyfriend's heart and loins.

Tags: established relationship, heavy making out, Steb is selectively non-verbal, first time together, Cunni, Steb is pussy drunk, P in V, creampie, knot, mating press, wet humping, slight breeding kink, Steb has carnivorous tendencies

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

You yawn, making your spine pop. Next to you, Steb’s spot is cold already. You smile, imagining him biting down a toast completely hypnotized by one of his chess tactics books. 

You throw the covers off your body and rummage through your closet to put a thing on. It’s Sunday, you don’t work, have nothing planned, and don’t feel like dressing up. You let your gaze travel and end up on Steb’s white shirt on the back of the chair. You take and detail it, you could think it is a clean shirt with how neat it is, but he wore it yesterday. You press it against your nose and inhale his scent deep into your lungs. 

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah... Delicious. 

Smells like love. 

You take off your pajamas and put his shirt on, leaving you in a simple white shirt too big for you and your panties. It’s not like you have to impress someone today. 

You inhale his smell again with delight, sighing satisfied, and lazily go down the stairs, yawning. You can hear Steb in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. 

He is so nice, you’re so lucky to have him, you think.

You enter the dining room which is more of a mix of a kitchenette, a dining area, and a living room. You discover Steb busy at the stove, cooking some salmons. He’s wearing a tight black turtleneck and dress pants, clearly more worried about his general appearance than you in the morning. 

You approach on your tip toes and surprise him with a big hug, making him gasp in surprise as you wrap your hands around his large chest. 

“Hello, handsome!” You greet, kissing his neck, pulling on the collar, making his fins tremble as he deeply exhales at the caress of your lips, “Thank you for breakfast” 

You part from him and he turns to you with a smile, only to make a double take with a shocked expression.

 “What?” You ask as he fixes you up and down intently, “I hope you don’t mind the shirt, I didn’t feel like dressing up.” 

He slowly shakes his head, his ears shaking once, visibly under some tension. He turns back to his salmons but just... looks at them.

 You shrug and start to empty the table of all the papers and clutters to make some place to eat. True to your lazy mood, you don’t bother skirting the table to grab everything and just bend over the table to reach the last objects. 

You jump hearing a broken glass sound. You spin your head towards Steb, who was visibly checking you out, observing the now-destroyed spice container on the ground with a discomfited expression. 

“Are you all right Steb?” You immediately ask as he lowers himself to collect the shards. 

You crouch next to him to help and notice his hands trembling slightly as he picks up the glass, visibly distraught. His face scales undulate without stopping while his cheeks are getting rosy. You press your hand to his forehead to take his temperature. 

He’s quite hot. 

“Do you have a fever, handsome? You should have stayed in bed, I would have cooked you something myself!” 

He sighs, nudging his forehead against your palm as he shakes his head in disagreement. 

“You don’t beat the allegations, treasure. Go sit, I’ll take it from here.” You softly order.

You both throw the shards and you resume the cooking, adding some salt and pepper with other spices, opening up the herbs bouquet to add later, and drizzling a stream of lemon juice. You sniff, feeling a burning sensation on your exposed skin, like a heavy gaze on your form. 

You turn your head to see Steb, leaning against the counter right behind you, his hands wrapped around the edges, nails dug into the woods, breathing deeply as his eyes devour your body in this less-than-modest garment. 

“... You’re all right, sweetheart?” You finally break the silence after several seconds. 

He raises his eyes back at you, fogged with fever. He takes a step forward and seizes your hips delicately in his large hands, pressing his tall body against your back, sensually swaying his hips, guiding yours. 

“What’s with you this morning?” You cannot help but giggle, adjusting the sauce. 

For sole response, he lets his deep breathing resonate in your ear, the tip of his fingers sliding just under the shirt to brush the hem of your panties.

Delicately 

Slowly 

He licks the shell of your ear with a grunt that you feel spreading down your very core. Your own breath gets caught in your throat as his fingers pass just the hem of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin of your venus mound. 

Just a brush, just a touch 

Like a secret... 

He kisses your ear before biting the lobe, never ceasing the sway of his hips with yours, a low growl making his chest vibrate. You gulp, feeling your hands trembling over your fish as you try to follow your recipe the best you can. 

Quite hard when Steb is making advances, you realize. 

He never made advances before. 

You always initiated, learning rapidly that he was not so interested in sex that much and liked taking things slow. So slow you never saw each other naked yet... 

He gently tugs on the shirt, begging for attention, letting his fangs graze your ear shell. You turn the stove off and he gently makes you spin in his embrace, blocking you between the stove and his tall body. 

He brushes your nose tips, pressing his forehead to yours, letting his lips hover over your mouth with a sound between a pressed growl and a begging whine. One of his hands snakes its way into your back, under the shirt, eagerly discovering your skin while the other lower down to your ass to caress it. 

He devours your face with bedroom eyes, taunting you with the kiss he holds back from you. You purse your lips and rise on your tip toes to reach his mouth, he meets you mid-way, capturing your lips like a hungry man. 

He presses himself tight against you, towering over you with his full height, you can feel his groin starting to heat up and bulge as he devours your mouth, purring in satisfaction.  

He suddenly grabs your thighs to lift you up, forcing you to circle his hips with your legs with a yelp. He purrs loudly, grabbing the back of your head to press your lips together and not let you escape. His gills open wide to breathe while you’re left completely pantless in that demanding kiss. 

You never saw him like that! So eager and needy, so demanding! So... Desperate. 

Your lips dance together in a sensual embrace, locked together, exploring each other like your lives depend on it. He licks your lips, demanding access, and your tongues meet to hug each other. 

Steb’s tongue is longer than a human’s, swirling yours like a snake, robbing you of your breath so easily... You can say you have never been kissed in such a way before. You feel your legs getting like jello under his ministrations but he holds you firmly to not let you fall. 

He gently carries you out of the kitchenette and you expect him to go up the stairs to enter the bedroom but he puts you down on the dining table and with a large gesture pushes all the papers and clutters you had to put back down on the ground. 

“Steb!” You protest! 

That’s going to be a pain to tidy everything! 

But Steb is clearly in no state to care about such details, he captures your lips back with a groan, gently forcing you to lay down on the table. He lets his body weight rest on yours as your mouths discover each other. 

His hands brush your side to gently pull on the hem of the shirt, revealing your stomach to his eyes, he immediately lowers himself to kiss your tummy, pinching the flesh of your side with a smile as you yap. He takes a big lap at your stomach with his long tongue before going higher, revealing your breast to his ocean eyes. 

He stops, admiring what he has in front of him, his scales undulating like a dance. Your nipples perk up in the cold and he immediately makes them roll with his thumbs tenderly. He makes it slow and gentle, soft circle with the pad of his thumbs, making you whine. 

He takes them between his fingers delicately to brush them, titillating your nervous buds with delight while you whine. At some point, he cannot take it anymore and lowers himself to take one in his mouth, thoroughly licking it.

 “Fuck... Steb!” You complain in a pitiful gasp. He hums in response, focused on the candy in his mouth. You feel his tongue twirling your nipple easily, lathering it with his drool while he kneads your other boob with his large hand. He suckles your tit thoroughly with an appreciative purr, letting his saliva roll down the hill of your boob.  

He never breaks eye contact, his deep blue gaze set on yours, commanding your attention.

He gives a peck to that boob and kisses his way to the other, taking it between his teeth and gently biting it down, making you start. He chuckles before teasing it like he did the other, giving it the same amount of love and attention. He sucks down hard, hollowing his cheeks as he does it. 

Once satisfied he stands back up, towering over your trembling, lying form, observing his work with... delight. His blue eyes seem to shine as the light of the room over his head gives him an angelic halo. One of his hand come dancing on your breast, barely brushing the skin before snaking down, grazing your stomach with delicate intentions until it reaches your panties. 

He hooks the hem and lets it slap your skin, tilting his head at your whines and jumping. You gulp, not used to being scrutinized this way, especially half naked, but his gaze travels your skin with absolute focus, memorizing any nook and crannies of your body. 

His finger traces your panties until you suddenly squirm under his touch, telling him he located your clit. He tilts his head at you again, circling the vicinity of your pearl, never touching it directly, teasing you to no end. 

You gasp and gulp, digging your nails in the wood of the table as he toys with you with his infuriatingly beautiful face. He keeps his gaze on yours, opening your thighs wider slowly.  

His eyes grow larger and his ears shake with vivid interest when he flicks your clit out of nowhere, earning an ungodly moan from you. He brushes his fingers in his luscious hair as he lowers himself down between your legs. 

He looks at you like he dared you to stop him, taking deep breaths in anticipation, parting your legs. He nudges the side of his face against your inner thigh, letting his cheek fins tickle your thin skin, making your leg jolt instantly. 

“Ah!... I...” You let out, raising a hand with hesitation, “I never...” 

He blinks at you with his third eyelid, silently inviting you to finish your sentence, his hand wrapped around your thigh meat. 

“I’ve never done that...” You admit, embarrassed. 

His gaze lowers like he is thinking and for a second you think he’s about to lose all interest and stop everything. But instead, he tightens his grip on your thighs and leaves a soft, infinitely reverent kiss on your inner thigh, closing his eyes to savor the instant. He nibbles on the skin fondly, leaving several lovebites all over your thighs with the application of a devotee praying. 

You roll your hands in fists with short breaths under his ministrations. You yelp when he purposefully bats his cheek fins to tease your skin again. He replaces himself between your thighs and presses his lips on your clothed pussy, where he found your pearl and loudly kisses it. You exhale, on edge while he peppers kisses all over your clothed pussy before taking a big lap, wetting the fabric. 

Sharp blue eyes deep into your febrile gaze. 

He purrs loudly, satisfied with his new position between your thighs before gently pushing your panties aside and revealing your pussy for the first time to his eyes. 

You cannot take it anymore and close your eyes as you feel the tip of his fingers caressing your slit so gently, humming in appreciation at his new toy. He details your little cunny with great focus, tracing its line tenderly, testing your reaction to this or this sweet pressure. 

He gulps, his gills wide open with excitation. That’s a beautiful sight... Do you taste sweet or salty? Savory for sure, he knows it deep down in his guts. He licks his lips to prepare them as a low growl escapes his eager mouth. 

He wants to taste you... So badly. 

You gasp feeling him part your fold with his fingers and blow air on your hidden flesh, playing with your nerves.

“Mon petit coeur...” You hear his too-rare voice rise in the living room full of tension, “Look into my eyes, mon amour...” 

You wince, gritting your teeth. You don’t want to look at him, you would die of shame and embarrassment on the spot! But he only speaks for grave matters, fighting the physical pain when he uses his voice. 

Signifying you that it really, really matters to him. 

You gulp and reopen your eyes, lowering them to his. You cannot find anything else but love, tenderness, and adoration in his orbs which makes you slightly tremble.  

Keeping eye contact he lowers his mouth just above your exposed pussy, letting his breath brush your sensitive flesh, like a promise. 

That everything is going to be all right. 

And he takes a long slow lap at your cunt, tracing your entire slit with the flat of his long tongue. You immediately melt and whine, with a shudder. 

This is such a foreign sensation... So...So... 

He doesn’t lose a second and does it again, his pupils wide open, all the fins of his body trembling. He licks your pussy thoroughly like he’s eating his favorite dish. His purr perks up each time his wet appendage touches your folds, tasting your flesh in an entirely new fashion. 

An addictive new fashion he realizes... 

His breath quickens as he keeps licking, coating your folds with his saliva enthusiastically. His expression leaves no doubt about his mood, his amusement and pleasure illuminating his face as he savors you like ambrosia. 

He dives his nose into your pubes to deeply inhale your sexual musk and his ears shake irrepressibly as he lets out a gasp, breathless, eyes closed shut. 

You do not have time to worry if it is a good sign or not he immediately resumes the lapping, digging his fingers in the flesh of your thighs. He trails your slit with the tip of his tongue several times before taking another big lick, opening his mouth wide like he is about to devour you. 

You cannot catch your breath under all of those attentions, all those new sensations swarm you without mercy, and you feel your blood beat inside your cunny. 

He leaves a big kiss on your pussylips and focuses slightly higher, on your little clit. He flicks it once with the tip earning a dramatic tremor coursing your entire body, much to his pleasure. He does it again, titillating your small pearl with glee, sending waves of raw pleasure into your pussy. He flicks it, drums it, and whips it with abandon, leaving you no time to catch your breath. 

You cry out as you feel his purr making his whole tongue vibrate against your sensitive pearl, bringing you to your knees. 

How...? 

How does he do that? 

It feels even better than with a toy with the wet, soft sensations and his warm member. He licks it up and down like he’s savoring an ice cream and with the same enthusiasm. You are lying on the solid table but feel yourself falling as his attentions set your nerve endings on absolute fire you are convinced actual lava was poured into your veins.  

He sucks it hard, making it roll between his lips, twisting it so gently as he crosses it with his tongue. He lets out a long and deep guttural moan of raw satisfaction escape him, getting high off of your cunny. 

He takes great joy in feeling your delicious pearl puffing up and swelling up under his gentle care, he wants nothing more but for you to enjoy yourself thoroughly between his large hands. 

He will devote himself to the craft and perfect his techniques until you break down crying, begging for him to stop giving you so much, that you are about to break into a million pieces under such tension and bliss. 

That promise to be so fun, he feels his heart jolt at that prospect!

Each of his tongue movements sends a shiver into your very core and you can feel your inner muscles gorging themself with blood, getting all fluffy as your slick starts to drip out of you. Stebs notices immediately and loses no time tasting it too, lapping you clean. 

His powerful muscles roll dangerously under his skin, like a predator ready to jump but he never stops, keeping your clit in his mouth like a lollipop that he savors like a child, letting you hear his grunts and moans of pleasure. 

Steb was always a caregiver to you, but make no mistake, this one is as much for himself as it is for you. He eats you out because he ardently craves it, like a fish needs water to breathe he feels like he now needs to be between your thighs forever. 

You? You’re at the end of your rope. These new touches are just... Too much! 

This is too much...  

The assaults of pleasure are too powerful and you try to push his head away gently, for just a second... 

His response is immediate. 

He lets you hear the most pissed-off growl you ever heard from him, looking at you with the angriest face you’ve ever seen him. 

You will not take that away from him! Not now that he sank his fangs into it. 

You round up your eyes in full surprise and a bit of apprehension. 

Realizing his reaction, he immediately softens his expression and reverently kisses your cunt as a sorry gesture while he detaches your hand from his head to intertwine your fingers together, locking you with him for that intense experience. 

He nibbles your clit that swoll up, palpitating hard and he can feel it vibrate against his tongue in tandem. He kisses it several times as he feels your essence dripping on his jaw to the ground. 

What a waste, he thinks to himself. 

It is also ruining his distinguish turtleneck but that is such a small price to pay to be between your luscious thighs. 

He opens your pussylips again with a purr and presses the tip of his tongue against your entrance, letting it stretch the ring of your flesh as he pushes it inside. You immediately tense feeling the flexible wet member invading your most secret place, stretching your inner muscles with surprising ease. 

You feel it wave and undulate to push deeper, dancing like a real succubus, leaving no surface of your pussy untouched and uncared for. You hear him drinking your slick with large gulps and reveling mewls. You feel it twirl inside for a moment, grazing and caressing all of your deepest sweet spots, pushing you to the end of your sanity until it gently retracts to focus on your G spot. 

You gasp, digging your nails into the fabric of the white shirt and the flesh of Steb’s hand as he waves his textured tongue against your sensitive spot, you feel his tip grazing and circling it in a maddening dance leaving you pantless and sweaty on your dining table. Your thighs’ muscles immediately contract as you feel your wetness worsening, dripping all over your Vastaya’s jaw.  

Your legs instinctively try to close to refuse him access and stop the attacks of pleasure on your exposed flesh, but he holds your thighs firmly open, lecherously drinking like an animal. 

He twists his tongue into different angles, testing all your reactions, studying each and every tremor shaking your helpless body in his embrace, taking thorough mental notes for future times when lust seizes him once more.

Oh how he adores how defenseless you are right now, no filters, no masks, and pure, raw reactions, the truth shining on your blissful expressions as he toys with you for both of your pleasure. 

He whines, feeling parched and desperate against your swollen pussylips, this is a lot to take in but not yet enough for him, he is ravenous and your supple flesh is all for him to take and devour.  

The line between lust and bloodlust is so thin and he had to temper your advances and hopes to not risk wounding you in his fury. He silently thanks the Enforcer order who demanded him to file his sharp teeth down to human teeth. He felt dispossessed for a long time, but right now he doesn’t know if he would have had the self-control to not bite into your flesh like the carnivorous Vastaya that he is. 

But he waited for so long... And you taste just so good, he is getting absolutely mad, wondering what your blood tastes like. He immediately mentally slaps himself, refocusing on your shivering body, all for him to toy with and take care of. 

He circles your marvelous spot and starts to furiously lick it with his tip. You gasp, biting down your finger to silence yourself, throwing your head hard against the table as your back arches in an impressive fashion hypnotizing him completely. 

Such an honest body you have, a delight to play with and taste all to his heart’s content. He curves his tongue in a new angle and admires how your body undulates once again, like magic. 

Magic right at the tip of his long flexible tongue.

He quite likes that. 

“Steb! F-fuck...!” You shout as he feels your slick overflowing out of you, rolling down your thighs and his jaw, beading on his gills wide open to not stop for a second to breathe! 

He devours you like a hungry beast, too impatient to carry you to completion to wait any longer! He wants you squirting in his mouth right this instant! 

And you will give it to him or he’ll be damned! 

In a flash of lucidity, he realizes he is absolutely and irrevocably pussy drunk. His own body is absolutely shaking like he got addicted to drugs, leaving him disoriented and on autopilot.

Only his sexual instincts are at the command to guide him at this moment, all reason and common sense just abandoned him when he took his first lick at your pussy. 

Damning him like a cursed soul. 

But he would lie if it did not taste marvelous. To become a sinner between your thighs was the best decision of his life and he feels more blessed than a devotee praying to their idols. Guess he just needs to remain on his knees from now on. 

Praying between your luscious spasming thighs. 

He slightly winces as he feels your nails deep in his hand’s skin as he brushes your tender spot with sensual fury, but how could he stop when you taste this good, when he’s the one guiding you to orgasm...? 

He cannot just stops like that without you cumming! That’s unthinkable! 

He releases your thigh to palp his warm bulge under the table for a bit of relief. He is so tense it is painful, but your taste combined with your desperate mewls and moans are just so exciting and alluring, all his blood flew south to gorge his member full and his pants feel terribly constricted and uncomfortable. 

Your free thighs try once more to close down, only managing to cage his head against your pussy, suffocating him against your wetness. You can feel his gills and cheek scales fluttering. Who cares really? If he dies between your thighs, giving you pleasure, he will die happily. 

What better death than satisfying son petit coeur?  

And suddenly 

The tension snap.

You feel a tight scorching hot knot rupture in your cunny like you flipped a switch and all your muscles contract hard, your back arching up high as your toes curl, blinding firelights under your closed eyelids. You cannot refrain from the scream of Steb’s name in your small house, your little pussy clenching hard against his long tongue as you squirt violently in his mouth. 

And you fall. 

Whatever was holding you together snaps too and your entire body collapses against the hard wood of the table, leaving you blind and deaf for several full seconds. Your chest rises up and down rapidly to take as much air as possible, while sweat rolls on your skin between the goosebumps.

You are exhausted beyond measure, feeling the waves of your orgasm slowly subsiding, allowing you to assess your surroundings at last.

Steb leaves several gentle kisses on your quivering pussy with a loud purr and rises back on his feet, towering over your shaking form once more. He pants heavily, ocean eyes crazy with fever and dark energies, your slick beading off his perfect jaw to soil his nice turtleneck that he adores. 

That is so far away from his mind right now, if only you knew. 

He seizes the hem of his turtleneck and gets rid of it, throwing it carelessly in the corner of the room to be forgotten, leaving him bare-chested, revealing his own sweaty body, his large pec and well-defined abs glistening under the crude light of your dining room.

You look at him through half-closed eyelids, still in some sort of shock as his powerful muscles dance and roll under his magnificent green skin.

You let your head fall down, trying to make sense of that entire situation. 

Man, it was just a shirt... 

You quake and reopen your eyes as you hear the sound of a belt opening. Steb makes quick work of it and gets rid of his dress pants to reveal his constricted boxer, leaving little to the imagination when his cock is hard and tense under the fabric. 

You gulp at the bulge.

He licks his lips clean with a hiss and lowers down his grey boxers to reveal his cock to your eyes for the first time. 

Your throat dries up as your eyes round up, apprehensive. 

He has been... generously endowed by Mother Nature. She decided to craft a champion and chose him.

 He roughly fists his entire length, hungry eyes on your exposed naked body, a low growl escaping his gritted teeth before he seizes your hips with his two hands and drags you until your hips collide, making you yap. 

He plays a bit with his tip before lathering his impressive shaft with his precum, titillating his ridges all over his shaft while his other hand returns to caress your clit with his thumb making you cry out, overstimulated and exhausted. 

He aligns himself and lets his member hit your pussy as you whine at how warm and hard it is. He does it several times, his ears spasming, until he starts a back-and-forth movement, teasing his cock by caressing it between your folds, lathering it with your slick. He releases your clit to seize your hips with both of his hands, letting his ridged member tease your pearl.

 He huffs before throwing his head backward at the sensation of your two bodies finally carnally meeting each other.

It took so long but it has been worth it... He doesn’t regret one second letting the tension rise and frustrating the both of you if this is the final reward. 

You yelp and mewl as his shaft brushes your oversensitive pussy mercilessly, grazing your clit still under the spell of your former orgasm, swollen and palpitating. 

He slicks his disheveled hair back with a hand, his glistening muscles contracting under his skin as light dances on his exposed flesh, carving him like a god. You gawk at that immaculate sight.

He is well-made on all fronts! 

He finally stops and trails your soaked slit from bottom to up with the pad of his finger and sticks his tongue out to wipe it off, lowering himself with his tongue out to capture your lips, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He languorously kisses you, his tongue hugging your smaller one, robbing you of your air, feeling your spriting heart through his own skin, putting him on edge.

You bite down his tongue when you feel his tip poking your entrance, gently probing your pulsating pussy to get it used to his circumference until you feel him push past your tight ring of flesh, entering you for the very first time.

You throw your head backward at his invasion, giving him the opportunity to attack your neck with joy. You feel his mouth sucking your thin flesh, leaving a tight collar or lovebites all around your throat. 

You tremble, feeling his cock stretching your inner muscles, all his ridges making you cry when they brush past your G spot. This is your first time with a non-human and you did not expect all of that. You are not even sure your vagina is meant to accommodate this kind of member, but Steb seems eager to discover it.

Your mouth opens in a perfect ‘O’ as he keeps pushing deeper and deeper, making you discover depths you did not even know you had, his hands kneading your sides, digging his nails into your soft flesh. He rolls his shoulders several times with a gasped growl as he feels your tightness strangling his cock for the very first time.

It feels just so good to have you all around him... 

It feels so right. 

This long-desired and cherished moment of your two bodies finally making one... 

He selfishly dreamt of it for so long while refusing you, keeping his own dark urges on a leash.

He exhales deeply when your hips meet, his shaft finally fully inside your warmth, weighting down your core. He bites his lower lips discovering the bulge your two bodies created with a whined breath. 

This is just so hot.

He cannot help but caress the bulge with the tip of his long fingers, pressing it down with his palm to squeeze his member, teasing himself through your welcoming flesh.

 “Oh, mon petit coeur...” He manages to breathe despite the pain of talking.

 If only he could drown you under pet names and love declarations like he wishes he could! You would tear off your ears of exasperation. 

He cannot help but snigger. 

He fondly draws circles with his thumbs on your hips, anything to ease your predicament, begging for your foggy gaze on him, to help maintain his composure and not just crumble between your luscious thighs like an impotent.

But your body is just so much for him to take and experience, that delicious pressure all around his member, wet and warm, welcoming and debauched. So much pleasure courses his body right now like electroshocks.

He slowly slips out of your dripping sex until just the tip remains and pushes back in as gently as possible to not upset you. He feels you stretching all around him, working hard to accommodate his length and girth, welcoming him in your warmth and softness. 

Like a gentle indulgence... 

You close your eyes under the pressure, your entire body tense like a bowstring and threatening to snap once more. Steb just stuffs you so full, like a decadent cream puff, opening your secret temple wide to let his shaft inside. 

And now you are supposed to take him moving and survive?

You choke as he starts rolling his hips, installing a gentle back and forth movement, leaving and entering your tight canal, your former orgasm helping prodigiously as his cocks slips in and out easily with your abundant slick that you still feel dripping along your thighs.

And now Steb’s thighs too, you imagine. 

You grit your teeth as he splits you in two with such ease.

You feel him moving inside, making gentle love to your exhausted body even if his fingers are painfully deep into your hips. The pace is languid and loving. You can feel his impatience bubbling under his scaled skin, but he prefers going slowly to appreciate. 

To savor. 

Each. Second. of that experience. 

You bob up and down as he grunts and purrs, burying himself up to the hilt into your warmth. He gasps and growls and moans and mewls, vocalizing his pleasure out loud without any shame, letting you know what a delight your body is to him. 

Oh how he wishes he could remain buried inside of your sweet, sweet pussy... 

It feels like heaven, like he is at his true place at last.

Maybe he could cum inside and...  

Breed you 

Son petit coeur, all round with his baby... 

All his muscles violently spasm at that idea! 

He has just the tool for that...

You try to speak but only let escape an incoherent string of syllables getting cut each time he pushes his entire member back in. You grit your teeth as all your muscles try to welcome him back each time, it gets easier and easier each time but it is not simple for all that! 

You wince in slight discomfort as you try to breathe, and Steb’s immediately notice. One of his hands releases its tight grip over your waist to travel all the way back to your little clit he tenderly caresses and brushes again, easing and helping your tense muscles to relax all around him. 

Your sigh of relief is cut short by another moan of pleasure as he undulates his hips like a pro. You bite back down your finger as your nails claw the wood of the shaking table under you, following the rhythm of Steb’s gentle thrusts. 

He bites his lower lips to blood, admiring how your little cunt swallows him whole greedily like never before. He can already admire a creamy ‘O’ at his base making him lose it a little more and accelerates his thrusts.

He tries hard to keep himself in check, but you’re bringing him to his knees, leaving him pantless and disoriented. Each time your little cunt clenches around his cock the entire room spins around him, forcing him to hold onto you to remain sane and grounded.

Soon his rutting is deep and fast, punching all air out of your lungs with force. Gone is the sensual and tender lovemaking, he is plunging his cock deep, impaling you on his length while he hisses and rasps. His fingers keep grabbing your hips and waist, leaving bruises flourishing on your contused skin, while the other furiously loves your clit.

But he can’t help himself, what if you found a way to escape his grip? He holds onto you like the remnant of his sanity, if he slips out right now his mind will shatter into millions of pieces. 

He cannot let go. 

That would kill him on the spot. 

He greets his teeth, feeling his orgasm approaching rapidly. He must hold on still! You’ve not yet cum and it is capital for the breeding! 

You spoke of him of a little one with sparkles in your gorgeous eyes, but each time he tempered your daring advances, the light died little by little. 

He cannot deny you anymore,

he wants it,

he craves it,

he needs it... 

“Steb...! Steb...!” You gurgle between his ravaging thrusts.

You have no idea what you are trying to say to him, you feel your brain melt with every delicious rock of his hips against yours. 

But while he might become crazy, he isn’t deaf and responds to your cry for help. He grabs your two legs and throws them on his shoulders, grabs your hips firmly, and adroitly jumps with you onto the table, tilting your hips up, he lays on you, pressing your knees against your breast to reach your desperate mouth to kiss it. 

This position magically opens you up, allowing him to deepen his rut so much he can feel his tip brushing your cervix. He winces, deeply conscious of the delicateness and fragility of that zone of the female body, and tilts his hips to not hit it too hard.

Each one of his movements earns a reaction from you, your limbs tremble and shake at his demand and your pussy clench and squeezes him at his will. He very quickly noted what to do for deeper feelings for the both of you. 

He smiles in the kiss as he notes that you drooled all over your jaw, forgetting yourself under his sensual care. 

In his fury he grabs your two hands to wrap them around his neck, keeping you just a little closer for the comfort of his heart 

His two hands on each side of your head, he digs his claws deep into the wood and hears it crack and complain under your lecherous activity. He feels your hands palping, grabbing, pinching, and searching for what to do in your utter confusion. 

He gives you a nasty thrust and you immediately dig all your nails deep, deep in his shoulder blades, tearing the skin apart, making him roar in the kiss. 

He adores that.

That sudden sharp pain in his flesh keeps him grounded and he wants it again, hoping you will dig deeper, and claw his entire back, giving him scars like you would give him a medal.

Steb demonstrates extraordinary stamina, the result of his Vastaya nature and intensive training as he keeps going without a single sign of fatigue yet while you hold onto him for dear life. 

You try to part from his mouth to just breathe but he doesn’t allow it, clasping them, locking them in a sultry embrace, a raw purr making his entire chest vibrate against your thighs’ skin. You bite down his tongue several times as he plows you down like a jackhammer. When he finally releases your lips a string of saliva connects your two decadent mouths as you take a big breath, instantly getting heady with the significant smell of sex filling the entire room, seeping into every fabric. 

You almost bite off your own tongue as he ravages you, each hip thrust deadly precise. The wet sounds of flesh slapping flesh are getting to your head dangerously. You lower your hazy gaze between your two bodies, admiring how they meet and connect, the significant bulges in your womb as he slips in and out repeatedly. 

What’s that mass at the base of his cock? 

Does he have a ...? 

You cannot finish that thought, his rocking forces you to throw your head backward as Steb licks your cheek, tasting your sweat with delight, and kisses your entire face, your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your eyelids, your chin... Begging for your tenderness in his craze.

 Just a soft touch his way.

One of your hands caresses its way to his face to cup his cheek gently, caressing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. He instantly melts and nudges in your palm with a jubilant purr, caressing his cheek and kissing your open hand like you held his heart in your grip.

And maybe you do... 

Holding him tight like that, making his soul chant blessed verse in your embrace. You ravished him, body, heart, and soul!

He wants your affection and your rage, your caresses and your bites, pouring fire in his veins as you love him without any mercy. 

He wants everything and its opposite at the same time.

He wants to crush you under his weight until you cry from overstimulation and to submit to your hand, handcuffed to the bed, helpless to your whims, his entire exposed body for you to play with...

Everything in due time. 

You feel him wrap one of his arms under you, hugging you tight, suffocating you in his embrace, holding you close to his febrile heart, his other hand travels between your two bodies to return to your neglected pearl. He lovingly fondles it while giving you devastating hip sways, proving his desire to do good by you, even pushed to a more animalistic state.

Your comfort and pleasure remain at the forefront of his mind no matter how far he’s gone! 

Your little cunny immediately clenches at this added touch, constricting his cock hard between your fluffy walls making him snigger and grunt, trying to keep it together. 

“Steb...!” You cry, big tears rolling down your cheek.

Your pussy shakes and convulses all around his member as he rocks his hips hard, squeezing him so tight he sees stars.

He brushes your nose tips, foreheads pressed together, inhaling each other’s musk to climb higher again. 

You are surrounded by Steb’s inescapable presence, he holds you tight and fills your head with his groans and your nose with his salty musk. His tall and large body looms over yours, shielding you from everything, keeping you stuck under him as he pounds you down. 

The table complains heavily but holds on while he rearranges your guts with abandon.

You gulp and gasp at each thrust as you feel your orgasm approaching like a furious tsunami looming over you, ready to drown you, you feel pleasure waves spreading inside your cunny at each of his movements and his relentless caress on your clit until- 

The tsunami reaches the shore and crashes down, ravaging everything in its wake.

Your breath gets cut and you think your heart stops beating for several seconds under the impact. The entirety of your body contracts violently under the shock, as all your nerve endings are set ablaze with wildfire. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids as deep shockwaves incapacitate all your limbs. Your tight pussy spasms and convulse all around his girthy cock, trying to keep him inside.

Your mouth open to let go of a deep scream that Steb immediately swallows in a languorous kiss, silencing you in the most exquisite manner he could think of. 

Your own orgasm pushes him off the cliff and after four erratic hip jolts, he pushes a final time. 

“What the ...?” You feel the weird mass against your entrance. 

He hisses and pushes a little bit harder, and while you were sure your pussy will be torn apart by that mass, it gently extends all around and swallows it whole, plugging your tight cunt shut.

Steb audibly gasps, fully buried up to the hilt deep inside of you, and unloads his seed deep inside your womb, reveling with delight at the sensation of your cunt milking him dry for all his worth, your cute tummy getting full with his semen.

He pants with a satisfied breathy laugh as he licks your jaw and chin.

He cannot resist the urge to tenderly caress where your womb hides, drawing tender circles as he purrs like a satisfied cat, nudging against your smaller body with delight.

He peppers kisses all around your neck, letting his imagination run wild. Maybe... You’ll get pregnant with his baby today?  

That sounds so wonderful to him! 

A little one to both of you! 

Witnessing you getting rounder and rounder with his child, having to help you with everything, catering to all your needs, taking care of everything for you while you bear his blood and flesh...

 “You... You have a knot?” You finally ask, panting. 

He pours his eyes into yours and nods with a tight smile, hoping really hard you like that quirky part of his anatomy he kept hidden all his life. 

“You know I am not on the pill?” You warn him. 

He knows it. He also smelled and tasted it with his Vastaya receptors on his nose and tongue. Nothing about you escapes him.

“That doesn’t bother you?” You investigate, suspicious.

After all, tales of women being left to fend for themself after the discovery of a pregnancy are nothing new in Piltover and he kept denying you each time until now, that you have all the right to be suspicious. 

But the thought of you pregnant with him... 

He cannot describe the warm joy spreading in his chest at that simple thought. 

A family, after that war that took everything from him, he would have his own family at last. 

With you, son petit coeur... 

What more could he ever ask for? 

That simple thought manages to keep him hard, ready for another round, feeling his cock twitch with real impatience inside of your little pussy. 

He will let you breathe for a moment and then beg you for a rematch. After all, a Vastaya and a human have lower chances of procreation, he needs to give you a lot more to ensure a pregnancy. 

His ears and cheek scales twitch at the thought of tasting you again once pregnant, will your taste change? He cannot wait to try! He will have you for breakfast every day until the delivery and then spend all of his moments with you and your baby.

For now, you will hug each other tight and listen to your heartbeats, like a symphony. 

At peace at last. 

He brushes your nose tips and reverently kisses your lips, pouring all the love of his heart into the fountain of his lips for you to get drunk off of it. 

Son si cher petit coeur... 

☆☆Taglist☆☆

@dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @brandy-and-bane @sp-the-fae-queen @sofiyathelast-blog @aeeliy @sanktastuff @telephoneonawire @daichisito 

[makethemhoesmad]

merry christmas, please don’t call

merry christmas!!!!

azzi x paige

1.14k words

please live react

if you’re sad about the angst blame @lupinqs and @imaginespazzi

—

“fuck this,” paige groans, flinging herself down onto the couch and bringing her hands to her face. she’d been sitting, rigid, staring at the gifts with her name under the tree, wondering if she should return them or save them. some of them, she’d bought three months ago, so soon she could probably still bring them back and get a refund. she flips her phone over, checking to see if one of the girls had messaged her, inviting her over to do something. it was christmas eve, after all. no messages, not even one that she definitely wasn’t looking for. 

…

azzi’s laugh rings through her family’s living room, but if someone would have looked at her, they would have seen that it barely brushed her smile, didn’t even touch her eyes. there weren’t even any presents for paige under the tree, she noted. her mom had definitely bought something, they love loved her too much to not have thought of her before it happened. would they get them to paige still, somehow? what would azzi do with the hoodie, the shoes, the necklace she bought her?

who was she kidding, she’d sleep with them tonight, clutching them tight in her arms while wearing something else that still smelled like her, in the sheets they used to share.

…

paige knocks back another glass of something. definitely not very festive, she knows that much. sadly, it’s the only way she sees fit to rinse the images of her in matching christmas pajamas, baking cookies, under the covers…

stop, paige tells herself, because this is pathetic. begging on your damn knees because your girl(sorry, ex girl) was in a mood about an injury and told you to go fuck yourself, so you told her to go right on out of your bed. And you haven’t spoken to her since, unless it’s about basketball. Because it’s always about basketball

…

azzi gets nice and settled with her family, tucked in tight together on the couch to watch the Grinch, this year’s choice holiday movie. and it’s fine, azzi can sit there and try to forget, until a seemingly innocent little scene comes on. one who rushes up behind her husband, catching a quick goodbye kiss. that sends her over the edge, because she didn’t get a goodbye kiss. she should be cuddled here with her family and paige, and giggle when paige pecks her on the lips right along with the movie

she stands up abruptly, shaking her head and running into her room. she flings herself onto her bed, burying her face in paige’s hoodie, still laying there. 

when katie fudd walks into the room, sitting on her daughter’s bed and lightly rubbing her back, she’s thinking of paige, too. she knows that’s who azzi needs in times like this, even when paige is the reason azzi gets like this. the only way to fix her issue with paige, sadly, is with paige.

“you should call her, sweetie”

azzi sits up, shaking her head as her tear stained face crumples again. “no, you don’t get it. she begged me not to call her. told me that if i called her, she knew we’d be right back to where we were, with the same issues.” a sob comes out at the end, because really, all azzi wants to do is call paige, beg her to hop on a flight and make it here by morning, then never let her leave her arms again.

“where’s my phone,” she sighs, teary eyes set in a determined stare.

…

paige startles awake, her phone buzzing under her pillow.  the contact lit on her screen is the only one she didn’t want to see, couldn’t see. for some insane, unexplained reason, she slides to answer the call.

she hears a snuffle on the other end, then a voice croaking out, “paigey”

her resolve softens, just the way she knew it would.

“baby, is everything okay? did something happen?” she asks, even though she knows what azzi will tell her. this is what happens every time they fight, and one of them has to leave a few days after. except this time, it’s christmas. 

“no, nothing is okay,” azzi whimpers into the phone. miles away, she’s clutching the phone like a lifeline, waving her mother out of the bedroom. “i need you, please, i need anything. i need to listen to you call me baby, and hold me in your arms.”

paige tries, she really does, to say no, to be firm, to say that they can talk about it when she comes back to school, but she really needs to take some of her own time right now. but something about the way azzi’s voice cracked when she said need had paige looking up quick flights. 

she found nothing.

“paige?” azzi breathes, the line having gone silent. 

“i’m so sorry, az. there’s no flights. not one damn plane can take me to you.”

she swears she can hear azzi’s face drop, and then she really does hear the shaking, gulping sobs that break through the speakers. 

“no, sweetheart, please don’t cry. ill drive, i’ll be there tomorrow when you wake up, i swear up and down, baby, please don’t cry you’re breaking my heart,” paige grovels. she really doesn’t know how to refuse azzi, and when she’s crying, she doesn’t even think it’s possible. 

“paigey, please, please, please,” azzi whispers, saying please like it’s a mantra, like it’s keeping her warm.

“yeah, baby, i’ve got you, just try and sleep. i’ll be there as quick as i can.

paige rushes around her room, mumbling affirmations to azzi as she collects things in a duffel, then locks her door and walks to her car. she hears azzi’s deep, stuttering breath that tells her she’s cried herself right to sleep. 

…

the bed dips, making azzi snuffle and crack her eyes open. she glimpses a tired, tear-stained paige running her hand over her face. she then feels strong arms wrap around her, welcoming the protective feeling of someone near her as she falls back asleep.

…

paige holds azzi tightly, but her own eyes stay wide open. she cried silently nearly the entirety of her drive down here, thinking about how in a month or two, this fight will be back again, and they’ll do the same thing. sometimes, paige is the one begging for azzi to come and hold her. sometimes its azzi. same problem, because they’re connected, no matter how wrong it may seem, no matter how much they hurt each other, they’ll always be essential, the way you have to feel pain to gain something, and the way you have to boil noodles to soften them.

…

paige’s eyes flicker open, tasting azzi’s lips against her own.

“merry christmas, paige”

“i love you, azzi”

~ hope you enjoyed!

have a happy holiday!

[chaos-vixen]

@clockwayswrites @hdgnj

In all fairness, Tim was not expecting the solution to be not only done quickly, but so efficiently that he himself wondered why he didn’t think of that solution.

The solution you may ask? ASKING. NICELY.

Mildly rage inducing but incredibly heart rate elevating was the 10 Sart smile the King have as he floated over the street(s), kindly asking in a firm yet general command (that totally wasn’t doing things for Tim) for the citizens of Gotham to kindly cut the shit.

But Tim will 100% admit that the otherworldly and eerie smile the Ghost King gave him as he ever so gracefully lowered into his portal back to probably his keep (is those ancient tombs where correct- seriously he spent a pretty penny on those they better fucking be accurate).

But that all aside, because not only did the general population not actually remember the King being there- but John got some weird ass heads up or notification about what was going down (via magic alarm or a favor, Tim did not want nor need to know-) and was breathing down Tim’s neck as if he of all people had a leg to stand on in terms of not “selling one’s soul to a High Being™️”. Honestly if all that wasn’t bad enough, someone SAW the Ghost King headed towards the Drake house, and Constantine managed to get that out of them before they forgot. (John later explained this to be a similar affect to what Chathulu has in the Lovecraft books- he’s beyond the bounds of comprehension for the normal human except for those with paranormal bloodlines, magic, or semi-related meta abilities. Then he muttered something about “those damned liminals..” but Tim decided to table that for later)

John magic misogyny aside, Tim got a very useful lecture on some magic workings his tombs did not have in-depth lore on. The downside was that, according to his trackers on his family, they are approaching the Drake Manor at a pace which Tim does not like.

The solution is to reenact Harry Potter and do a little side-along apperation the hell out of there before the family realizes that he isn’t in fact where he’s supposed to be (on bed rest in the medical wing of the cave because he dislocated his arm literally three hours before he had to summon The King)

And where does magic itself (because Ti me I’ll never admit but PERHAPS he may have not been thinking of a destination, not he was NOT panicked!):

The House of Mystery

To which they fall from two feet in the air to Raven and Zatana sipping tea.

The last cherry on top of his pile of cherries (regrets) is the black slowly fading into his vision, probably because of how much magic it took to summon The High King, Supreme Ruler of the Infinite Realms and Overseer of the Dead and their resting. Also the teleporting probably didn’t help-

Oop why is John shaking him?

Probably doesn’t matter- he can’t really make it out anyways …

Plz continue this the original prompt and continuation where amazing and there’s already so much lore in this AU I’m not sure if I did good with my tid-bit, really want to see this in full!!

Tim Drake becomes a mini Hellblazer

Tim is determined to be the best Robin he can be- he has a hero's legacy to live up to. He has a thirst to know as bad as Bruce’s. And... he's a bit morally grey. All this leads up to an encounter that will change his course forever.

While he is off training in Europe (wtf on that Bruce), he runs into Constantine and some demonic trouble. Just so the stubborn kid survives, Constantine teaches him some of the basics. Tim, living up to his name, takes to it like a duck to water. After Tim gets back to the states, books just show up every so often in Drake manor. Sometimes even Constantine.

It's surprisingly easy to keep the secret in that big, empty house.

And then one of Gotham's curses come to play, the dead are around as ghosts, and only Tim has any idea what's going on. Problem is, he'd rather the Bats never knew what he knew. Problem is, he might have to pull a John and sell his soul to win.

He hopes the Ghost King is a good master.

Some added possible bonuses:

Constantine has no clue that his mini Hellblazer Tim is a Bat or he would have never.

Tim has been using his powers this whole time- being able to portal and literally become one with the shadows, but it just works for a Bat Mood™️ so no one catches on.

Tim has tattoos like John for powers, but they're the invisible UV ones so they're not visible when he's getting his check overs as Robin/RR.

Possible scenes:

• A cult shows up in Gotham, of course, and the Bats are doing their investigation and find what they think is the home base and Tim's tracker is there. And he's not answering his comms. He's supposed to be resting, he's sick. All hands on deck panic. The Bats roll up ready for a fight just in time to see Tim, covered in blood and a little glass eyed, walking out of the building. Inside is a bloodbath. They are think Tim is traumatized from the obvious demon summoning that went really really badly. Tim is just so fucking tired from using magic and wants to sleep for a week, but sure, the cover story works, so he leans into it. Really annoying how Dick won't stop hugging him though.

• Constantine, trying to avoid his job trapped in Hell, again, sends his apprentice to meet with the Justice League. To bad he didn't give the apprentice a heads up because suddenly Tim is summoned/portaled into the Watchtower. And ho-shit guess that cat is out of the bag now! Not that he's willing to explain anything.

[boypied]

THE IDEAL MAN.

pairings: tyler durden x male reader

summary: tyler saves you from a purposeful overdose and takes you back to his place. To stop yourself from falling asleep, he needs to keep you up... all night.

requested by: me

warnings: anal sex, unprotected sex, rough & aggressive, spit, choking, gay slurs, mentions of drugs.

Tyler was one of two things to any man that he'd come across. One of those two things would be the men who wanted to be Tyler and the men who wanted Tyler to fuck them. You were lucky enough to be someone that Tyler wanted to fuck, which was a very rare case 'cause Tyler strictly only ever fucked women so there must've been something very special about you, something he saw in you that really made him crave more. You told Tyler that you had accidentally taken one too many pills, and Tyler had to come and rescue you. Once he barged through your broken down and rotted door, he found you sat on the floor.

"You got here fast," I mumble out playfully as I pull myself up on the bed, "you see, I took one more than I should've, and now I can't go to sleep cause...I'll slip away." You state in an oddly sexual tone as you seductively crawl over to him, "I need to be kept up... all night." As Tyler hears, you say that a large excited smirk starts to grow upon his face. You notice how his toothpick wiggles in his mouth as he grips onto your wrist, and he pulls you out of the shitty run-down apartment and across down the street into his place. He drags you into his bedroom, something about you was so enticing to him.

You made sure to douche and everything needed before he even came over. You even have a dildo lodge up in there, stimulating you in every single way while a man wasn't around to do it for you. Tyler throws you down on the bed roughly as he practically tears your clothes off, revealing your naked body to him. The body he's admired from afar, while you strut across the street, he couldn't help but stare and admire. He even jerked off to pictures of you.

It doesn't take long for Tyler to join you in being naked, tearing his clothes off, revealing his perfect body. He had what every man wishes they could have, perfect abs, a naturally large cock that perfectly hits every single spot while inside of a man's asshole as he slowly pounds away. Tyler climbs on top of you, gently sliding in. Your eyes roll back, feeling his cock perfectly fill your asshole as the tight muscle ring opens up for him.

Tyler flips you over so you can face him as he begins to fuck into you harder and rougher, "open wide" Tyler grunts out and you immediately obliged without a moment of thought, Tyler let's a string of spit drop out of his mouth and down into yours and you lap up the taste of him until he wraps both hands around your neck tighten, choking you aggressively but you love every moment of it, loving how dominant he is.

Him fucking you goes on for hours, with each thrust of his cock your asshole becomes sloppier and sloppier. Opening up for him more and more until he completely owns your asshole, Tyler fucks into you a couple more times until he shoots his thick creamy load deep inside your asshole, making sure to get you nice and full. Your eyes flutter back as you feel his fill you up, you bite your lip as you pump away at your cock until you feel it burst out with cum, coating your stomach all over.

"TYLER!" You grunt out in pleasure as you feel him pull out of your asshole, scooping up some cum that dripped out plugging it up with his fingers. He leans up and gently places a kiss on your neck slowly leaning down to lick a strip of cum from your stomach. He lays down next to you, keeping his fingers plugged up inside of you, "perfect boy," You mumble out to him, which causes him to smirk as being praised is his perfect way to end sex.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold @sluttyhusband

[yierrem]

dating headcanons - zzzero men edition (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

ft. gn!reader x anton ivanov, ben bigger, lighter, von lycaon, wise ; no applicable warnings! my first request (i tried to finish it before christmas in my timezone, but still, merry christmas to the anon who requested this :DD and to those reading!!) hehehhe i hope its good enough｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

anton ivanov

you cannot look me in the eye and tell me this man isn’t the type to yell “this is for you!” or “if i hit this you give me a kiss” and completely miss whatever target he’s supposed to hit. he hits it. sometimes. he still gets a kiss anyways.

[“dude” “we’re literally dating and you’ve placed your lips on mine do NOT call me dude.” “…babe”]

big on gift giving and words of affirmation in terms of love languages. he makes sure to put a lot of thought into whatever he gives to you to properly convey his appreciation and show just how much you mean to him.

"strong, sincere, and straightforward." he's definitely the type to encourage you to try new things especially when you're the type to get easily nervous. if you're scared of looking stupid, don't worry; he'll do it with you hand-in-hand so you can be stupid together. becomes your no. 1 hype man and would give you his honest opinions whenever you need ‘em.

you see or hear him talking to his jackhammer bro for the most mundane or random things and you've become used to it at this point. its honestly endearing (you're hopeless)

["bro do you think they'd still love me if i was a worm?" "vroom vroom vroom" “you think so?” “vroom” "yeah, you're right."]

ben bigger

scary bear privileges meaning no one wants to mess with you knowing that you're dating someone who cuts such an intimidating presence but you know better than them because ben would much rather use his paws to tap away at a calculator or spreadsheet than willingly get into fights.

on that note, he's most likely to be the best companion for grocery shopping; he'll know how to get all the good discounts and haggle for the best prices for sure.

best cuddle partner to have during colder seasons no. 1. although he puts his fur care second, it's still soft and fuzzy to the touch and he likes that you appreciate the warmth it provides too.

since he struggles with some of his accounting responsibilities due to the size of his paws, sometimes you help him with sorting some of belobog industries' financial documents and eventually you end up finding the task quite relaxing after a while of doing it.

but, of course, he loves spending time with you outside of work. anything to take his mind off of the horrors of accounting. he'll mentally file away anything he learns about you when you're together for future purposes, may it be gift or date ideas.

he's the bear thiren between both of you, but in private he loves cuddling against you like you're some sort of plush toy. you don't mind. another win-win situation because you get to rest against him like a giant pillow as well.

lighter

he tries to be flirty with you and sometimes it works! but when you match his energy and it backfires on him he turns into a blushing mess who doesn’t know what to do with himself.

also the type to want to show off or act all suave. he has an image to keep as the undefeated champion! the red scarf! (he’s internally giggling and kicking his feet from one [1] cheek kiss you left in passing).

date nights with him sometimes consist of drives on his bike and stargazing at a nice little spot he found in blazewood. then halfway through, he’d get distracted from seeing the stars in your eyes and think that its a hundred times better than the real thing and fall in love all over again.

“gets as many challenges as love letters” but he makes sure that you and anyone who tries to make a move know that he only has eyes for you. could be in the form of having an arm around your waist or his jacket on you when you feel cold.

a physical touch and acts of service guy because. well. he did say he’d like to die for love one day. that’s a very romantic thing to say and do. also his heart still races whenever you hold his hand but he swears he’s getting used to it (he isn’t). probably melts when you gently run your fingers over his face or any of his scars

i honestly feel like he's one of those "me and my bae don't argue they just tell me to shut up and i do" types.

von lycaon

an ideal date for him would be a fancy dinner or picnic somewhere nice and discreet. complete with scented candles, your favorite flowers, and homecooked food (which probably tastes better than anything you've ever eaten at any restaurant). then at some point when both of you have finished eating and you're both in conversation, he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves a kiss on your knuckles.

["darling, your face is...concerningly red. are you feeling alright?" "i'm fine. i think."]

you WILL be receiving that prince/princess treatment (threat). breakfast in bed when he isn’t busy, spontaneous massages offered when you mention ONCE that you feel tired, and all that jazz. you probably will never have to open another door yourself with him around and he ALWAYS offers his arm for you to take when you're walking together.

best cuddle partner to have during colder seasons no. 2. just prepare yourself for horrendous shedding as summer begins… but you don’t mind helping him brush through his fur (*´ω`*) its therapeutic and you’re one of the very few people he trusts with the task so its a win for both of you.

since he's a wolf thiren, he sometimes unwillingly attracts the attention of stray cats and dogs; he usually pays them no mind but it is somewhat of an inconvenience for him. however, the sight of you playing with them while quietly cooing eases some of his discomfort. seems like you aren't the only one suffering from cuteness aggression.

his guilty pleasure is squishing your cheeks in his hands. no i will not elaborate

wise

this is one of the random play managers we’re talking about, so. movie date nights are mandatory. both of you alternate when picking movies but sometimes you bicker over options like an old married couple just for the fun of it.

a lot more chill when it comes to PDA but he can be flirty when he wants to be. if he knows you have a weak spot for it, he uses it to his advantage to get what he wants. scheming little minx. /pos

words of affirmation and quality time guy, i think. since he's always so busy with managing the store and completing commissions alongside belle as proxies, he makes the most out of the time you guys can spend together alone. even if it's just laying in his bed or on the couch doing nothing together sometimes.

everyone and their mothers and grandmothers on sixth street will probably know that you’re dating or figure something out at some point even when both of you don’t really do much together in public/are trying to keep it on the low. never underestimate these aunties man

unfortunately for wise, he will become the target of teasing or nagging from belle when it comes to your relationship. once you get close enough she'll also share embarrassing stories from when they were younger or before you and wise started dating much to her brother’s chagrin.

secretly likes clinging and cuddling up to you like a koala. both of you are in bed? oh okay, don’t mind him, he’ll just scooch a bit and wrap his arms and legs around you, claiming that having you in his bed helps fix his insomnia (it does, to some degree). [“wise i can’t move.” “you don’t need to.”]

on the days you help out with tasks in random play, you could quite literally just be standing while doing something and then you’ll feel a pair of arms sneak around your waist from behind as he leans his head on one of your shoulders with a quiet, satisfied sigh.