#Miss Garland’s girls

[homeisaplaceinthehills]

Theresa Babb’s Photographs of Grace G. and Grace Parker at Lake City, Sept. 1900

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (M) (Pt. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre:  Holiday / Second Chance!AU / Hockey!AU

Pairing: Jimin / Reader (F)

Synopsis: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Word Count: 44,416 (19K in part 2)

Author’s Note: Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora! Unfortunately, due to the new Tumblr text post limitations, this has to be published as multiple parts. THIS IS NOT THE START OF THE STORY. Please read Part 1 first, here.

Rating: 18+

NSFW Warnings: oral (F), multiple orgasms (F), fingering, sex in a semi-public area (brief), breast play, spanking, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, mention of toys

A/N: all collab fics incorporate the phrase, "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

A/N: This is not part 1. Read part 1 here.

“Jimin!” Hana cries, plowing into his legs. “Y/N! We’re skates!”

Lifting your brows, you crouch to boop her red pom-pom hat. “Of course, you are!” you say. When Hana runs off, you stand and lean closer. “Do you think she meant they have skates, or that we’re pretending to be them?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Jimin chuckles, taking your hand to cross the street.

You seem surprised but continue, falling into step alongside him. If pressed, Jimin could say he’s holding your hand because you’re around his family but truthfully, that’s not why. He’s holding your hand because he hasn’t touched you for twelve hours, crumbling something vital deep in his chest.

Jimin’s mom waves you over to where they’ve occupied several benches. “Welcome,” she says, gesturing to the group. “The girls picked out skates for everyone – correct sizes, of course.”

Stifling a laugh, Jimin looks at the skates. Of course, the twins picked them out since they’ve chosen only the most ridiculous concepts. Each year, a main Garland attraction is the infamous holiday ice skates. Imagine a Christmas staple, and there’s an ice skate for it. Snowmen skates wait for Jimin, complete with tiny carrot noses.

“How did you know my favorites,” you gasp, bending to reach for your candy cane skates.

“Cuz we’re smart!” Ari yells, wriggling free of Hoseok’s arms.

Jisoo grabs her by the waist, picking her up to sit down on a bench. Jimin takes you by the hand again, leading you to a semi-secluded bench. Glancing over your shoulder, you watch as he drags you away from his family.

“Sit,” Jimin demands, and your eyes widen.

Somewhat flustered, you obey. “Jimin,” you hiss when he kneels before you. “No one is watching us. You don’t have to…”

He lifts a brow. “I don’t have to do anything, Y/N.”

You fall silent when he begins unlacing your boots, setting them aside on the cold ground. Jimin doesn’t miss the way you shiver when his hand curls around your ankle, nor the look on your face when he scoots even closer.

“Jimin…”

Flashing a wicked smile, he looks up. “Yes?”

A lump moves in your throat when you swallow. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Brows lifted, Jimin leans forward, pressing his shoulder against your inner knee. He begins tying the laces, taking his time to savor the closeness. By the time he’s finished, you’re glowering darkly.

“Up,” you demand, switching places.

Jimin shouldn’t be turned on by how easily you walk in skates, nor by the bossy edge to your voice as you kneel.

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, your gaze burning. Placing both hands on his knees, you lean forward. “To tease me?”

“Tease you?” Jimin looks you up and down. “Right now, I feel like the victim here.”

Pushing yourself to stand, you nudge him with your foot. “You can put on your own skates, Park. Last I checked, you got paid to do this for a living.”

“Usually, they pay me to play in the skates. Not just look pretty.”

Your lips tilt. “Are you calling yourself pretty?”

Wordless, Jimin tosses his hair as he stands from the bench. Eyes wide, you realize your gaze drops to his skates, already tied. Leaning in, Jimin brushes your arm with his palm.

“That depends,” he says lowly. “What do you think?”

Your gaze focuses on him. “Your looks haven’t changed that much since September, Park.”

His eyes darken. “Stop calling me that.”

“What – Park?”

Brows lowered, Jimin steps closer. “You sound like you’re about to scold me.”

You snort. “Scold you? Who do you think I am?”

“Stop changing the subject.”

“What even is the subject?”

“What about my looks has changed since September?”

You pause to survey him. “You… well. Your hair,” you admit.

Uncertain, Jimin reaches up to touch it. “My hair?”

“Yeah.” You nod, transfixed by his fingers. “It’s longer. It–” Cutting yourself off, your lips press together. “It looks nice, that’s all.”

Jimin hovers a second, wishing you’d continue but the moment is interrupted by your names being called. Turning his head, he spots Jisoo and Hoseok stepping onto the ice. Hoseok has both of Ari’s hands, while Jisoo has Hana.

Heart dropping, Jimin pieces two and two together. When you arrived on Thursday, the oddest expression crossed over your face at the twins. And later, while making cookies, you often were silent. Jimin chalked this up to the strangeness of your arrangement, but only now realizes the full implication. Ari and Hana must remind you of the false pregnancy, and the events which came after.

On instinct, Jimin takes your hand again. You glance down, surprised, but Jimin is already walking, pulling you with.

Although you stumble a little, you follow. “How do you walk in these things every day?” you demand, gesturing vaguely.

“We usually wear them on ice, not the sidewalk.”

“Hilarious.”

Arriving at the rink, Jimin removes his skate guards and holds out a hand. Handing them off to his mom, Jimin opens the gate to step onto the ice.

For a moment, the world fades. This is the reason he plummeted when he wasn’t sure if he could skate again. This feeling, this rush of freedom – Jimin has felt it on the ice ever since he can remember. Your hand is grounding, keeping him steady through the inner turmoil. Taking a deep breath, Jimin pushes off on one skate to bring you with.

Across the rink, Hoseok and Jisoo lead their daughters around. Seeing them, Jimin can’t help but smile. Jisoo was raised on the rink and can skate circles around most of their friend group.

“They’re so cute,” you sigh, following his gaze.

“Who? Jisoo and Hoseok?”

“I mean, sure,” you laugh, eyes crinkling. “But I was talking about Hana and Ari. No matter what your dad says, Hana is definitely going pro.”

Jimin sees a moment of realization cross your face. A few months ago, the idea of his dad disapproving would have crippled him. Now, Jimin feels sad, but he knows he’ll get through it.

Tightening his grip, he moves closer. “Want to know a secret?” Jimin says, skating backwards to face you. Both your hands end in his, letting him pull you.

“Obviously.”

Jimin grins, spinning you in a circle. “I got her lessons for Christmas with my old teacher. Just for fun, but I think she’ll enjoy it.”

“She absolutely will,” you say, smiling so wide, Jimin’s heart hurts. “Speaking of…”

Turning his head, Jimin spots Hoseok skate past with Ari. They wave as they go, Ari’s scarf flapping in the wind.

“So slow!” Hoseok calls, as Ari laughs. “Seems like that NHL thing really was a fluke, Park…”

Jimin’s brows lower, enough that you laugh and let go of his hand. “Go on,” you tease, skating backwards. “Catch up to them.”

His gaze lingers on you as you leave, watching you glide across the rink with ease. Turning around, you weave between patrons as the ends of your scarf flutter behind you. Jimin remembers the first time he brought you home for the holidays. Until then, you’d given him nothing but a hard time with his hockey fame. Pretending not to know the rules, the players or even the sport – although he often caught you Googling what certain terms meant.

The first time you came home, Jimin’s parents were the ones who suggested ice skating. Jimin was hesitant, thinking you didn’t know how, but once you stepped onto the rink, his jaw dropped. Although you aren’t a professional, you took lessons as a kid and somehow maintained your graceful ease. Somewhat embarrassingly, that was the morning he caved and broke his no-sex-in-the-childhood-home rule.

Body tightening, Jimin locks in on you as you skate away. Similar to seeing you wearing a new cosplay, watching you skate circles is enough to draw blood to a very specific part of his body. Pushing off with one foot, Jimin starts slowly around the edge of the rink. Several heads turn, but he ignores them entirely. Glancing over your shoulder, you notice him watching and laugh, purposefully crouching to gain momentum.

Lips twitching, Jimin adopts a similar stance and goes faster. He barely outpaces his slowest round at practice, but that’s fine. To everyone else, Jimin is practically flying. As one of the shortest players in the NHL, Jimin makes up for what he lacks in stride with his speed. Offensive positions require agility, something which happens to be his main strength. Wind cuts his face as Jimin makes a turn that would send lesser skaters sprawling.

Leisurely, he approaches you from the opposite side. Glancing over your shoulder, you frown, losing visibility.

“Gotcha,” Jimin says, grabbing around your waist to speak in your ear.

You yelp, twisting around to avoid tangling skates. “No fair,” you laugh, still in his arms. “You’re a professional. You cheated!”

“Which one is it, princess?” he teases, prompting a startled breath.

Licking your lower lip, you glance sideways and Jimin feels his body lock. Continuing to skate with his arms wrapped around you, he can barely decipher his train of thought. You face forward quickly, but not fast enough – Jimin knows that look. Your pupils are dilated, eyes wide with lips slightly parted. That look connects with his lower half in a way that makes skating distinctly uncomfortable.

“You can’t call me that,” you say under your breath.

Despite this, your hand tightens in his, not letting him go.

Jimin leans closer. “Call you what?”

“Any name other than the one chosen at birth.”

“Oh, I see. So, if I say Y/N.” Jimin dips his tone. “That’s fine?”

He feels your shiver, sliding his thumb along the side of your palm, and–

“Y/N!”

You start, jerking upright when Hana skates by holding onto Jisoo. Jimin falls behind you, somewhat embarrassed he let things go so far. As much as he wants to call you princess and get you to admit that you want him – he wants more than simply desire. Something like that happening would only muddy the waters.

Ari skates past as well, begging you to join, which you do with a dutiful nod. Jimin watches you go, skating to the edge of the rink and stepping outside. Pulling on guards, he clomps towards the hot chocolate stand to buy you a cup. While he waits, a familiar hat sidles up alongside him.

“Hi, mom,” he says, smiling downward.

Jimin’s mom wraps an arm around his waist and squeezes. A lump forms in Jimin’s throat, one he manages to swallow. The past year has been hard, forcing tough conversations to be held over the phone. Worse than losing his health, Jimin felt that he lost the support of his family.

“You two looked good out there,” his mom says, moving up in line.

Jimin lifts a brow. His mom never says something she doesn’t mean – a fact that he envies. Bringing your relationship up means she has something to say.

“Thanks,” he says, waiting for the rest.

“I hope we didn’t make you or Y/N uncomfortable last night. You know the last thing your father and I want is to pressure you.”

Shaking his head, Jimin moves forward. “You didn’t – don’t worry.”

“Mm.” Her lips thin. “What were you doing, going out late with Hoseok?”

Jimin’s eyes widen. Shit. Exactly like his mom, to lead with something soft, then go for the kill. A hockey strategy Jimin has employed often, with great success.

“We… I, uh…”

His mom pats him on the arm. “Every couple has their difficulties, Jimin. I’m not going to pretend every obstacle is surmountable – only you can decide that – but running away will solve nothing.”

Stunned by her accuracy, Jimin shakes his head. “I thought she wanted space,” he admits. This much, at least, is true.

“Space is good,” she agrees. “But only when asked for.”

The couple before them in line finishes paying and leaves. Somewhat dazed, Jimin moves up and orders three hot chocolates. Stepping aside to wait, Jimin turns to face his mom.

“That’s good advice,” he says slowly.

“I know.” She smiles. “That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about, though.”

Jimin lifts a brow. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

She laughs. “No,” she admits, linking arms. “I wanted to check in on you, dear. You’ve seemed a little… well, off lately. It’s been a while since we last talked.”

Jimin can hear her concern, the utmost care she’s taking in having this conversation. His heart aches, knowing she must have rehearsed this talk often. Truthfully, Jimin didn’t mean to pull away from his family. It became almost second nature to avoid having an argument.

“Well,” Jimin says. “This season has been tough. I wasn’t sure how it’d be… being back on the ice. And I didn’t think you or dad would want to hear about that.”

Gripping his elbow, his mom turns him to face her. Her gaze has turned serious, an indent between her brows. “Jimin. I always want to hear about your day. Okay?”

He blinks several times.

“I’m sorry,” she exhales. “I know I wasn’t… I was scared, seeing you so badly injured last year.”

Jimin presses his lips together. “I know.”

“But,” she adds, fierce light to her gaze. “That’s not an excuse for making you feel this way. Your career will always scare us, Jimin.” She holds up a hand at the look on his face. “No, I want to be truthful. Your career will always scare us, but darling, I’ve watched you skate since you were three years old. I see your face on the ice. I’m sorry for asking you to give that up. It was selfish.”

Something rent apart mends in his chest. Before Jimin can respond, three hot chocolates are placed on the counter. Smiling, his mom accepts one and hands him the rest.

“Don’t feel like you have to say anything back,” she chides, guiding him towards the rink. “I only wanted to make sure you knew.”

“No – no.” Jimin shakes his head. “I’m trying more often to express how I feel. Mom… the way you and dad acted hurt me. For a while, it felt like everyone in the world was against me, and I didn’t know how to convince them. Or myself.”

His mom blinks several times. “I understand that,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry, dear. I’m here for you, whatever you decide – I promise.”

“And dad?”

Lips twisting, she glances across the rink, where his dad sits on a bench. Not skating, simply watching Hana and Ari be towed around. Seeing this, Jimin understands what she means. His dad still has a long way to go.

“It’s okay, mom,” he murmurs.

She frowns. “No, it’s not. But he’ll come around, Jimin – I know it.”

“Yeah.” Releasing his breath, Jimin looks across the rink and catches your eye.

You grin widely, hand in hand with Ari as Jimin smiles. Something Dr. Nygard once said comes to mind. He told Jimin it was normal to want the attention of others, but it wasn’t healthy to shape one’s entire reality from it. For a long time, Jimin only believed he was good if other people said so. Only thought he could want something when other people agreed.

The moment you asked if you could take a break, all Jimin heard was you didn’t want him. Rather than stay and fight for what he believed in, he left and now, it’s up to him to convince you things are different. Being without you cast things in perspective. No – Jimin doesn’t need your approval to live the life he wants.

But the life he wants to live has you in it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring pain meds this weekend,” you huff, digging around in the endless void you call a purse.

Sheepish, Jimin shrugs. “My tailbone felt better. And then, I don’t know… sitting for hours on a flight didn’t help.”

Stunned, you glance upward. “You’ve been hurt since the flight, Jimin?” you ask, failing to keep your anger in check. “Why are you only telling me now?”

Amused, he crosses both arms. “Y/N,” Jimin tsks. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you cared.”

Simultaneously annoyed and aroused, your gaze darts towards your purse. Yanking free a bottle of ibuprofen, you shake out two pills. “Here,” you insist, thrusting them forward. “Take these and be quiet.”

Partly, your dismay stems from this being your fault. Jimin mentioned he was injured outside the house, but you were too mad to hear and made him sleep on the couch. And now, you’ll be the reason for Chicago’s losing streak. You can already hear the disparaging Twitter comments.

“Be quiet.” Jimin accepts the pills to throw them back, dry. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You stare, horrified. “That’s disgusting.”

“You get used to it.”

“Nope,” you say as you turn away. “I don’t think I would.”

Jimin chuckles from behind, catching up when you push open the door to the shop. Once everyone had their fill of ice-skating, you went with Jimin’s family to a lovely place for lunch. Afterwards, everyone broke into pairs for late Christmas shopping. It seems everyone is missing one gift or another, resulting in a need for covert alliances. Jisoo went off with her mom, while Hoseok went off with their dad and the twins.

The fact that you ended up alone with Jimin hasn’t escaped you. Briefly, you wondered if Jimin’s mom was behind this to give you some privacy but banished the notion. If this were the case, she likely would have just said so. The thought makes your face heat as you enter the shop.

Things today have been… different when it comes to Jimin. First, there was his apology in the car and then, the whole skate-tying incident. Merely the memory makes you shiver, recalling the feel of his hand on your ankle. Not to mention his cryptic phrasing, insisting he should have stayed – last night. Or possibly more.

Frustrated, you glance around the stationary shop. For once, you wish Jimin would just say what he means. Then again, you suppose two can play at that game. You weren’t exactly honest when you asked for a break.

Covertly, you glance sideways and find Jimin’s cheeks reddened. Infuriatingly, he looks even better than the day before. Darkly, you wonder if he sold his soul to a witch or is involved in some sort of Dorian Gray situation.

Turning around, Jimin catches you staring. “What are you thinking?” he asks, moving closer.

Rather than fan his ego, you ask something that’s been bothering you the past hour. “I saw you talking to your mom at the hot chocolate stand. What was that about?”

Jimin stiffens slightly, and you stifle a sigh.

Six months prior, Jimin would have brushed aside the question. In the spring, when his arguments with his dad were at their worst, you tried to distract him, but nothing succeeded. Jimin didn’t want to talk about anything, but in every conversation, his mind was elsewhere. You shouldn’t be surprised this is still true but somehow, you hoped.

“Hockey,” Jimin answers, and your face jerks up. “My mom said she was always going to worry about me playing, but she apologized for asking me to give it up. I think…” He pauses. “She may have been giving me her blessing to re-sign? Not that I need it,” he adds, a bit thoughtful.

“Jimin,” you gasp. “That’s amazing!”

“I know, right?” He smiles. “There’s still my dad, but it means so much to me that she said that. And… I mean, I can’t wait around for them to approve of everything, can I? I need to do what’s best for myself.”

Slowly, you nod. “You do.”

He meets your gaze. “I wanted to thank you, actually.”

“Thank me?”

“Yeah. You told me that, and I didn’t agree. I just… I wasn’t ready to hear it. In a way, when you left, it forced me to examine some hard truths about myself.”

Again, your heart sinks. You’re glad Jimin has his therapist and they’re helping to change his outlook. On the other hand, it sounds as though your leaving was an uptick in his life.

“Ah,” you say faintly. “I see.”

Jimin cocks his head. “When you said you wanted a break, all I heard was that the last person to believe in me no longer did. I know that’s not fair,” he adds, seeing your face. “But that’s how I felt. It was easier to fall, to hit rock bottom… than to pull myself out.”

You consider this – and him – for a long moment. In September, you really weren’t in a position to listen. The rapid elation and depression of thinking you were pregnant, coupled with fear from a year of anxiety, resulted in a potentially harmful reaction. Jimin deserved more than what you gave.

“I shouldn’t have come to you like that,” you say quietly. “It wasn’t fair of me to just… spring that on you without explanation. I should have asked you to talk. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you, thinking I wouldn’t listen.”

“Maybe,” you say. “If I could go back though, I’d do things differently.”

“Me, too.”

For a while, you stand there and let the words sink in. Frequently since the break-up, you imagined what it would be like to see Jimin again. You wondered if he’d be angry, whether he’d ignore you or cast blame for what happened. Rarely did you imagine he’d apologize, or that he’d taken steps to address what happened this fall.

And maybe that was another mistake you both made – assuming the other person couldn’t change or wouldn’t want to.

Then, another thought occurs that makes your heart sink. Jimin’s mom is fine with him extending his contract. The entire reason you came here was to lessen the difficulty of two pieces of bad news at once. With one in the open, it’s not necessary to continue the charade.

For a moment, you debate whether to say something and instead, you turn smoothly and pluck a card from the pile.

“Look at this one,” you say, holding it up to the light. “Do you think Ari would like it?”

Glancing at this, Jimin tilts his head. The card is covered in glitter, to the point where the pictures and words are rendered obsolete.

“I think it’s perfect,” he says with a laugh. “Look, there’s another glitter one for Hana.”

Selecting them both, you head for the cashier. Jimin diverts to check out a large stack of board games in the back for his uncle.

“You check out,” he says, waving you onward. “I’ll meet you at the register in a minute.”

“All right,” you say, turning away.

Bypassing the colorful pens near the register, you place both cards on the counter. “Can I have a bag?” you ask as they ring you up.

The cashier nods, setting to work and you drum your finger against the counter. Outside, it’s started snowing. You can’t help but smile since it never seems to stop snowing in Garland for long. Hopefully, everything will clear up for tomorrow’s Christmas Eve party. Jimin’s family never misses, barring illness or high water.

Behind you, the bells above the door chime.

“Y/N?” A familiar – deeply grating – makes you go stiff. “Is that you? Oh my gosh!”

Smile frozen, you slowly turn. Vivian Wu shuts the door with one hand, casually unwinding a red scarf from her neck. Her hair is luscious and sleek, billowing over her perfect pea coat. When she walks towards the register, you notice cashmere gloves and boots that seem untouched by the salt on the roads.

Continuing to force a smile, you nod. “Hi, Vivian,” you say. “Yep, it’s me. Y/N.”

Coming to a stop, Vivian tilts her head. As the daughter of the former mayor and a politician herself, she’s practically royalty in a small town like Garland. Vivian also happens to be Jimin’s ex-girlfriend, dating him for three years in high school before they broke up when he was drafted. A fact Vivian never really accepted.

Her smile turns simpering. “How nice to see you,” she says, her tone suggesting the opposite. “Are you visiting the Parks for the holidays?”

You nod, suddenly glad for the charade. “Jimin and I are only here for a few days, unfortunately. Are you attending the Christmas Eve party tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. The Parks are such a wonderful family. It’s a shame you only get to see them once a year.”

Although your stomach twists, you remind yourself it’s not worth it. Vivian only acts this way because she’s not dating Jimin – but then again, neither are you. Your heart sinks, realizing you might be looking at your future. Vivian will be thrilled to discover you’re no longer together. You never learned why she disliked you, only that she’s the only other girl Jimin dated seriously.

Your very first visit, you were introduced to her at the Christmas Eve party. Jimin warned you his ex-girlfriend would be there but failed to mention how beautiful – and vindictive – she was. Apparently, the break-up was Jimin’s idea and Vivian loathed having a total loss of control.

That night ended in a harried fight between you and Jimin, becoming the first time he ever said he loved you. Remembering that night, you can’t help but smile – a gesture that widens when Vivian scowls.

“It’s a shame,” you sigh. “I’m sure they appreciate having you looking out for them, though.”

Vivian sniffs, unable to find the insult. “Of course. Anything for Jimin. Speaking of” – she leans in, her Chanel perfume tickling your nose – “I’ve been watching his games and haven’t seen you lately? Is everything okay?”

You instantly stiffen. Despite what you told Jimin, you genuinely hadn’t thought many people would notice. Of course, Vivian did.

“No,” you say sweetly. “Just busy with work.”

“That’s a shame,” she says, her voice implying that, if it were her, Vivian would make herself available, no matter the cost.

You can’t help but bristle, though the scenario is moot. Neither of you are dating Jimin, so there’s nothing to compare. Still, even when you were together, Jimin never expected you to attend every game. That was his job, not yours, he would joke all the time. Both of you were adults with careers.

Tossing her hair, Vivian nods at your hand. “And I’m surprised, Y/N – no ring? Jisoo and Hoseok got engaged after what, two years? And you’ve been dating Jimin for…?”

“Four years,” you say stiffly.

“That’s right.” Her frown deepens. “Four.”

Your tongue is in danger of bleeding from how hard you bite. Vivian’s words have little to do with you, and more to do with the circumstances, but you can’t help but feel frustrated. And hurt.

Smoothly, an arm slides around your waist. “There you are,” murmurs Jimin, pulling you close. He brushes a kiss to your hair, glancing at Vivian. “You can blame that on me, Viv,” he says easily. “Haven’t found the perfect ring yet. None big enough. Or expensive enough.”

Your lips twitch. “Exactly,” you sigh, laying a hand on his chest. “He keeps proposing and I keep saying, ‘nope, try again.’”

Jimin chuckles, nuzzling into your hair. Vivian glances between you, looking vaguely nauseated. You can’t say you blame her.

“How nice,” she mutters.

“Anyways.” Glancing around, Jimin grabs your bag from the counter. “We really should get going. It was nice seeing you, Vivian.”

“You, too,” she huffs, brushing past to the board games.

As soon as she’s gone, your smile drops. “Thanks,” you exhale, slipping out from his arm. “I… well, I wasn’t sure what to say to her.”

Jimin catches you around the wrist.

You hesitate a long moment, then turn. Two days ago, the rules of the game were clear. No kissing with tongue. Jimin sleeps on the couch. And no need to pretend when no one else is around.

Gaze drifting upwards, you find yourself unable to decipher his expression. Slowly, Jimin pulls you closer to casually fix the scarf around your neck.

“Let’s head home, okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, not trusting yourself to respond to him with words. Outside, on the street, Jimin comes to a stop. Exhaling briskly, he turns sideways to face you.

“I just…”

Dropping your wrist, Jimin shoves a hand through his hair.

“Jimin, it’s okay,” you say, stepping closer. “I don’t blame how she acted – really. Being on the other side, like this…” Lamely, you shrug. “I guess I understand how Vivian feels. That’s all.”

Jimin stares at you, wide-eyed. You think that must be it, and attempt to walk past, but he grabs your wrist again.

“Y/N,” he says sternly. “You are nothing like Vivian. Okay?”

You blink, glancing down at his hand. That’s twice in two minutes he’s touched you like this. Gaze snapping upward, you frown.

“Am I?” you demand. Stepping closer, you stand nearly nose-to-nose. “We’re both your exes, Jimin. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to watch you parade someone else around town. God, just thinking about you with someone else drives me crazy. I’d be an asshole to future me, too.”

Dipping his head, Jimin inhales. “That’s not going to happen,” he murmurs into your ear. “I wouldn’t be worried about that, if I were you.”

“What does that –”

“Y/N! JIMIN!”

Adorable interruptions seem to be your curse this weekend. Tiny arms crush your knees as, looking down, you find Hana grinning.

Bending, you scoop her onto one hip. “What’s this?” you gasp when she hands you a bag. “Did you buy me a Christmas present all by yourself?”

“Mhm,” she says proudly. “We got you new gloves to wear when you watch Uncle Jimin play.”

Hoseok groans as he arrives. “Girls, that was supposed to be a secret. Remember? Y/N was going to unwrap the gloves on Christmas.”

Ari frowns, tugging on Hoseok’s coat. “But then the present would tell her, not us.”

You can’t help but laugh as Jisoo and her mom walk up behind you.

“What’d we miss?” Jisoo asks, taking Hana.

“Hoseok was explaining the concept of presents,” says Jimin.

“Oh, good. Any success?”

“No,” Hoseok grumbles.

Everyone laughs, and Jimin’s dad flips his keys. “Are we all set?” he asks. “I thought I’d make hot chocolate back at the house.”

“Yeahhh!” yell the twins, immediately taking off.

Snow starts to fall as you leave the town square. More holiday music plays on the drive, and you find yourself dutifully humming along. Despite what you said, there are several noticeable differences between you and Vivian. You might both be his exes, but Jimin only asked one of you home for Christmas.

And only one of you has the opportunity now to make things right.

By Saturday evening, Jimin regrets asking Hoseok for help. He might mean well, but Jimin’s brother-in-law is the least covert person on the face of the planet. Indeed, he’s done more to detract from Jimin’s goal than to add to it. All day, he’s tried to create alone time for you and Jimin with mixed results.

At dinner, Hoseok leaves a chair open next to Jimin – only for Ari to claim it. Afterwards, the family gathers to watch a movie and once again, Hoseok tries to set him up on the sofa. Unfortunately, Hoseok miscounts, and Jisoo is forced to squish between Jimin and the armrest. Little romance can happen sandwiched between you and his sister.

That’s not to say no romance, though. Ever since the stationary store, you seem to have forgotten your rule about physical contact. While watching the Grinch, you curl into Jimin’s side, holding his hand under a mountain of blankets. Jimin strokes his thumb over the back of your hand, trying and failing not to let his mind wander.

He can’t stop thinking about you and Vivian, knowing the situation is his doing. When he broke up with Vivian, he did it over the phone and barely gave her answers to the questions she posed. He didn’t know how to admit that he wasn’t in love, so instead, he made excuses about distance and hockey. It’s no wonder Vivian hovers now, waiting for you to make any misstep.

The thought of you returning to an ex is enough to make Jimin go wild. His arm tenses on the sofa, despite knowing there’s no reason for him to be mad. Still, it’s all he can think about when the movie ends and you get ready for bed. Bringing his stuff down the hall, Jimin lets you use the bathroom within his room.

The door remains shut when he returns, so Jimin busies himself with making the couch comfortable. He’s debating adding a third pillow when the bathroom door opens, and you step outside.

Jimin nearly drops the holiday pillow he holds. Honestly, he should receive awards for his self-control this weekend. Once again, you’ve decided to clothe yourself – or not clothe yourself – in the skimpiest nightgown known to man. Pink lace skims your generous curves, something you seem oblivious of while crossing the room.

Jimin’s jaw clenches. “What time do you want to wake up tomorrow?”

Gaze skipping past him, you land on the sofa. “You’re not seriously planning on sleeping there?” you demand, folding your arms over your chest.

He forces himself not to stare at your delicious cleavage. “This feels like a trick question.”

“Jimin!” You throw up both hands. “You’re injured! I feel bad enough you had to take painkillers this morning.”

“Oh. Well, don’t feel bad,” Jimin says, bending for the pillow.

“Jimin!”

“What?” He half-laughs as he straightens. “There’s only one bed in this room, and my parents would know if you slept anywhere else. This is fine, Y/N.”

Chewing your lower lip, you glance down. “Unless…”

He waits. “Are you offering to sleep on the couch?”

Your gaze snaps upward. “No.”

A tinge of awareness spreads down his spine as Jimin slowly glances between you and the bed. “Are you…” Jimin hesitates, not wanting to break the fragile truce between you. “Are you offering to break rule number one?”

“Technically, you were the one who offered to sleep on the couch,” you point out. “All I said was we didn’t have to pretend while we were alone.”

“Y/N.”

“Alright, fine!” you huff. “I don’t want to sleep in the same bed. But I’m… retracting that rule, for the good of humanity. Only the bed part,” you warn, shifting your weight.

Seeing you slightly flustered wakes a sleeping beast in his chest. Jimin takes a step closer, realizing you’re not immune to his proximity.

“Are you sure?” he asks, coming to a stop. “I don’t want to take advantage of the situation. I can sleep on the couch, Y/N, and be fine. I promise.”

“Oh?” you scoff, turning around. “And have me be blamed for injuring the ‘best offensive player in the NHL?’ No thanks.”

Jimin stares at your retreating backside. “Y/N Y/L/N,” he says, slowly following you towards the bed. “Have you been watching my games on TV?”

Your fingers freeze on the comforter. “I… I’ve seen a few,” you say, evasive as you pull back the sheets. Slipping beneath the covers, you pointedly avoid eye contact.

Unable to contain his grin, Jimin folds his arms. He doesn’t miss the way your gaze darts towards his biceps, lingering longer than is strictly necessary.

“How many?” Jimin demands, moving closer.

Gaze snapping upward, you scowl. “Enough to know you’re doing disgustingly well. And that every person with half a brain has a poster telling you so on the other side of the glass.”

Coming to a stop, his brows sketch upwards. “You’ve seen the posters?”

Jimin has seen the posters but then again, he’s the one stepping onto the ice every night. Some of the content has been downright suggestive, which it seems you know from your perturbed expression. Jimin knows it isn’t healthy to savor your jealousy – on the other hand, he’ll take anything he can get when it comes to you. Jealousy implies there’s something to be jealous of.

“They’re creative,” you mutter. “I’ll give them that.”

Jimin’s grin widens. Crossing to the opposite side, he pulls back the covers. “I’ve kept track of you, too,” he admits as he joins you.

Startled, you turn over to face him. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Turning off the light, Jimin rolls sideways. “I liked your last outfit. Sundry Sydney?” he says with a snort. “The sticker was brilliant.”

“Some people thought it wasn’t slutty enough.”

“Sundry Sydney is more than a pleasure bot,” Jimin says, quoting you word for word. “She can do everything – or anything, as she later revises.”

You laugh, delighted. “You remember.”

“Of course.” Jimin softens. “I remember everything when it comes to you.”

In the moonlight, he watches your features change. Hesitance follows want in a way that makes his heart ache. Jimin did that. He put this space between you and, almost unthinking, he shifts closer.

“Sorry,” Jimin murmurs when his knee brushes your shin.

You blink. “It’s okay.”

Jimin is aware of each time you inhale, the rise and fall of your chest. The last time he slept next to you, he took it for granted. Now, he memorizes every single detail – your lashes on your cheeks, the weight of your body, the scent of your conditioner from across the pillow. If this is the last night Jimin can lie with you, he wants to remember.

Slowly, the sound of your breathing lulls his eyes shut.

Then next time they open, Jimin only feels heat. Warm, silken heat as he opens one eye and is immediately accosted by the sight of your bare shoulder. Stiffening, Jimin realizes his arm is draped over the curve of your waist. Your face nestles in his chest, fingers curled neatly into the fabric of his t-shirt.

Worse, your nightgown has ridden upward during the night, and Jimin can feel your bare thigh pressed to his. Exhaling softly, he tries to pull back. Under no circumstances can you wake and find him draped over you like the worst kind of leech. You let him sleep in the bed, not sleep with you, which is a crucial difference.

Unfortunately, his attempt at removing his arm only succeeds in rolling you closer. Jimin pauses, reevaluating as your curves press to his. When a mumbled sigh leaves your lips, he nearly gives up.

There’s only so much a person can be expected to ignore. Pressed to your soft skin, memories of past mornings come pouring back. If you were dating, Jimin would be figuring out ways to wake you up with his tongue. As it is, all he can do is close his eyes and pray for his hard-on to die.

“Jimin,” you mumble, pressing closer.

His eyes open. The movement brings your thighs flush together, and there’s no mistaking now, that was his name on your lips. Staring downward, Jimin wonders what you’re dreaming of, and whether or not he’s made an appearance.

Mumbling something, your eyes open. When your gazes connect, Jimin expects you to recoil, waits for the moment you realize where you are and withdraw.

Instead, you blink in a sleepy haze. Tentative, you move your hand higher and – Jimin holds his breath – lightly stroke your thumb down the center of his chest. Jimin hardly dares move as your gaze drops to his lips. Slowly – so, so slowly – you shift your hips forward and part your thighs.

Exhaling roughly, Jimin’s fingers find your thigh to drag over his waist. His hard cock fits snugly against your warm core.

“Oh,” you whimper.

Losing all sense of composure, Jimin tightens his grip and rolls his hips against you.

“Oh,” you moan, your head tipping back.

Dipping his chin, Jimin drags his nose up the heat of your throat. Open-mouthed, he ghosts over the place where your neck meets your collarbone. Panting, you roll your hips as his grip on you tightens. Each line of your body melts against his, driving him crazy.

Moving lower, Jimin brushes the silk hem of your nightgown. Your breath catches when his thumb slips beneath, drawing teasing circles against your inner thigh. One of your hands entwines in his hair, tugging in a way that makes him see red.

“Ah, fuck,” Jimin groans. Grasping your ass with both hands, he rolls on his back and brings you with.

Surprised, you land on top of him. “Jimin – oh,” you breathe when he thrusts upward, pressing his cock against your underwear.

Gaze somewhat hazy, you push yourself upright. Jimin moans at the sight of your thighs spilled to either side, your delicious breasts barely contained by the silk. Not looking away, keeping your hands on his chest, you slowly begin to move your hips. Jimin’s hands slide up to frame your waist, helping you get yourself off on his cock.

It won’t take long, he realizes with some shock. Whatever dream you had got you halfway, based on the way your thighs tremble above him. Lips parting, you moan his name and rock your hips faster. Gripping you tightly, Jimin thrusts upward. His fingers slip down your thighs, edging towards your center, when –

The doorbell rings downstairs.

Instantly, you freeze, your chest rising and falling. Jimin opens his mouth, but before he can utter a single word, you swing your leg off him.

“I – sorry,” you blurt, scooting to stand. “That… shouldn’t have happened.”

Jimin’s mouth shuts. No, probably not, but he also can’t bring himself to regret what just happened. Unlike you, it seems.

“I’m… just going to change,” you rush, practically fleeing into his bathroom. The door slams shut behind you, leaving Jimin alone in the bed.

Wearily, he collapses. “Fuck,” he mutters.

The shower turns on, and his imagination runs wild, replaying the past five minutes. Groaning, Jimin rolls over to stiffly stand. Yanking a sweater and jeans from his closet, he heads for the other bathroom to take care of himself. It barely takes a minute before he comes against the shower wall, chest heaving to stare at the water droplets.

With a clear head, Jimin can feel the full weight of dread in his chest. He moved too fast. Even with you instigating, Jimin shouldn’t have pushed things as far as they went. If he knows you at all – and Jimin thinks that he does – you’re probably freaking out in a separate shower. He needs to assure you as soon as possible that he wants this. Well, he wants you. Not just the physical parts.

Exhaling deeply, Jimin finishes showering and turns off the spray. Toweling himself dry, Jimin dresses as fast as he can to head downstairs. He’s nearly at the kitchen when a hand grasps his elbow, yanking him sideways and shoving him in the front closet.

Stumbling slightly, Jimin turns around and finds himself face-first with Hoseok. Flicking the light switch, Hoseok shuts the door and exhales.

Jimin looks past him. “What are you doing?” he asks, faintly alarmed. “Is everything okay?”

Shaking his head, Hoseok folds his arms across his chest. “No – definitely not. Your dad knows, man.”

“Knows what?”

“He knows,” Hoseok says with a pointed look. “He knows you’re planning to extend your hockey contract.”

Jimin’s heart sinks to the floor.

Coming to his senses, he shakes his head. “How?” Jimin demands. “How does my dad know?”

“Not sure.” Hoseok’s lips twist. “I think he went into town this morning, and some of his buddies told him. Apparently, news of the extension leaked online.”

Jimin is utterly still, already coming up with choice words for his agent. He knew this could happen, despite his request to keep this quiet. Sometimes teams leak the news to increase the pressure on players. Other times, another team in the league does it to spur a trade. Jimin hoped he’d have until the new year but apparently, the choice has been made for him.

“Well, fuck,” he mutters.

Hoseok just nods. “Yeah. I heard your mom and dad talking about it when I came downstairs.”

Jimin pauses, glancing at the door. “Have you just… been waiting out in the hall for me?”

“Yeah. I kept pretending to forget things in our room. Jisoo may or may not have caught on.”

“Great.” Jimin decides to push past this. “Did he… I mean, how did my dad seem?”

Hoseok frowns. “Quiet. I don’t know. He went into his office and didn’t come out until your mom started breakfast.”

Shit. Running a hand through his hair, Jimin exhales. “Alright,” he says. “Well, I guess there’s no point in putting things off.”

“Probably not.”

Nodding, Jimin turns to pull open the door and Hoseok’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Yeah?” Jimin asks, turning around.

“Just letting you know that I’m here for you,” Hoseok says, stepping into the hall. “I may be married to your sister, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Thanks, Hobi,” Jimin says quietly.

Squaring his shoulders, he follows him down the hall and into the kitchen. All voices cease. His mom’s spatula clatters against the bowl, and Jisoo falls silent at the kitchen table. Even you turn to face him, a mug of coffee in hand.

Jimin moves forward. “Hey,” he says tentatively. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Jimin!” says his mom, shooting a look at his dad.

Jimin’s dad pushes himself up from the table. “Jimin, can we talk?” he asks, gesturing towards the door. Based on his tone, this isn’t so much a request as a statement.

Although his stomach twists, Jimin manages a nod. “Sure, dad.”

He leaves the room, not looking behind to see if Jimin follows. Taking a deep breath, Jimin follows. When he nears the door, he feels a hand on his elbow. Gripping him tightly, you turn Jimin to face you.

“Hey,” you murmur. “Whatever your dad says – I’m here, okay? I believe in you, Jimin. No matter what.”

There’s steel to your voice, making him believe every word. No hint of weirdness from this morning remains, unraveling an unknown knot in his chest.

“Thank you,” Jimin rasps, gaining the strength to follow his dad.

The door to his dad’s study is as familiar as Jimin’s childhood, known as the only place off-limits to play in. Entering now, Jimin shuts the door and turns around.

His dad sits on the edge of his desk, hands clasped, and face lined. Jimin steps closer, about to plead his case but his dad holds up a hand.

“I think it’s best if I spoke first,” he says quietly.

Jimin stops, then nods.

Exhaling lowly, his dad drags a hand down his face. For the first time, Jimin notices moisture in the corners of his eyes when he looks up. “I heard this morning your contract is up for extension.”

Jimin decides honesty is best. “It is, yeah.”

His dad swallows, and then nods. “When my friends told me… I told them they must be mistaken. I said you would’ve said if that was true, and then they showed me the article…” Steadying himself, his dad continues. “I spent a lot of time this morning thinking about this past year.”

“Oh?” Jimin finds his voice. “What, specifically?”

His dad’s expression shifts. “Jimin, I’m sorry. I never… I never wanted to create a relationship where you couldn’t tell me things. Of course, I don’t want you to get hurt on the ice” – his voice strengthens – “but I know you. I know my son, and you don’t start things you don’t finish. You worked hard this past year to prove everyone wrong – to prove me wrong, and I couldn’t be prouder.”

His voice breaks slightly and, hearing this, Jimin rushes forward. Pulling his dad into a tight hug, Jimin lets out a sigh that sounds more like a sob. They stay there like that, their first hug in nearly a year as Jimin slowly exhales.

For so long, he’s wanted to hear those words from his dad. They feel good, but oddly enough, it feels even better to know he didn’t need this. Jimin has worked hard this fall to divorce self-approval from others. It will always take effort to maintain, but progress has been made, and that makes Jimin happier than anything else.

Pulling back, Jimin’s dad smiles. “We can go back now,” he laughs. “I know your mother made waffles. I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you. And you can talk to me about the contract if you want. There’s no need to keep things from us any longer.”

“Thanks, dad,” Jimin says.

His dad nods once, pulling open the door to gesture at the hall. As Jimin follows him out, you’re the first person he thinks of. Your face, saying you’d support him no matter what. This morning when you sighed his name into his t-shirt. Jimin recalls all the seconds, minutes, days he wanted you by his side this fall and knows he needs to tell you what he wants.

Even if you break his heart, Jimin needs you to know that it’s yours.

Something has changed since this morning.

Well, obviously something has changed. You woke up with your body flush against Jimin, one of your thighs flung over his delicious ass. You nearly came just from dry humping him, already close from the dirty dream you were having – about Jimin, no less. Something has changed though, and that something is you – because you’re no longer concerned about what might happen. About what hurt might befall you if you confess and it fails.

You want Jimin. You love Jimin, you never stopped, and you need him to know that. You just have to figure out how.

That’s proving to be the hard part. Jimin returned with his dad at breakfast, looking relaxed for the first time all trip, and his mom immediately suggested wrapping the gifts. You helped the twins wrap all morning, glitter getting everywhere, and once lunch ended, you needed to get ready for the Christmas Eve party.

Trying to cut down on time, you got ready down the hall – which proved to be a mistake, since it meant you didn’t see Jimin until going downstairs. He went all out this year, and part of you wonders if he did it on purpose. His hair has been slicked, styled away from his face in a wholly devastating manner. He’s wearing a taupe suit he once wore for an interview, a dark turtleneck beneath hugging his pecs in a way that’s distracting.

You only drove two cars tonight, and somehow you ended up in a van with Jimin and his parents. Not that you mind their company – you love Jimin’s parents, but his outfit is rated NC-17. For twenty minutes, you’re forced to sit next to Jimin and not say how good he looks in that suit.

Even at the party, your attention is immediately monopolized by neighbors and friends. Forcing a smile, you nod at the appropriate times in conversation, but your attention is elsewhere. It’s not anyone’s fault, but they just can’t compete with your ex-boyfriend. Slash pretend boyfriend. Slash man you want to be your boyfriend.

An hour into the party, you excuse yourself for the bathroom, shutting yourself in a stall to lower the lid and sit down. From there, you pull out your phone and scroll through the texts.

Namjoon: you did WHAT?! [7:14 PM]

Yoongi: they dry humped, Namjoon [7:16 PM]

Namjoon: Yes, I ‘m aware – my exclamation was one of shock, not confusion [7:17 PM]

Namjoon: what does this mean?? [7:17 PM]

Yoongi: Isn’t it obvious? They’re getting back together. Why else would she fly halfway across the country for Christmas? [7:18 PM]

Scowling darkly, you text them both back.

Y/N: excuse me, I never said anything about getting back together [7:21 PM]

Namjoon: you didn’t need to – Yoongi is right, Y/N [7:21 PM]

Yoongi: per usual [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: you said when you left that you were scared to get hurt because you still had feelings for him [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: well, this is you, having feelings [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: and possibly getting hurt [7:22 PM]

Your scowl only deepens.

Y/N: I’m not going to get hurt [7:23 PM]

Yoongi: … has he said anything about getting back together? [7:23 PM]

You stare at the screen several moments before you respond.

Y/N: no… not exactly [7:24 PM]

Yoongi’s ellipses blink, then disappear and are replaced by Namjoon.

Namjoon: look – no one is saying he won’t ask you, okay? Just… maybe you should talk before dry humping him again. Make sure you’re both on the same page about what this all means [7:25 PM]

Yoongi: what Joon said [7:25 PM]

Yoongi: also – where are you? Hasn’t Jimin noticed you’re glued to your phone? [7:25 PM]

Y/N: no. I’m texting you from the bathroom, smartass [7:26 PM]

Namjoon: go back out there and have fun [7:27 PM]

Y/N: consider it done [7:27 PM]

Returning your phone to your purse, you use the bathroom and freshen up. Once you return to the party, you take a deep breath and scan the crowd.

This year’s Christmas Eve party is at the local ski lodge. The main lobby has been decorated within an inch of its life, the focal point being a gargantuan Christmas tree. Glass windows at the back overlook the ski slopes, butter-yellow light disappearing to shadows.

A waiter walks by with a tray of champagne, and you snag a glass for something to do with your hands.

“Y/N!”

A familiar voice calls, but before you can turn, Jungkook wraps you into a hug. Jungkook Jeon is both Jimin’s childhood friend and his NHL faux rival. Being from the same town, the media love to compare them at every turn – something that’s become a fun rivalry. The last time you hung out, his hair was much longer. Tonight though, he’s wearing all black with a sharp undercut.

“How have you been?” Jungkook grins, pulling back. He’s careful not to mess up your hair or dress, for which you’re grateful.

“Good,” you say with a laugh. “What about you? I hear the Kraken are leading the division – you must be happy.”

Jungkook’s smile disappears. “Not the conference, though.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing his perfectionism rivals only Jimin. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Someone’s got to be. And besides,” he adds, glancing over your shoulder. “It’s not like we have the best offensive player in the league,” Jungkook calls in a sing-songy voice.

A familiar arm wraps around your waist. “Did you two watch the same special, or something?” Jimin gripes, brushing his lips to your cheek. “There are so many good players, calling anyone ‘the best’ is kind of pointless.”

“I believe they totaled your points,” you say, much to Jungkook’s amusement.

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” Jimin sighs with a shake of his head. “And of course, Jungkook swoops in to steal you.”

“Can you blame me?” Jungkook winks, drinking from his champagne. “Look at Y/N! If he ever messes up, Y/N, give me a call,” he jokes, and you feel Jimin stiffen.

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, leaning your head on Jimin’s shoulder.

He relaxes ever so slightly, squeezing your waist with one hand. Jungkook grimaces at this, trading his nearly empty champagne glass for a full one.

“You two are annoyingly cute,” he says, but he grins. “Seriously, though, you’ve been putting in work, Jimin. It’s impressive.”

“Thanks.” Jimin nods, toasting his glass.

“Have you seen Tae and Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, standing on tiptoe. “I keep getting cornered by moms wanting me to date their daughters, and I could use some high ground.”

You can’t help but laugh as Jimin jerks his thumb. “Alcove off the balcony. Everyone is gathered there – I was just coming to get Y/N.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook says as he leaves. “I’ll meet you there.”

Once he’s gone, Jimin shakes his head. Taehyung and Seokjin are two of their closest high school friends. Seokjin is currently single, but Taehyung got married early this year. Unfortunately, you couldn’t attend their wedding, but the ceremony looked beautiful, and you sent a gift.

Setting down his champagne, Jimin grabs your hand and tugs you into a corner. Turning to face you, his cheeks flush slightly pink.

“Hey,” he murmurs, looking you up and down. “Have I said how beautiful you look tonight?”

Heat stirs in your belly. “Not yet, no.”

“Well, you do,” Jimin says, his gaze dark.

Admittedly, you were a bit unfair in packing this dress. Your original intention in buying it was to wear New Year’s Eve and post jealousy-inducing photos on Instagram. Instead, you’re wearing it here with Jimin on your arm. Silky and emerald, the dress clings like a second skin, dropping in the back to a point just above your ass. Slightly impractical, but you borrowed a coat from Jisoo.

Jimin’s fingers ghost over the silk. “You deserve to hear it again,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “You’re being kind of unfair to everyone else at this party.”

“How so?”

“Poor Jungkook will have to find someone else.”

Your upper lip twitches, stepping closer. “Is that what you’re worried about?” you coo, sliding a hand up his chest. “That I’ll take Jungkook up on his offer? Not interested,” you say, allowing your gaze to linger. “You, on the other hand – that suit is designed to ruin hearts.”

“Only hearts?”

“Mm.” Softly, your voice drops. “Why? Were you planning on ruining something else?”

“Only if you asked nicely.”

Your eyes widen, stunned and Jimin smiles. His hands grip your body, cedar and black pepper scent wrapping around you and doing its best to make you come undone.

“Come on.” Taking your hand, Jimin turns away. “Let’s go and say hi to my friends. Everyone was asking earlier where you were.”

Slightly dazed by his former implication, you nod and follow. Jimin leads you through the crowd, bypassing everyone who attempts small talk. By the time you reach the alcove, Jungkook is already seated.

“What happened to you two?” he asks, smushed between Taehyung and Seokjin on the couch. “Making out in a corner? Couples are the worst,” he mutters to Taehyung before realizing who he’s talking to. “Oh. Right. Never mind.”

Taehyung’s wife, Alya, laughs from her armchair. “No comment. We may have been making out in a corner earlier.”

A lone strand of hair falls over Taehyung’s forehead. “Guilty,” he says, raising his glass.

Seokjin pokes Jungkook in the side. “If you hate couples so much, why are you sitting here,” he groans. “This is a two-person sofa.”

“Exactly!” Jungkook says. “It’s weird for you and Taehyung to sit together, since he’s married. I’m actually saving you.”

Settling onto an armchair, Jimin pulls you down with him to sit on his lap. His arm snakes around your front, pulling you backwards to rest.

“Anyways.” Jimin looks around. “How is everyone?”

Hoseok and Jisoo appear from the hall. “Oh, thank god,” Jisoo says, sitting between you and Alya. “This area was a complete sausage fest the last time we swung by.”

“Hey!” Seokjin cries. “I offered you a drink.”

“You offered her your drink,” Hoseok says drily, sitting next to his wife. “Doesn’t count.”

Jisoo leans over her armrest. “Y/N,” she hisses. “Do you have a tampon? They didn’t fit in my purse, and of course, my body waited until now to announce we’re not pregnant.”

You stifle a laugh. “Yes, of course,” you say, handing her your purse. “Left inner pocket – go wild.”

“Thanks.” Flashing a smile, Jisoo stands from the chair and disappears down the hall.

Jimin holds you against him, his thumb lightly stroking the ridge of your hip. Your entire body melts, perception heightened at each point he touches.

“So.” Jungkook turns towards Taehyung. “What did you get Alya for Christmas, Tae? Aside from the wedding, obviously.”

Alya laughs and sips her champagne. “Go on, tell them.”

Taehyung turns red. “It’s embarrassing!”

“What is?” Jungkook asks, glancing between them.

“It’s not.” Alya shakes her head. “Taehyung was so excited about the gift he gave it to me early. This morning, he surprised me by having our wedding bands engraved. I wanted to do it last year, but it didn’t fit in our budget. Anyways, he borrowed my band to clean it and got it done! I didn’t suspect a thing!”

“That’s amazing,” you say. “I love that idea.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Taehyung smiles.

“What about you, Jimin?” Seokjin jostles Jungkook to face him. “What did you get Y/N this year? What is it – four years?”

Jimin tenses slightly, so you jump in. “Oh, we decided not to do gifts this year,” you hasten. “There’s been a lot going on, and we –”

“I got Y/N a gift,” Jimin interrupts. “But it’s a secret until tomorrow.”

Surprised, you crane your head sideways to see him. “You got me a gift?”

He nods. “Yeah. Is that alright?”

“Mhm.” You shift in his lap. “I, um… actually got you something, too.”

Tightening his grip on your waist, Jimin keeps you still. “Oh?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You bought Jimin a gift months ago, and never returned it. When you were packing, you decided at the last minute to throw it inside – along with this dress and the skimpy night clothes.

“I want to know!” Seokjin blurts. “Just whisper it in my ear, Y/N. I won’t tell.”

You laugh, facing forward. “Sorry, Seokjin. That’s confidential. Mr. Kim” – you nod at Taehyung – “may not respect the sanctity of Santa Claus, but I’m not risking getting coal in my stocking.”

Softly, Jimin laughs, nuzzling your shoulder with his lips. It hasn’t escaped you that he stilled your hips to conceal his reaction to you on top. Something which distracts you more than it should.

“Get off,” Seokjin groans, pushing Jungkook upward. “I swear, you make this party worse every year.”

You grin, watching their antics as Jungkook walks off. Taller and heavier than Jimin, you know he only stood from the seat because he wanted to. Wandering to a free armchair, Jungkook flops down.

“Where’s your Christmas spirit?” he asks, waving his glass of champagne. “I was just about to tell you the holidays aren’t so bad with you around.”

Alya and Hoseok both laugh, and Taehyung shakes his head. Conversation then devolves to the Seattle Kraken, and Jimin’s fingers dig into the silk at your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he murmurs, lips at your ear. “Did you actually get me a present? Because it’s fine if you didn’t. I sprung this trip on you, and we’re not – well, you know…”

“I know,” you say back. “But yes, I got you a gift. Actually.” You pause. “I bought it for you a while ago and held onto it.”

“Ah.” Jimin pauses. Slipping his thumb beneath your chin, he turns you to face him. “Y/N. I just wanted to say –”

“Hey, Y/N, someone’s calling you,” announces Jisoo, walking into the room. Reaching into your purse, she pulls out your phone and frowns. “Who’s Mike?”

Your stomach drops through the floor.

Jimin’s body tenses beneath you, and you fight for a way out of the growing panic. Worse, everyone else seems to have heard, since all gazes lock on you. Struggling to breathe, you stand abruptly and snatch your phone.

“No one,” you blurt, grabbing your purse from a blinking Jisoo. “I mean, Mike’s a client. I should probably take this call outside.”

Before they can respond, you grab your phone and rush off. Brushing past Jisoo, you ignore her look of concern. Loudly, your heels click on the wooden floor. Whispers rise in your exit, but you ignore them, face burning as you turn your phone over in your hand.

Reaching the foyer, you stumble to a halt and glance overhead at the mistletoe. Purposefully side-stepping this, you see one missed call. In addition, there are several missed texts from Yoongi and Namjoon, but these you ignore.

Fingers trembling, you swipe open the text from Mike Davis.

Mike: hey, Y/N! I was doing laundry and found your Ventra card in my pocket. I think I grabbed yours by mistake. Want to meet up and exchange in the new year? [8:10 PM]

Mike: you know, I had a really great time meeting you the other night [8:13 PM]

You grip your phone tighter. He can’t be serious. The date ended so poorly, you were surprised the bartender didn’t film and put it on TikTok. Mike can’t actually want to hang out again. Orthink reaching out to you on Christmas Eve would be a good idea.

Brow lowered, your fingers punch the keyboard.

Y/N: Hey, Mike. You can keep the Ventra card, no worries [8:25 PM]

Deleting his number, you exhale in relief and turn around – only to run into Jimin, who stands right behind. Close enough to have seen every word on your phone.

Jimin’s fists clench, having read both the texts. There’s no reason to be jealous, he reminds himself with zero success. You aren’t dating, so it’s perfectly reasonable for you to text another guy. The fact that this Mike guy hasn’t come up is none of Jimin’s concern. And yet.

“So.” Voice cold, Jimin tilts his head. “Mike is…?”

He pauses for you to complete the blank, knowing you won’t say just a client.

“He’s…” Shifting, you avoid eye contact. “Someone I know.”

“Please.”

Your expression shifts, meeting his gaze. “Well, what do you want me to say?” you demand, stepping closer. “Tell your friends a client called me. They’ll buy it, it’ll be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Jimin growls. “And I could care less what my friends think.”

Bewildered, you stare. “I don’t understand. That’s literally the entire reason you asked me to come here this weekend. So you wouldn’t have to admit we broke up.”

Jimin’s heart flatlines. “Is that really what you think?” he demands, reaching out. Catching your wrist, he pulls you even closer. “You thought I was so terrified of explaining my contract to my family, I couldn’t possibly tell them we broke up, as well?”

Your brows furrow deeper. “That’s what you told me, so, yes. That’s what I thought.”

“Right. And is it serious?”

“Is what serious?”

“This guy – Mike. Are you two serious?”

Your jaw hangs open a second before it snaps shut. “Are we – no, Jimin,” you say, the words dripping with derision. “We’re not serious. You and I broke up only three months ago! Do you really think I managed to move on so quickly?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin admits, even as his head spins. “I didn’t–”

“I mean, god,” you exhale, ripping your hand from his grasp. “I go on one date, and somehow, I’m the bad guy. Never mind that you’re the one who wanted to break up,” you add, whirling around to jab him in the chest. “You” – a second prod – “were the one who asked to break up!”

Closing his hand around your finger, Jimin tugs you forward. “I know,” he says hoarsely. “I know I messed up, Y/N. I know I have no right to be jealous, but I am. I’m jealous, and I’m wrong, and I don’t even fucking care because I miss you, Y/N. I know you’re right here, but I miss you.”

Something in your gaze breaks. “I miss you, too, Jimin.”

“I know I didn’t fight hard enough to keep you back then. I should have, and I can’t say how much I regret it.” Sliding his hands up your arms, Jimin grips your elbows. “I don’t care if you went out with one guy or a hundred. I asked you to come here this weekend because I wanted you. I was too afraid to ask you outright, so I used my career as an excuse.”

“An… excuse?”

Gripping you tighter, Jimin exhales. “I mean, everyone knows. My parents know I’m extending my contract, and they’re fine with it. I still don’t want to tell them we broke up.”

“Well, sure.” Your gaze darts across him. “Because you don’t want to spoil Christmas – right?”

“That’s not why.”

“Then, why?”

Before he can lose his nerve, Jimin slides his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him. You inhale when your chests touch, the silk of your dress rucking beneath his palm.

“I think you know the reason,” he rasps, his gaze finding your lips.

“All the same” – somehow, your fingers curl into hair at the base of his neck – “I’d like to hear you say it.”

Bending, Jimin’s lips skim your throat. “I told you I don’t care what my family thinks. I just want you, Y/N.”

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head. Your lips briefly touch, then you still.

Jimin hesitates, his brain short-circuiting before he connects. Springing into motion, he slides both palms to either side of your face and kisses you deeply. Walking you backwards, he only stops when your spine hits the wall. Reaching lower, Jimin grabs your wrists with one hand to yank overhead.

You stare upward, eyes lidded, as your chest rises and falls. Jimin nearly groans, sliding his knee between your legs to widen your stance.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes, crushing your mouth with his.

All he knows is your scent, wrapped around him. The feel of your mouth, the curves of your body arching against him. Jimin loses himself in the moment – in you – to the point where nothing else seems to matter.

Releasing your wrists, Jimin grasps the hem of your dress with one hand to drag it upward. Inch by inch, your bare thigh is revealed to his touch.

“Oh,” you gasp, your head hitting the wall.

Taking advantage, Jimin kisses roughly down your exposed neckline. Each time you inhale, it reminds him of your chest against him. Withdrawing, Jimin glances down and nearly curses. Whatever bra you have on does little to conceal your hardened nipples, easily visible through the silk of your dress.

“Mm.” Jimin exhales, running a thumb over the tip. “Can’t have you returning to the party like this, can I?”

Your thighs clench. “People definitelywouldn’t suspect we broke up.”

Again, Jimin circles your nipple, making you moan. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Like I said, though – this isn’t about the people out there. This is about you. What do you want, Y/N?”

Jimin holds his breath as he waits for an answer. Really, this is what it comes down to.

Your grip on him tightens. “I want you to take me home right now, Jimin.”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes.

Grasping you by the hand, Jimin tugs you into the hall. You giggle, stumbling as you fix the strap of your dress, and he can’t keep a stupid grin from spreading over his face.

“We’re leaving now,” Jimin says, bringing you towards the exit. “Otherwise, I’m going to drag you into the bathroom and fuck you like that.”

Your heels dig into the floorboards, and he turns to look at you, concerned.

“Oh.” You blink innocently. “I’m sorry, was that supposed to be a threat?”

Jimin goes still, consumed by images he’d rather not face. Visions of your panties pulled down, bent over his knees while he fingers your dripping pussy. Or your hands, curled around a doorframe while he lowers himself to drag his tongue up your slit. Or pressed against a wall, your panties pushed aside for him to –

“Alright – enough,” Jimin growls, grabbing your hand.

You laugh when he pulls you onward, bringing you to the lodge doors. Reaching the front, Jimin pauses long enough to hand the valet his ticket. While you visit the coat closet, he pulls you close and runs his nose down your throat.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” he murmurs, low in your ear. “Any idea just how many times I’ve jerked off in the shower this trip?”

“How sad,” you say, turning to face him. “Pray tell, what did you think about?”

Sliding his hand over the curve of your ass, Jimin presses you closer. “Lots of things,” he exhales. “Your pretty lips around my cock. Finger-fucking you slowly, making you take it. How wet you were beneath those ridiculous excuses for nightgowns.”

Your laugh is throaty. “I brought those specifically for you, you know.”

“Mission accomplished,” Jimin growls. Outside, he sees the valet arrive and releases your waist. “Now, let’s go.”

Slipping both arms into your coat, you follow Jimin outside to the car. He helps you in, shutting the door and traveling to the passenger side. Shoving a hand through his hair, he attempts to regain his composure. The two of you need to get home safely – that’s top priority.

Of course, by the time he sits down and glances over, all thoughts of safety fly out the window. You’ve left your coat unbuttoned, enough that he sees each sinful line of your body. Suddenly, his top priority is to get you home – now.

Shutting the door, Jimin puts the car in drive and pulls from the lodge. You exhale, somewhat breathless as you shift to face him.

“This is going to be fast,” you admit, a bit breathy. Jimin’s hands on the wheel tighten. “You said you’ve been jerking off in the shower? Well, I haven’t had any alone time. You’ve just been edging me for three days.”

“Don’t say edging,” Jimin groans. “I’m trying to concentrate on getting you home.”

“Oh?” Tilting your head, you lean closer. “Do you find that topic distracting?”

“Yes,” Jimin huffs, and then pauses. “Actually… I think you could use a little more distraction. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t miss the way your fingers still, your breath hitching beside him.

“Maybe,” you say.

Jimin glances in your direction. “Spread your legs.”

Without breaking eye contact, you spread your legs until the silk is stretched tautly over your thighs.

“Pull up your dress.”

Casually, you grip the hem to tug upward. Jimin tries not to look, watching the road, but the position is torturous. As soon as you come to a stop light, he turns.

Your thighs press against the edge of the seat, silken dress hitched over the top of your thighs. Jimin exhales, unable to see what he wants, but the shadows and skin are more than enticing.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, and desire flares in your gaze.

Arching slightly, your hand inches lower to dip beneath your dress. Jimin keeps his eyes on you, watching and waiting for your reaction. When he hears the slip of your finger, your lips slowly part as your eyes fill with lust.

“Oh,” you exhale, and Jimin’s body tightens.

“That’s it,” he breathes, listening to your finger drag upward. “How wet are you, baby?”

“So wet,” you groan, eyelashes fluttering as you spread your legs further.

“No.” Jimin’s gaze drops to your hand. “Press your thighs together. Keep touching yourself.”

The light turns green, spurring him onward as the night changes. He watches you obey in the corner of one eye, legs pressed together with your hand trapped between them. Head hitting the headrest, your chest rises and falls with the motion of your fingers.

 “That’s it, baby,” Jimin murmurs, switching lanes to go faster. “You’re doing so well. I want you to come once for me before we get home. Okay?”

Your eyes open. “You want me to come?”

“Just once.” Jimin lowly chuckles. “I know you, baby. I know you can come at least twice more tonight.”

“Fuck,” you groan, your need evident.

The record number of orgasms Jimin has given you in one night is five, but that was only one time. Jimin thought it’d be fun to see how many times he could make you come with only his tongue. Five, it turned out – or rather, that was the point you frankly begged for his cock.

A few minutes away from home, Jimin relents. “Alright,” he exhales. “Spread your legs again.”

You instantly obey, thighs spread as you groan, your fingers slipping lower.

“Can you stretch yourself for me, baby?” Jimin murmurs, the words low and thick. “Keep that other hand on your clit, now.”

Adding another hand, you arch on the seat. Every ounce of blood in Jimin’s body rushes towards his cock, enough to make things painful as you near the house. You push a finger inside, releasing a moan that makes his grip tighten.

“That’s it,” Jimin exhales, driving as carefully as possible over the dirt road.

“Ah,” you gasp when he hits a bump, jolting your fingers deeper.

Jimin clenches the wheel. “You liked that?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, glancing at him, your expression almost shy.

Fuck. Jimin does his best to angle the car, creating more friction as you rub your clit. He does his best to remain facing forward but is distracted every so often by the sight of your hips moving against the seat.

Throwing out a hand, you grasp his lower arm. “Jimin,” you groan, your head hitting the headrest. “I’m so, so close.”

Pulling to a stop in the driveway, Jimin puts the car in park and throws off his seatbelt. Shoving open the door, he goes to the passenger side. Your eyes widen when he yanks open your door, unbuckling you and dragging your hips to the edge of your seat.

“Eyes on me,” Jimin directs, gripping the seat on either side. “Just keep touching yourself like a good girl, Y/N. I know that pussy is so pretty and wet. Can’t wait to lick it clean later. Can you spread yourself wider? Add another finger?”

Your thighs fall on either side of his waist, enough for Jimin to know you can feel how hard he is. The dress continues to cover your waist, and he doesn’t lift it higher. Doesn’t so much as touch you, just keeps his gaze trained on yours.

“I need your fingers,” you whimper, and Jimin feels you grip his wrist, guiding his hand in between your slick legs.

“Shit,” he exhales, feeling how wet you are.

The slick core of heat, your hips arching against him, breaks his last scruple. Keeping his gaze steady, Jimin slowly slides two fingers into your perfect cunt. Relief washes over your face, your lips parting as fresh arousal coats Jimin’s hand.

“God,” he murmurs, twisting his fingers to pull out. Slowly, he pushes back in and watches you hiccup. “You really did need my fingers, didn’t you, baby?”

“Yes,” you whimper, scrambling to sit straighter. Pulling him closer, your thighs widen. “I need you inside me.”

“In what way?” Jimin muses, stretching you as he pulls out.

“Want your cock, Jimin,” you groan, your chest heaving.

Pushing aside your coat, his free hand yanks down the strap of your dress, revealing what can barely be construed as a bra. The tiniest silk triangle barely covers your nipple in a flimsy excuse for support.

“You’ll get my cock,” Jimin promises. Lowering his head, he sucks your nipple – silk and all – between his lips. “Want to taste you first.”

“Jimin,” you moan.

“Patience.” Yanking your hips closer, he leans over you on the seat. Using this angle, he works his fingers deeper as your body tightens. “Like that, yeah?” Jimin murmurs, brushing your g-spot. “Want to come like this?”

“Please,” you whimper, spreading your thighs.

Jimin loses himself in the haze of your body, the tight slick of your heat while he finger-fucks you. Each thrust of his forearm has your breasts bouncing, your tiny scrap of a bra doing nothing to hide the movement.

“Once we get upstairs” – Jimin thrusts harder – “I want this dress on the floor. I want you dripping wet and naked, ass in the air so I can push my cock inside you.”

“Jimin!” you gasp, your entire body shuddering.

“And then,” he adds, low in your ear, “I want you to ride me. Need these tits in my mouth, your ass bouncing on my dick as you come again.”

You cry out, head thrown back as you come apart. Continuing to thrust his fingers, Jimin slows his movement as your breathing lengthens. Slumping against him, you hold tight with both arms.

As gentle as possible, Jimin slips his fingers from your body to fix your dress and coat. Shifting your weight from the seat to his arms, he shuts the door with his heel and starts to walk up the drive.

Stirring, you look around. “Oh,” you exhale, seeing the front porch. “Are we home already?”

Jimin stops to stare at you in his arms. “Did you… think I just pulled aside on a random highway?” he asks, equal parts puzzled and amused.

Sheepish, you feel your face heat. “Maybe?”

“Fair enough.” Jimin chuckles and keeps moving. “You should know, though – I wouldn’t risk anyone else seeing you like that.” He pauses. “Unless you wanted them to.”

You squirm in his arms, somewhat embarrassed by how much you like the prospect. Seeing this, Jimin’s eyes gleam and he leans closer.

“Seems like you might want that,” he murmurs.

Unable to articulate, you nod and watch his lips curve.

“Noted.”

Reaching the front door, Jimin bends to set you down. Once inside, he strips from his coat and boots, turning around to face you.

God, just looking at him is enough to make you weak. He just gave one ridiculously satisfying orgasm – it should be too soon for another and yet, your traitorous body feels barely sated.

“Was I not clear?” Lifting a brow, Jimin walks closer. “I thought I said I wanted you naked.”

You lift your chin. “Wanting is different than getting.”

“Oh, I think you want that, too.”

Fuck. You absolutely do, but you know Jimin enjoys being teased, so you lift your chin in the air to walk past him. “Well?” you demand, placing one hand on the railing. “Are you coming?”

You let your coat drop to your elbows, stepping out of your heels to head upstairs. Jimin groans from behind, and you hear his footsteps follow.

Entering the bedroom, you drop your coat on the couch and turn. Jimin stands framed in the door, several buttons on his jacket already undone. He doesn’t come any closer, and you lift your thumbs to slip under the straps.

“Was this what you wanted?” you ask, innocently slipping them down your shoulders.

Jimin moves forward. Coming to a stop, he replaces your thumbs and casually tugs. The dress slips from your shoulders, catching on your chest, and he motions you to turn.

Obeying, you watch in the mirror as Jimin steps closer. He meets your gaze head-on, slipping a hand around your stomach to mold himself to you from behind. Finding your zipper with his other hand, he tugs down.

Both of you watch the dress fall, silk pooling at your feet to leave you naked. Well, mostly naked. A red, silk thong remains, along with your bra. Really, just two triangles of silk held up by thin straps. Your breasts spill around the materials, creating a tantalizing visual his gaze is locked on. Jimin fingers the clasp of your bra, then releases.

“Actually,” he says, his voice husky. “I want to play like this.”

Before you can fully digest his words, Jimin walks around and grasps your hand. Leading you to bed, he sets you down and urges you backwards.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, nudging your ankles apart. “Just like that.”

Releasing you, he takes a step back to run a hand through his hair. You stare upward, propped on your elbows, your chest rising and falling. Jimin stares like you’re something to be savored, then devoured. His gaze traces your body, starting at your ankles to work his way upward.

He takes in your spread legs, dripping pussy visible beneath the scrap of silk. By the time Jimin finds your breasts, your nipples are painfully hard, and he groans, reaching down to palm his cock. Your breath catches, seeing how hard he is in his pants.

“Jimin,” you moan, sliding one foot lower. “I want you.”

Lowering his knee to the bed, Jimin plants a hand on either side of your head. “Patience,” he murmurs, brushing his lips to yours.

You curl around him, fingers tangling in soft stands of his hair. His fully clothed body presses against you, nearly nude, and you shiver. The feel of his suit against skin is intoxicating. Jimin pulls back to nip your lower lip, grasping you by the waist to pin you fully.

Thrusting forward, he allows you to feel how badly he wants you. His achingly hard cock grinds against your center, and you arch beneath him.

“Jimin,” you pant, tightening your grip in his hair.

“Ah – fuck,” he groans, helplessly rutting between your spread thighs.

Your hands fumble, slipping beneath his suit jacket to cast this aside. Jimin sits up, helping you shed his dark turtleneck. Thrown to the ground, he lowers his mouth, eagerly flicking your chest with his tongue. You moan, hands fisting his hair to anchor him. Tugging the other silk cup down, Jimin switches to suck a hardened nipple.

“Get rid of it,” you pant, reaching underneath to unsnap your bra. Jimin grins, tossing your bra on top of his pile of clothes. Swiftly returning, he bends to lick and suck at your breasts.

Your hips roll beneath him, desperately searching for your release. Jimin knows how sensitive you are, knows you can come like this, but doesn’t seem inclined. Instead, he sits back and runs a hand through his hair.

You nearly come at the sight – Jimin, shirtless with mussed hair and reddened lips. Pushing yourself upward, you struggle to undo the first button of his pants.

Chuckling, Jimin replaces your hands with his. “I need these on,” he says, scooting backwards. “I need something to keep myself from coming.”

“But I want you to come,” you protest as Jimin lowers himself to his stomach.

“And I appreciate that.” Turning his head, his breath touches your knee. “But I’ve spent three months fantasizing about what to do if I ever got to touch you again. First things first.”

Lowering yourself to your elbows, your entire body throbs at the sight of Jimin between your thighs. He looks at you, reverent, before slowly dragging his thumb down your aching center.

“Oh,” you inhale, opening further.

Gaze dark, Jimin pulls the fabric of your panties aside. Your face burns, hearing your wetness, but all that dissolves at the first sweep of his tongue.

“Fu-ck, Jimin,” you groan, head tipping back.

He takes his time, working you open with long, tender strokes. No man has ever eaten you out so well, and you doubt anyone ever will again. As though driving this point home, Jimin switches from tender licks to sucking hard on your clit. You moan, helplessly splayed beneath his torture.

“Jimin,” you gasp, hands fisting in sheets.

Shifting closer, Jimin nudges one leg over his shoulders and grips your ass with both hands. Pulling you into his mouth, he devours, licking up and down in a way that’s obscene. A half-sob climbs in your throat, your back arching when he adds a finger.

“That’s it, Y/N,” Jimin pants, lifting his head. “Such a pretty pussy. Can you come for me, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp.

Jimin lowers his mouth, adding a finger while slowly sucking your clit. Staring down your body at him, you feel your thighs tremble. Jimin’s shoulders flex while eating you out, his hips grinding into the sheets to get himself off. Imagining his cock pushing inside tips you over the edge, and you break apart. A wave of pleasure sweeps through you, seeing stars as Jimin curls his fingers.

Muscles limp, you collapse on the mattress. When your eyes open, your thigh is still flung over Jimin’s shoulder. Grinning, he pushes himself upward, taking your leg with him. Turning, Jimin presses a soft kiss to your calf.

“Fuck,” you groan, one arm flung over your face. “That was even better than I remember. And trust me, I’ve thought about that a lot.”

“Oh?” Jimin gently sets your leg down. “Do tell.”

You peek at him through your fingers. “Take off your pants.”

Jimin drops his hands to his belt. “Tell me” – he undoes the buckle – “in explicit detail” – he pulls the length through the straps – “what you thought about.” The belt is dropped on the floor.

Your tongue swipes your lower lip. “I thought about a lot of things.”

“Be specific.” Shoving his pants and briefs down, Jimin lingers at the point where his hips are exposed. “When you touched yourself, did you think of me?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Mm.” Jimin tilts his head. “What about when you used your toys?”

You whimper, spreading your thighs on his bed. “Yes.”

“And were they good enough? Did your pretty pink dildo stretch you as nicely?”

“No,” you whimper, watching him stand.

Still looking at you, Jimin pushes his slacks to the floor. Your heart pounds when his length is released, so hard it seems painful. The head of his cock glistens with pre-cum, the thick veins prominent. Wrapping a fist around himself, Jimin places one knee on the mattress.

“Take your panties off,” he rasps, and you hasten to obey.

Once they’re removed, you’re left naked before him. Gaze glinting, Jimin inclines his head. “Turn around. Lay on your stomach.”

Heat throbs between your legs as you do so, glancing over your shoulder. Jimin positions himself behind you, kneeling over your thighs with his cock in his fist.

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” he exhales, slipping two fingers into your pussy. Arching your back, you squirm to get closer. “When you come, I want to see you, but right now…”

You feel the head of cock nudging your thighs apart, getting wet with your slick. Leaning over, Jimin pulls open a drawer on his nightstand to retrieve a condom. Pulling this open, he rolls this onto himself and pushes between your thighs.

Each messy thrust rubs his cock against your clit, making you push your ass backwards. Jimin smacks your ass swiftly, then makes a low noise and rubs it.

“God, I missed you,” he exhales, pushing himself into your cunt.

You moan, burying your face in your arms to lift your ass higher. Jimin is thick, even more than you remember, and you feel your walls stretch with a pleasant burn. He pauses a few inches in to gently tug your hips upward.

Keeping your chest to the bed, he lifts you almost to your knees. Leaning forward, Jimin slips an arm underneath you to play with your clit. From behind, his hips slowly thrust in and out a few inches. Stretching you, yet barely sating the edge of your desire.

“Jimin,” you groan, turning your head to capture his mouth.

His fingers nudge your clit, tongue slipping past your lips as his cock gets even deeper. Each time he slowly thrusts and withdraws, you accept him a little more. Buried halfway, Jimin draws leisurely circles around your throbbing clit.

“More,” you moan, pushing back.

Jimin chuckles, retreating to grip your hips with both hands. He thrusts in slow, easy motions to work himself deeper. By the time he bottoms out, your hands are fisted in sheets.

“Fuck,” you exhale, thighs spread to accommodate him inside you.

Jimin stays there a moment, thumbs drifting over the shape of your ass. “Y/N,” he mutters. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

Leisurely, he withdraws until only the head of his cock remains. Jimin thrusts forward slowly, making you feel every inch of him. Moaning, you bury your face in the sheets, and his hand comes down again.

“Louder,” Jimin demands, gripping your waist. “Don’t hide from me, baby. Want to hear you.”

Head thrown back, you pant as he sinks into you fully. All you do is take it, breathless and eager while he slowly fucks you. Casually, Jimin pushes your hips down so you lie flat on the bed. One foot on the mattress, he adjusts himself to push inside you like that.

“Oh,” you moan, toes curling.

Thighs pressed together, your clit rubs the sheets, making it messy and tight as he moves inside you. Gripping your ass with one hand, Jimin anchors himself to fuck you in slow, rolling movements. You arch underneath him, gaining friction but when you clench tighter, Jimin pulls out.

A strangled sound leaves your throat. “Excuse me,” you blurt, rolling sideways to face him. “I was enjoying that.”

“Oh, I know.” Jimin grins from the spot where he kneels. His cock is hard, glistening with evidence of your arousal. “But what I really want is to have you on my lap.”

A shiver runs down your spine. Turning over, you arch your back and watch Jimin’s eyes glaze. He reaches for you swiftly, helping you onto your knees. Seating himself against the headboard, Jimin arranges your body over his thighs.

Hovering above him, you grasp his shoulders. “Is this what you wanted?’

“Fuck, yes.” Jimin drinks in your body. His fingers swipe through your cunt, teasing as he bends to suck a hard nipple between his lips.

Spreading your ass with one hand, his fingers stroke up and down your aching pussy. Arching against him, you present your chest further as your grip on him tightens. Jimin slips a finger inside you, casually fucking like that until you moan.

“Jimin,” you whimper. “Please.”

Moving to grip his cock, Jimin positions himself at your entrance. “All you had to do was ask,” he says, guiding your hips.

The head of his cock pushes inside, then stops, waiting for you to take over. Greedy, you seat yourself in a single motion. One second, you’re empty and the next, you’re full of his cock. Jimin swears, gripping you tightly as you inhale. Chest pressed to his, you stay there, pussy throbbing as you grow accustomed to his girth.

“Fuck – Y/N,” Jimin chokes out.

“I thought you wanted this?” you tease, lifting your hips to swivel. Jimin’s eyelashes flutter when you start riding him, rising and falling on the length of his cock.

Thighs spread, you grip his shoulders to move up and down. Jimin groans, lowering his head to tease one of your nipples. He continues this while you fuck him, sucking and releasing with a lewd pop. Needing him deeper, you start to bounce up and down. His cock soothes a tight ache inside you, stretching your body like he was made for it.

Breathless, you press closer, curling your fingers into his hair. Jimin responds eagerly, widening your thighs to grip your ass with one hand. Tightly entwined, you move against him until he takes over, slamming your hips down again and again.

“Jimin,” you pant, your legs trembling. “I need more.”

“More?” Jimin pants, his expression truly fucked out. “Alright, baby.”

Lifting you off his cock, he ensures the condom is snug and positions himself on his knees. “Lie down,” Jimin demands, and you hasten to obey.

Settling on your back, you spread your thighs for Jimin to move between. Gripping your ankles, he lifts your legs upward. Pushing them towards your chest, he exposes you fully.

“So pretty,” Jimin murmurs, dragging his fingers through the slick of your folds. Switching your ankles to one hand, he lowers them to his shoulder and positions his cock at your entrance. When he pushes inside, you moan at the tightness. “Yeah, that’s it,” he coaxes, getting deeper. “You take me so well, baby.”

“Better than other girls?” you pant, the words out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Jimin goes still, then gently parts your thighs. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Jimin leans forward until your lips brush.

“What other girls?” he murmurs, thrusting into you slowly. “Y/N. You don’t seriously think I had any interest in fucking other girls while we were apart?”

Your heart hammers as you try – and fail – to squash your insecurities. With everyone else, you have no trouble saying what you want. With Jimin though, you’re aware he could crush you with a single word. It’s harder when the stakes are as high as they are.

“I wouldn’t be mad if you did,” you whisper. “We were… broken up, and –”

Jimin bends, rolling his hips to shove his cock deeper. Your words break on a moan, legs encircling him tighter.

“I don’t want to hear that again,” Jimin says, low in your ear. “You are the only person I want, Y/N. The only one in my bed. The only pussy wrapped around this cock. The only one coming beneath me,” he murmurs with another hard thrust.

Your thighs start to shake, but you fight to keep present. Hips lifting, you match him thrust for thrust as your fingers curl in his hair. Jimin moves faster, pounding you into the bed hard enough to see stars.

“I don’t care if you slept with someone else,” he says hoarsely, reaching between you. You tremble when he circles your swollen clit. “I just want you thinking of me from now on.”

“Y-yes, Jimin!” you cry out, not sure what you’re agreeing to, but knowing you don’t want this moment to end. You don’t want this to end when the weekend is over.

His mouth crushes yours, tongue sweeping forward to match every thrust. Jimin’s scent is all around you, within you as you begin to lose track of where you end, and he begins. Your focus narrows, becoming nothing but pinpricks of building pleasure. Jimin’s cock pounds into you harder, hands grasping, breath mingling as you come undone.

Gasping his name, you clutch him tight as your pleasure explodes. Jimin coaxes you through it, keeping his fingers on your clit to ride out the tremors. Once you’re slumped, fully sated, Jimin releases the hold he had on himself. Nearly withdrawing, Jimin slams his cock forward to fill your still-spasming cunt.

You cry out, thighs widening as he lets you have it. Fucking you with full abandon, Jimin hammers your g-spot in a punishing manner. Nearly as swift as the fall, you feel your climax building. This time, your body feels beyond your control, practically weightless beneath the force of his cock in your pussy. It’s all you can do to stay conscious when another orgasm rolls through you.

Jimin groans when you come, feeling your walls flutter around his thick cock. Burying his face in your neck, Jimin thrusts deeper to release. Clasped tightly around him, you feel the warm pulse as he fills the condom. Bittersweet, you wish this wasn’t there, so he could play with his slick. Breathless and panting, the two of you lie there until Jimin withdraws.

Gathering his strength, he sits back on his heels. Removing the condom, Jimin ties this in a knot and tosses it in the trash. When he heads for the bathroom, you stretch out both arms, feeling limp.

And happy.

By the time you and Jimin trade places, your eyelids are drooping. Exiting the bathroom, you find the lights off and Jimin already in bed. You attempt to grab his t-shirt from the floor and are met with a loud throat clear.

“What are you doing?” Jimin huffs.

Straightening, you find him already in bed, the sheets pulled down beside him. Jimin looks pointedly at that side, then at you.

“I was trying to wear your t-shirt to bed,” you say, slipping between the sheets to face him. “It’s Christmas Eve, I’ll have you know. December in Washington. Brr.”

Moving closer, Jimin slips an arm over your waist. “There,” he murmurs, pulling you towards him. “Use me to warm up.”

For this, you have no retort. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers you should talk to him, that there are important things to discuss, but everything fades in the warmth of his arms. Eyelids so heavy, you can barely keep them open, you fall asleep.

For the first time in months, you sleep through the night.

You wake the next morning with a start.

Eyes wide, you stare at the wall and feel Jimin’s arm on your waist. Rather than joy though, panic claws at your throat. There were so many things you should have asked him last night. So many things you should have said instead of immediately falling into bed with your ex.

As quietly as possible, you slip free of his arm and stand from the bed. Grasping a sweatshirt and jeans, you tiptoe down the hall to swiftly get dressed. Gripping the bathroom counter, you stare at yourself in the mirror and try to sort through your feelings. Twice, you pull out your phone only to hesitate, setting it down.

Today is Christmas, meaning Namjoon and Yoongi will be with their families. Dr. Germain, your therapist, is on vacation, although you know she would respond to an emergency. This could hardly be considered an emergency, though. This is just you, acting rashly and – your heart sinks, knowing this was exactly the opposite.

You want Jimin. You’ve wanted Jimin since the night you broke up, but were so near-sighted last night, you didn’t stop to ask if he wants the same. Abruptly, you turn and open the door to the hall. Heading downstairs, you sort through the facts.

Jimin apologized for this fall. He said he regretted not staying. He said he thinks of you often, and that he hadn’t been with anyone else. If this were last year, you might read between the lines and assume he still wanted you. This isn’t last year, though. Current you has experience with expecting Jimin to do one thing, and he does another.

Dragging a hand down your face, you stop by the kitchen for coffee. The only way you’ll be able to sort through this before opening presents is with massive amounts of caffeine.

Gazing outside, you see freshly fallen snow and wonder if it’d be crazy to go for a walk. Once your coffee is full, you pad down the hallway and slip on your boots. Your coat is halfway zipped when a throat clears behind you.

Whirling around, you nearly drop the mug as Jisoo appears.

“Oh my god,” you blurt, one hand on your chest. “You scared me. I didn’t realize anyone else was awake yet.”

“Are you kidding me?” she laughs, walking closer with her own mug. “Two three-year-old daughters on Christmas? They’ve been up since the crack of dawn.”

Nervous, you laugh as your hand falls. “Ah, right. Is Hoseok keeping them in their rooms?”

Jisoo shakes her head, coming to a stop. “They fell back asleep – Hoseok, too.” Curious, she glances past you at the door. “Going for a… walk?”

“Thinking about it.”

“It’s below freezing.”

“Yeah. I thought it might help… clear my mind.”

Her brows furrow, pensive enough that you nearly curse. You couldn’t be more obvious that you and Jimin are having trouble. There’s no other reason to be up this early, trying to escape into the wilderness rather than face your ex.

Plaintive, she takes a sip of her coffee. “You know, I know you two are broken up.”

Well, fuck. Someone will have to scrape your jaw from the floor. Stunned, you stare as Jimin’s sister takes another long sip of coffee.

Seeing your face, Jisoo steps closer. “You stopped talking in the group chat,” she explains softly, patting your arm. “And Jimin… well, he seems slightly better now, but we all saw how he was after the injury.”

“I don’t… we, we’re not,” you fumble, the words dying.

“It’s okay. I get why you didn’t want to tell us. Why he didn’t want to tell us.”

At this point, it’s too late to make any denial. Jisoo has already seen the truth in your face. You suppose the important part is she hasn’t told their parents – although part of you wonders if his mom knows, as well.

“It’s been a long year,” you admit finally, your voice cracking.

“Oh, Y/N.” Setting down her mug, Jisoo pulls you into her arms. “There, there,” she exhales, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry I brought that up. I just thought… well, I thought you might want to talk to someone not my brother.”

“Thanks,” you whisper.

Patting your arm, she pulls back. “So, do you? Want to talk?”

“I…” You trail off. “It’s complicated. We broke up last September, but Jimin asked if I’d help him break the news of his contract to your parents. Things have been different this weekend, but I don’t know if Jimin is on the same page as I am. I want to get back together, but… he’s the one who asked to break up.”

Jisoo’s eyes fill with sympathy. “You should talk to him.”

“I know,” you exhale. “I know, and I will. I just… I can’t stop thinking about the last time we had a serious conversation. How badly that went.”

Understanding crosses her face. “I get that, I do.”

“He seems different. But it’s only been three months. Jimin is playing hockey so well – he seems to have his shit together, and I’m just a mess. What if I want to get back together, and he says no? Maybe this whole thing – the holidays, the hot chocolate – was just a way to say goodbye.”

Jisoo’s gives you a look. “Y/N. Listen to me – I know my brother. I knew within two seconds that you’d broken up. And I’m equally certain he still loves you – partly because my husband is a terrible secret keeper.” She shakes her head. “Apparently, Jimin asked for Hoseok’s help to win you back.”

You blink. “That… that can’t possibly be –”

Footsteps clatter downstairs, and you both turn your heads.

“Y/N,” Jimin blurts, slipping a little. His sweatpants are only half on, hopping wildly to avoid Hana’s toy on the landing. “Thank god. I thought you left,” he admits, rushing forward to grab both your arms.

Jisoo pointedly clears her throat.

Jimin glances sideways, then does a double take. “Have you been there the whole time?”

Rolling her eyes, Jisoo grabs her coffee and turns. “Merry Christmas, Jimin. Go and make up with your girlfriend.”

He watches her leave, then shakes his head, and looks back. “Are you okay?” he breathes, scanning your frame. “I woke up and you were gone. I thought…”

Putting two and two together, your eyes widen. “You thought I left.”

Jimin seems a bit queasy, but he manages to nod.

Taking another step closer, you grip his elbows. “Jimin, no,” you say. “My suitcase was still there. Didn’t you see?”

“Oh.” He blinks. “I didn’t notice.”

Oddly enough, his panic gives you the courage to speak. “I wasn’t leaving. I just wanted a walk. You know… clear my head. Think about what happened last night.”

“Are you… having second thoughts?”

“Second thoughts?” you say in disbelief. “Jimin, we never discussed a first thought. You weren’t clear about what you wanted.”

“I wasn’t clear?” His brow furrows. “Y/N, I said I didn’t want anyone but you. That you were the only person for me. I apologized for September and said that I’m trying to change. What else could I have meant?”

Your heart hammers against your ribcage, but you push on. “I know,” you admit, voice catching. “It’s just… well, I thought I knew what you’d say in September, and I turned out to be wrong. I was scared, and I asked for a break, but you agreed.”

Sudden understanding dawns on his features. Jimin’s hands slide up your arms to cup your face, his gaze gentle.

“Y/N, no,” he murmurs. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left. I just… didn’t want to hear what you were saying, which was that our relationship had problems. You wanted to fix those problems, and I ran away. I’m not running now, though.” Determination flickers in his gaze. “Y/N, I want to stay. Whether that’s as your boyfriend, fiancée, husband, or something else entirely – I don’t care. I just want you.”

Hearing him say this, your heart swells. Unbearable lightness spreads through you, and you take a step closer. Jimin pulls you against him, hands finding your back as he lowers his head.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmurs. “I should have been clearer last night. I was, uh, a little distracted.” Jimin huffs out a laugh.

“I’m sorry you woke up and found me gone,” you whisper, tightening your grip. “I just… didn’t want to assume, and I was scared.”

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not assuming, Y/N. I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I will never stop,” he adds. “So, you might as well get used to this.”

“I never stopped loving you, either. I –”

Jimin cuts you off, crushing your mouth to his. Bending at the knees, he lifts you over one shoulder and heads for the stairs. You yelp, smacking his shoulder but Jimin doesn’t stop.

“Jimin,” you laugh. “It’s Christmas! We should –”

“Celebrate our relationship at least once before everyone else gets up? Yes, agreed.”

Breath catching, you briskly nod. “Yes, yes. Good point. That.”

Laughter rumbles in his chest, carrying you down the hall and for the rest of the morning – until the twins bang on your door – you lose yourself in blissful certainty. Jimin is yours, and you’re his.

With no end in sight.

Seated beside you on the loveseat, Jimin plays with your fingers, entwined in his lap. With his other arm, Jimin brings you closer to brush a kiss to your temple.

Smiling, you face him. “What’re you doing, Mr. Park?” you lowly scold. “You do know we’re not alone, right?”

Jimin lowers his nose to your hair. “More’s the pity,” he murmurs.

Heat flushes through you, but he sits back in his seat. The Christmas Eve party this year is at the ski lodge again, and all of his friends have gathered in the same spot. Tonight though, you sit beside him with a ring on your finger. Jimin barely made it to the playoffs before he proposed.

Thumb brushing over the stone in the center, Jimin can’t help but smile. From far across the room comes the sound of Jungkook booing.

“We get it,” he calls, hands cupped over his mouth. “You two are disgustingly happy. Get a room, why don’t you?”

“We will,” you call back, snuggling into Jimin’s side. “Later.”

Seokjin laughs and elbows Jungkook’s ribs. “You’re only annoyed because you’re the only single guy left.”

Jungkook pouts and sits back. “True. What’s that all about? Why’d you have to bring a super cool, amazing date to the party this year?”

Seokjin’s date, Nova, laughs. “Thanks? I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” Jungkook nods, then faces you and Jimin. “But seriously, you two seem very happy and I’m glad for you both.”

Jimin blinks. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” Jungkook casually crosses his arms. “Your current level of happiness will make it all the sweeter when I kick your ass in the playoffs this year, Park.”

When you snort-laugh, Jimin gives you a look. Said look makes you squirm against him on the sofa, though no one else seems to notice.

“Yeah.” Drily, Jimin looks at Jungkook. “Because that worked out so well for you last year.”

“Ohhh,” Hoseok calls, entering the room with Jisoo on his arm. She’s noticeably pregnant, with a due date next month. “He got you there, Kook. Remember when you lost and now, you and Jimin are tied for Stanley Cup wins?”

Jungkook stares at him blankly. “Hm, no. Don’t recall.”

The entire room laughs, conversation shifting to topics other than the NHL. Squeezing Jimin’s thigh, you snuggle closer and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I am, though,” he murmurs.

You glance upward. “You are what?”

“Happy.” Jimin meets your gaze. “Happy you gave me a second chance. Happy to choose you, again and again.”

Breath hitching, your fingers tighten in his. “Easiest choice I’ve ever made.”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission. Author’s Note: thank you so, so much for reading! HAPPY HOLIDAYS to anyone who celebrates!

[watchmegetobsessed]

MISTLETOE

A/N: oh my god??? im actually posting something??? wow!!! okay joke aside lol its been ages since i last poste anything and im not saying im back, but i've been trying to write here and there so hopefully i will be back soon. until then, here is this little something i manage to finish last month!

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

SUMMARY: Everyone knows Harry is crushing on Y/N, but he hasn't made any major moves. Maybe tonight, when they find themselves under the mistletoe...

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“So Styles, are you gonna man up and ask her out finally, or be a baby?” Niall laughs, bumping his shoulder against Harry’s as they are approaching the pub they spend almost every Friday night at.��

“Shut up,” he groans, but it’s impossible to miss the blush on his cheeks. Niall didn’t even drop a name, but they both knew who he was talking about.

It’s kind of an open secret that Harry has been very into Y/N. Well, all the boys know at least and they very much enjoy teasing him about it. Or maybe not about the crush, but about how long he’s been into her and he still hasn’t made any major moves. The past couple of weeks it’s been even more intense, because it seems like Y/N has been very much open towards Harry and his interest in her, but he’s been clearly waiting for him to make a move. 

As the boys arrive at the pub it’s just as buzzing as always even despite the painfully cold weather that’s been keeping everyone on campus wrapped up in their warmest clothes. A few days ago it was even snowing for a bit, though there’s nothing left from the whiteness by now.

Harry sighs happily as the warmth of the crowd inside hugs him in an instant. The bunch that’s already there, including Y/N, is sitting in the back at a table they often sit by, it’s kind of their spot at this point. 

He spots her in an instant and his cheeks warm up, but this time it’s not because of the temperature inside the pub. He saw her just the other day at lunch, but he can always feel his heart skipping a beat as if she was coming back from a months long trip. 

“You’re being obvious,” Niall bumps his shoulder against his, grinning at his friend, but Harry just rolls his eyes again as they make their way over to the table.

With only two weeks until winter break the place is decorated, there are garlands running along the walls and pipes, ornaments hanging from the corners of the framed photos, there’s a tiny christmas tree on top of the bar and if you’re not paying attention you can end up standing underneath a mistletoe here and there as well. 

“Hey! Thought you guys weren’t even gonna make it!” Jackie exclaims as she stands from the table, hugging the boys one by one. She is practically the person who brought the group together, everyone in the gang either had a lecture together with her, went to practice with her or shared a room with her. The latter is how Y/N got to meet the boys, including Harry. Though the two girls are not roommates anymore, they are still very close. 

Just as Harry wraps his arms around Jackie his eyes meet Y/N’s over her shoulder and his ming blanks for a moment. With her shy smile, simple yet flattering outfit and vibrant aura she is definitely the one who steals the show, at least in Harry’s mind. 

“Hi,” he breathes out when they are finally facing each other and she gifts him with the brightest smile as she lifts her arms to wrap them around his neck.

“Hi,” she giggles, her front pressing against his and he holds her just a bit tighter and longer than anyone else. Which she seemingly doesn’t mind. 

Of course they end up sitting next to each other. It’s no surprise to anyone. Niall is sitting across Harry and every time Harry looks his way he gives him a nudging, teasing look that screams “come on, make a move” which Harry tries to ignore as much as possible, though Niall tends to be a bit much at times.

“What are your plans for the break?” Y/N asks him, the two of them have kind of tuned out of the conversation that’s happening around the table. 

“Just going home, spending time with my family. My mum is very excited,” he chuckles softly. “What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” she smiles. “I’m pretty sure my mum has already started cooking.”

They talk about family traditions, gifting and funny stories from past holidays, completely forgetting about the rest of the group for a while. When their glasses empty out they head over to the bar for a refill, sticking to each other’s side still.

When Y/N tries to pay for her drink Harry steps in, earning a knowing look from the bartender. 

“What a gentleman,” he murmurs under his breath with a smirk, pushing the two beers towards them. Harry’s ears turn red, while Y/N just nods in agreement. 

A guy hurries past them, pushing Y/N slightly against Harry whose hand moves to her waist out of instinct to steady her. The moment gets lost in the crowd to everyone else, but not to them. Harry’s whole body flames, the closeness of her feels exciting and calming at the same time and he doesn’t know, but she shares the same feeling. 

“You alright?” he manages to ask her, their faces way closer than ever before. She peeks up at him with a short nod.

“Yeah, thanks.”

It feels like a moment that would be perfect to finally make a move. Harry knows and as he is looking at her he also knows that she wouldn’t reject him, yet he still can’t get himself to take that step and cross the line he’s been dancing on for so long. 

The seconds pass by and the moment fades as well, disappointment bubbling in her gut as she moves back from him, his hand falling off her waist and he is already regretting being such a coward.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself as Y/N starts to move ahead of him, back to the table and he follows her feeling like the biggest loser ever. 

Why is he so afraid of making a move? She’s all he’s been thinking about, they get along so well and everyone’s been telling him she wants him too. But still, that awful voice in the back of his head keeps reminding him there’s a chance she rejects him and everything would be ruined after that. 

Defeated, they join the rest of the table again and they both can feel a wall sitting right between them. Harry keeps replaying the moment in his head, he thinks of everything he could have done not to mess up his chance, wishing he could go back in time and man up finally.

Soon enough the group moves to the darts boards as Niall and Liam start a match, the rest enjoying the show because Niall is known to be quite competitive in any and all sports. 

Harry is standing by Y/N again, but there’s tension between them obviously and his mind is racing to find a way to ease the situation. Should he ask her to talk? Pretend like nothing happened? Or what if he just swung an arm around her right now? What if–

“Oh! You two!” Niall snaps him out of his thoughts, pointing at him and Y/N. “You’re standing under the mistletoe!”

They look up at the same time, checking that he did not lie, there really is a mistletoe hanging above them. Their gazes meet and the moment is back. Y/N is looking at him with hope tinkering in her eyes and Harry knows he can’t mess it up this time, but he needs just a few seconds to build up the courage, this is a big step and he…

He is taking too long. He sees the moment when Y/N is letting go and panic sets in, screaming at him to do something and then… he finally does. Just when Y/N turns her face in defeat he gently cups her cheek, turning it back and she sucks on her breath before he finally presses his lips to hers. 

A lot happens around them, there’s whistling and clapping and Niall shouts something but it all tunes out to Harry, she is all he can sense. Her arms are quick to snake around his neck and his hands find their way to her waist, pulling her tight into his embrace, hoping he never has to let go of her. 

All his fantasies about what kissing her would feel like vanish and he swears it’s all he has ever known, the touch of her soft lips, the way her tongue swirls against his, the warmth of her body pressed against his. 

Their mistletoe kiss stretches long and neither of them really wants to end it, but reality pushes its way back into their bubble and the noise pops it. Pulling apart they stare at each other for a while before Y/N’s lips slowly break into a smile that Harry feels like wants to own forever. He can’t bear the thought of anyone else being the reason she smiles this way. 

“Harry Styles finally grew some balls!” Niall shouts, completely stomping over the moment they just shared as they turn back to face their friends, arms still around each other. 

“A Christmas miracle!” Jackie joins in on the teasing. 

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Harry groans, not quite enjoying being in the center of attention. 

Y/N’s arms have moved to circle around his abdomen and she gently squeezes him, grabbing his attention. The moment he looks at her smiling face he forgets about everything that’s making him uncomfortable. 

Leaning down he presses a short, lingering kiss to her lips, replacing every word he ever wanted to tell her and she understands it all, happy to be finally speaking the same language. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[netherfeildren]

Meet Me in the New Year

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary:  “We’re havin’ a baby this year,” voice boyish and shy and full of excitement and love. 

You peer up at him, cheek smushed against the ball of his shoulder. “We are.”

“Ready?”

You nod, slow, pulling his head down for another kiss. “Happy New Year, Joel.”

-OR-

The New Year's Eve AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; New Year's Eve AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Ringing in the New Year with your baby daddy like God intended; More fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pregnancy sex; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Meet me in St. Louis is the best Christmas movie ever; Breeding Kink; Pregnancy Kink; Size Difference; How does one tag fingering?; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; PWP

A/N: One last post for 2023, and of course, I had to do a few of my favorite things; daddy Joel, creampies and pregnancy sex, yeehaw. Here's to a new year of more of the same, but WORSE and nastier.

I should be put in prison next year probably like omg but whatever. Have fun, I love you all lots!

This is a sort of follow up to Evermore

Word Count: 2.4K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

MEET ME IN THE NEW YEAR

“Joel, what time is it?”

He looks down at you, tender look in his eye, dragging that big hand of his through your hair. Tresses slightly sleep damp and warm at the roots and gradually growing cooler towards the ends. Your parent’s living room is dark, only the warm shine of the Christmas tree coming from the front hall peering in around the corner into the comfortable, warm den. Meet me in St. Louis plays on mute on the flatscreen, Judy Garland rushing over to give John Truett a piece of her mind on Tootie’s behalf. “Look who it is. Thought I’d lost you for the night.” 

You groan, stretching your legs as far as the couch allows, knees popping hollowly, little toes splaying wide within the sweaty confines of the fuzzy Christmas socks he’d put in your stocking and which you’d been sporting for the past six days. You yawn wide, nose scrunching up at him and turning to nuzzle your face into his lap where you’ve been on and off dozing for the evening. Dinner had been so, so good, browned butter steak and baked potatoes and heirloom tomato, mozzarella salad, and you were so full and so warm and so content beyond imagining. “No… I’m awake,” you mumble against his thigh. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight, I reckon.”

You turn to look up at him, giving him a scrunchy faced smile, “Didn’t miss it, ha. Knew it.”

“Oh, did ya?” His palm moves over the bowl of your skull to cup and squeeze the tender nape of your neck, big fingers gently kneading the fine, tight muscles there. “Gonna ring in the New Year with me, sweet girl?” Mhmm, you moan, nuzzling further against his sweats and the thick heaviness of his half hard cock. 

“You’re hard, daddy,” you whisper up at him while his fingertips slip beneath the neck of your pullover, running down the notches of your spine to reach your waist. He pauses there, his hand curving over the growing swell of your bump. 

He groans, head dropping onto the back of the sofa, and brings his other hand up to rub across his whiskered mouth. “Don’t fucking start.” You know it makes him crazy when you call him that, but you’d told him that you now have the excuse that he is actually going to be a daddy again, and so it’s only nothing but the truth. 

You press your fingertips to your mouth, hiding away your laughing smile. Your first Christmas as a little family of three. Sarah was away with her mother this year since she’d gotten Christmas with the two of you last year, and so the two of you’d decided to come to your parents house again, like you’d done for Thanksgiving last year. You’d been here for a week now, and Joel was starting to lose patience. The lack of alone time was needling as evidenced by the now fully hard and slightly pulsing erection digging into your cheek. 

He rolls his head to peer down at you, mock, chastising frown as he drags his hand over the small swell and up to your naked breast, squeezing gently. “We’ve been here too fuckin’ long.” And you moan, hiding your face against his thigh as he pinches your nipple, rolling it softly between his fingertips, thumb dragging around the sensitive puffiness of your areola. Your whole body had been, for the past several weeks, a coiled tight ball of nerves, everything swollen, everything wet, everything needing him. Like your skin knew, knew he’d been the one to do this to you, and wanted it more, wanted it again. 

You squeeze your thighs together, legs shifting and sliding against each other to relieve the knot of want he’s spin, spin, spinning with his fingers plucking at your breast. He switches to the other one, hand sliding beneath the heavy weight to lift it into his palm and squeeze. You turn to look up at him now, eyes wide when you can’t control the sound of the moan he forces out of you, mouth falling open, panting. Your breasts, going all tight and hot, needing his sucking mouth. “Joel–”

“What?” He teases, pulling his hand from beneath your sweatshirt and shifting to sit you up and press you back the opposite way on the couch, crawling over you to settle between your thighs he pushes open for himself, slightly to the side and sure to not crush you. “If your father catches us,” he whispers with wet lips moving across your throat, that same hand sneaking its way back under your sweatshirt, tongue against your pulse, “he can’t be mad, sweetheart. Already fucked you full’a my baby. Damage s’already done,” he snickers, mouth latching at your carotid, pulling hard enough you know he’s purposely trying to leave a mark. 

“You’re so bad,” you moan, arching up into his hand on your breast, his hot, sucking mouth. You want it on your cunt, you want that thick cock he’s rubbing against you, inside. He’s right, you’ve been at your parents house too long, too far into your first trimester to pretend at civility. You need your husband. 

“Not,” he huffs, damp against your collarbone. “Gonna give it to you so good, baby.” He wedges one hand behind your neck, holding you in place, while the one fondling your breast moves down between your legs, center gusset soaked slick already, and you flush at the flutter of muscles wrapped around his jaw when he finds you pantiless beneath your soft sleep shorts. And so what? Pregnancy had made you sensitive and achy. You need to be free, you tell him with an airy laugh. 

He clicks his tongue down at you, fingers slipping beneath the soft cotton to pet at the soaking wet tuft of curls with the back of his knuckles. “Pretty cunt’s all wet and hungry for me, isn’t it, baby?” And he’s all teasing grins and sparkly, self satisfied eyes as he searches gently for your clit, parting your folds to pet there slow and steady. 

Uh huh, you moan, hitching your foot up higher on his back, little heel digging into the padding of muscles over his ribs to find purchase. You let your other leg slip off the couch with a dull thud, socked foot rolling up on your tip toes so that you can cant and rock your hips against his too light touch on your cunt. 

“More, daddy, please,” you provoke, all breathless sighs as you roll your head in the cup of his palm, the heat of him seeping through the mantle of your messy hair, against your scalp. You feel him flex his fingers, tugging lightly at the sweaty roots, and he finally gives you more. Thumb sliding down to your weepy entrance, pressing there lightly, petting and circling, moving back up to press against your clit at the same time that he starts to feed you two fingers at once. 

You groan at him, scrunching your nose, but he just clicks his tongue, tutting you into submission and silence. “Take it,” he says gentle and low. You scratch at his shoulders, slipping your fingertips under his ratty t-shirt to get at his skin, using your bracing foot to rock your hips against his palm, rough callused palm catching a little painfully at your clit. You’re going to come so fucking fast like this. 

And fingers hooked forward inside of you, he jostles his hand a little, rattles your cunt so that all your wet rings loud in your parents dead silent house. “Hear how sloppy this cunt is for me?” He’s grinding his cock against your inner thigh, fat, blunt tip thrusting against the crease in your thigh over and over and you want it inside of you. You don’t care if you get caught, if someone comes down stairs. You want to soak his hand and then soak his cock and then have him carry you to bed and do it all over again. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Gonna come.” Your lashes flutter shut as he lowers his head to bite your tit, hard and mean, over your sweatshirt, fingers fucking fast and loud, and your cunt goes tight, tight like a knot and then wet and loose and even sloppier. You’re so wet for him. Always. 

Fucking Christ, he groans against your breast, sucks harder, darkening the grey cotton so that the hard tip of your nipple is left molded and obvious beneath the soaked fabric. “That’s it. Come just like that, sweet girl. You’re so fucking wet.” And he doesn't’ gentle his fingers, pressing in a little harder, palm grinding against your clit and shaking his fingers up and down inside of you so that he’s jostling another tiny, almost painful, orgasm out of you. The wet sound of your pussy is so loud and so obvious, if someone were to come down the stairs, the sound of it would be unmistakable. “Gonna soak your mother’s nice couch, and then what’ll she think of you? Everyone’s gonna know exactly what you let me do to you down here.”

You’re pretty sure that’s what gets you over the edge that second time. The thought of everyone knowing.

He nuzzles at your breast, your neck, sucking and kissing, fingers still stretching your pussy, while he makes his way up your throat, mouth against the tip of your chin, and then finally to your mouth. Kiss, slow at first, all tongue and hunger, and then soft little pecks. The corner of your mouth, the bow of your top lip, the other corner. Open, he orders, and licks behind your teeth. Bossy man. You love him.

He pets gently at your G-spot, slow and careful because he knows it’ll be too much soon, letting your slick spill out and gather in his palm, drip down his wrist. “Pretty girl,” he says real quiet, “Keeping my baby so nice and warm in this little cunt. Aren’t you?” You whine up at him, bringing your foot up off the floor, trying to toe his arm away. He clicks his tongue at you again, but finally pulls his fingers from you, wet, sucking sound as he leaves your cunt. He brings his hand up to his mouth, fingers slick sticky and sweet, shiny in the dim light and licks himself clean. You watch him as he teases you, all eyes and laughter, wrapping your fingers around his too thick, hairy wrist, not meeting around it, and holding him there as he eats your wet out of his own palm. When he’s done, his mouth is shiny and glossed in you and he presses another kiss to your lips, forces your jaw open, hinged wide and eats you like you know he wants to eat your cunt instead. Later, he says, like he can read your mind because you’re pretty sure he actually can.

When he pushes the loose waist of his sweatpants down over his erection, no underwear either, you roll your eyes at him, and tell him old men aren’t supposed to be this slutty. But at the sight of that too thick cock nestled in his neatly trimmed bed of hair, the wide root leading up to the happy trailed covered belly, you concede that easy access is highly to your benefit. And when he wedges that said thick cock inside of you by way of an answer to your brattiness, fat head stretching your well used, wet hole, he slides in way too easy because you want him way too much. 

You moan open mouthed for him, and he presses your sweatshirt up over your bump, your swollen breasts, and finally gets his hot mouth on your bare nipples, teeth grazing lightly, pushing you into a higher, hotter level of desperation. You rock your hips up to meet his thrusts, close your eyes and listen to the slick sound of his cock fucking your cunt. “Lemme see this sweet belly,” he murmurs, cupping the small swell. The changes he’d incited in your body had made him a specific flavor of hungry you were going to miss when this was all over. “You’re so fucking beautiful, carrying my baby. You know that?”

And you’re all soft sighs and whimpers and his name as nothing but a moan, hitching your knees as high as you can to open yourself further to him. “Fuck, you’re gunna come again. Gettin’ tight as a fist,” he grits, hips swinging back and then forward, pelvis grinding so that he’s pressing on your clit and then pressing you into another full blown orgasm. It throbs through you, an almost unbearable heat stirring in your pelvis, walls of your cunt pulsing and milking the too thick, sometimes too big, weight of his cock inside you. It always hurts just a little and you always like it too much.

He pulls out suddenly, tiny flutters still moving through your muscles and sits back on his knees, turning you on your side and shoving your thigh up, pulling the now ruined shorts aside to line up and shove back inside. He braces his foot on the floor, one hand on the back of the couch, the other holding your thigh up and open for himself and drills down into your spasming cunt, mid orgasm, and there are tears in your eyes and you gnaw and slobber on the edge of your mother’s couch as your husband fucks you into one last orgasm. The previous one not even fully over. “Told you you’d fuckin’ take it,” he growls, balls slapping against the curve of your ass, temples shiny with sweat, throat all red and splotchy. “Fuckin’ shame I can’t knock you up again here in your parents house like I wanted to last time. We’re gonna have to try harder next time.”

“Told you, you’re so bad.” And you can barely speak as he starts to pump you full of his load, hot and thick so that you can feel it being forced out of your cunt while he continues to shove inside. 

When he’s finished, cleaned you up and tucked you back into his side, both of you choosing to ignore the wet spot on the couch you’d left and agreed to plead the fifth tomorrow if anyone asks, the movie is just finishing up. Judy and her beau are finally at the World Fair together. The clock below the TV rings midnight and Joel presses a soft kiss at the tender spot behind your ear. “We’re havin’ a baby this year,” voice boyish and shy and full of excitement and love. 

You peer up at him, cheek smushed against the ball of his shoulder. “We are.”

“Ready?”

You nod, slow, pulling his head down for another kiss. “Happy New Year, Joel.”

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[talaok]

The perfect bunny

Pairing: Joel Miller x ff!reader

Summary: Christmas with Joel and bunny (for context joel is the boss of a group of criminals in the Boston QZ, and you are his girl)

Warnings: rushed writing, unprotected p in v sex, and a whole lot of fluff

A/n: Happy holidays guys, I love you all so very very much❤️

This is part of a series but it can be read alone. If you wanna read more of Joel and bunny, click here

He had done everything.

Everything you asked for, he had made come true.

Your house was filled with every Christmas decoration he had found in the whole QZ, garlands, mistletoe, little raindeers and Santa clauses overfilled your shelves, and then right there, in the middle of the living room, was the centerpiece... the tree, filled to the brim with ornaments you had put up together, as a family, because that's what you were, you and him, a family.

He even went as far as finding an old cd with christmas songs, all because you mentioned once how much you missed hearing them.

You'll never know what you did to deserve him, to deserve such unconditional, pure love, but what you didn't know is that he felt exactly the same, that the reason he did everything you asked, always, was because you had saved him in more ways he could have ever explained.

And now, now in a world gone to hell, in a world that in many ways wasn't even a world anymore, where people didn't live, but survived, thanks to him, and thanks to you, you were alive again, and you were celebrating Christmas in a way you thought had become unimaginable.

"this is for you" you grinned, handing him his neatly packaged present.

You were sat under the tree as you had insisted, having ignored his protests about his achy back.

"for me?" he asked, his excitement piercing through his tone.

He hadn't gotten a gift in years if he didn't count you, so of course he was happy.

"yes daddy, all for you" You nodded eagerly

"mhh" he hummed, unwrapping it with care, his lips splitting into one of those huge, almost childish smiles he didn't grant himself often enough.

"20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" he breathed, grasping the book as if it was the most precious treasure on this earth "Where did you even find this?"

You chuckled, leaning closer to him "You're not the only one who people answer to around here Miller"

"'s that right?" he smirked, amused

"damn right" you laughed, leaving a quick peck on his lips "You like it?"

"I love it bunny" he answered in a second, still smiling wholeheartedly "I can't believe you remembered, thank you"

"of course I remembered" you grinned, shaking your head before he brought his lips to yours again to show you just how grateful he was, which according to the way he didn't seem in any way willing to lean away, was a whole lot.

You giggled, breaking the kiss

"I've got you something too, baby"

Your eyes widened, every feature of yours brightening with glee.

"you did?" you smiled "I thought the ones you gave me this morning were my gifts" you murmured giddily.

"Not a chance bunny" he shook his head, stroking your cheek "Making you come is just as much your pleasure as it is mine"

You hummed in contentment, biting your bottom lip as he fished something out of his pajama pants, handing you a tiny wrapped something.

You took it in your hands, looking up at him with joy.

"I know the wrapping's not great," he said, a little self-conscious now that he saw what a gorgeous package you'd made him

"What are you talking about?" you reassured him "It's perfect, daddy"

You held your breath as you opened it, remaining immobilized at the sight before you once the paper was all gone.

It was a necklace. A tiny silver necklace, with the cutest bunny hanging at the bottom.

Your eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him, your hands shaking ever so little.

"Joel" you whispered, at a loss for words "This is... this is beautiful" you breathed "H-how did you even get it?"

"had to make just a few people mad, but that's about it" he shrugged, relishing in the amazement on your face.

"A few people?" you couldn't help but laugh, a small tear fleeing your eye "I-I don't know what to say, baby, this is- this is gorgeous"

"you don't have to say anything" he promised, "c'mon, let's go to the mirror so I can put it on you"

And so, with wobbly legs, you followed him to the mirror a few feet away at the entrance of your home.

He stepped beside you, and you handed him the piece, watching as he put it on you with care, leaving a little kiss on your shoulder when he was done.

And of course, it sat perfectly right between your chest, a little piece of him to carry everywhere you went.

"Joel I love it" you whispered "It's-it's perfect"

He hummed contently, his chin on your shoulder as he looked at your reflection

"A perfect bunny for my perfect bunny"

A smile erupted on your face at his words, and you couldn't help but turn around, towards him, towards the love of your life.

"thank you" you murmured, your hands on each side of his face, "thank you so much"

And then again, you were kissing, kissing as if there was no tomorrow, your lungs burning from how much oxygen you were robbing them of.

"I love you bunny" he breathed, earning another kiss

"I love you too, Joel" you promised, looking into his loving eyes for another moment before deciding on something.

"sit down," you said

"sit down?" he frowned, watching you confusedly

"just do it daddy" you laughed, taking his hand and guiding him to the couch

he did as told, his legs spread open and his eyes trained on you.

You could feel his gaze burn a hole in the back of your head as you walked over to the stereo to turn the volume up, a Christmas song flowing through the room better now.

"whatcha doing bunny?" he asked "You sure as hell better not be planning on handcuffing me again"

You laughed at that, and at the memory of the despair in his eyes that night.

"I'm not, daddy, don't worry" You smiled walking up to him until you were right in front of him,

"no, then what are you doing darlin'?"

"I'm thanking you" you said sweetly, your hips starting to gently move in synch with the sound

"'s that right?" he murmured, his eyes falling to your chest as you started unbuttoning the falnnel oh his covering it "what for?"

"mh" you hummed, smiling as you let the shirt fall to the floor "for everything daddy" you explained, slowly turning around and shimmying your shorts off your legs, making a show of bending down to pick them up just to throw them to your left.

he groaned at the sight, and you couldn't help but giggle, spinning back around.

"goddamn bunny" he purred, taking in every inch of your body as you started playing with the straps of your bra, forcing them to fall off your shoulders painfully slowly.

You looked as he watched every movement of yours like a hawk, and you would have teased him further if it wasn't that you were supposed to be thanking him.

So without any further ado, you undid the clasp of your bra, and let it fall to your feet, a soft "fuck" escaping his throat.

Next came your panties.

Your hips were still moving to the music as your fingers seeped through the waistband, gripping at the edge of them and then slowly pulling down, until they pooled at your feet making Joel's cock feel a moment away from bursting.

You smiled, wordlessly placing a hand on his shoulders to prop yourself up as you straddled his lap, his mouth immediately finding yours.

"thank you daddy" you whispered, kissing his cheek "Thank you for the necklace" Another kiss, now on right below his ear "Thank you for the decorations" now down his neck, your breath tickling his skin "for sitting under the tree even if your back hurts" you couldn't resist the urge to chuckle, your hands now trailing to his pants "thank you for the cd" again, another kiss on his neck, before you freed his cock from his pants, and looked up at him "thank you for everything daddy"

His cock slipped into you with ease, and he groaned loudly as you started moving on top of him, a position he didn't get to feel much (by his own volition), and you moaned into his mouth as you kissed him.

"thank you daddy" you continued, your words messy and breathy as you picked up your pace "for everything you do for me everyday" you said, his cock feeling every bit as good as ever "for- for listening to me" you moaned "and taking care of me" his dick was so deep you could feel it in your belly, hitting your g-spot with each of your movements "and for letting me take care of you" you smiled, as he gripped your waist, savoring the sight before him "t-thank you so much daddy" you breathed, embarrassingly enough slowing down, your thighs on fire.

"you're tired" he murmured with amusement

"no 'm not" You shook your head, trying to pick up your pace and failing miserably

"no?" he asked, smirking like a bastard

"no" you denied again, smiling a little at your obvious lie

"lay down bunny" he tried to persuade you

"no way" you protested "I'm supposed to be treating you daddy, to be thanking you"

"trust me this pussy of yours is enough of a thank you for a million lives"

"daddy..." you pouted, trying to convince him

"what if I just help out a bit, hm?" he asked, watching your eyes brighten

"just a bit" you accepted, and in a moment, he was thrusting up into you, and only a moment later, you were moaning loudly at the feeling, the thought of doing all the work well out the window.

"thank you daddy" you cried, "I love you so much" you promised, your orgasm taking over you

"thank you babygirl" he grunted "for being in my life" he said, his words falling into your gaped mouth "for making everything better"

"for being you" he breathed, watching as you came all over his cock "for being the best thing that ever happened to me, bunny"

[cherryheartssblog]

A DOLLHOUSE CHRISTMAS

Summary: Y/N’s family throws the annual Christmas party in the neighborhood each year. Y/N’s mother invites the neighbors and her friends, her dad invites his friends. Y/N though has a special relationship with one of her dad’s best friends.

Warnings: not fully edited, smut, age gap (reader is in her 20s and Negan is in his 40s), toxic parents, body shaming!, readers body is not fully described, higher class family!, mentions of rough sex, mentions of daddy issues, dirty talk, fluff, drinking, public sex! kind of!, bathroom sex!, mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce, and snooty! Parents..

A KINKMAS STORY

Hey girl, open the walls Play with your dolls We'll be a perfect family

"Y/N, we have to have the table set up!" Y/N heard her mother yell for the millionth time of the night, anxiously fixing her hair in the mirror. She knew her mother would beg for pictures and hang the pictures for only her family to see. Y/N's mother had to have everything perfect; she was a perfectionist. She groaned out, the bow in her hair straightened. She pulled her dress down, running to aide her mother. Y/N's mother shot her a smile; she did not know how fake it was while handing her a bunch of Christmas plates. "Sweetheart, please keep your head up and straight. Make sure everything is set up in the living room." She instructed her daughter. Y/N smiled, grabbing the plates to set up in the dining area. The dining area was decorated with Christmas decorations, and a peppermint scent filled the air. Y/N lit the candles around the table, setting each with a napkin wrapped in a perfect bow.

Y/N's parents made it seem they had the perfect family and that everything in their life was perfect. They had ideal jobs, the perfect house, and, of course, they had to have the perfect daughter. They had high goals for Y/N, wanting her to be just like them. Y/N was always forced to choose what to wear, what to do, and even what she could eat sometimes. They wanted everything perfect. When Y/N got out on her own, she got into a good college fully paid for by her parents, which may be the only good thing they ever did for her. She finally got to be away from her parents, but there was someone she missed from her past life back at home even more than her parents.

Her father's best friend, Negan Smith.

Negan Smith saw the family like all the neighborhood did: a perfect dollhouse family. Even though a few rumors spread about how Y/N's father would sneak around with women at his work during the late-night meetings. Negan never saw her parent's real actions; behind the scenes, they played out during parties. Negan moved into the neighborhood about a year ago, invited by Y/N's dad to a dinner party for their daughter's birthday. Negan gladly expected the invite; being a Bachelor and moving into a new town, he needed some new poker buddies.

You don't hear me when I say "Mom, please wake up Dad's with a slut"

Since that night, saw the talk of the neighborhood's daughter, the sweet, innocent angel everyone loved when she came home from college. Most of them watched her grow into a fine woman. Negan knew she was relatively younger than him; she could not be attracted to him like he was. Throughout that year, Negan came over for football games, drinking nights, poker nights, and parties. He got to know Y/N more when she was home.

A doorbell broke, and Y/N's trance Christmas music slightly filled her ears as her mother entered, turning on the radio outside the dining area. She could hear her mother's loud greets, her laughs that sounded more fake than the garland around the table.

Y/N sighed, trying to catch her breath. Her father came in, straightening his tie. "Your mother will want us by the main tree tonight for pictures." Her father eyed her, "You may need to dress a little more than that; I can't believe your mother has not said anything." Y/N's face was red, and she eyed her dress, which she thought was cute. Her best friend helped her for weeks to find the perfect dress; she thought her mother would either love it or hate it. She never said a word about it and probably has not even looked at her daughter fully tonight. And, of course, her father would go right and hit any confidence she had about the dress.

"Dad, the dress is literally hitting my knee." She snarled back, Y/N crossing her arms. "Whatever, guests are here. Just smile and keep your head up." He shot a quick smile, heading over to his wife and greeting his guests with her. Most carry plates of food or wines. Some had gifts in their hands, hanging their jackets at the front.

No one ever listens This wallpaper glistens Don't let them see what goes down in the kitchen

Y/N groaned, heading to the kitchen for a glass of wine, chugging a little over the sink. She sighed, drinking half of the glass, closing her eyes, and letting the red wine hit the back of her throat. "You starting to party early, sweetheart?" Y/N heard a deeper voice, making her jump. She turned her attention to the kitchen entrance, seeing Negan with a bottle of whiskey in hand, "If you need that, you may wanna start with this." He wiggled the bottle of Jack Daniel's; Y/N smiled as he joined her side, pouring them a glass.

Places, places Get in your places Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces Everyone thinks that we're perfect. Please don't let them look through the curtains.

"Already stressed about this party?" Negan questioned, handing her a glass. "You have no idea." She threw it back just like she would a shot at a party. Negan chuckled, sipping his a little as Y/N cringed more, hearing everyone enter the kitchen with them. Negan felt something off with her this time, more on edge. His face furrowed, watching her greet the guest with her parents.

Who showed her off like a grand prize, which might be good if they were doing it correctly. Negan watched from afar, starting to see a little bit behind the walls of the dollhouse.

D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E I see things that nobody else sees D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E I see things that nobody else sees

Y/N finally got around to all the guests, greeting them and helping her mother serve refreshments. She settled into the kitchen, getting herself a glass of champagne her parents only brought out during Christmas. She was lucky even to have a drink like her parents sometimes could.

Hey girl, look at my mom, she's got it going on

Ha, you're blinded by her jewelry.

When you turn your back she pulls out a flask

And forgets his infidelity.

Most of the time, her mother and father found themselves at the end of the bottle at night, excusing themselves from the party to go on about their other relationships outside that marriage. Y/N knew her parents had some open marriage, hiding it behind closed doors. She would try to ignore their actions.

Y/N knew if her mother’s image got ruined, her mother would be ruined. Y/N tried her best for parents, mostly just talking about her looks rather than her success in life. They showed her off like she was their possession; Y/N got tired of all the compliments and “Oh, how much you’ve grown.” For tonight.

Uh-oh, she's coming to the attic, plastic,

Go back to being plastic.

Y/N’s mother had guests getting around the dinner table for dinner. The younger woman sat beside Negan, who pulled a seat out for her; she couldn’t help but blush. Most people began fixing their plates and passing around plates to fix a perfect Christmas meal.

Y/N scooped up some mashed potatoes, hearing her mother chuckle. “Slow down, love; others do have to eat.” Her mother joked, slapping her playfully, sitting beside her; luckily, most people didn’t hear her mother’s rude comment. Y/N’s face, however, burned red, slamming them down beside her mother, catching a few eyes. Negan eyed the woman, and his face fell from her mother’s comment; how could any mother say that to her child?

No one never listens

This wallpaper glistens

One day they'll see what goes down in the kitchen

Y/N’s mother leaned over, whispering to her. “Are you trying to ruin Christmas?” She smiled, saying between her teeth, Negan knew the family could be complicated at times but didn’t know they were this hard on their daughter.

She was beautiful, she was brilliant, and nothing about her he saw had a flaw. Y/N seemed like a perfect daughter in his eyes, and they should treat her with more respect. Negan lips pierced, trying to keep his mouth shut, listening to her father ramble on about the latest football games. “No, Mother, may I be excused?” She turned her eyes, and she felt her face get hot, “I just need a moment.”

Places, places

Get in your places

Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces

“Whatever, dear, make sure to straighten up for pictures.” Her mother turned back into a conversation with her girlfriends, not even sitting or acknowledging her husband. Y/N knew her father would end up out with one of his women tonight, just like her mother may drink herself underneath the table while that happens.

Everyone thinks that we're perfect

Please don't let them look through the curtains

Picture, picture, smile for the picture

It was all too much, and the comments were too much. Y/N needed a break, taking a glass with her to the upstairs bathroom for peace. She barely wanted to eat anymore. Her mother ruined her appetite. Y/N clicked the bathroom door locked, breathing a sigh of relief, hearing faint waves of laughter downstairs. She knew her mother would not even miss her at the party for a while, and she hoped dinner would be done when she got back down. Y/N looked at herself in the mirror, and she felt like she looked her best.

D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E

I see things that nobody else sees

D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E

I see things that nobody else sees

What else could she do? Was something just wrong with her? Y/N heard a knock on the door sighing out, turning the sink on like she was washing her hands. “Be out in a minute!” Y/N dried her hands off, opening the door and revealing Negan. Who had a concerned look on his face? He leaned in the doorway, wearing a nice button-down with black jeans. Y/N knew she was attracted to him, but he was her father’s friend. One of her closest neighbors, he would be older than her. Her mouth parted, and she gasped at the sight of him.

“Can we talk?” He asked softly. Y/N held the door, looking around her in the larger bathroom. “In here?” She couldn’t help but smirk a little; Negan chuckled at the girl, shrugging. “I just wanted to check and see if you were good, doll.” Negan smiled, sending chills down her spine. She gripped the door, and she knew he must have overheard a few things. “I’m guessing you heard that.” Y/N's face was red, “They are different than you think.” Negan nodded, agreeing with the younger woman. He eyed her, wondering what could her parents see that was wrong. Her hair was perfect, halfway up, held by a black bow. Y/N’s body fit the blacker, tighter dress, and her curves held up perfectly. Her smile lit up the whole room, and he loved to make her laugh.

Y/N deserved that.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He seemed sympathetic to her, and Y/N smiled. “I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with it every day anymore,” Y/N admitted she was happier off at college even though she did miss Negan sometimes. “You look beautiful, doll.” Y/N bit her lip and cheeks blushed.

“Well thank you.”

It was awkward for a moment; tension built in the air. Y/N caught his eye just like he caught her eyes staring at him. “Y’know, we can spice up the Christmas party.” Y/N’s lips curled; she was nervous about his reaction, but it was worth a shot. Negan’s eyes lit up, and he was intrigued by what the idea may be.

“And what’s that sweetheart?”

“You could come in here and find out.”

Negan’s face looked shocked by her comment, Negan knew he instantly was turned on by the way she held up her confidence where she felt it or not.

Negan wanted to make her feel beautiful.

“In your parents home?” Negan chuckled, stepping in quickly, locking it behind him. He stood in front of the younger woman tall, she felt a slight increase of intimidation. “It’s already not the perfect dollhouse anyways.” She playfully shrugged, her lips drawing near his. High on her tiptoes to meet his height, Negan felt brush up near his.

Breathing heavily, Y/N’s lips were caught by Negan in a deep kiss, her hands trailing from his shoulders to run through his hair. His hands gave another grab of her ass, more powerful, enough to leave red handprints.

“Shit doll, you don’t understand how long I’ve been waiting for this, I can’t believe I haven’t gone fucking crazy.” He stated against her lips. Y/N faintly moaned out at his confession, there was always some unspoken tension between both of them, she just never thought it would come to this.

Being the bathroom of her parents house, kissing her fathers best friend,

Y/N broke away from his kiss, fumbling to pull his pants down to his ankles, lifting his belt buckle down successfully. His now fully erect cock gently slapped against his stomach, Y/N’s hand coming down to smoothly wrap around the base of his cock, rubbing up and down. Negan let out a soft groan, his head falling back as he leaned into her forehead, lifting her up onto the sink counter. “Oh shit honey, fuck, you are a dirty fucking girl.” He whispered out.

A small creak caused your body to stop, a slight spark of adrenaline flowing through. The two paused their actions, Y/N’s lips were swollen, Negan still tasted her lipgloss. They paused for a moment waiting for a moment, before eyeing each other once more.

“We can be quick.”

Negan’s lips moved from her neck to the tops of her breasts, placing kisses while roughly grabbing them. Negan expertly unhooked the back of her bra, her breasts now free.

Goosebumps trailed down Y/N arms and legs at the new feeling, the tip of his cock brushing against her clit. “You ready doll?” Y/N enthusiastically moaned, grabbing the base of his cock to position it at her opening before slowly moving down, filling her inch by inch. She let out a quiet moan at the fullness she felt, Negan’s hand coming up to grab her throat with slight pressure. “Fuck doll, those pretty noises are going to get us caught. You fit me like a fucking glove, so fucking tight.” Letting out a heavy sigh, Negan started to move his hips, sliding in and out of her with slow stroke.

“Let’s just hope we don’t get caught.”

“Oh but that would be even better.”

based on:

[myfaveficrecs]

Christmas Tradition

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader (Darling)

Word Count: 1785

Warnings: Pure fluff

AN: Written for @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge. My prompt was ornaments, and I chose to do something I haven't done before. I wrote for Bob! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone.

“Still okay to meet at 6?”

Bob smiled while reading your text knowing your Christmas tradition would change after this year. In all honesty, he should have changed the tradition a couple of years ago but he always justified why he couldn’t do it just yet. Being on different sides of the country, deployments, being with your families in different states for the holidays, work schedules didn’t align, you both were too busy. But this year that changes.

“I can’t wait, Darling.”

“Going to pick out ornaments tonight?” Phoenix asked with a smile, catching a glimpse of her WSO’s phone while walking by.

“Yeah,” he blushed but could not seem to tamp down his grin. “I put the one for tonight in the tree already this morning after she left for work. I just have to wait a few more hours.”

“How are you feeling?”

“What’s the matter Baby on Board? Going to throw up again?” Hangman gave his traditional smirk while walking to his locker. Looking around, Bob realized the whole squad was in tow in the locker room now.

“Shut up, Bagman. He’s nervous enough without you adding to it.”

“Nervous about what?” Rooster chimed in. “You guys are just going to get your ornaments, right?”

“Wait, ornaments? I feel like I’m missing something.”

“You usually are, Hangman.” Phoenix glared at the irritating pilot. She was not going to let him ruin this day for Bob.

“Every year, Bob and Darling go to a boutique in the town they are in for Christmas to pick out one new ornament each for their tree. The ornament is something that reminds them of each other or something that they did together that year.”

“Okay…and what makes today's nauseating display of affection any different from the other years?”

“First of all, it isn’t nauseating, it’s romantic. Secondly, Bob is officially making her part of the squad!”

Loud cheers and hands roughly shaking his shoulders made Bob turn an interesting shade of red, but the laugh that came out of him was pure joy. “She has to say yes first. I gotta get out of here and meet her. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

With choruses of cheers and good luck, Bob rushed out to his truck, pulling out his phone to let her know he was on his way with a quick text. The closer he got to her, the less anxious he felt. She was the only thing other than being above the clouds that made him feel completely at peace. His Darling was his safe place, his home, his heart, and his soul. She was so deeply ingrained and embedded into his skin that he would never be rid of her if he tried. She was everything and he would make sure she knew it.

Pulling up to the little boutique decked out in all the garland, lights, and ornaments probably in the whole of San Diego he saw his little Darling already waiting for him at the front door, excitement all over her face. He may have started this tradition, but she made sure to treasure it and keep it exciting. 

“There is my handsome man. How was work?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, leaving little kisses along his jaw, enjoying the light flush that started along his neck and was gradually making its way to his ears. The little prickles of the five o’clock shadow leave pleasant tingles on your lips.

His arms wrapped tight around you, swaying you back and forth to a tune that was only playing in his own mind. “It was good, I got to try some new equipment upgrades today. They are asking for my input on how to make it better.”

“That’s because you are amazing at what you do, and I would know how precise, focused, and accurate you are.” 

Bob laughed, covering your mouth with one large hand while you wiggle your eyebrows, trying to tamp down your own amusement for his sake. “Be a good girl.”

His deep voice with that particular phrase sent lightning zaps throughout your body and straight to your core, the memory of his head between your legs this morning making your heart pick up speed. “I can’t make any promises.” You let out a little yelp when you felt a quick swat to your ass, his strong hands turning you around by your shoulders and pushing you gently through the door with a laugh.

With a chime from the alarm and a loud jingle of the bells on the door, your presence alerted the owner of the little boutique that has become a favorite of yours to come to. “There’s my favorite couple! I was wondering when you two were going to come by and see us.”

“Good evening, ma’am.” He greeted with a nod. She reminded him of his grandmother - a little rounder with age, silver streaks in her blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and round glasses that complemented her face rather nicely.

“We’ve got some good ones this year, take your time kids!” The woman pointed towards the back of the store with the large display of several Christmas trees loaded down with ornaments to pick from. With barely contained excitement, you linked your fingers with Bob and dragged him towards the display.

“Have any idea what you are looking for this year?”

“Yes! Since we have officially moved here now that you’ve got a permanent assignment, I wanted to find one that has to do with your job. Can’t be that hard to find being in Fightertown, USA, right?” You mumbled, walking around the first tree in deep concentration. Your eyes squinting the further up you looked at the tree before moving to the middle one. “What about you, what were you thinking?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.” When you looked over at him all you could see was his undying affection shining back at you. The added twinkle of the Christmas lights surrounding you both added a soft glow, bounced off the ornaments and added streaks of color and prisms along his flight suit. The smell of cinnamon, cranberries, and jet fuel made you light headed for all the right reasons. God, you love this man.

Right above his head on the tree in front of him was the perfect ornament! “There! Grab that one.” You squealed, reaching your hand out and pointing out the pilot helmet with red and green stripes. Bob shook his head with a grin and got it down for you, placing it gently into your palm. “Now you need to find yours.”

Bob’s real ornament was already waiting on their tree at home but he would gladly buy a dozen more to make sure it was always full of memories. Walking slowly around the next tree, he crouched down to see the ones on the lowest hanging branches with more clarity and immediately his eyes were drawn to a glass ball with the colors of the northern lights all around it. He immediately held it up with a triumphant smile, “This one. When we went to Fairbanks to see my sister in September, we saw the northern lights for the first time together.”

“It’s beautiful, Bobby,” you said, gently clasping the bottom of the ball with your fingertips for closer inspection. “Let’s get home so we can put these on the tree. We can put on your favorite Christmas movie and curl up under the blanket on the couch, sound good?”

“Sounds like the perfect way to spend Christmas Eve.” He leads you up to the cash register, paying for the ornaments quickly while chatting with the shop owner before walking you to your car.

The drive home was quick, and his nerves were still nowhere to be found. This was the right thing for them, he knew it, he felt it. Why didn’t he do this sooner? Why wait so long to start their ever after? 

Turning the lights on for the tree he watched as you carefully unwrapped each ornament, yours being placed on top of the tree, as far as your arms could reach. As soon as you picked up his, he wrapped an arm around your waist from behind and pointed to the middle of the tree. “How about right there, Darling? Looks like the perfect spot.”

He watched as you reached out and put the ornament where he pointed to before your whole body froze, gently holding the glass ball in place. He felt the long intake of breath that filled your chest, pressing further into his chest before letting go of the new colorful glass ball knowing it was secure. With a silent gulp that made his adams apple bob in his throat, he wrapped his other arm around you tightly.

In the center of the tree was a gold and silver ball, designed to open in the center just like a ring box. Inside there was a plush velvet black pillow holding the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“Darling, I want to continue this tradition and make new ones with you for the next fifty years. I want to make sure you know every single day how much I need you, how much I love you. I’ve always known you were it for me, nobody else is ever going to love me the way you do and nobody is going to be able to complete you the way that I do. I’m sorry it took me this long, and I want no more excuses. Marry Me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. It was a fact. It was a confident declaration. 

Gently reaching out to the custom ornament, he pulled the beautiful vintage ring from its pillowed cushion. A thin gold band held an array of diamonds. A clear and beautiful round stone in the center surrounded by another circle of smaller round diamonds. The outer row is arranged like a sunburst. He saw it in an antique store two months before while you were searching for the perfect table for your entryway. He bought it the second your back was turned because he immediately thought of you. His sunshine. His Darling.

You felt the thin band wrap around your finger and settle at the base like it was always meant to be there. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it no matter how much your brain screamed at you to turn around and wrap yourself around this beautiful man that you had forever to spend with, so you did the next best thing. Grabbing his hand tightly in your own you whispered your own declaration, “It will always be yes.”

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[hwaitham]

𝓹𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓱 𝓹𝓾𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 ꒱ྀིა . ｡˓ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

al haitham x f!reader . sfw . established relationship ﾉ fluff + suggestive ﾉ reader is in a saree + haithie is in a sherwani :3 ﾉ reader has a rather cutesie personality ﾉ al haitham wubs u vvv much but ohhh ! is he ever the litl tease ( ˃᷄˶˶̫˶˂᷅ )

㌥( ྀིง ˙˘˙ )ว㌥ . . halloooo happie deepavali fwens :D ! ! this is my silly littl gift to u . . . it’s quite rushed + not my best work , but i rllie wanted to post something for today ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ regardless of whether u celebrate the holiday or not , i hope everything that u wish for comes true && u r blessed w all the joys the universe has to offer ⭐️ ! !

fireworks shower the night sky with ribbons of light, colouring sumeru in vibrant reds and yellows and pinks. amidst the muffled pops and fizzles they create, you can hear the crowds pass by al haitham’s home up along the cobblestone path of the divine tree— laughter from happy couples and cheering from akademiya students, children ushering their parents to ‘hurry up’ lest they miss out on a good spot outside the sanctuary of surasthana to catch the fireworks (and all the sweets are sold out!).

you seem to exist in a similar vein, al haitham finds, when you begin to huff and whine, tilting your head up to pout at him in the mirror while he continues to calmly pin the jasmine garland he’d bought for you earlier in the day into your hair. 

“haitham, we’re gonna be late.” 

“we won’t be if you’d just keep still for a moment.” with a finger, he pushes your head back down, his lips curling into a soft smile and carving dimples into the apples of his cheeks when he hears you mutter under your breath. “truthfully, i don’t think you’re so preoccupied with being late as you are worried about all the padisarah pudding being sold out when we arrive.”

“yeah, w-well! well…” flaring up in embarrassment, you grumble, gather your cheek within your molars and bite down, avoiding al haitham’s gaze to look down at your hands— nails manicured and wrists sounding off little tinktinks! at the clinks of the bangles that adorn them. “hmph. so what if i am?”

your lover chooses not to dignify you with a response, and instead works a bit more hastily to finish decorating your hair, the rich floral notes and slightly sensual muskiness of the jasmine surrounding his senses until all he can really think about, feel is you.

oh, you darling girl of dreams. sweet, sweet light of his.

dressed the way you are in baby pink, the georgette fabric of your saree pleated and draped perfectly, bindi centred right between your brows, you look nothing short of doll-like, delicate and precious and the prettiest flower in the meadow.

“oww, haitham, you’re tugging on my hair!” 

when he notices you wincing, al haitham is drawn out of his head and he ceases his movements in threading bobby pins through your hair, watching you raise your hand to massage the sore spot that blooms across your scalp.

“so fragile,” he leans down over you, his voice lilted into a playful tease, yet his touch so tender and cautious— as if to apologize for the pain he’d caused— before he lays a kiss to the shell of your ear all the while sliding one last bobby pin through your hair.

it’s only brief, but he hears the catch in your breath, how you stiffen your shoulders at the kiss, feeling its aftereffects as a warm trill travelling up and down along your spine.

so fragile, indeed. he staves off the temptation that bubbles in his chest at your meek little display, pocketing it to have his fun with you later in the night. 

after all, padisarah pudding comes first!

“there, you’re all done.”

with a few more firm pats of his fingers around the bobby pins, al haitham secures the jasmine garland to your scalp, scritching your head sweetly and sealing his handiwork with a gentle press of his mouth to your temple. he admires you alongside yourself in the mirror, bringing two of the flower chains around either side of your neck, letting them fall along your chest. 

“you made me look so pretty!” an airy giggle spills from your lips— soft and glossy as you step back from the mirror to do a twirl for him, reaching out to tug on his sleeve and bounce on your tippy toes, thanking him with a wet mwah! of a kiss to his cheek. “thank you, haitham!”

“wait a minute missy, we’re not leaving just yet…” before you can scamper away out of his clutches, al haitham wraps his fingers around your wrist, tugging gently in a silent command to stay facing him. when you do, he takes your cheeks within the cradles of his palms— searching your eyes and scanning your lips with sharp cerulean, a mischievous smirk.

pretty. 

you’re so, so, pretty. something of a little butterfly that he’s come to grow perhaps overly fond of— with your tiny pearlescent wings, the flits and floats when you play among the summer flora, your delicate dances over teacups and honeypots. you fly circles around his heart and entwine it in pink ribbon, drinking its sweet nectar, making a home in the palm of his hands, the strong junction of his neck.

“haiyi…?” 

he sighs rather dreamily when you squeak his name in confusion, his teasing smirk dissolving into something more tender as he tucks a loose tuft of your hair behind your ear and adjusts his hold on you, now squishing your cheeks together to effectively pucker your lips. “i think i require more than just a kiss as a thank you.”

“b-but—” you're caught off guard by his close proximity, looking anywhere else but his eyes in an attempt to fight off the roses blooming in your lungs and their petals stuffing your mouth full, leaving you void of oxygen. “but, padisarah pudding…”

at your deflated little whimper, al haitham laughs breathlessly, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a loving smile when he realizes just how endeared he’s become to your puerile nature. he’s hunching his back to hover over you, ghost his lips on top of yours, letting his breath fan spearmint over your face before he dips his head down into the crook of your neck. 

“gosh, you’re just too cute…”

he lays his wet, open mouth over your pulse and kisses, and licks, and sucks, and oh—your head spins and your knees buckle as you press further against him, grapple at his shoulders to try and regain any sort of leverage over the dizziness that falls upon you. “hai-haitham; we gotta… gotta go…”

brows knitted tightly, al haitham only hums dismissively at your blubbery words, sliding a warm palm under the drape of your saree to take you even more by surprise. it smoothes down the side of your torso, tugs gently on the gold chain adorning your waist to bring you flush against his chest. his knuckles graze your flesh and his fingertips tease the clasps of your blouse and his touch—tender yet commanding—makes you want to sin.

and it’s only after he’s worked you up to this headspace, needy and clingy and wanting more, pawing at the buttons of his sherwani and panting rather eagerly into his clavicle, that he retracts, pinching the dip of your waist between his thumb and forefinger to bring you back down to earth.

ever the tease.

“hey!” you yelp, he chuckles, you frown, he smiles. 

“c’mon. we don’t want you missing out on any padisarah pudding, do we?”

“you’re a horrible boyfriend.” weakly, you bat at his chest before turning away from him to slip on your heels.

he beats you to it, kneeling in front of you before you can reach down for your shoes, gathering the skirt of your saree in one hand before fitting the heel to your bare foot, kissing the gold ‘𝓐 ’ pendant of the chain that rests delicately atop your ankle. “oho, is that what you think of me, dear?”

softening around the edges, your heart skips several beats at the romantic gesture, and your forgiveness is instantaneous, for all you find yourself wanting to do in that moment is kiss and hug and love on him without inhibitions.

“i suppose you’re not all bad…”

he pats your head, rubs his nose against yours in a little bunny kiss. slathering you with his affection is the only way he knows how to apologize to you. “that’s what i like to hear.”

and just as he guides you out the door, on your way to stuff your pretty little face with as much padisarah pudding as your heart desires, he kisses the crown of your head once— for good measure— and pinches your waist, yet again— for good luck!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

What in the world is happening here? Beautiful, historic 1800 farmhouse in Perkiomenville, PA was restored by the current owner. Some interesting design choices were incorporated into this wonderful piece of history. It has 4bds, 2ba, 9.33 acres of land, and they're asking $795K. Take a look at what they've done.

Now, as anyone familiar with American History knows, the slide was an efficient replacement for stairs in early 1800 farmhouses. It was higher at the bottom so a stool could be placed underneath, next to a cow ready to be milked.

I appreciate that they left the floors and this wonderful fireplace. Why, though, do clean, straight walls look so out of place? What would look better? Maybe some texture?

Lovely. The big old pot over the fire.

They stood a vintage statue of St. Francis, the patron saint of animals, in the fireplace. Not exactly the place of honor one would expect.

The living room is very large and has a new fireplace. Lovely original stone peeks out of the drywall like wainscoting.

They put in a modern kitchen, although it looks like an island is missing. The pots are just dangling in the middle of the ceiling.

Family room. In order to sell any home, you must include at least one stylish griege room.

Plus a vintage/modern bath combo. Don't forget the gray walls.

I have no idea what's going on in here. It's a large bedroom with Buzz Lightyear running on air near the ceiling and some weird wiring for the chandelier.

In 1889, after the Eiffel Tower was built, it was every farm girl's dream to visit Paris. So prevalent was this, that the late actress/singer Judy Garland released the song "How You Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm, After They've Seen Paree?" in 1919. Hence, this symbolic shower curtain.

The primary bedroom has fabric draped over the beams to create a romantic retreat, clearly inspired by the new dating show sensation, "The Farmer Wants a Wife" featuring hunky young farmers.

Some work was begun in this area.

Lots of wires, here.

The property is beautiful. Is that a little smokehouse?

Look at this wonderful barn that needs to be saved.

I don't know what's going on, but this property is a living museum and it looks like there's been some demo. Wait a minute, is that the top of a tower in the right corner?

Woah, talking about demo, everything here has been wiped out. The devastation.

It's a beautiful piece of property- the Perkiomen Creek runs alongside the 9.33 acre farm.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/10-Walnut-Ln-Perkiomenville-PA-18074/9946795_zpid/?

[auras-moonstone]

hiiiii!!! there aren’t enough jack imagines, so could you do and actress!reader x jack? just a cute fluff bc jack is suck a lover boy 💗 thanks!!!

happy birthday — jack champion

word count: 1,216

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: y/n surprises her boyfriend, jack, on his 19th birthday party.

warnings: none, just fluff!

author's note: i meant to post this yesterday bc of jack's bd, but i wasn't able to finish it :( by the way, hope we get the mandatory pic with the 19 balloons.

JACK HAD ALWAYS LOVED CELEBRATING HIS BIRTHDAY, but this year his excitement had been on another level because there was a special someone he was looking forward to celebrate it with--his girlfriend of almost a year, Y/N. So, imagine how disappointed he was when she informed him she wasn't going to make it.

"Are you sure you can't do anything about it?" Jack asked hopeful as he facetimed his girlfriend, who was away in another country filming a movie.

"I'm sorry, love. I wish I could go, but you know how shootings are, I can't just bail." she pursed her lips at the disappointed expression painted on Jack's face.

Jack tried to put on his most convincing smile and nodded. "Yeah, I know. It's not your fault, I just miss you."

"Me, too, J. So much." she swallowed the lump that began forming on her throat. Seeing his puppy brown eyes turn glossy was heartbreaking, and the weight of the guilt was crushing her. "Maybe we can facetime when you blow the candles?"

"Of course, babe." he smiled weakly. "I'm sorry for being like this. I know you don't have a choice, and I hate seeing how the guilt is eating you. I promise I'm not mad, and I know that if you could, you would be taking the first flight back home to me. I love you."

"You're allowed to feel sad, J. Don't apologize." Y/N checked the time and let out a curse. It was almost 1AM, and she was going to be late. "Sorry, babe, I've got to go. Have fun, okay? I love you. Happy birthday."

When they hung up, Y/N grabbed her suitcase and left the place she had been staying at while she filmed the movie. Once she arrived to the airport and did the check-in, she texted Jack's mom.

hii, i'm about to board the plane! how's jack?

not going to lie, he's crushed but he'll love the surprise, don't worry❤️

i hate lying to him :( but you're right. i'll see you in a couple of hours!

JACK’S FRIENDS DRAGGED HIM OUT OF THE HOUSE FOR A WALK AS HIS FAMILY SET EVERYTHING FOR THE BIRTHDAY PARTY. For someone who loved his birthday, he was looking gloomy and not thrilled at all to go on with the party. His friends were tempted to spoil the surprise, just to get the sad frown off Jack’s face, but they knew that his blue mood was going to go away in a couple of minutes.

“Man, you’re going to spend so much birthdays together. And even though Y/N’s not here physically, she’s still going to make sure she’ll be there celebrating with you, even if it's through a phone.” one of his friend bumped him in the shoulder.

“No, I know. It’s not just because it’s my birthday, it’s because I haven’t seen her in a while and I was hoping this could be the excuse we needed to see each other.” his gaze was focused on the broken cobblestones.

“We get it, we do. But you know better than any of us how the industry works.”

He did. He really understood that the situation was beyond Y/N’s hands. She couldn’t abandon set just because her boyfriend was celebrating his birthday. But still, it didn’t make him miss her any less.

When Jack and his friends entered his house again, his mood lifted up a little. Even though his special girl wasn't there, his family and friends came to spend his day with him and that warmed his heart.

“This looks amazing! Thank you.” he said in a cheerful voice as he looked around. The living room was decorated with colourful balloons and confetti thrown on ground. Glued to the wall, there were garlands that read ‘Happy Birthday’ and golden balloons with the number 1 and 9. “I’m going to take a picture for Y/N/N.”

“There’s one more surprise.” his mother exclaimed excited.

Jack frowned but before he could say anything, two hands were covering his eyes from behind him. The tall boy stiffened, he couldn’t see the person but their scent was one he knew all too well. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest as the voice whispered in his ear, “Surprise, birthday boy”

He turned around and quickly lifted her up in his arms, crushing her into a tight hug. “You’re here!” he exclaimed in shock. Y/N gave him a 'I'm right here' smile and then laughed.

“Of course I’m here! I was never going to miss my boyfriend’s birthday.” she said against his neck.

“It never even crossed my mind that you might have been lying.” he laughed in disbelief.

“Well, I hope not. I act for a living, remember?” Y/N said teasingly. Her heart almost exploded at the way Jack was looking at her—sparkling eyes clouded by adoration.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” Jack showed her the smile she adored and had missed so much. He didn't care that his family's eyes were on them, he grabbed the sides of her face and pulled her into a kiss. “Did you always know you were coming or was it recent?”

“Babe, I would’ve never missed your birthday. I told the directors I was coming here weeks ago. We made sure to film the majority of my scenes so that these days they could focus on the ones I wasn’t in.” she explained.

“That’s why you have been so exhausted the past days, you were working your ass off so that you would be able to come and see me?” Jack swore he was about to cry at the revelation.

“And I would do it again.” she said in a confident tone. The way Jack’s face lit up when he saw her? She would do anything to keep him looking at her that way. “Anyways, enough about my very romantic gesture.” she joked. “Let’s celebrate your birthday.”

IT WAS ALMOST ELEVEN WHEN Y/N AND JACK WERE FINALLY SETTLED INTO THE BED. The girl was trying her best not to fall asleep, while the boy had energy to spare. He was just too happy that tiredness didn’t creep into his body. He was still on cloud nine from his amazing day.

“Thank you for being here. I had the best birthday ever.” Jack smiled widely, resting his head on her shoulder.

“I’m glad, love.” she said with eyes closed as she started playing with his hair, making him sigh contently. “By the way, I’m sorry for making you feel sad when I told you I wouldn’t make it. I hate lying to you and seeing you disappointed was heart wrenching, and I’m truly sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, babe. Your intentions were good. Besides, it was totally worth it.” Jack assured her. “I get to end my day with you, and tomorrow I’ll wake up next to you. I’m living my best life.”

Y/N smiled at his sweet words and bent her head down to press a kiss to his nose. “I love you so much.”

He raised his head and press a kiss to her soft lips. “But I love you more."

"Mmm no, this month I win the battle." she laughed.

Jack grinned like a love-sick puppy, still not believing what she had done for him. "True."

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Geraldine Fitzgerald (Three Strangers)—A good girl who played the sexiest bad girls.

Lena Horne (Cabin in the Sky, Stormy Weather)— Incredibly talented biracial actress, singer, dancer, and activist (she did so much work towards integrating audiences). Because of the racism of the era, she rarely got to be the lead actress but filmmakers loved her so much that they would often create stand alone segments within a film to highlight her beautiful singing, knowing that these segments would ultimately be cut from the film by censors in areas that forbid films with Black performers. Also, she's just so wonderful in Cabin in the Sky as a gold-digger villain who is not the least bit subtle about her intentions. I would highly recommend checking out her work.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Geraldine Fitzgerald:

Lena Horne:

Black American powerhouse singer and actor who faced all the usual bullshit that any BIPOC faced in vintage Hollywood and achieved legendary status anyway. Also a Civil Rights movement icon.

She was a gem

She was so beautiful and those dimples are amazing! Truly depressing how badly Hollywood treated her because she was black. I would love to have seen what she really could have been if they didn’t cast her in so many yikes roles. She’s got gorgeous eyes and that body! Her joyful smile makes happiness sexy!

Civil rights actress, singer, dancer, actress, she's got the whole package

Lena Horne was a wonderful singer and actress who largely starred in black cast musicals. While she had a lot of main stream success, she ultimately lost the lead role in showboat (a role she had played on the stage) to a white actress due to hollywood's prejudices. She was also blacklisted during the HUAC hearings, but she still managed to be hot be hot as fuck and have a career spanning decades, working with more well-known stars like Judy Garland in musicals, and working on stage and releasing albums when her hollywood career began to suffer.

Miss Horne became famous during a period of time when Hollywood had very few meaningful roles for people of color. Although she is more so known as a performer, she starred in two successful all black productions (Cabin in the Sky & Stormy Weather). If that wasn't enough, she also guest starred on the Muppets (Season 1, Episode 11)

[vacayisland]

@!; Christmas Time at Vacay Island Spruce (Bruce) / Reader

"Summary"! What I think Christmas time with Bruce and your little family is like! <3 (there's not enough content for him.) (Also I love Brandy with all my heart, but we're going to pretend that Bruce and her are just co-owners in Vacay Island. She's literally so sweet though) "Tag"! Fluff, fluff, fluff, FLUFF!!

@!; Being parents of 5 little Trolls and two on the way can be rather taxing during the holiday seasons. With Halloween costumes and makeshift trick-or-treating at the hotel, Thanksgiving at your parents place, and then finally Christmas! You loved the Holidays, more so now with your family. And Bruce.. oh Bruce. In short, Bruce went wild during the Holidays. Sure, this was a summer Vacay resort and it was basically summer all year around, yet that has never stopped him from going buck wild during the holiday season. "Hey, Honey?" Bruce called from the back of the reception desk, looking through the closet in the office to find the Christmas decorations. Though despite knowing how much he was struggling at the moment, you couldn't help but be a little goofy. "Yes Dear?" You asked, acting clueless to why Bruce could possibly be calling you at this moment. And you could hear his chuckle from the back, which he tried to stifle but failed to. "What did you do to the Christmas decorations?" "What's Christmas?" You tried to stifle your own laughter, turning just in time to see Bruce poking his head out from the back with the most exaggerated shocked look, like I had uttered some sort of curse on our first born children! "Did you throw out the Christmas decorations?!" "What?? Of course not! They're in the back, probably behind all the summer decorations you oh-so-love to take out seasonally despite us being literally beach side!" The snicker was all Bruce needed to see to know that he had completely over looked the box that the decertations were in. An his quirky, slightly nervous smile back was all you needed to know what that he overlooked them. "Thanks Babe!" And he disappeared back into storage room that that smile you oh so love.

@!; Christmas with Bruce is nothing short but magical, and a little goofy. You stood in the kitchen of the little suite Bruce and you lived in on-property, baking chocolate chip cookies with one of your girls, Lyre, as the rest had flocked to help dad with the tree; putting up all the lights and ornaments, garlands and stocking. It was a warming sight to watch while you whipped up the cookie batter, hugging your young one to your side. "Papa! Where does this one go?" Your youngest, Aspen, bombarded Bruce with the largest grin, his two front teeth missing. In the background, your eldest, Holly, was helping the second youngest, Colt, place an ornament in the middle of the tree. Bruce held a box of the more special ornaments, "Where ever you want sport!" He would exclaim before shifting the box in his hands and quickly ruffled Aspen's hair; in which Aspen took his words as a sign to literally place the ornament anywhere. He reached up for Bruce, "Come down!" He would giggle and receiving a playfully suspicious look from your husband as he leaned down. You could tell by the look in his eyes he knew what Aspen was going to do, hook the ornament (which thankfully didn't have a hook, yet rather a silk ribbon) around Bruce's ear. "There! Now you look more- uh-" Aspen failed on his words, so he simply preformed little jazzy hands and gestured to the 9ft tree nearby. "Christmassy? or rather incredibly handsome?" You laughed as Bruce played along with Aspen, failing to notice your second eldest, Dolly, grabbing one of the special ornaments from right under his nose; swiping it like a little thief and giggling as she ran off with it. The giggles were the only thing that alerted Bruce of the thievery, in which he was quick to place the special box down before rushing after the little thief. Playing a little game of catch around the apartment, slowing down and speeding up, looping around the rooms and peaking in and out from behind walls, playing ring around the table and couch. It was defiantly a sight to see. Lyre couldn't help but giggle, watching her older sister being chased by her father, "Run! Run, Sissy!" She clapped and cheered as you bounced her up, so she wouldn't slide off your hip, and slid the bowl of cookie dough off the mixer; turning to grab the chocolate chips. "Hey, hey! You're meant to be cheering for me!" Bruce playfully pointed at Lyre as he 'ran' (more like jogged) past the kitchen after Dolly. Lyre let burst out in giggles, playfully kicking her feet. "That better not be the ornament my parents gave me Bruce!" You shouted after your husband, measuring out a cup of chocolate chips before you poured it into the bowl. "Don't worry I got this, Honey!" "Or the own from our anniversary." A small snicker as you poured the cup of chocolate chips into the batter, sliding the bowl back into the mixer and turning it back on. "It's not!" But you heard Bruce's whisper next, "Dolly come here your going to get me killed!" "Bruce!" Your playful shout towards your husband as Dolly squealed in laughter, having finally been caught by Bruce, caused Aspen, Holly, Colt, and Lyre to burst out in laughter. They then let out playful "ooo"s and "Daddy is in troouble!", before giggling louder. Bruce let out a small huff, smiling as he walked back into the room; Dolly under one of his arms, she was wiggling and struggling to break free but giggling nonetheless. In the other he carried an all too familiar ornament, which caused you to place a hand on your hip and give your husband an all too knowing look. He choose to ignore it, but you knew he saw it. "Don't worry kids, dad as saved the day." Bruce held up the ornament, which (thankfully) wasn't cracked or broken.

He carefully placed it back into the box, cushioning it so it would be protected until it was hung up. He let out a dramatic 'phew!' and wiped his forehead. Dolly giggled and finally managed to pop herself out of Bruce's hold, rushing over to help her other three siblings decorate the tree. "Those cookies are smelling lovely, honey!" Bruce called as he picked up a box of regular ornaments, a cheeky smile spread across his cheeks. "Uh-huh, thank you, Love." You knew he was trying to change the topic and get his ass out of hot water. You didn't know why, you weren't even mad at him in the first place! But god did you love your husband and all his goofiness.

@!; Christmas with Bruce is staying up late watching movies with the kids, putting them to bed, then staying up later listening to festive music and wrapping gifts. It was a tradition you both started when you started dating; keeping presents away from each other until the last minute. You would hid at different sides of the couch or counter, playing festive music, and wrapping presents to give each other. Now you could sit side by side, watching as Bruce struggled to fold paper over a cylinder as you wrapped up a box with ease; sliding it off to the side, meeting the pile of already completed gifts. "Having trouble there, Dear?" You would tease as you reached over him, purposefully being obnoxious, as you reached for another present to wrap. Bruce tried dodging your arms, ducking to look down at the cylinder below him with this oh-so-serious look on his face. You couldn't help but laugh softly at him as you rolled out the wrapping paper, placing the box on top to measure how much you would need. "This would be easier without you next to me. Your beauty is oh-so-distracting while trying to wrap this cylinder." Bruce flirted, glancing up at you with the most mischievous eyes as a grin pairing it grew on his lips. You pointed a finger at him, a silent warning to not start with his little shenanigans. You guys had so many presents to wrap! But Bruce had a mind of his own, a mind that you both loved and cursed at times. Rolling your eyes, you turned away from Bruce as he began to wiggle his eyebrows at you. "Do not try and get out of your task with flirting, Bruce! You said you could handle the cylinder and you're going to wrap that cylinder-" But the protests didn't matter much when Bruce had made up his mind, and had already cupped your cheeks and brought your face to his. He littered your face with so many kisses that it began to tickle. "Bruce! Bruce stop!-" You giggled and cackled, trying to shove Bruce away with the brightest smile. But it was to no use, before you knew it Bruce had you both laying on the ground as he continued to attack and pepper your face with kisses. He wouldn't stop until your laughter was wheezy and airy and you were smacking him on the shoulder, not being able to breath due to how hard you had been laughing. Even when he stopped, you still couldn't help but laugh and he was quick to use your weakness to scoop you up into cuddles; though he also couldn't help but laugh with you at the silliness of what he had just done. Even if he had peppered all those kisses on your face with all the love he had for you. Every single one of them was very serious in meaning! You both laughed and giggled and wheezed until you couldn't anymore. And even then, while enjoying being in your husband's arms, you playfully smacked his shoulder and drew away; giving him a square look with a playful smirk, knowing he was just trying to bribe you to get out of wrapping gifts. "You're so evil!" You whispered to him, exaggerating your words a little; causing him to snicker and snort. "Oh says the one who handed me a cylinder to wrap!" He would cock up an eyebrow. "Well you said you could handle it!" "Honey, you know I was just trying to impress you." Bruce grinned and you stared at him for a moment before shaking your head; knowing he was being serious about that. "Oh yes, because wrapping a cylinder would make you so attractive in my eyes and impress me so much." Your voice dripped with sarcasm. Bruce didn't care! He peppered another kiss on your forehead, "See? I knew you would understand it, Honey! You know what? This is exactly why I married you-" "Alright up, up, lover boy! We have to finish these presents before the sun rises unless you want to deal with rowdy kids on zero sleep and a bunch of hot coco!"

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[tigertales9]

Naughty and Nice

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: Christmas tree decorating with a little fluff, a little angst, and a little smut. This fic takes place between week 12 (Titans) and week 13 (Chiefs).

Here's a timeline to refer to if you get confused. I was confused most of the time while writing this.

Thanksgiving - Thurs. Nov. 24th, 2022

Bengals at Titans - Sun. Nov. 27th, 2022

Tree decorating (this fic) - Wed. Nov. 30th, 2022

Chiefs at Bengals - Sun. Dec. 4th, 2022

--------------------

You glance around the living room making sure everything is ready for tonight. "Something's missing," you muse to yourself, surveying the vast array of Christmas ornaments laid out on your coffee table.

You and Joe were decorating your Christmas tree tonight, and you wanted everything to be ready when he got home. Earlier that day, you'd wrestled the gigantic Christmas tree box out of your storage room and set up the first two tiers, leaving the top tier for Joe to set up since his tall ass could easily do it without a step stool. The tree was pre-lit so at least you didn't have to worry about that.

"What's missing?" you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip for a bit before it hits you. "Garland!" you chirp, rushing back into the storage closet to dig around. You emerge a few minutes later with several sparkly strands wrapped around your neck. As you walk back into the living room, you hear Joe coming in from the garage. You feel a surge of happiness as he rounds the corner and hits you with that panty-dropping smile.

"Ohhh festive," he purrs, leaning down to give you a kiss while fondling the garland. "Do I get to unwrap you?" he teases, sliding his agile fingers up and down the garland in a suggestive way that makes your toes curl. "Not yet," you giggle. "Pizza will be here in 15 minutes." Joe's stomach growls loudly just as you finish your sentence and you both laugh. "Right on time," he chuckles, dropping another kiss on your lips before walking into the living room to survey the tree.

"Looking good," he says, grabbing the top tier and easily clicking it into place. He plugs the tree in and stands back to admire the lights. "You want to put the garland on before the pizza gets here?" he asks.

"Sure." You unwind a glittery strand from around your neck and hand it to him. "You can do the top since I can't reach. I'll help once you get farther down." You watch as Joe carefully twirls the garland around the top of the tree, your eyes instinctively drawn to his ample ass showcased by slinky gray track pants.

"How's this look?" he asks, tucking the end of the strand in.

"Sooo good," you moan, flashing him an innocent smile when he shoots you a look over his shoulder.

"You were checking out my ass weren't you?"

"Maybe," you shrug, tossing him another strand of garland.

He gives you a dirty grin. "You better be glad pizza is on the way or you'd be in big trouble."

"How big?" you tease, lowering your gaze to his crotch.

His eyebrows shoot up as he slowly walks toward you. "You know exactly how big, baby girl, but I'd be happy to show you."

He's a step away from you when the doorbell rings. "Bad timing," he grumbles, playfully smacking your butt before jogging to the front door. He returns a minute later with his nose buried in the pizza box. "I smell pineapple," he groans, pushing a few ornaments to the side before plopping the pizza box down on the coffee table; he throws the box open and grabs a slice, his eyes sliding closed as he takes a huge bite.

"I guess we're eating in the living room tonight," you chuckle, walking into the kitchen to grab napkins and a couple of drinks. Joe is finishing his first slice when you walk back in. You set his napkin and drink down beside him, smiling as he picks half the pineapple off a slice of pizza before handing it to you.

"Thanks, babe," you grin, taking a bite and watching in fascination as he piles the extra pineapple on his next slice and crams it in his mouth. You're about to make a SpongeBob joke when Joe's phone chirps. He quickly wipes his hands on his napkin and checks his phone, frowning for a second before typing out a quick text. You take another bite of pizza before turning on some cheesy Christmas music. Joe laughs as you wiggle your hips to the beat. "C'mon," you say, nodding at the tree. "Let's do this."

Y'all finish wrapping the garland around the tree then move on to the ornaments, stopping every now and then to take bites of pizza. Everything goes great for a little while before Joe's phone starts chirping every few minutes. He mumbles apologies while shooting off texts. "Sorry, babe," he says, after the latest interruption. "Chiefs week got some of the guys trippin'."

"It's fine," you say, smiling as one of your fav Christmas songs comes on. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," you sing, kicking your smile up a notch as you hit your stride. "Everywhere you goooo…" Joe returns your smile then immediately frowns as his phone rings. "Just a sec," he mumbles, hurrying to grab his phone. "It's Coach," he sighs, walking a few steps away before answering the call.

You hum along to the Christmas carol under your breath as you hang a few more ornaments, shooting a couple of quick glances at Joe as he runs a hand through his hair and nods his head several times. "Yeah, that's fine," he says, giving you a quick grimace before continuing his phone conversation. "Let me call you back in 5 minutes." He ends the call and graces you with a sheepish look. "Coach wants to send me a couple of film clips real quick to get my opinion. Is that okay? It'll only be like 15 or 20 minutes then we can finish the tree."

You chew on your lip for a bit before answering. "That's fine," you mumble, giving him a smile as fake as the tree you're decorating. "Thanks, babe," he says, planting a quick kiss on your cheek before jogging upstairs to his office.

You feel every bit of happiness leave your body as you look at the half-ass decorated tree. "It's beginning to look a lot like fuck this," you sing under your breath, turning off the Christmas music before unplugging the tree, plunging the room into darkness. Just like my mood, you think to yourself. You know you're being dramatic but fuck it. Shit like this always happens and you just have to swallow it down and be supportive.

It didn't help that Thanksgiving was a bit of a clusterfuck less than a week ago. Y'all had hosted a small get together with just family and a few close friends, but Joe's mind had clearly been elsewhere for the duration of the festivities. Between watching football games and texting his teammates, Joe had pretty much had his face in his phone until his mom finally snapped at him, causing things to be a little awkward after that. Joe's dad had reminded everyone that Joe had a huge game coming up in a few days against the Titans, so he was rightfully distracted by game prep, but Robin wasn't having it. "He can put the phone down for 30 minutes!" she'd snapped, narrowing her eyes at Jimmy when he opened his mouth to protest.

"And that was that," you whisper to yourself, "would anyone like a slice of pumpkin pie with a side of awkward silence?"

You walk to the kitchen and grab a glass, sighing loudly as you toss in some ice cubes followed by a hearty amount of vodka and a tiny glug of cranberry juice. You take a sip and make a face as the potent drink hits your taste buds. You take another sip and lean into your pity party.

You can't even call anyone to complain because they'll all say the exact same thing -- that's what you get when you're engaged to an NFL quarterback. Or even worse -- don't complain, girl, at least he makes bank. You'll never have to worry about money.

You shake your head at that last thought; you were in love with the man not the money. When y'all first got together back at LSU, you had no idea this would be his career trajectory. You wonder sometimes what it would be like if he never won the Natty, the Heisman, and became the first pick in the NFL draft. What would a normal life be like?

You take a deep breath and try to quell that line of thinking. "It is what it is," you mutter, grabbing your cocktail and heading upstairs.

You walk into the master bathroom and turn on the dimmest light available before running a bath, squirting some bubble bath into the heated water and watching as a thick layer of foam develops; you strip naked, twist your hair up to keep it dry then step into the hot water, sighing in satisfaction as you breathe in the fragrant steam rising up around you.

About 20 minutes later -- after the hot bath and vodka have started working their magic -- you feel a little ashamed of your negative thoughts.

"He's just watching game film," you mutter to yourself. "He's not out bar hopping or chasing women or ignoring everything to play video games." You shake your head as you continue to berate yourself. "He's living his dream right now and it won't last forever."

You feel a pang of anxiety as you think about how close he came to having to give up his NFL dream before it really got started. The knee injury halfway through his rookie year could have easily ended his career; lesser injuries have been the end for several players, but not your man. You feel a rush of pride when you think about how hard he worked -- scarily hard with single-minded focus -- to regain his strength.

"And here I am being a little brat about decorating the damn tree." You sink farther down in the tub, giggling as the bubbles tickle your chin; you're still smiling when you hear a knock at the door.

"Babe? Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

The door opens and Joe walks in, smiling when he sees you chin-deep in bubbles. "Hey gorgeous," he says, crouching down beside the tub. "Sorry it took a little longer than I thought. Coach is trippin' about the Chiefs game. He just wanted to make sure we're on the same page about a couple things."

"I don't know why he's trippin'," you purr, giving Joe a sly wink. "He's got the best quarterback in the league."

"Thanks," he mumbles, trying and failing to keep his grin just shy of cocky. "What's this?" he asks, picking up your high-octane beverage. "It's a cranberry cocktail," you mutter, giggling as he takes a hearty gulp. "GAH-lee!" he laughs, "that's damn near straight vodka." He holds it up to the light and squints his eyes. "You sure there's cranberry in here?"

"There's a little," you shrug. "I made it strong for medicinal purposes."

"Medicinal?" he asks, giving you a quizzical look. "For what?"

"Pity party," you mumble, biting your lip when he quickly sets the glass down and locks eyes with you.

"I should've turned my phone off the second I got home," he says. "I'm sorry. I was really looking forward to tonight. I hope I didn't ruin everything."

"You didn't ruin anything," you whisper. He opens his mouth to object and you curl a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He leans into it, dipping his tongue into your mouth to tangle with yours in a way that puts your entire body on notice.

"Naughty or nice?" you whisper against his slick lips. It takes him a second to register the question so you ask again, giving a little more clarification. "Naughty or nice? What do you want tonight?"

"Is that a trick question?" he asks, nipping your bottom lip before loudly sucking on it in a way that sends a jolt of electricity straight to your clit. "No," you breathe, squeezing your thighs together to try and ease the steady throb.

He gives you a knowing smile and dips his head down to kiss your neck; when he leans back there's a puff of bubbles on his perfect nose. He narrows his eyes at you when you giggle. "What's so funny?"

"This," you chuckle, swiping the bubbles onto your finger to show him. He grins as he blows the bubbles into the air, and you both watch as they slowly glide down and land on the edge of the tub. Several seconds pass before he locks eyes with you.

"What if I want both?" he asks.

"Both?"

"Naughty and nice."

You raise an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"What if I go downstairs and get a nice fire going in the fireplace and make you something tasty to replace that shitty cocktail." You laugh as he nods at the offending beverage. "Then you can come down and we'll finish decorating the tree." He shrugs and gives you a naughty smile. "We'll see what happens after that."

You match his naughty smile with one of your own. "Sounds good," you say, standing up. "Can you hand me my towel, please?"

"Yes, ma'am." He takes his sweet time grabbing your towel while bubbles slowly slide down your torso exposing your breasts; his hot gaze rakes up and down your body as he wraps the fluffy towel around you. "Thanks," you whisper.

"You're welcome." He watches you for a few seconds before turning to head for the door; just before he exits the room, he stops and throws you a look over his shoulder. "If you're a good girl, you might get your stocking stuffed tonight," he teases, giving you a filthy wink before leaving the room.

You grin and shake your head when you hear him laughing all the way down the stairs. You finish drying off before taking your hair down and running your fingers through it several times. Once you're satisfied with the result, you walk into your closet to select an outfit. You shimmy into a slinky, red long-sleeve tee --no bra-- before stepping into a pair of tiny black boy shorts. You study your reflection in the full-length mirror, not quite happy with the ensemble.

"Needs something else," you whisper, eyes going wide when an idea pops into your head. You grab a pair of black thigh-high cable-knit socks that you usually wear over leggings with boots. You smile to yourself while sliding the socks up your bare legs. "He's gonna love these," you giggle, giving your reflection a thumbs-up before heading downstairs.

Joe gives you a slow once-over as you walk into the living room, letting out a low groan as he admires your outfit. "So fucking sexy," he whispers, wrapping you in a hug while sliding a couple of long fingers inside the top of your thigh-highs. For several minutes y'all sway together in front of the crackling fire, the Christmas music that he turned back on providing a languid tempo as you melt into each other, his big hands eventually coming to rest on your bubble butt. "Woman," he groans, nuzzling his nose against your fragrant neck, "we better get this tree decorated before I lose all sense of decency."

"Yes, sir," you whisper, stepping back and giving him an innocent smile when he hits you with a loaded look. You grab an ornament and sashay toward the tree, knowing full well his eyes are on the bit of butt cheek peeking out of your boy shorts. You smile to yourself when you hear him curse under his breath. "I think this should go down here," you purr, bending at the waist to hang the ornament on the lowest branch, making sure to aim your ample ass directly at your man. "You better stop playin'," Joe mumbles. "What's that, babe?" you ask, twirling around to lock eyes with him. "Nevermind," he mutters, giving you a thorough once-over before taking a deep breath.

"I made us some cocktails," he offers, his gaze coming to rest on your very visible nipples poking against your thin t-shirt. "Sounds great," you smile, biting your lip as it takes Joe a few more seconds to drag his gaze from your breasts to your face. "I'll go get 'em," he croaks, spinning around to head to the kitchen.

"You are a shameless tease," you whisper to yourself, more than a little smug at the effect you have on Joe, even after several years together.

"Here you go," Joe says, walking back in and handing you a frosty glass. "It's a much more reasonable vodka to cran ratio plus a twist of lime," he continues, watching you closely as you lift the glass and take a sip. "Mmmm delicious," you sigh, taking another sip. "At least it won't give you alcohol poisoning," he chuckles, taking a sip of his own cocktail.

You take another sip before setting your glass down and nodding toward the tree. "Alright Burrow let's finish this," you order. "10 minutes left on the clock; we gotta get the rest of the ornaments on the tree in that time. You think you're up for it?" you ask, smiling when he sets his glass down and cracks his knuckles. "I'm always up for it," he brags, giving you a smug grin. "It's gotta look good though," you warn, "can't just throw 'em on there buck wild." He elevates his grin from smug to downright cocky. "Have you seen my accuracy stats?" You nod your head. "Yeah, you're really good under pressure," you answer, slowly licking your lips while holding his gaze. "Also best in the league at squeezing it into tight spaces."

His eyebrows shoot toward his hairline as he points a finger at you. "You're about to be in big trouble and you know it," he warns, spinning around to jog into the kitchen; he returns a few seconds later holding an old school timer; he waggles it at you. "10 minutes," he says, "you ready?"

"To quote Joseph Lee Burrow, 'I stay ready'," you boast, giving him a devious grin while grabbing an ornament in each hand. He winds the timer to 10 minutes and sets it on the coffee table. "Go!" he orders, grabbing several ornaments as the timer loudly starts ticking down.

Y'all rush back and forth between the coffee table and the tree, grabbing ornaments and strategically placing them, occasionally stepping back to check for spacing.

"How's it look?" he asks, as you do a quick inspection. "Fab," you answer, plucking a few more ornaments up while he checks the timer. "We got 2 minutes left," he announces blandly, grabbing the last of the shiny baubles and flashing a smirk as he places them on the tree.

You step back and nod your head in approval for a sec before a thought hits you. "The topper!" you yell, frantically looking around. "There it is," Joe points, rushing toward an end table and snatching up the large glittery star. "Heads up," he warns, making sure you're looking back at him as you run toward the tree; he uncorks a beautifully accurate pass, dropping the star over your shoulder and laughing as you bobble it a few times before pulling it in. "Way to stay with it," he whoops, his smile turning into a frown when you stand on your tiptoes. "I can't reach!" you yell, hopping up and down a few times before you feel his strong hands on your waist. "I got you," he soothes, easily lifting you up; you place the star on top of the tree just a few seconds before the buzzer sounds. "We did it!" you holler, ridiculously pleased that y'all beat the timer.

Joe lets you slowly slide down his body until your feet are back on the floor. "Nice catch, baby girl," he whispers against your ear, his hot breath causing a sizzle of heat down your spine. "Anybody could catch that," you scoff, leaning your head to the side to grant him access to your sensitive neck. "You're crazy accurate," you continue. "That star is not remotely aerodynamic."

"Aerodynamic? I love it when you talk nerdy to me," he moans, nuzzling the sweet spot just behind your ear.

"You're feeling that aerodynamic vibe, huh? You wanna talk about lift, drag and thrust?" you breathe, grinding your ass against his obvious erection. "I'd rather demonstrate it," he teases, grabbing your hand to lead you over to the fireplace.

"Are these washable?" he asks, pointing at a couple of faux-fur throws on the sofa. "Yeah," you give him a naughty grin and help him situate the throws in front of the roaring fire. "Come here," he beckons, stretching out on the plush throws and reaching a hand toward you. You take his hand and lay down beside him, a throb of arousal setting off deep inside you as he maneuvers you onto your back and pushes up onto an elbow, looming over you in the flickering firelight.

He lowers his head and captures your lips, teasing you with gentle kisses before sliding his tongue inside your mouth; you cup a hand behind his neck and twirl your tongue around his, moaning into his mouth as he drops a hand down to tease your nipples. The heat from the fireplace is nothing compared to the heat he generates inside you.

"You need to lose this," he whispers, pulling your shirt over your head. He pulls his own shirt off then leans down and latches his pretty lips onto a hard nipple, smiling against your sensitive skin when you arch up against him. He slides a hand down to the seam of your boy shorts, groaning when he feels your wetness through the flimsy fabric. "Damn, baby," he whispers, skimming his hand inside your shorts, both of you moaning when he slides his fingers into your slick folds.

You gasp in pleasure as his long fingers move deep inside you. "I'm close," you whimper, hissing in protest when he withdraws his fingers and pulls his mouth off of your nipple with an audible pop. "I was almost there," you whine. "I know," he croons, quickly sliding your shorts off before crawling between your thighs. "I wanna taste you. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe, watching closely as he lowers his head and plants wet kisses on your inner thighs just above your thigh-highs; you squirm underneath him, desperate to have his attention back where you need it. He gives you a dirty grin before finally licking into your folds, gently at first, teasing you with the tip of his tongue for a bit before plunging it deep inside you. You gasp his name and slide your hands into his hair, holding on as he continues to pleasure you with his limber tongue for several minutes before replacing it with two agile fingers. You shamelessly beg as he drags his tongue up to your clit, sucking it loudly while you writhe beneath him. "Don't stop!" you whimper, fisting a hand in his dirty-blonde locks to hold him in place as your climax hits. He continues to tease you as you ride out the intense orgasm.

Once your breathing evens out and your core stops pulsing around his fingers, he quickly strips naked and gets on his knees between your thighs. The flickering firelight showcases your essence glistening on his lips and chin, and you watch as he wipes your juices off with his fingers before sucking them into his mouth. You moan at the sensual display and he graces you with a naughty smirk, wrapping a hand around his hard cock and giving a long, slow pull while you push up onto your elbows to get a better look.

You lick your lips while watching him closely. "Put on a show for me, daddy," you whisper, reaching a hand out to slide it up the inside of his right thigh, smiling when his thick thigh muscles jump against your fingertips. He pumps his erection faster as you ease your hand over to massage his balls. "Fuck," he growls, his hips bucking forward as you continue to tease him. A pearly drop of precum appears on his tip and you quickly slide your thumb through it, smiling at his low purr of approval as you suck your thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue to get every last drop of his essence.

You're still savoring his taste when you find yourself flat on your back, Joe's icy-hot blue eyes capturing yours as he lines his cock up with your slick entrance. "Yeah," you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist as he slides inside you. You run your hands up and down his muscular back before tangling them in his hair, moaning into his mouth as he slides his tongue between your lips, the slow, rhythmic thrust of his tongue in your mouth mimicking his cock moving deep inside you. "Harder," you beg against his slick lips, lifting your hips up into each thrust as he picks up his pace.

Several minutes later he alters the angle of his thrusts just enough to bullseye your sweet spot, and you pull his hair as your climax hits, your breathy moans quickly joined by his deep-throated groans as he follows you over the edge.

You both gasp for breath for a few minutes before he rolls onto his side and pulls you close, his big spoon to your little spoon. "Let's just sleep here," he yawns, nuzzling his nose into your hair and taking a deep breath before heaving a sigh of pure contentment. "I need a blanket," you whine, grinning when Joe reaches a long arm out and drags another throw off the sofa, settling it over you as you snuggle back against him. "Better?" he asks. "Perfect," you sigh, your eyelids growing heavy as you watch the flames dance in the fireplace.

------------

Your eyes flutter open, and you briefly wonder what woke you up; before you have much time to ponder that question, you see Joe -- butt naked -- walk into the room and throw a couple of logs onto the fire. You enjoy the sight of his plump ass as he leans over to situate the logs just right. You let out a low whistle, giggling as he throws you a look over his shoulder.

"Didn't mean to wake you up," he says, snuggling back into your nest of plush throws and planting a kiss on your neck. You arch your back, grinding your butt against his crotch for a bit before rolling over onto your stomach. You look at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, your lips curling up into a satisfied smile as you think about how much fun y'all had decorating it.

"What are you thinking?" Joe asks.

"I think it's beautiful," you answer.

"You're beautiful," he whispers.

You giggle and turn to meet his gaze, the laughter dying in your throat when you see the look on his face. You'll never get tired of the way he looks at you. He holds your gaze while running a hand down the length of your spine and up over the swell of your ass. You spread your legs as he crawls between them, a flutter of anticipation forming in your core as he tilts your hips up just the way you like.

Before losing yourself in the moment, you vaguely notice a Christmas carol playing in the background. Here Comes Santa Claus will never hit quite the same, you think to yourself, letting out a barely-audible giggle before gasping in pleasure as your man works magic between your thighs.

[holdmytesseract]

Capturing the Moment

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki & Ella feat. Y/N

Summary: Loki and Ella are posing together for a painting.

Warnings: none? fluff!

Word Count: 1,1k

a/n: I couldn't help myself. 😅🥰 This lil' story is based on this post/picture. ☺️ I asked @cookie-doughandwaffles and they gave me the permission. ☺️

Baby Fever Crew: Tagging y'all in the comments! 😊💚

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"And you are sure this is going to work out, babe?" You asked your husband, while gently bouncing baby Ella on your arm. "I mean... We hardly made it work now. Only because we all tried to entertain her." Loki smiled, nodding confidently. "Oh, I am absolutely sure, my love. I am more than capable of keeping our daughter entertained during the process." You shrugged your shoulders, "If you say so..." and handed the little girl over to her dad - which she was visibly happy about; acknowledging her delight with a happy squeal, bright smile and kicking feet. Loki chuckled and pressed a lingering kiss on Ella's chubby cheek. "You want to know why, my queen?" "Why?" "Because our princess is - like you so often point out, a daddy's girl." He winked, and you nodded in agreement. "Hmm, yeah, that is a valid point..."

You, Loki and Ella were currently on a small holiday on Asgard, due to the fact that it was again time for new paintings of the royal family. Especially since both the princes had become fathers. The last time there were royal family paintings made, was after the brothers had been getting married - which was already a little while ago, and therefore were Ella and Eisa missing on the recent paintings and that needed to be changed. So, the royal painter was appointed and a trip to Asgard planned.

Meanwhile were all the 'necessary' paintings done, but Loki wished to have one just with him and Ella - to which the painter happily agreed. Only you had a few doubts, since it took all members of the family to entertain Ella and Eisa, in order to prevent them from moving around so much. Now Loki wanted to face this task alone - and he was very confident about it, so who were you to stop him?

"Alright, Lokes, try it. If you need help with her, just call for me." Loki chuckled softly, "I will keep it in my mind." and leaned down to kiss you. Then he redirected his attention to Ella. "Now let us go, princess, huh?" The little girl cooed, was at the moment fixated on the golden lapels of his uniform; her little hands gripping on it. You nodded, smiling, "Have fun - and show me how the painting turned out." and adjusted the beautiful flower crown on your daughter's head. "Of course, my love." Your husband kissed you a second time, before he turned on his heels, in order to leave your shared chambers.

You watched them leave, admiring how freaking good he looked in the very noble outfit the royal tailor had custom-built for this day. It was all about showing colours, who belonged to whom; but also representing the crown and the appearance as one big, happy family. Therefore, Loki, you and Ella were dressed in green - of course. The 'uniform', which the tailor had sewn for Loki fit him like a glove, was utterly perfect and made him look even more irresistible and handsome.

And Ella? Ella looked so sweet in her green dress, flower crown and flower garland, that you shortly feared you'd get diabetes. To match their look, you wore a beautiful, princess dress. You had giggled like madly, seeing yourself in the mirror and looking like you had just stepped out of a Disney princess movie. Yes, you loved those paintings days...

Loki and Ella posed for the painter once again; who had already started his good work. At first, it was no problem for the little girl to be just held by her dad, but with time, she got fussy and quite antsy. The god had of course a lot of tricks up his sleeve. Speaking to her from time to time, for example, or letting her play with his long raven curls - which got a bit painful for him at some point. Tickling her or gently bouncing her helped as well, just like showing her small magic tricks. Letting daisies grow from his palm or butterflies and tiny fireworks to fly. Ella was fascinated, of course, but at one point she even lost the interest in her father's seidr; causing Loki to play the Joker card: Telling her a story...

"Once upon a time, there lived a sweet, little princess on a realm far away, called Asgard. Her hair was black like the wings of a raven. Her cheeks as rosy as the skin of an apple, and her eyes so blue like the deepest depths of the ocean." Loki started, smiling down at his daughter, who was looking at him with big eyes. She loved his voice, without a doubt. The painter just smiled at the pair; heart melting.

"The little princess was just a baby, yes, barely a few months old, but she was already the shining star of the royal family. She was so, so loved. By the people, her grandparents, uncles, aunts - yes, by everybody!" Loki underlined his words by tickling Ella's tummy, causing a little giggle-like sound to bubble from her mouth. She was, of course too small to understand what her daddy was telling her, but all she needed was just his voice anyways.

Loki couldn't help but to chuckle as well, before he continued his story. "But she was most loved by her parents. They loved her more than life itself. Can you imagine that, sweet girl?" Ella just looked at him. Fascinated, staring, utterly focused - and with a bit of drool running down the corner of her mouth. "Yes, it is true! They loved her more than life itself. She was everything they ever wanted and dreamed of. Well, truth be told, the king at first not. He was not very fond of children; his heart bitter and cold. But then a little angel awakened his heart, made him see - and suddenly a child was what he desired. His beautiful queen gifted him a little princess not much later and his glorious purpose was to be the best father possible. If his efforts will come to fruition, only time can tell..."

Once Loki finished his story, his eyes travelled down to Ella - and with a smile, he noticed that the little girl had fallen asleep. Her little cheek was squashed against his chest; hand holding onto his finger. "Well..." The god mumbled. "Seems like my plan was a bit too successful..." The painter shook his head, smiling softly. "It's not a problem, your highness. I am finished anyways. If you wish, you can have a look at the painting." Loki nodded, "Of course. I'd like to see it." and adjusted the baby girl in his arms, so that she was able to sleep in a more comfortable position. Loki's oceanic blue eyes met the canvas, where he and Ella were painted on. "Is it to your liking, my prince?" Smiling brightly, he studied the art; nodding. "It is perfect."

[palioom]

✨ because i’m in a big winter mood, can i ask for a drabble about joel x reader’s first christmas together? 🫶🏻

ohh absolutely!! tysm Jana, i hope I could do it some justice!! 🖤

Joel wasn't too fond of Christmas. Not anymore, at least. The colourful lights and shiny decorations were something he really had to get used to in Jackson, reminding him of days that were long gone.

Honestly, he had kind of forgotten about Christmas for a long time. Until here and until her.

He had kept his house decorated before, but not really festive. Some old tinsel here, some more festive looking candles there. Nothing much.

Now, she was whirling around, putting old, somewhat worn-down decorations everywhere she could – reindeers on the window sills, garlands that lit up wrapped over the door frames, a little Santa figure with wire glasses and slightly yellow fur trims by the front door.

A Christmas tree in the corner of the living room.

The one he had helped decorate, for the first time in more than twenty years, constantly thinking about the small hands and curly hair of Sarah. How her eyes had lit up in the shine of the candles.

Now, he was helping to hang decorations where his girl couldn't reach, laughing as he put one or two into her hair just for fun.

"C'mon." He had said once everything had been placed onto the branches, beside one thing. Stepping behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up. "You put the tree topper on, baby."

It was fun, his heart bursting with joy when she laughed in his arms as he lifted her up. Settling her down after, they just looked at it for a moment, Joel's arms still wrapped tightly around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder.

A moment of peace and calm.

It even smelled like Christmas, cookies baking in the oven, the warm, sweet smell of them wafting into every corner of the house, along with the faintest hint of cinnamon. He didn't even want to know what she had traded for that. But he wished they had some oranges or cloves to really tie it all together.

"Think we're all done now, huh?" Joel asked after some silence, turning his face to kiss the spot below her ear. "Cookies bakin', house decorated, dinner's ready. Only missing the guests now, angel."

She giggled, tearing her eyes away from the tree to turn her head and find his lips for a brief moment.

"One more thing." She said, holding up a mistletoe, making him laugh again.

Of course.

As he took it from her and walked over to the doorway to the kitchen, he thought about how much he loved this. Doing all these small things together, getting excited about everyone coming over to eat any moment now – Tommy and Maria and Ellie and Dina. Some semblance of a family.

He couldn't wait to unwrap the few gifts sitting below the tree.

Hanging up the mistletoe, he found her in front of him, smiling up at him with a glint in her eye. Sweet as pie, beaming up at him with an expectant look.

A chuckle left Joel, his hands coming to rest on her hips, pulling her closer before bending down and slotting his lips over hers.

"Love you, angel."

"Mhmm, love you too, grumpy man."

And when a knock appeared at the door, and everyone started streaming in – Tommy and Maria with their little girl, then Ellie and Dina with JJ – he really could feel that Christmas cheer. Sitting down with them to eat, laughing and joking and having a great time.

Never would he have imagined to see a Christmas like this again; back in 2003, when he almost drank himself to death on some shitty booze. Memories still somewhat fresh from the year before.

Now, he was here with the people he loved the most, in a cozy house, gathered around the table with amazing food.

Now, he actually found himself enjoying Christmas again.

And he couldn't wait to spend the future holidays with her, who had brought some Christmas cheer back into his life and truly made it a wonderful holiday again.

2.5k follower celebration! ✨

[firstdivisiongirl]

Hey can I have Ace with #22 can it be fluffy

Hey!!! I’m so happy you turned this in. I feel like this prompt and Ace were just made for each other. So the wait it finally over. Hope you like it!

Day 14: Ace - Cuddles In Front of the Fire

Before you joined the Whitebeard pirates as the head strategist, you were a simple girl living on a winter island.  You loved the snow, but you loved being inside cuddled up in front of the fire with some hot chocolate.  You and Ace had been together for about a year and a half now and it was Christmas time, and what type of island were you going to land on tomorrow?  A winter island!  He asked Whitebeard if you two could have some time to yourselves.  Of course, Whitebeard agreed to this.  Ace was happy, but he was also worried that Whitebeard thought you two were going to make grandbabies instead of just having a romantic, nostalgic Christmas together.  

It was finally the day!  As the Moby Dick landed at the shores of this small little snowy island, Ace grabbed your hand, “come on!  I have a surprise for you!”

“What is it?  Shouldn’t we celebrate Christmas with the rest of the crew?”

“Nope!  Pops said I could take my favorite girl somewhere special for Christmas.  Just you and me!”  He continued to drag you through the white covered town.  Every building was small and made of gray stone.  Each decorated differently for Christmas, but yet they all seemed to compliment each other perfectly.  The town looked like a Christmas card.  Eventually Ace stopped in front of one of the little stone buildings.  It was a little inn.  He opened the door and brought you inside with him.  You looked around the small room. It was very simple with dark simple wooden furniture and there were garlands everywhere.  In the one corner there was a smaller Christmas tree, which was decorated in shiny red ornaments and a beautiful star on top of the tree.  You looked at your shaggy-haired boyfriend with tears in your eyes, “did you do this all for me?”

He scratched the back of his head before speaking nervously, “well, yeah.  You're my favorite girl and I wanted us to have a nice Christmas together.  I knew you always loved this when you were back home, so I just thought it would be nice.  I thought we could cuddle in front of the fire and just enjoy a quiet Christmas.”

You hugged him tightly and he placed a kiss on top of your head as he whispered an I love you.  You both walked over to sit in front of the fireplace.  Unlike the rest of the woodwork, it was very ornate with intricate carving in the mantle.  There was no fire going though.  “I got this babe,” he said as he made a finger gun with his left hand and shot flames at the logs.  Sadly, he missed and lit the one garland on fire.  Thankfully, he was able to extinguish it pretty fast.  Finally he safely lit the logs and he sat down next to you.  You cuddled into his chest enjoying the warmth emanating from him.  He hugged you back, “I love you. Merry Christmas babe.”  You smiled looking up at him, “Merry Christmas freckles.”

You two cuddled in front of the fire all night before falling asleep in front of it.  You both wished you didn’t have to stop cuddling to get back to the crew.

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