#& lay out a blanket in the back & make out with him under the stars

[compacflt]

in regard to the icemav convo about american made cars: I think it would be funny if after mav gets his regular license, ice buys him a truck that they can use for transporting stuff to the hangar and when he gifts it to mav all the man can do is laugh bc stamped across the ass is MAVERICK. It’s a 2023 ford maverick (in area 51 bc I’m partial to that color)

and mav likes it, but he doesn’t love driving it bc it’s so big (and he just likes being a passenger princess too much), so ice drives it mostly which inspires a whole lot of jokes about ice liking having maverick’s name stamped on his ass. bradley gags from the other room every time.

if it matters to u, i agree with this hc 150% on rhetoric grounds. thank god for your mind.

however i would like to raise the issue that recent american pickup trucks have become non-useful, overexpensive, and suburban-coded in a way i think ice and mav would reject. the ford maverick was built with the intention of dropping kindergarteners off at school, not of actually doing hard labor. see below infographic for what I mean.

It’s a fucking travesty. Trucks are so ugly and useless now. the maverick is not immune to this. (maverick below)

what good is having a fucking truck if it can’t even hold two REGULAR ASS BIKES in the bed. & when the bed is empty the chassis is unbalanced in a way that leads to more accidents etc. (tbf that was true in the 70s/80s too but im feeling more hateful towards modern trucks rn). In short—the modern American pickup truck is no longer useful, it’s a way to virtue signal to other Americans that you *think * you know what hard labor is, even when you’re driving around in a glorified odyssey with a teeny tiny bed that can barely hold a couple bags of mulch for the back garden

ice & mav don’t even have any little kids anymore, i think they’d consider a backseat useless & a waste of space

SO i would like to offer you a Compromise, which is that ice & mav buy either (or both) a 1974 ford maverick AND/OR a 1990 ford maverick

for the Funny Name & coolness factor (& the “making Bradley vom cause of how cute his parents are” factor), and then soup up, like, a 1984 Chevy C10 for actual towing/hauling purposes.

[genderless-naper]

half asleep

trafalgar law x gf!reader

themes: sleepy reader, pillow humping, assisted orgasm w/ fingering, some sweet talk, desperation

waking up in the middle due to the cold couldn’t stop your mind from thinking dirty thoughts. law decides to help you when he sees you humping his pillow while you’re half-asleep

smut, wc: 1.4k, lowercase intended !

⇣ credits to original artist

the coolness of the polar tang wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with. this particular night though was freezing cold. being wrapped up in a blanket with your lover wasn’t enough to keep you from waking up and shivering.

you look around the room hardly awake. you lifted your head from your boyfriend’s chest and looked at the clock which read 4am. you glanced up at law, who was slightly sat up, starring at the wall seeming to be lost within his own intricate thoughts. why he was awake at 4am was beyond your comprehension.

the sudden movement caused from you sitting up in bed made him look at you. surprised, he spoke to you in a soft tone, “oh you’re awake y/n? did you have a bad dream?”

you shook your head and muttered, “its freezing law. you don’t feel that??” you rubbed the sleep out your eyes.

once understanding the situation law responded, “i’ll get an extra blanket and a sweater for you. i’ll get some water too y/n-ya.” law preceded to wrap you in the single blanket that was not able to do you justice in the cold.

law makes his way out the room to fulfill your needs. you laid in bed wrapped in your blanket. the pillow next to you was positioned vertically. most likely from law moving it to sit up while you were asleep. you rolled to your side and lifted a leg to wrap around it.

your closed eyes couldn’t stop your mind from wondering. the picture of law still painted in your mind from when you woke up. something about his chest tattoo peeking through his shirt’s collar and his serious gaze as he was lost in thought. it all made him so handsome.

thoughts of your absent lover swirled in your mind, and made your body warm. you tightened your leg around the pillow to feel it press against your clothed core. you bit your lip as you proceeded to shift your hips back and fourth to rub the cloth core. the slight friction between you and the pillow was enough to part your lips and moan quietly. your pace slightly quickened, but it was still done with lethargic energy. as good as it felt you could still feel like you were about to fall back to sleep.

so distracted by your current task you failed to see your boyfriend walk into the room after getting the things you needed. he was taken aback from the sight of you rocking your hips against his pillow.

maybe it was his scent on the pillow that made it feel all the more better. either way it was obvious you were trying to reach a climax of pleasure. your laziness prevented you from being able to reach that point, so you drowsily humped law’s pillow hoping to reach an orgasm one way or another.

law makes his way over to you. he lets you continue your activity as he lays out a bigger blanket over your smaller one. it was heavy, so it weighed you down and staggered your already desperate attempts of satisfaction.

law sits back in bed and shares the blankets with you. your frustration from not being able to please yourself enough was starting to get to you. you shove the pillow to the other side and pull yourself closer to law.

law looked at his used pillow to see a wet spot from where you used to satisfy your core. it earned a chuckle from the man, “did you have fun y/n?” he clearly wanted to tease you.

you whined and rubbed your thighs together desperate for some kind of friction, “i can’t feel good.. too tired..”

law pulled you closer and let you rest your head on his chest, “do you need help so you can feel good? you just woke up so it might be harder for you to do it on your own.”

you nod tiredly. eyes barely opened you take law’s hand into your own, and pulled it under the blanket and towards your thighs.

law pushed your rubbing thighs opened, and ran his fingers against your cloth core. he could feel the outline of your pussy because your pants stuck against the wetness so well. it exposed you to your boyfriend’s fingers even though you were covered.

the new attention given to your core made you whimper. heading you made law feel bad for you, “don’t worry baby. i’m gonna help you feel good.”

you nodded mindlessly ready to take whatever your boyfriend was willing to do to your sleepy self.

his hand slowly made its way into your panties. you naturally spread your thighs more in order to grant him access. law appreciated your cooperation, “just relax and i’ll do the work. i’ll make sure you feel good y/n-ya.”

like a cue law began to brush his fingertips against your clit gently for you to adjust to it. the feeling if your boyfriend touching such an intimate part of you cause electricity to circulate inside you. he could make you feel good by doing the bare minimum.

law’s 2 fingers started in a circular motion around your clit. he circled around where he knew would be the most sensitive. he wanted to stimulate you as much as possible.

you shut your eyes completely letting the man do what he pleased in order for you to reach your peak. the sensations from your core travelled throughout your body pulling it closer to an edge.

law applied more pressure to his fingers tips. he slowed down his circular motions around your clit, and decided to start flicking motions. he moved his finger back and fourth against your sensitive bud. this earned slight moans from you.

law whispered encouragements into your ears, “you’re doing so good y/n-ya. i bet it feels good too doesn’t it sweetheart?”

you nodded to the man’s words sweet words as his fingers made you feel pleasures you would’ve never accomplished on your own with a pillow.

law continued, “you looked so gorgeous earlier. i wish i could always see you humping my pillow like that.” law abandoned your clit and made his fingers to your opening. his fingers naturally became coated in your core’s wetness.

you bit your lip, “i-i looked gorgeous?”

law hums, “absolutely beautiful. next time you should hump my thigh like that baby. i’d rather you use me than just my pillow.”

as law spoke he steadily pushes two fingers into your opening. the sudden action made you feel strangely full. you body naturally responded by rocking your hips against the fingers.

law continued his praises, but they went in through one ear and out the other. your mind felt absent while your body took in the pleasures of law’s long fingers pressing against your walls. you felt them go in and out, and you imagined his finger tattoos becoming covered because they repetitively make their way inside of you.

your whimpers start to become more vocal as your body climbed towards your climax. law continued to penetrate you with his two fingers, but skillfully used his thumb to rub your clit. he knew his actions were doing numbers on you by the way your body naturally tensed up, and how you became more vocalized.

you bit your lip, “law it feels so good, i-i think im close~”

law hums and quickens his pace, “then cum for me baby. i wanna hear you moan my name. who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?”

your body slightly arched up as your orgasm crept upon you. you moaned his name loudly, “law you make me feel so good! only you can make me feel so amazing~”

your orgasm washed over you turning you into a shaky moaning mess. you tightened around law’s fingers. he could feel his fingers inside of you become coated in your juices again. he pulled them out of your core and panties. he voluntarily sucked your juices off his fingers not wanting to waste a single drop.

you drew yourself closer to the man. you started to feel the exhaustion of the orgasm bearing over you. law found your middle-of-the-night horniness compelling. he also thought it made you cuter. knowing that he was the first thought on your mind after you woke up was satisfying for him.

law kissed your hair, “you should go back to sleep now sweetheart. it’s late.”

you barely responded, already on your path towards the realm of slumber, “you have to sleep too…”

law hums and gets comfortable with you by his side. he pulls your pillow so you two can share since you discarded of his earlier. he’d have to add washing his pillowcase to his to-do tasks for the next day.

masterlist

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, the necessary reactions

series masterlist

lando norris x mom!wife!reader

summary - y/n is pregnant again, time to tell the world - well, their whole world. 

masterlist

-

“then what is it?” lando cups your chin in his hands with his question, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“it’s just that,” you sigh, searching lando’s eyes, “we don’t need to keep trying, if there’s already a baby on the way,”

“you’re joking,” lando whispers, his eyes beginning to well with tears, “love, are you serious?” you nod wordlessly, your smiling catching from ear to ear as lando’s begins to grow, “oh my GOD!” he exclaims, not caring anymore about the young boy sleeping down the hall. he’s currently too busy grabbing your waist in his hands and spinning you around in giggling circles. 

“lan, please,” you choke out between your laughs, “you’ll turn our baby into a milkshake,” you continue to giggle as lando sets you down with quiet apologies in between a multitude of kisses. the room falls silent for a moment as lando pulls away and his hands migrate to your stomach, both of you staring into each others eyes as if they were the stars in the sky. 

“we’re having another baby,” lando’s smile has not faltered since your admission, and neither has yours.

“ya, lan. we’re having another baby,” you smile wider as happy tears start their race down your cheeks. lando joins in shortly with happy sobs as he pulls you into his arms, calmly rocking you both back and forth in place. you hear the quiet words mumbled into your neck of ‘i can’t believe this is happening’ and ‘i’m so fucking happy right now’ as you just hold onto your husband in joy. 

finally pulling apart, lando drops down to a knee, staring at your bare stomach in awe, “hi baby norris,” he chokes down another sob as he kisses the baby’s home, “it’s your daddy,” you hold his head in your hands while trying to control your own tears, enjoying the interaction at its fullest. 

your husband looks up at you and all you read in his eyes is pure admiration and love. he catches your eyes staring down at him, seeing only love and admiration as well. you both share the soft moment in quiet comfort, proceeding to not leave each other's sides as you ready yourselves for bed. 

getting yourself under the blankets in bed, you scoot over into lando’s awaiting arms, him immediately wrapping you into his hold. his free hand falls to your stomach like a magnet - just as it always did with finn. you roll the slightest in order to have a better view of your husband, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek, both of you not breaking the adoring eye contact. he leans down a pinch, kissing your nose, then cheeks, then forehead, and finally landing on your lips. you hum in approval before he separates, proceeding to lean down to your stomach and repeat the kisses.

his head lays on the top of your stomach, your hands raking through his curls, as he continues to speak sweet nothings to the growing baby inside your tummy. you then soon fall into a conversation about when and how you found out - your bad takeout was not actually bad, and the doctor's appointment was yesterday, how far along you were - seven weeks, only - and when your next appointment was - two weeks from today, your first ultrasound. 

you were lulled to sleep by lando’s continuing conversation to your unborn child and his soft stroking over your belly.

-

you wake up the next morning to an empty bed and distant baby giggles echoing through your home. stretching for a moment, you take a deep breath - debating needing a morning sickness session or not - before you reluctantly climb out from your warm haven of blankets. reaching quickly for one of lando’s hoodies tossed around, you pull it over your head to substitute for the lost heat. 

“momma!” you hear the happy squeaks of your son as you open the door from your bedroom, light padding of his feet making their way over to you. entering into the living room, you’re immediately met with a bouncy three year old at your feet, arms up and ready for his morning cuddles. swinging him onto your hip with whispered ‘good morning, my love’ and a kiss to his sweet head, you waltz over to your husband seated on the couch. 

“i made breakfast, you hungry, love?” lando asks as you take a seat next to him. 

“not right now, but probably soon,” you respond, leaning over to greet your husband with a kiss. 

“alright, but you need to eat,” his over-protective nature residing again, something you had your ups and downs with while pregnant with finn.

“i know, love. i will,” you assure your husband with another light peck to his lips. he smiles back down at you, on too much of a high to even pester you as of this moment. 

“we have the quadrant video today, too,” 

“oh, right,” you shake your head, “what time is that again?”

“around three, so we have a lot of time,” lando proceeds to direct his attention to his son, “are you so excited to come with us, finn? uncle max will be there!”

“uncle max!” your son claps happily from your lap, excited at the mention of his other favorite uncle. 

“yes, buddy! uncle max wants to see you!” lando claps with his son, “why don’t you go pick out what you want to wear today, bubs?” your husband picks your son off your lap to help him down, giving him the availability to run to his room.

“otay, daddy!” with that, finn takes his little legs at full speed to his bedroom, amusing giggles radiating through the home. your husband turns his attention back to you after his son was out of sight, pulling you closer into his body.

“i was hoping we could tell the team today, if that’s alright with you?” lando asks you quietly, hinting at the reveal of your pregnancy. last night when you had told lando, both of your parents had been rung immediately. doing it over the phone wasn’t ideal but the parents staying in england as you and lando were in monaco wasn’t ideal either. and you both wanted to tell them right away. 

“well i know we agreed to tell our parents first, but i feel like we should tell finn second, no?” 

“should we tell him today before the group? or do you want to wait?”

“i don’t know, lan. i truly haven’t given it much thought and i want to. telling your only baby that another one is coming can disrupt a lot, i don’t want to rush it,” you hang your head a bit at your worries and lando understands immediately. 

“it’s alright, we can tell the lads later,” he’s quick to respond in order to ease your mind.

“how about just max?” you offer as a compromise. even though finn was beyond fond of carlos, max fewtrell had been the rock for him as he was growing in your tummy up to now and for sure in the future. he was almost his second father. and he was lando’s best friend. and finn adored max just as you know your second baby will as well, “i can tell my best friend today and you can tell yours, then we’ll talk a bit more about how we tell finn,”

“i like the sound of that, love,” your husband kisses your forehead, “we’ll tell max and y/b/f/n today, and then everyone else will find out after finn,”

“yes, lovely. i like the sound of that, lan,”

-

pulling up to the track where lando’s quadrant video would be filmed, you let out a nervous sigh, hand involuntarily reaching for your stomach. your husband reaches across the console in the car, removing your hand and instead intertwining your fingers. a kiss to the back of your hand was all the reassurance you needed in that moment. 

parked in the lot, lando steps out of the vehicle, racing around the front of the car and opening the door for you, holding onto your hand as you step out as well. leading you both towards your giggly son in the backseat, your husband unstraps his seat belts, lifts him out of the car and pulls on his hand due to finn’s persistence to walk - like a big boy. the little family makes their way through a few gates and security checks before finally arriving near the rest of the quadrant group. 

“there’s the best godson in the world!” max lets out a squeal, bending down as finn sprints into his arms. 

“uncle maxxxx!” finn yells in his arms, laughing along to max proceeding to pick him up and spin him around. 

“hey!” your best friend comes out from behind you and lando to join the group, “does your godmother get any love?” she laughs heading over to max and finn.

“aunty y/b/f/n!” finn screams from max’s hold, wiggling to make his way towards your friend, “i dind’t know you come!” he squeaks out.

“your mommy called me! said you missed me, baby,” she laughs scooping your son up from max.

“i did! i miss you all!” finn’s arms wrap around her tightly as the entire quadrant group ‘awe’s’ at his words. 

“actually, finn, why don’t you go join niran and ria,” lando starts, reaching for your hand to hint at his intentions, “momma and daddy have to talk to max and y/b/f/n really fast, okay?”

“otay, daddy! but i see them later?”

“oh ya, bubs,” your husband nods as he helps his son down towards the group, “we have the rest of the day to hang out, this will just take a second, okay?”

“otay, daddy!” finn replies to lando’s direction, running off towards niran and ria, leaving the four of you alone in a distant part of the track.  

“uh oh,” max lets out, “are we in trouble?” 

“not at all,” you laugh in response, “quite the opposite really, we have some exciting news to share with the both of you,” tightening your grip on lando’s hand, you give him an approval nod to let go of the information.

“y/n’s pregnant!”

“WHAT!”

“OH MY GOSH!” your best friend takes a step towards you, holding you in her arms as she jumps a bit in excitement. max and lando are hugging, congratulations are shared as the pairs switch to the other respective partner. both max and y/b/f/n are tearing up, as you and your husband are trying hard not to do the same. 

“i think we’re going to tell finn tonight, so just keep it quiet,” your husband shares, max mocks his reprimand by zipping his lips shut as your best friend just continues to nod in excitement.

“and even after we tell finn, i think we’re just going to keep it quiet until i start to show, so let’s not tell anyone, alright?” you offer your worries next. 

“you’ve got it guys,” max nods, “we’ll keep it a secret,”

“i mean, we did pretty good with the last one,” your best friend laughs off in her agreement. 

-

after the long and exhausting day on the track, lando is hauling your son’s body up the stairs in his arms, the deadweight not budging once arriving inside your home. your husband carefully places him on the couch in the living room as you make your way into the kitchen in order to find something, anything to eat. a loud sigh behind you causes you to turn your head in it’s direction, coming face to face with your husband. 

“i don’t think it’s happening today,” 

“you mean telling finn, lan?”

“ya, he’s wiped out,”

“why are you so eager to tell him?” lando thinks for a moment at your question, reaching around you to the counter, popping a grape into his mouth. 

“i’m just excited, y/n,” he finally lets slip, “i want to buy things for the nursery, i want to buy baby clothes, i want to talk to little baby norris, i want to hear finn talk about how exciting this will be, i want to-”

“okay, lan,” you cut him off, moving to steal a kiss from his lips, “bright and early tomorrow, finn will know about little baby norris,”

“good,” he sighs in relief, kissing you again. 

-

the blinding light of the sun proceeds to have you blinking open your eyes, facing your husband who was leaning against the headboard, scrolling on his phone. 

“you’re finally awake, love,” he whispers towards you, a hand coming across your cheek to swipe the sleep from your eyes. they close for a brief moment to bask in the softness before shooting open as you scramble out of bed to race to the bathroom. several knocks at the door, your persistence to keep lando away from you, and then finally a flushed toilet and mouthwash rinsed out lead you to leaving the bathroom, eyes widening at the scene. 

lando is still leaning against the headboard, this time with his little mini me leaning against him as well. the tv is turned on to lando’s favorite show with a soft volume as your son is still fighting sleep on his fathers lap and a bottle of milk slowly slipping from his grasp. 

“y’alright, love?” your husband speaks softly as to not alarm the baby on his lap, you nodding in return, climbing back into the bed to be with your family. 

“why sick, mommy?” your son asks, sleepy gaze holding a bit of concern. 

“well, finn,” you sigh, reaching for your husband’s hand as you both look down at your son on his lap, “there is a baby growing in my tummy, and sometimes it’ll make me sick,”

“baby?” finn questions, looking up at his parents with curiosity. 

“ya, bubs,” lando laughs a bit, “you’re going to be a big brother! isn’t that exciting?”

“bwother…” finn sighs quietly, almost as if he’s testing the word to see if it feels correct rolling off his tongue. 

“aren’t you happy, baby?” you urge softly, eyeing your son, attempting to read his reaction. 

“will baby like me?” finn asks, his attention turning from you to lando.

“oh, bubs,” lando sigh, holding his son tightly as he responds, “the baby is going to love you,” he finishes off with a kiss to his head. finn finally smiles and giggles, climbing from lando’s lap over to yours, bending down to kiss your stomach.

“i wuv you, baby,” he giggles after the kiss, “i meet you soon!”

yours and your husband’s eyes meet as your son keeps kissing your belly, the non-verbal understanding that everything would be okay. 

[jjscrybaby]

prompt 15: ‘can’t sleep either?’

jj maybank x fem!reader | fluff | (mentions of drinking, trouble sleeping, jj being a simp.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

The Chateau always feels calm at night. Everyone finally asleep, no more lighthearted bickering between John B and JJ, or laughter after a joint; everything is just quiet. There’s still the sound of the leaky tap dripping onto the unwashed dishes in the sink, the creaks from the rotting wood that sometimes make you wonder if the house is haunted, but you’ve learnt to deal with that after countless nights spent here.

John B’s place is always the designated spot for all of you to hangout. Kiara’s parents don’t like you, some reasons are valid and others are not, if you go to Pope’s you’ll end up being told off by his mom once the clock strikes ten and all of you are still being too loud, JJ’s place is self explanatory with his dad being around — he’d probably want to join in if he’s had a drink, and your house just doesn’t have the same comforting atmosphere as John B’s. Not to mention, there’s no parents around to tell you what not to do.

Normally, sleep comes easy to you on the pull-out couch that has a few springs loose; you’ve worked out the exact angle to lay at so that non of them are digging into your back. Tonight that’s not the case. It’s been an hour since everyone retreated to their separate spaces for the night, Kiara laid beside you sound asleep, but you’d been tossing and turning and praying not to wake her up.

When she grumbles for the second time, you decide to get up. Waking Kiara up is like waking a sleeping lion. You slip out from under the thin blanket the two of you are sharing and open up the porch doors, ignoring Pope asleep on that couch as you leave and go out to the backyard. You lay down on the hammock, sighing to yourself as you stare up at the stars.

“Can’t sleep either?” You flinch in surprise, turning your head to the side to be faced with a sleepy looking JJ. His hair is messy and his eyes are sunken, sporting just a pair of grey sweatpants, but he still looks divine.

“Guess I didn’t drink enough to knock myself out like everyone else,” you shrug, a small smile on your lips.

He chuckled, nudging you up so he could climb in beside you. The hammock rocked with his weight, his arm slung around your waist so the two of you could fit comfortably.

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t either?” He murmured, making you giggle.

“No. I watched you do them shots like they were the last thing you’d ever do,” you teased, laying your head on his bare chest.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a lightweight like the rest of ‘em,” he responded, staring up at the sky like you’d been doing moments ago. “Heard the door open from my room, figured it was you.”

“How’d you figure?” You asked tiredly.

“Dunno. Must have a sixth-sense or somethin’,” he joked, looking down at where you laid on his chest are stared at the house. You smiled softly at his words, tapping his chest. “You good though? You’re normally the first one out.”

You shrug halfheartedly, nodding your head. “I’m alright. Not sure what’s up, just couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Kie’s a bad bed buddy, huh?” He said, making you laugh quietly. “Y’know, I have a perfectly good bed right in the other room. Nice, comfy mattress, got some good pillows too.”

“No need to rub it in,” you teased, looking up at him to find him smiling softly down at you.

“Clearly I’ve lost my charm,” he sighed, smirking at you. “Just stay in my bed. Can’t sleep out here, you’ll wake up covered in bites and I’m not gon’ put the cream on for you.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, narrowing your eyes. “What’s your game, Maybank?”

“No game, pretty girl. Just want you to get a good nights sleep,” he shrugged. He got out of the hammock, your eyes following his every move. He held a ring-less hand out to you, after a moment you accepted it.

He kept a hold of your hand as he lead you back to the house and through the dark hall into his bedroom. You’d spent plenty of nights in there, but that was never on purpose. Sometimes the two of you would smoke and you’d fall asleep, or JJ had disappeared after a kegger so you took the bed alone. It had never been like this, a different energy surrounding the two of you as he gently closed the bedroom door and laid down under the covers.

You crawled in next to him, keeping a bit of space between you. He wasn’t having that, his arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you to lay closer to him. You gave him a look, one he could barely make out in the darkness of the room.

“What? I just figured you’d sleep easier if we were cuddlin’,” he smirked, his tone innocent. You giggled, nodding your head although his words were bullshit.

“You can just admit you want me in your arms, JJ. No harm,” you teased.

“Alright, I want you in my arms,” he murmured. Your teasing smile was replaced with a shy one, an unsure look on your face on whether he was messing around or not.

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed.

His hand wrapped around your calf, pulling your leg to lay on top of his. “Night, sweetheart.” He ran a hand through your hair, and although your heart was beating faster than previous, you felt yourself start to drift off.

He’d tell you another day that the reason he couldn’t sleep was because he was too focused on thinking about you in the other room, instead of where you belong in his arms.

[winterarmyy]

Most Precious

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Bucky and the reader had to take shelter from the snow storm after abandoning a mission due to the reader's 'mistake'.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x avenger!female!reader

Words: 2.2k++

Warnings: nudity but no smut content. a sprinkle of angst and i hope the ending is fluffy enough to make up for it.

Inspiration: i saw @buck-star posted this event and some of the prompts inspired me to write this 🥹

Prompts used: stranded/snowed in, cabin in the woods on the mountain, grumpy x sunshine soft reader, mutual pining/idiots in love, sitting lying together in front of the fireplace, a tweaked version of "You're the most precious thing ever. I will protect you with everything I have."

Note: feel free to search up #sydneysfluffywinter or #fluff-star winter for more stories under the event. i hope you enjoy this short fic!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The wind roared like a creature born of anger, staggering through the cabin’s entrance door as Bucky almost broke the door when he kicked it open. Snow seeping into his tactical suit, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. In his arms, Y/N lay limp, her frozen skin clinging to the fabric of his suit on his chest as if she belonged there. She can hear his heart hammered against her ear, a relentless beat behind the layers of cloth. 

It was wild, frantic even; and she told herself it was because of the storm, the desperate trek to find shelter. She thought of her injuries, the way she slowed him down. The guilt made her heart clench and her chest feel heavy; a throb more suffocating than the pain in her thigh and waist. She’d been nothing but a burden.

The cabin was almost as dark as the night, and the coldness of the space was not that far off from the snow storm brewing outside. But this? This wasn’t new to him. He’d endured worse.

Bucky lowered her carefully in front of the fireplace, his movements precise but urgent. Y/N winced as her wounds screamed in protest, the pain was blazing hot despite the freezing air around. Her thigh throbbed, and her waist felt as though it was wrapped in shards of glass. 

Bucky stepped away briefly, his gaze darting over the unlit corners of the room, his hand instinctively brushing the knife at his side. A habit he was not able to forget; the Winter Soldier training never really left him. Satisfied they were alone, he turned back to her.

Her eyelids fluttered slowly, her consciousness slipping in and out. Bucky cursed under his breath. The power was out, but he wasn’t about to waste time diagnosing that now. His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line as he set out what he needed to treat her wounds. 

Bucky was angry; it radiated off him like steam from boiling water. But the frown on his face wasn’t unfamiliar. Y/N had seen his rigid features a thousand times before. This, though? This was sharper, colder. It wasn’t his usual grumpiness. He was mad. At her. 

The realization was like a slow plunge of blade into her chest, and it made eyes pooled with warm tears. Not from the physical pain scorching her flesh, but the ache of his perceived disappointment.

By the time Bucky had coaxed the firewood into flames, the heat began to thaw the rattling chill in the room. He knelt beside her, his expression set in stone as he draped a blanket over her trembling form. Behind the cover of the blanket, his hands worked quickly, undressing her with care that belied his hardened demeanor. 

He pulled her close as he worked to pull her pants over her bottom. Her face was buried in his neck as he whispered, “The cold will kill you. Come on, now.” His voice, rough but mostly filled with urgency. They didn’t have the luxury of embarrassment – for her, the sensation of him stripping her bare; for him, the temptation to relish the softness of her skin against his hands – not with her life teetering on the edge of frost and blood loss.

He peeled the blanket back just enough to expose her injuries, the torn of her flesh was slick with half-frozen blood. The cold had helped slow the bleeding, but not enough to ease his worry. Bucky worked with a precision that spoke of grim experience. 

Every time she winced or hissed, his grip on the forceps tightened, the metal creaking in protest. It was as if her pain annoyed him, a silent demand for her to be stronger, better; more like an Avenger.

She noticed it every single time, and it pricked into her pride like being wrapped with thorny vines. The fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes made it worse. His focus stayed on her wounds, his frown deepening with each moment.

When he finally finished, he noticed the tears tracing her cheeks; a silent trace of a vulnerability she couldn’t hide. They were especially prominent when they glistened in the firelight. His brow furrowed further.

“Bear with the pain a little longer,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll get the team here as soon as I can.” his tone was not that far off from his normal grumpy self.

But to Y/N, at this very moment, it sounded harsh. To her, it sounded more like an order than reassurance. She swallowed, guilt twisting like a vice in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

Bucky’s head snapped up, confusion flashing in his stormy blue eyes. “What?”

“I’m sorry for being incompetent. I should’ve noticed them sooner. I should’ve taken them down before they could do anything.” Her voice was a mix of shame and frustration however not as evident as the pure agon trembling through.

His jaw clenched. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

The words were meant to be absolution, but she heard them differently. There’s nothing you can do.

Her voice cracked. “I wasn’t enough.”, streams of hot tears kept falling unapologetically, leaving behind a trail of warmth on her cold skin. 

Bucky’s frown deepened, his frustration bubbling over. “Damn it, Y/N. Why do you always do this to yourself?”

She blinked at him, her confusion cutting through the haze of pain. “Do what?”

“Put the blame on yourself like it’s some kind of default setting. This wasn’t your fault,” he snapped, the edge in his voice sharper than intended.

Her cheeks burned, shame and anger mingling in her chest. “I’m not blaming myself. I’m just… stating facts. If I’d been faster, stronger; if I’d been better; this wouldn’t happen. We wouldn’t need to abandon the mission. You wouldn’t need to carry me all the way up here.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, his frustration spilling out; contaminating the air around them. “You think I care about that? About you being some kind of perfect soldier?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping but no less intense. “I care about you, Y/N. Not your skills, not your damn performance. YOU.”

Her breath hitched, his words slicing through the self-doubt she’d been drowning in. “Then why do you look at me like that? Like I’ve failed you?”

His shoulders sagged, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “That’s not what this is,” he said, his tone quieter now, tinged with exhaustion. “I’m angry because you scared the hell out of me. I’m worried about you, Y/N. You jumped in front of a bullet meant for me without a second thought. Don’t you value your life?”

The words struck her like a blow, but she struck back with equal fervor. “You’re the most valuable person to me! Of course, I will protect you with everything I have. And I’d do it again if I have to!”

Her confession lingered in the air, fragile but undeniable. Bucky’s eyes widened, the storm in them softening as realization washed over him. His anger melted, leaving only the deepest parts of his emotions afloat; his love for her.

His right hand rose tentatively, brushing the skin of her tear-streaked face. His palm cupped her cheek, his warmth a stark contrast to her icy skin. She leaned into his touch, a quiet surrender.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling with an overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t quite utter out loud yet. “You… you matter to me.”

The words hung between them, heavy and fragile. She blinked up at him, the pieces slowly found its rightful place in puzzle. She realized that he meant more than just about worry or duty. It was something deeper, something unspoken but unmistakable. Yet, she reminds herself not to get ahead of the moment.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s gaze softened, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Because you make it easier to keep going,” he admitted, his voice unfiltered. “When everything feels heavy, when the past doesn’t let me breathe, you’re the one thing that makes it bearable. You remind me that I’m still… me. And that makes you, Y/N, the most precious person to me.”

Her heart clenched, his words cutting through the haze of pain and doubt. The light from the fire danced in his eyes, their usual icy blue now warm and liquid, like the sea yielding to the shore. She hadn’t just been a mission partner or a responsibility to him. She’d been his anchor, his hope.

And for a moment, the storm outside seemed to still; as if time itself paused to let the quiet intimacy between them linger just a little longer. To let the cabin feel like it  was a cocoon, sheltering not just their bodies but the fragile truths they’d finally unveiled.

"Are you okay with that, babydoll?" he asked softly.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the nickname, her heart stuttering in her chest. She nodded, sheepish, her lips curving into a small, bashful smile. His own lips twitched upward, the corners softening into a rare, genuine grin. Her reaction was worth the vulnerability of saying it aloud.

But as the burning wood crackled and the silence stretched, Bucky noticed the faint tremble still coursing through her body. Even with the fire roaring and the blanket tucked around her, she was trembling.

"You’re still cold," he murmured, guilt threading through his tone as his hand moved gently, caressing her cheek before trailing down to her neck. His touch was soft, deliberate, as though he could erase the chill from her skin with every motion.

Their eyes met in that moment, and the realization hit them both at the same time. 

She nodded slightly, her voice a soft whisper. "Can you… stay with me? Under the covers?"

Bucky hesitated, his instincts warring with his emotions. His hesitation lingered for a moment too long, and she turned her wide, pleading eyes on him. Those damned puppy eyes. And just like that, he was undone.

With a resigned sigh, he stripped off his snow-soaked jacket and tactical vest, leaving them in a damp heap by the fire. His shirt followed, revealing the lines of muscle and the faint scars that told a thousand stories. He slid beneath the covers, careful not to jostle her injured side. The moment his warmth enveloped her, Y/N instinctively curled closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Bucky’s body was a furnace, the serum coursing through his veins keeping his heat steady and intense. Her frozen fingers brushed against his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath, every nerve in his body coming alive at the contact.

Slowly, he wrapped his right arm around her, careful and deliberate. Pulling her closer; her head snuggled into the crook of his neck, the softness of her breasts resting on just below his chest, her legs entangled with his, until there was no space left between them.

His hand found her back, calloused fingers tracing soothing circles over her bare skin. The gesture was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid that she would break. But the way she relaxed against him, her breaths stabilising as her trembling subsided, told him she didn’t mind. Her nose brushing against his skin, and he felt her sigh; a soft, content sound that made his chest ache in the best way.

"You’re precious to me," he murmured, the words spilling out before he could second-guess them. His lips found her forehead, a lingering kiss that was both tender and grounding. "More than anything."

Y/N’s fingers curled against his chest, her heart thumping a steady rhythm that matched his own. "Bucky," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep but laced with something softer, warmer. "Thank you."

He smiled against her hair, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a way that felt unfamiliar but good. "No, thank you, for saving me", he replied quietly, his sincerity was certain. Then his tone shifted, growing stern as he added, "But, don’t do that again."

She giggled softly at his warning, the sound light and airy, cutting through the heaviness of the moment. "What if I like saving you?" she teased, her voice playful but still tinged with exhaustion.

Bucky rolled his eyes, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "You’re impossible," he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. Instead, his hand shifted to cradle the back of her head, his thumb brushing gently over her hairline. "Just promise me you won’t scare me like that again."

She tilted her head up slightly to meet his gaze, her lips twitching with a faint smile. "Only if you promise the same."

He huffed, his breath warm against her temple. "Deal." His fingers resumed their soothing circles on her back, and he leaned down to press another soft kiss to her forehead. "Get some rest, doll."

They stayed like that, skin to skin, softness meeting strength. Bucky held her as if the world outside didn’t exist, as if the storm that had almost claimed their life was nothing but a distant memory. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of everything; the mission, the storm, the unspoken emotions, seemed to lift. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside faded to nothing.

At some point, their bodies finally surrendered to exhaustion, leading them straight to the warm embrace of sleep and perhaps even to the bashful morning after when they awoke, body tangled together, and all too aware of the touch of each other’s bare skin.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: i know it's not a tooth rotting fluff, regardless though, i hope you enjoyed the fic? drop your thoughts, i'd love to read them 💕

[hischierhoney]

I Know Places

Jack Hughes x actress!reader // masterlist

title & inspo from I Know Places by Taylor Swift. written for the Eras Tour fic challenge! thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston for putting this on!

Summary: When the press catches Jack leaving your place, things seem set to crumble. But Jack has different ideas. 4.2k words

Warnings: mentions of press/pressure from the media, some mild angst but it’s fixed by the end!!

It’s past 2am when you stumble your way into your New York City townhouse, eyes bleary and tired, limbs even more so. The lights are off, besides the one in the hallway, and you don’t bother to turn any of them on. You just shuck off your jacket and shoes, shuffle your way down the hallway, up the stairs and straight into your bedroom. There’s one thought in your brain, and it’s bed. Warm, cozy, soft, full of blankets and pillows and a man-

You nearly scream at the sight, the gentle slope of shoulders under your fluffy comforter. You press your hand to your racing heart as it all comes flooding back. You, on a layover between Los Angeles and New York, stuck in an airport for longer than planned, on the phone with your boyfriend Jack Hughes.

Jack, who’d promised to pick you up from the airport until your flight got delayed. Jack, who has morning skate at 7am and needs his sleep. Jack, who, in a moment of sleep deprived, airport lounge tequila induced delirium, you had told about the key you keep in a potted plant, and suggested that he let himself in. Suggested he crawl into your bed and fall asleep. Just in the interest of sleeping next to him, of maybe having a couple moments with him in the morning.

You don’t get much time with him. Not nearly as much as you’d both like, at least. The two of you are too busy, too full of your own obligations, with his job and your job. Star hockey player and America’s sweetheart actress- it’s like a pairing from one of those Hallmark movies, the ones with perfect houses draped in fake snow that look like they’d smell like warm cookies. Except this is real. And he’s here.

He looks peaceful, you think, as you pad across the room to be closer. His cheek is smooshed against the pillow, on his stomach on the bed, laying in a spread eagle position that’s going to leave it difficult for you to find any space. His lips are parted slightly, soft breaths puffing out between them. Jack sleeps like the dead, you’ve found, from the now many times you’ve slept in the same bed. He says he’s trained himself into it, with hockey and all. You’ve witnessed his pregame naps, watched him fall asleep in seconds flat. It’s impressive.

You make your way to the bathroom, doing what little you can muster of your nightly routine. When your eyes start to close on their own accord, you shuffle your way back to the bed, in your pajamas now, and study the scene. How best to handle the boy in your bed, how to fit yourself against his body so that you can finally fall asleep like you’ve been aching to do.

Before you get the chance, there’s the shrill sound of a phone alarm, and Jack sits bolt straight up in bed. You stumble over your own feet, hand over your heart again, breath stolen from your lungs. Jack scrambles for his phone. It’s 2:30 am.

He’s rubbing at his eyes when he scans the room and finds you. Then he mirrors your position, eyes wide, hand over his heart.

“Why th�� fuck are you already here?” He mumbles out.

You choke on a laugh. It’s a hell of a greeting. “What?”

He groans. “Set an alarm. T‘go pick you up.”

You blink at him, half his face illuminated in the pale moonlight that spills in through your window. There’s a soft breeze that ruffles his hair and makes him shiver- he’s left the window open slightly, the way you like to sleep. Goosebumps raise on his bare skin. You tear your eyes away.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, bewildered. “I told you to just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, but. I set an alarm,” he repeats. He digs the heel of his palm into his cheek, his lips pulled into a pout. “For 12:30. So I could pick you up.”

You cock your head. “Well, it’s 2:30, so I think you set the wrong alarm.”

He groans loudly, brows furrowed, and then lets out some string of gibberish. He checks his phone again, then sets it down on the nightstand. You watch with curiosity as he flops back down onto the bed, on his back this time, blankets pooling around his waist. He’s bare from the waist up. Not for the first time, you have the urge to press yourself against every inch of his skin.

He seems so untouchable, here. Like in this room, he’s only yours. It’s a heady feeling, to watch him sigh and pout about missing his chance to pick you up from the airport. It’s private, normal, domestic. So few things in your life fit any of those descriptors. It tugs at your heartstrings.

“C’mere,” he calls out, spreading his arms across the mattress again. “Come cuddle.”

You don’t argue. Sleep tugs at your bones the second your head hits the pillow. He tugs at you until you’re plastered against him, the heat of his sleep warm body spreading over you. When he ducks his head to kiss the crown of yours, you sigh happily.

“How was th’ flight?” He asks, his voice still laden with sleep.

“Fine,” you mumble. You’re not really in the mood to talk about it. “Missed you.”

He laughs lightly, his chest rumbling with it under your head. “Missed you more.”

You feel his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up towards his. You blink through your exhaustion to meet his gaze, and you sigh happily when he kisses you, for real this time. His lips are warm and soft, his little bit of stubble scraping against your skin in an almost hypnotic fashion. This is why you told him about the key. You wanted to come home to him.

The rest of the world melts away, and you’re left with just Jack.

….

You wake up at 11:30 the next morning to an empty, cold bed, a hoodie folded neatly on the end of the bed with the number 86 on the shoulder, and a barrage of notifications on your phone. They’re still rolling in, chiming every so often. Your heart lurches.

There are a billion from your manager- something about being careful and bad look and you didn’t even get in until 2:30 so why was he there- and your stomach sinks even further. When you open twitter, there it is. A grainy, blurry set of photos, of Jack’s shoulder and back as he leaves the townhouse, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, his white sneakers bright in the blue early morning light. You can’t see his face in any of them, the hood of his jacket pulled up around his head, which is topped with a beanie and sunglasses. He’s almost unidentifiable, but you know the internet. They’ll figure it out.

It’d be easier if you’d never been seen with him in public before, but you have. Months ago, now, at a charity event hosted by a mutual friend. There’s been a photo of you and Jack from that night, chatting away near the bar in the venue, smiles on both your faces. There’d been a barrage of posts and notifications, then, too- eager Devils fans who were excited to see you talking to him, eager fans of your own who had similar feelings, the other way around. And a text from your manager, reminding you of your upcoming movie, of your male costar who you were supposed to maybe-potentially-possibly be in love with. For the press. For the ratings. But Jack had captured your heart that night, with a teasing joke about Hollywood and a soft little grin on his face, and you’d been unable to forget him.

Now you’re here, in your empty bed while Jack is at practice or meetings, or something in between. It’s not the first time. But it feels like it could be the last.

Jack’s a private person. You are, too, when you can be. When you’d first gone out with him after that first night, he’d seemed wary of all the precautions you took to hide from the press. You’d smiled ruefully and told him that if this was going to happen, he’d have to get used to sunglasses indoors and private rooms and stay at home dates. You’d expected it to scare him off. It usually did- you can’t blame any of them, really.

But it’s been months now, and Jack woke up in your bed this morning. So the scaring didn’t really work as planned.

Text me when you wake up.

That’s the text from Jack. No emojis, a period at the end, no life to it. You fight the urge to roll over, press your face into the pillow, and go back to sleep. Try again later. Hope this is a nightmare.

You text him back, something equally as lifeless. He’s probably busy, he probably won’t have time anytime soon, so you’ll have to wait until then to figure this out-

The phone rings. It’s an echo of Jack’s shrill alarm hours ago, except he’s not here to rub at his eyes sleepily and smile at you and make you feel better. Now it’s his contact, the simple “Jack” flashing across your screen. You sigh and swipe to answer.

“Hi,” you say. Your voice cracks on the single syllable, gravelly from stale plane air and travel and disuse.

“Hi,” Jack echoes. His tone is warm. Soft.

You swallow. “I’m-“

“-sorry,” Jack says, talking at the same time as you, saying the exact same words. You blink up at the ceiling above your head.

“What?” You ask, a bit bewildered.

“What?” He repeats. “Why are you sorry?”

You blink again. “Why are you sorry?”

He lets out a huff, one you can almost picture. “I fucked up.”

And this is how it goes. You’d thought of all people, Jack would have the decency to do this in person. To wait until you’re not seconds past waking up. That maybe he’d give you a bit to process before he called it quits, before he says what everyone else has said before him.

It’s too much.

You’d warned him, back when you’d seen him for the 7th time. You’d been laying in his bed, half on top of him, drawing patterns on his bare chest with your pointer finger. He’s asked about labels and how serious this was and if you were seeing anyone else, and told you he wasn’t. All very brave of him, really. You’d been afraid to say anything for weeks.

“Not seeing anyone else,” you’d admitted. “Where would I find the time?”

He’d huffed out a laugh and tucked you close. “Can we maybe keep it that way?”

It should’ve been a red flag. Not on his part, but on yours. You know how this ends, you’ve been down this road before, and you’d known, even then, that this wouldn’t end any differently. Things go smooth until the media catches wind, and then they figure out who he is, and then everyone picks apart every little bit of him until there’s nothing left for you to hold onto. You can’t blame them, all the people you’ve lost to this curse.

You hate the media enough yourself. You can’t imagine subjecting anyone you care about to it.

You’d tried to warn him. About the secrecy that would be required, about how if anyone ever caught wind of it, he’d be subject to the worst scrutiny of his life. He’d tried to insist he understood, that nothing could be worse than his rookie year, that this mattered enough to him to put up with the pressure. But now the pressure is drilling down on the two of you, and he’s crumbling, just like they always do-

“I knew better than to leave out that door,” he says. “There’s always a pap there, you’ve told me about it before,” he says. “I was just. I was in a rush, because I was so comfy this morning, and I forgot, so. I’m sorry.”

You frown. “It’s okay, Jack.”

You’re the one who told him about the key. Who let him stay over, fueled by sleep deprivation and the urge to see him, even just for a little bit. You’ve gone and contributed to your own demise. God, you were going to let him pick you up from the airport. What kind of idiot are you?

“Are you okay?” You ask him.

He scoffs. “They don’t even know it’s me.”

Your gut twists, again. “They will.”

“Mm, maybe my powers of camouflage have worked,” he says. “Maybe I’ve stumped them.”

You don’t bother pointing out that if the press haven’t already figured it out, his fans will. Someone’s bound to point out the grainy Devils logo on his hoodie, the characteristic swoop of his hair. Someone’s bound to have followed him to his car, and they’ve probably already looked up his license plate. They’re probably running it through whatever system they use, and even if Jack is leasing the car he’ll still show as connected to it, and then they’ll dig their claws into him.

“They’re never stumped,” you tell him. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fuck.”

“I know,” he says, voice softer this time. “So. What do we do?”

You pry your eyes open. What do we do? We.

“We?” You choke out.

Jack scoffs. “Yeah, we. I mean. Do we come out and tell everyone, just to take it away from them? Do we lie?”

We. It’s never been a we, before. Not like this. It’s always been flight, never fight. Like everyone before Jack hadn’t thought it was worth it to even try. Had thought you weren’t worth it.

“Jack, you don’t understand,” you tell him. “They’re gonna tear you apart. They’re gonna tear us apart.” Until there’s no us left, you think. “We- we don’t do anything. There’s nothing to do.”

“Not to stop them, no,” he agrees. “But you’ve had this before. How did you and those people handle it? I mean- I can avoid interviews for a while. Nico will take them, he’ll understand. And the All Star break starts soon, so then-“

“They didn’t,” you cut in.

He pauses. “Who didn’t what?”

You sigh, again. “They didn’t handle it, Jack. They broke up with me and left me to handle it and kept going on with their lives. So. Nobody will blame you if you do the same, let alone me. I get it.”

Jack stays quiet for a few moments. The silence hangs between the two of you, heavy and thick. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to say it. Because you always let them do it. No matter how much you’re to blame here, you can’t be the one to end it over this. Not when things were going so well with him.

“I’m coming over,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“Just- stay put. Stay there. I’m on my way,” he says. You hear the jingle of his keys.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You tell him.

“Me neither,” he says.

You don’t bother to warn him that there’ll be added media attention, that the place is probably swarming with people with cameras. You don’t think it’ll change his mind- Jack is stubborn when he’s set on something. And it’s a little late, anyways.

He shows up an hour later, probably having had to fight through insane traffic to get there. You’re back in bed, having only gotten up to brush your teeth before retreating to the safety of it. He lets himself in with the key, and you hear him come up the stairs and shuffle over to your bedroom door.

He stands there, haloed by the hallway light. You roll over to look at him, barely able to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. Maybe he’s just waited to do it in person. Maybe he’s trying to let you down easy. It’s never easy. To lose a relationship like this, before you’re ready.

Things were going so well. You think of nights spent in your kitchen, making dinner together, sharing a bottle of wine. You think of all the hockey games you watched from hotel rooms while you’ve been doing press, and the way Jack answered all your questions on the phone afterwards, never letting on how exhausted he really was. You think of breakfast delivered to your door while he was at away games, and the way he spoke so fondly about his family and friends, how they’d all love you and you’d love them. And now, you’ll never get the chance.

Jack, standing in the doorway, sighs.

He makes his way over to sit on the edge of the bed, and he reaches a hand out to rest against your cheek. You sigh in response. Wait for him to open his mouth, for it to hit. You wait, and wait, and-

“The way I see it, we’ve got a few options,” he says. You blink up at him. “We can just go public, take away the hype about it. We could pretend we have no idea what they’re talking about, just ignore it. We could wait for them figure it out and handle it then. Or-“

You sit up slightly, and he pauses. You know the confusion is written on your face. His gaze softens, blue eyes warmer than they’ve ever been.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says. “I don’t run when things get tough. Come on, you know me better than that.”

You want to tell him you’d thought that about everyone, only for them to run from it all, run from you, at the drop of a hat. But you don’t, because you can tell from the hard set line of his jaw, from the determined bend in his brow, that he means it. That he’s not going anywhere. At least, not without you.

“I wanna run away from it all,” you tell him. “I want to take you somewhere they can’t find us. I want-“ you cut yourself off with a wry laugh. “I just want you, that’s all.”

A smile creeps across his lips, and he leans forward to press them to your forehead. Warmth spreads over your body, all the way down to your fingertips and toes.

“We can make that happen,” he says. You can feel the smile against your skin. “If that’s what you want. I know a place.”

You let out a laugh, one that’s mixed with tears. But when he lays down in the bed and pulls you close, you’re inclined to believe him.

…..

The “place” Jack knows takes hours of travel to get to. It takes packed bags and ditching responsibilities on both of your parts, and dodging questions from your friends. But as he pulls the car into the driveway, you think it’s worth all the hassle. The house is blanketed in soft, fluffy snow, hanging off the branches of the trees and over the edges of the roof. He opens the garage and pulls in, and when the door closes behind you, you breathe out a sigh of relief.

When he’d suggested his Michigan house as the getaway location, you’d been skeptical. Anywhere that was linked to him would be a risk once they figured out who he was. But he’d told you about the security of the neighborhood, the gate at the entrance, and that they’d never been bothered there before. He’d suggested that the two of you could just stay in the house the whole time, and it wouldn’t matter. The press finding out about Jack is inevitable, at this point. But as you walk into his house, you remind yourself that they can’t touch you here. You’ve left them all chasing their tails in New York City and disappeared.

Besides, the snow is coming down harder now. Even the paparazzi wouldn’t brave the weather.

Jack insists on carrying your bags in, and then he shows you around. The living room is first, decorated with photos of him and his brothers. The house is full of hockey memorabilia, you realize, as he shows you around. But it’s also warm. Personal. Home. There’s a photo of him and his brothers as little kids hanging over a fireplace. It makes you smile, the way you recognize the light in Jack’s eyes, the determination on his face. He hasn’t changed a bit. You’ve been in his apartment in New Jersey, but you know now that this is what he considers his real home.

He takes you up to the bedroom before the rest of the house, so you can get settled. You change into even comfier clothes than your travel ones while Jack heads back downstairs and tells you to meet him when you’re ready.

You call out to him a few minutes later when you pad your way down the stairs, and he calls back from a room you haven’t been in yet. When you walk in, he’s standing at the kitchen counter, setting out a bottle of wine. There are fresh flowers in a vase- Jack had said he’d ordered groceries to be delivered, and he must’ve gotten those, too. It’s a sweet touch.

You walk into the middle of the room and look around, a bit in awe. It faces towards the lake, with a large sitting area connected to the open concept kitchen. The lights are low and warm. Along the back wall, there are floor to ceiling picture windows, giving you the perfect view of the icy lake, the snow covered sloping bank, and the houses that dot the shore all around you. Like a postcard, or a hallmark movie. Jack pads his way across the room to you.

“Oh, wow,” you say, quietly.

He nods, his hands falling to your hips from behind as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Pretty, right?”

You nod. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. Still. Quiet. A billion other words pass through your mind. But most of all, it feels safe. Like the whole world could be chasing after you, but here, it’s just you and Jack and the snow. You could run out into it, fall flat on your face, and there’d be nobody there to see it. Or to care.

“Can we go out in it?” You ask him, carefully. Not wanting to break the calm. “It looks so-“

“Yeah,” he agrees, eagerly. “I think we’ve got a pair of boots that’ll fit you.”

Ten minutes later, you waddle through snowdrifts that cover your calves in boots one size too big. You can’t bring yourself to care about the snow in your socks, or the notifications on your phone, or the fact that by now, they’ve probably figured out who Jack is. Because Jack is standing in front of you, and you know who he is far more than they ever will.

He’s the kind of person who stays.

He lobs a snowball at you. It hits your shoulder and crumbles, and he laughs. Pure, loud, happy. You reach down with your mismatched mittens, stolen from their bin of miscellaneous outdoor gear, and form one of your own. You look at him, lining up your aim. Look at his flushed cheeks, his wide grin, the way the snow sticks to his hair and melts on his nose.

“Come on baby,” he says, taunting, arms spread wide. “Hit me with your best shot.”

You drop the poorly formed snowball at your feet and launch yourself at him instead. He’s laughing again by the time you both hit the ground, the snow cushioning his fall. He laughs more when he rolls you over and pins you under him. There’s snow seeping down the back of your shirt, and it makes you shiver. And then he kisses you, and the cold doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing does, except this.

He’s never kissed you anywhere close to the public, both of you too cautious. So much of your relationship has been hidden away. You’d never had a chance like this in New York- no kissing in the rain, under streetlights, no cheek kisses between glasses of wine at fancy restaurants, no holding hands while you walk down the street. But now you’re out under the cloudy sky, surrounded by peace and quiet, and he’s kissing you. You never want to leave this place.

You shiver, again, and he laughs into the kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling. You think yours are too.

“Come on,” he says. “We should get you warm before you catch hypothermia.”

He suggests a shower. You agree eagerly and pull him under the spray with you. The cold melts away, along with the rest of your worries.

Later, you’ll drink wine and make dinner and watch some old movie he’s been insisting you need to see. Later, you'll curl up basically on top of him in bed, surrounded by him, feeling more at peace than you have in months. Tomorrow, he’ll wake up before you do, and come back with coffee from his favorite place in town, and wake you up in bed with it, made just the way you like. And you’ll look at him and thank him. Not just for the coffee, but for bringing you to a place that means so much to him. For letting you in on his little bit of comfort.

You won’t have to say it out loud. He’ll already know.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Zoro is fuckboy material.

Sanji is boyfriend material.

Shanks is husband material.

Mihawk is BDSM Dom Daddy™ material.

Earlier I refused to elaborate.

Now, I will elaborate no further than the sources below the dotted line.

dottedlinethedottedlinethedottedlineth

Zoro

He'll pull you into a broom closet without any warning at all, turn you around, pull your panties down under your skirt, and have you right there when the mood strikes.

Then he'll catch your eye across the deck half an hour later and give you a little smirk that makes your cheeks flare bright red. You're not sure if you want to either kick him in the shin or go for another round right that moment, if not both.

He's not looking for anything serious because he's just not that good at getting close with anyone or being emotionally available in general.

There's a lot of time between port towns, and you're a good match for each other's physical needs and desires, but not much beyond that.

Sanji

Even if he is a relentless flirt, he's just such a complete sweetheart. It's difficult not to swoon at those subtle little touches at your waist and hips, at his seductive murmur in your ear.

He respects every last one of your boundaries; if you tell him something he's doing bothers you, he's going to back off from it. No protest, no questions asked. He's still going to make it clear that he thinks you're incredible, but he wants you to be comfortable and happy above all else.

He's still as sweet as candy even once he does win you over. Playful and flirty and constantly planning the most romantic dates. Picnics on the beach, preparing candlelit diners just for the two of you, laying out a pallet of blankets and pillows with a bottle of wine under the stars—doing everything possible to make you feel special.

It's difficult to tell where it will go, but he's sweet and doting and fun, and he puts every ounce of effort into treating you like literal royalty.

Shanks

You're his lover just as much as you are his best friend. He doesn't hold anything back from you, good or bad, trivial or important. He wouldn't ever consider keeping a secret from you because the thought simply wouldn't even cross his mind—whatever he knows, you know. If anyone else tells him something in confidence, they tell him knowing that he's going to tell you the second he sees you.

His gestures of romance are more subtle and revolved around camaraderie than worship. If you're cooking or cleaning, he wants to be there, both to help lessen the load and to just be there with you. If he sees you washing dishes, he's right there next to you with a towel to dry them and put them away. If you're cooking, he's helping clean up after you. If you're sweeping the floors, he's apt to just take the broom from you, kiss you on the cheek, and tell you to go take a load off and relax.

Absolutely nothing could ever stop him from being with you. There could be an entire armada of Marine warships between you and him, and he would still find his way to you.

Every hope or dream you have ever had in your life is also his now. Literally all of them. It doesn't matter how long ago it was or how unobtainable it seems—if you still want it, he wants to make sure you achieve it. Does't matter what it is. He's never going to tell you it's silly or impossible or unachievable—he's going to exhaust every effort to find a way to make sure you can achieve it.

Mihawk

Hopefully you didn’t have too many plans of your own, because if you've managed to catch his interest, he's going to make sure that you're his, and probably within the next twenty-four hours or less.

He isn’t completely unreasonable. You will have the option to refuse. But he isn’t going to beat around the bush, either. He's going to pull you against him by your hips, comb his fingers through your hair and grasp it to pull you in and ask you outright if you want to belong to him.

He won't pressure you if you say no. That's your choice. He'll just leave you with a deep, passionate kiss that makes your knees weak, a light brush of his thumb across your lips, and he'll let you go.

But if you say yes...then good luck. You're his now, and he's never letting you go.

[parkerluvsu]

SANTA BABY (art donaldson x fem! reader)

the flurry of pure white snow outside your window caused your peaceful slumber to be cut short, the brightness of it peeking through your eyelids no matter how tightly you closed them. shifting in your cozy bed piled high with blankets, you see your husband art has not been affected by the growing blizzard outside, his chest rising and falling accompanied by soft snores.

arts body was warm, a stark contrast to the biting cold that was trying it's best to seep in through the windows. even in his sleep, art could sense your movement, removing his arm from under the blanket and reaching out for you. you can't help the smile that creeps onto your face as you interlace your fingers with his, watching his face relax back into peacefulness.

you find yourself able to fall asleep again, this time getting woken up by a pressure on your chest, causing your eyes to snap open before you recognize the familiar tuft of blond hair. the blond hair was, of course, connected to art, who was too busy pressing his head into your chest to notice that you've woken up. you raise your hand and run your fingers through his soft hair, causing art to startle.

"you're awake.." he mumbles, eyes threatening to fall closed. you smile, petting his hair gently. "i am" you say simply, the cloud of tiredness in your beginning to clear as you watch him become more awake as well. "what time is it?" art asks, trying to gauge the time of day by looking outside but the bright snow making it difficult. you grab your phone, turning it on to check, "it's like 11:30" you say, not surprised that you both slept in quite late. art hums, "let's just stay in bed all day.." he's only half joking, stretching out his legs and yawning before settling back into bed.

you giggle, rolling onto your side and looking at art, admiring the subtle lines and freckles on his face, brought out by the brightness in the room. art has flipped to lay on his stomach, his toned back now flexing as he moves his arms to stretch. you can't resist leaning forward and kissing his soft skin, trying to count the freckles scattered across his back like stars. "shouldn't we go downstairs and open presents?" you ask, selfishly trying to get him to stay in bed with you.

art shakes his head, opening his eyes and letting them roam over your face, taking in every little detail that he adores so much. "no way.. not when i have the best present up here.. all to myself" he jokes, a smile gracing his face. you almost groan at how cheesy it is, shoving your face into your pillow before you're interrupted by art nosing at your neck. he plants wet kisses along your jawline, and if you concentrate hard enough you can feel the smile on his lips.

the feeling makes your stomach jump, never getting used to the endless amount of attention you receive from art. he pulls you closer to him, helping you hike your leg over his hip and placing his warm hands on your lower back. you can feel his breathing start to pick up against your neck, the more he pushes on your lower back, the closer you get to the bulge straining against his briefs. you can't help but giggle, appreciating how quickly he gets flustered after all these years.

you grin against him, letting art lick at your lips as you place your hand between your bodies, trailing it down to his briefs. art whines lowly against your mouth when you rub your hand gently against him through the fabric, immediately feeling the wetness of the precum oozing out of him. "eager, huh?" you tease, pulling his underwear down to rest under his balls, now moving your hand against his bare skin, squeezing your hand around him to feel him pulsing.

art noses at your neck, rolling his hips into your fist and reveling at the warmth that feels a million times better than his own hand. "k-keep going.." he murmurs, tensing his stomach and squeezing his eyes shut at the sensation. you swipe your thumb over his tip, smearing his wetness over his dick as he whines. arts hand comes down to clutch at yours, not trying to stop your movements, just trying to ground himself by touching you.

art gets close to cumming embarrassingly fast, his hand tightening around yours so much that it almost hurts, but you keep going, almost having to pin him down as he squirms. the soft "ah, ah, ah"s escaping arts mouth get louder, and he can't warn you before his cum is spilling all over your hand. art always cums a lot, more than you'd expect to even be able to come out of his body. as the last of his cum spurts out of his angry pink tip, arts body shudders.

you pull your hand off of him, watching as his eyes flutter open again. art always gets extremely docile after he cums, after a few seconds of resting, art shifts his body to lay on top of you, and you aren't shocked to feel his dick hard again against your thigh. "let me make you feel good too.. please" you can feel the vibrations of his words against your neck, his soft lips working their way down your chest, taking time to suckle at your nipples. you instinctively spread your legs for him, making space for his body to settle between your thighs. art makes small noises of appreciation as he kisses the soft skin on your stomach, sometimes dragging his teeth gently along the skin to feel you tense up under him.

art places his large warm hands on the squishy skin of your inner thighs, pushing them apart even farther as you arch your back at the feeling of his hot breath on your cunt. art immediately starts mouthing at your clit and pushing his tongue inside you, not even worrying about whether he can breathe or not, just wanting to make you feel good. art has never had a technique for eating you out, he just practically makes out with your pussy until you have to pull him away by the soft curls on his head, which is what you're having to do currently. "art- art it's too much" you whine out, trying to shut your legs as best you can, but arts hands keep them spread wide for him. you can feel the knot in your lower stomach starting to tighten, motivating you to push arts face away from your cunt so you can look him in the eyes.

"art.. please fuck me" you normally aren't one to beg, but something about the way the soft morning light hits arts milky skin makes you terribly eager. art, always wanting to please, nods his head, finally shucking off his briefs and letting his cock smack against his stomach. art places his hand in front of you, wordlessly asking for you to spit in it for him. you comply, watching with slight awe as he uses your spit to lube himself up, rubbing his tip at your entrance before slowly moving inside. art isn't necessarily afraid of hurting you with his size anymore, but he knows his body well enough to know that if he goes too quick, he'll just cum immediately.

despite this knowledge, as art sinks further into the warmth you provide him, he finds all logic has disappeared. your arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, pulling him close. art groans against your neck, picking up his head to kiss you passionately, before closing his eyes to focus on not cumming before you. "i can’t, its- you're too warm- just need—" he can’t form complete sentences, he’s thrusting mindlessly until he reaches his peak. you wrap your legs around his hips and whisper in his ear "go ahead.. cum for me art" and he's a goner. art gives one last thrust, the hardest he’s given you so far, then stills completely. his entire body shudders with the feeling of euphoria coursing through his body, he grips your hips so tight he’s sure you’ll have bruises in the shape of his hands. art holds you still and lets his cum pulse inside of you. he wants it as deep as possible. he can’t explain the need to breed that takes over his head, but he knows he can't risk you shifting even a little because he needs it all to spill inside.

you're sure he didn't even notice that you came too, squeezing so tight around him that if he was in his right mind he would have noticed. you let art come down from his high, slowly sinking further into your body as he places his head on your bare chest, shifting his hips slightly to pull out. art fights to stay awake, his instincts making him get up and pad over to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth for you and gently spreading your legs again, this time with more pure intentions. the feeling of the warm washcloth soothes your soreness, and you don't have to open your eyes when you feel art slip back into bed beside you, laying on his back as he pulls you to lay on his chest.

"merry christmas" he murmurs, a small smile on his face. you smile too, looking up at his blushing face. that's the last thing you remember before you fall peacefully back asleep, your dreams full of decorating trees, drinking hot cocoa and cuddling by the fire with your husband. <3

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (41/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Who knew this Christmas breakfast would be this exciting?

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of sex, creampie and oral), fluff, minimal angst (because it wouldn't be my story without a tiny bit of angst)

Word Count: 3.5k

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A/N: feedback is appreciated. love you.

The touch of Charles' hand on your naked skin draws you out of a restful sleep, slowly and comfortably. 

You feel his chest against your back, nestling more snugly against your spine with each of his breaths. His arm lies heavily on your side, reassuringly and relaxed around your middle, as if he never wants to let you go again. 

As if you would ever want that.

His embrace feels like a warm blanket that you want to snuggle up in forever and never let go of. Soft and gentle, he surrounds you, holds you tight and presses you to him; body to body, skin to skin. 

You breathe out quietly. 

You would love to turn around and wake Charles with feather-light kisses on his warm skin, to continue where you left off last night. But for a moment, you want to enjoy his closeness, on this quiet morning after Christmas, before you have to return to reality and everyday life.

You slide closer to him, press yourself against him and breathe in his scent. His warm breath gently caresses your neck as he cuddles his face into the curve between your head and your shoulder. His lips ghost gently over the soft skin there before he absentmindedly and as if it were the most natural thing in the world presses a kiss on the spot on your neck. 

His hand, which was still resting on the bed sheet, lies flat on your stomach to press you tightly against him before it searches for the warmth of your body. Hesitantly, it slides under your shirt before finding its firm place on your naked skin. Although he is sleeping, Charles spreads his fingers so that some of his fingertips gently slide under the hem of your shorts and remain there.

You have to suppress a deep sigh to avoid waking Charles, although there is nothing else you would rather do. 

His words almost repeat themselves in your thoughts in your thoughts – “You have a few holes I can fill to keep me occupied” – and the mere thought of it makes you have to press your thighs together. 

How it would feel to have him pressed against you. His weight on yours. How it would feel to fall apart on his cock, drunk on pleasure and his lips on your heated skin as he uses you as he pleases. Filling your pussy again and again and again, maybe even your – 

You feel your arousal pooling in your shorts and decide to get out of bed before you jump Charles' bones, not wanting to wake him up for sex – or something remotely close to it. 

Carefully and slowly, you slide his arm off your heated body and gently lay it on the mattress so you can get up without waking him. You immediately miss the feeling of his warm skin on yours and you would love to snuggle back under the covers, kiss his chest and let him touch you until you see stars. But when you look at him, his eyes closed and a faint smile on his face, you decide to let him sleep. 

He would be leaving for training camp soon and you wouldn't see each other for a few days. He will surely need all the sleep he can get before Andrea will be demanding and exhausting him to the bone there. 

In the bathroom, you quietly slip into a pair of leggings and a large turtleneck sweater, then leave the room on your tiptoes, but not without looking back at Charles. He is now lying on your side of the bed, on his back and with one arm behind his head. His other hand is on his naked chest. He has kicked the blanket away, so it is lying at his feet – and you can see a dark spot on his gray boxer shorts. Right where it stretches over his boner. 

You quickly look away, slip out of the bedroom and quietly close the door behind you. You tiptoe through the house, not knowing whether the rest of the Leclerc family is still asleep or already up and about, and make your way down the stairs towards the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” Pascale smiles at you as you enter the room. She is standing at the humming coffee machine, a dark red cup is under it. "Did you sleep well?”

You smile back at her. “Yes, thank you,” you reply. You don't mention that you slept well because her son gave you a mindblowing orgasm for Christmas and called you “his good girl.” 

The coffee machine stops humming and Pascale reaches for the coffee cup. “I'm glad. The bed is quite old and I was a little worried that it might be too uncomfortable.” She takes a sip of the hot coffee before looking at you. “I hope you enjoyed our Christmas.”

You can't hide a broad smile. “It was perfect.”

Pascale smiles sadly. “Well, it hasn't been perfect for a long time,” she replies quietly, and even without her saying it, you know that she misses her husband very much. She looks into her cup and clutches it with her fingers as if it were the last straw. Mama Leclerc takes a deep breath. “But with each year it becomes more bearable. And now that you're here and Charles is finally smiling again –” she gently lays her hand on your cheek, "- it's getting easier for me, too."

You see the tears in her eyes and before you can stop yourself, you hug her so hard she almost spills her coffee. "Thank you, Pascale," you whisper. ”For taking me in.”

She puts her free arm around you. “You don't have to thank me for that, cherié. You make Charles happy – I can't thank you enough for that.” As you pull away from each other, she smiles gently. “This home is now yours too. No matter what may come.” She presses a fleeting kiss on your cheek. “I wanted to start breakfast right away. Would you like to help me? I just have to take care of something, but you can prepare the dough for the pancakes. You can find the recipe in the cookbook over there. I'll be right back – make yourself at home.” And without saying another word, she leaves the kitchen, leaving you in silence. 

Without hesitation, you open cupboards and drawers, looking for all the necessary utensils and ingredients to prepare the dough for the pancakes. Pascale's cookbook is in French, but you understand it well enough to start preparing the meal without any problems. 

As you weigh the flour and pour it into a large bowl, you hear footsteps behind you. You turn around and see Charles standing in the doorway. His hair is standing on end in all directions and when his eyes meet yours, he seems to breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Good morning,“ you smile at him and turn back to the bowl to add the sugar to the flour. "Did you sleep well?"

You hear his soft steps and then feel his arms wrap around your middle to press you against his chest. ”Very well,“ he whispers. "But to be honest, I missed you when I woke up.”

Goosebumps spread across your skin as he gently and slowly slides his hands under your sweater. “I didn't want to wake you.”

His fingers dig briefly into your sides as he turns you towards him. “I thought for a moment – you were –” He takes a deep breath. “I was afraid that you had disappeared. That last night was just – I don't know – that I imagined it.”

You smile at him and put your hands on his chest. “You didn't. Don't worry.”

Charles returns your smile. “Thank God,” he replies. “I couldn't bear it if we weren't friends anymore.”

Friends. Friends. Friends.

The word repeats itself in your thoughts like a broken record – but that's okay, you think. You take what you can get from him. Even if it's only physical and it ultimately breaks your heart. 

You'd rather have some of him than none at all. 

You raise your hand and let your fingertips gently glide over his cheekbone. “Don't you ever worry your pretty head about that. I promised you I'm not going anywhere.” 

He reaches for your hand and kisses your knuckles. “You better not,” he smiles against your fingers. “And even if you did go, I'd follow you anywhere.” He leans his forehead against yours and his warm breath caresses your face. The palm of his hand, which was just on your back, slides down under the hem of your leggings and grabs your ass. “And there's nothing that can stop me.”

"There's no way I have to close my eyes every time I enter a room,” complains Arthur, holding his hand in front of his eyes. 

Charles rolls his eyes before he digs his fingers briefly into your butt and then moves away from you a little. “Don't act like you're all innocent,” grins the middle Leclerc and winks at you before he goes to wash his hands in the sink.

Arthur purses his lips. “At least I'm not doing it in the middle of the kitchen.”

“Who's doing it in the middle of the kitchen?” Pascale asks, returning to the kitchen with a large basket. She glances around briefly before placing the basket on the counter. Then she puts her hands on her hips, as if waiting for an answer. 

“No one, Maman. No one would dare do that here,” Charles smiles and hugs his mother before giving her a fleeting kiss on the cheek. He glances into the basket. ”Did you really prepare croissants?” 

Mama-Leclerc rolls her eyes and gently pushes her son away. “I have. They just need to go in the oven and then we can have breakfast.” She looks at you. “How are you doing with the dough for the pancakes, cherié?”

“Not very well,” Arthur grins and takes a cup out of the cupboard to put it under the coffee machine. "I think she was quite distracted."

Charles gives his little brother a weak slap on the back of the head. "We'll take care of everything, Maman.”

Pascale raises an eyebrow. “Very well. The croissants need to be in the oven for twenty minutes. In that time, you two take care of the pancakes and Arthur, please set the table,” she orders before disappearing back out the door.

Arthur sighs. “Where are Charlotte and Enzo, anyway? Why aren't they helping?”

Your roommate shrugs and takes the milk out of the fridge and pours it into a measuring cup before pouring it over the flour and sugar. “I don't know. But it's not the first time that Enzo has shirked.”

While the brothers are complaining about where the oldest Leclerc son and his girlfriend are, you prepare the dough. Charles puts the croissants on the baking sheet and slides them into the oven, and Arthur puts the dishes on the table, along with Nutella and jam, before disappearing to change. 

You flip a pancake in the hot pan. “It's been a long time since I enjoyed Christmas,” you suddenly confess, even surprised by your honesty. 

Charles takes a plate out of the cupboard and puts it next to the stove so that you can put the finished pancakes on it straight away. “What do you mean?” He leans against the worktop and looks at you, his fingers curved around the edge. 

You hesitantly place the spatula on the pancake and press it onto the bottom of the pan. “My parents were never the kind of people who thought Christmas was important,” you explain. “They were always at work, so I was always home alone on those days.”

The Monegasque tilts his head. “Did you at least have a Christmas tree? Or presents?”

You purse your lips and shake your head before you take the finished pancake out of the pan and heat up another dollop of dough. “A Christmas tree, yes, but it was made of metal and therefore not particularly Christmassy. There were presents, but I think only so that they wouldn't feel guilty about not being there.” 

It is the first time that you have spoken openly about your parents. Somewhere inside you, there is a nagging feeling that it is not right to speak badly of the people who raised you, but putting them in a good light would not be the truth. And there is no one in this world whom you trust as much as the man watching you carefully turn the pancake.

“Sounds pretty lonely."

You nod slightly. ”It was. With lawyers as parents, it was never easy. You can imagine the path in life they had planned for me. And how disappointed they were when I wanted to do a creative job. They wanted a small, perfect law student – and they got an unemployed photographer.”

Charles apparently senses how difficult it is for you to talk about your parents, because he takes the spatula out of your hand and puts it aside to pull you close. He gently combs his fingers through your hair until his fingertips rest on the back of your neck and he lifts your head so you look at him. 

“First of all, you're no longer unemployed. Remember?” he smiles. His fingertips gently press into the muscles in the back of your neck. ‘Besides, you're perfect just the way you are. There's nothing I would change about you.’ His gaze wanders from your eyes down to your lips and further down to your turtleneck sweater. ”Except for the clothes, maybe.”

You look down at yourself in puzzlement. “Why? Do I look that bad?”

“Not necessarily bad,” he suddenly whispers. “But I think I'd like you better without clothes.” His voice has dropped an octave and goes through your skin and bones, vibrating inside you and making your panties suddenly stick to you. Charles puts his thumb under your chin and gently caresses your jaw. “I would love to carry you upstairs and repeat last night – but this time without clothes.” He leans forward a little and kisses your forehead before pulling back a little and meeting your eyes again. ‘You are absolutely perfect,’ he repeats emphatically. ”And you'll never have to spend another Christmas alone. Not as long as I'm around. My family is your family now, too.”

He lets go of you and reaches for the pan, preventing the pancake from burning behind you. You can only watch him silently, with the skill with which he swings the pan. The veins in his forearm and hand are bulging, and even if you wanted to, you definitely couldn't take your eyes off him. 

How did he manage to turn a conversation about your parents into one where you want to drop to your knees in front of him and – 

“How much longer for the croissants?” Pascale asks as she re-enters the kitchen, bowls of fruit in her hands.

“Not much longer,” Charles replies, placing the last pancake on the stack before setting it on the dining table. He pulls out a chair and smiles at you. ”Why don't you sit down, mon amour? I'll take care of the rest.”

A few minutes later, the whole room is filled with the aroma of warm pastries and coffee, and most of the Leclerc family gathers at the table. Charles, who is not forced to sit on the uncomfortable stool due to the absence of his older brother, takes a seat next to you and slides so close to you that he almost sits on your chair. His knee presses comfortably against yours and he gently places his hand on your thigh. 

But there is nothing sexual about the touch. It is comforting, soothing, and warm. An assurance that you are not alone – and never have to be alone again. 

When Arthur puts the first pancake on his plate, Charlotte and Enzo join them. 

“I'm sorry, Maman,” he apologizes and kisses her briefly on the forehead. ‘We didn't mean to be rude.’ He sits down on the uncomfortable stool across from you – but not without giving Charles a dirty look – and Charlotte sits down across from you. A broad smile is painted on her face.

She is also wearing a dark red turtleneck with a beautiful bow. The sleeves are pulled up over her hands and on her left ring finger is... a ring?

You open your eyes wide and Charlotte catches your glance. Her grin extends almost from ear to ear. 

“But we have a good reason for being late,” Enzo interrupts your train of thought and looks at the woman next to him with a look that is dripping with love and happiness. He grabs her hand before raising it to his lips and kissing her knuckles so that everyone can see the diamond on her finger. 

Pascale jumps up from her chair as if stung by an adder. “Oh my goodness!” she almost screams, causing Arthur to drop his fork in shock. 

“We're engaged,” Charlotte announces, showing off the rock on her finger. 

Suddenly there is alot of noise, everyone gets up from their seats and congratulates the happy couple. You first embrace Enzo and then Charlotte, who squeezes you tightly. 

“I'm so happy for you,” you smile and examine the ring, which suits her perfectly. 

“Thank you,” she replies, unable to contain her joy. She fidgets from one foot to the other like a little kid. "I never would have thought that he would ask me to marry him on Christmas of all days." She hugs you again. "This is going to be so great! I can't wait to start planning!" You glance over at Enzo, who playfully rolls his eyes. Charlotte kisses her fiancé on the cheek. “Don't pretend. You asked me voluntarily!”

“I did,” he smiles at her. “And I don't regret it for a second.”

Pascale, trying to hide the tears in her eyes, claps her hands. “I wish your father was here to see this,” she smiles. “He would have been very happy for you.” 

“Thank you, Maman.“ Enzo kisses his mother on the cheek before he wants to sit down again.

”You certainly won't sit on the stool,” Mama-Leclerc replies, glancing over at Charles, who is trying to hide behind you. ”Charles! Swap your chair with the groom! I want them to be as comfortable as possible today!”

“But Maman –” the Monegasque tries to change her mind, but when he catches the loving and tearful look in his mother's eyes, he falls silent. Without another word, he and his big brother swap chairs, so that in the end he is sitting on the stool again. He puts his hand back on your thigh as if this were its rightful place. 

“Tell me! When did you ask her? How did you ask her? Have you already talked about a date? Would you rather have it in summer or winter?“ Pascale's questions come thick and fast, making the whole table laugh. 

”Now don't bombard them like that,” Arthur laughs, just managing to duck before his mother can catch him with the napkin. ”Just let them - you know - talk.”

But Pascale isn't paying any attention to her youngest son. She rests her elbow on the table, puts her chin in the palm of her hand, and looks at the newly engaged couple. “Well? At what point did you realize you wanted to ask her?”

Enzo grabs the hand of his fiancée and looks at her, smiling. “It was actually a very mundane moment,” he begins to tell the story, but you are not listening. 

You feel Charles's warm and loving gaze on you, and when you look at him, he smiles at you. You hear Enzo's voice as if through cotton wool, telling of a movie night and how he had told an incredibly bad joke that Charlotte found so awful that she had to laugh at it for twenty minutes. 

Your focus is on Charles, his warm gaze, his heavy hand on your thigh. You smile at him and a sparkle flashes in his eyes. 

“There is no one in this world that I love more than her,” Enzo finally says. 

There is no one in this world that I love more than you, Charles. 

And as if he were interpreting your gaze, as if he knew what was written in your thoughts, he gently squeezes your thigh. Twice.

[oxymorayuri]

❞𝑊𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙.❝

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: Law/Ace/Doffy: pol | Kid: ダイコン

Headcanons » Law ✧ Ace ✧ Kid ✧ Doflamingo Wordcount » 1873 Info » Fem reader, mature/kinky things but also fluffy and cute

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝐷. 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑎𝑤

» When you read something to him: Usually you're with Law in his study, even when the two of you are doing separate things. He's mostly working on some plans or studying medical books while you're quietly reading a book on the sofa, simply enjoying each other's presence. Some days, however, you decide to read in the library. There is a big and cozy reading corner with lots of cushions and blankets, as it is always cold in the Polar Tang. The reason why you love reading there is because of the large bull's eye that reveals the secrets of the sea. Sometimes you sink into your thoughts and dream of the future as you gaze out into the blue, not even realizing how Law quietly sneaks under your blanket. Only when he takes you in his arms and presses you against him, you come back to yourself and drop your book. You talk briefly about the day so far, what you've done and then he lays his head on your lap. You brush his hair out of his face, he looks a little tired and has come to you to relax. You are his safe place, just as he is yours. You know immediately what to do and turn a few pages in another book.... "I assume we're having our little reading session again today, darling?" It's become like an unwritten rule for you, that when he lies down on your lap, you read to him and then take a nap together. Law looks at you with one eye open and grins, as you turn to the page where you left off last time. He likes the way you change your voice depending on what is happening in the story and after a while he is so relaxed that he falls asleep. When you hear his light snoring, you smile at him lovingly and put the bookmark on the current page before putting the book aside. You snuggle up to him and enjoy the peacefulness.

» Your fragrance: The perfume you wear and your own scent have a better effect on him than lavender and directly soothes his senses. You smell like home to him. When you are together with the others and you lean on his shoulder, he always tries to discreetly place a kiss on your head. Your hair always smells like fresh lemon, but rather light and refreshing. You don't like classy and expensive fragrances and prefer things to be natural and simple. Your scent is like aromatherapy for Law and that's a secret you'll never discover.

» Your hips: Law is pretty good at keeping his face under control, but when you're wearing a crop top and showing your hips, you can see the blush on his cheeks. He really has a fetish for your curves and your belly. He places a thousand kisses on your tender skin as he goes down further towards your private parts. His lips fly so softly over your skin that you can barely feel them. When he's on top of you he loves to grab you by the hips to pull you towards him. Skillful hands caress your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you arch your back because of all those tender touches. The squeezing sensation builds up in your lower middle and you literally beg him to release you. Law is someone who likes to try out lots of positions, preferably ones where he can grab you by the hips to guide you. While he is still on top of you, he pulls you towards him and turns so that he is now underneath you and you are sitting on his dick. You are visibly surprised by the sudden change of position and need a moment before you start riding him. However, Law doesn't give you a second, moves along your thigh to your hips and moves you up and down. The forthcoming penetration makes you see stars and after you both reach your peak, you let yourself fall exhausted onto his chest. He kisses your forehead tenderly and caresses your hips as you both calm your breathing.

𝑃𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑔𝑎𝑠 𝐷. 𝐴𝑐𝑒

» The wrinkles around your eyes when you laugh: Your laugh alone makes him turn around as soon as he hears it, but the little wrinkles on your face are another level. He also shows no shame and stares into your face lovingly. Of course, you don't miss his stares and his answer to why he's staring at you so intensely was simple: "Your wrinkles are so adorable when you laugh.". He then had to convince you that he finds them charming, as you don't exactly find your wrinkles cute. In your eyes, they're more of a sign that you're ageing. His reaction afterwards was almost funny, because now it was him who was offended. In his eyes, the wrinkles only mean what a cheerful person you are.

» Your skin: Your skin is so soft and gives off a warmth that he doesn't even have, even though he's pure heat himself. lol. If the guy doesn't feel your skin on his, he feels like he's hypothermic. Nevertheless, he would never get on your nerves, he rather keeps it to himself how much he longs for your skin. That means he'll take every chance he gets to touch you. You're cooking? He will of course help you by hugging you from behind, putting his hand over yours and you two stir together :D He loves it when you sunbathe. Not only is it a nice sight for him to ogle you while you sizzle in the sun, it's also the perfect opportunity to touch you intimately in public. (Ace is definitely the type to have sex in public. Nicely on the beach while the sun goes down *-*) He definitely has a lot sunscreen in stock, even if he doesn't need it for himself, but it gives him one more reason to feel your skin without being intrusive. He applies the cream very thoroughly and definitely every 2 hours. At first you thought he was very sweet and attentive because you couldn't reach all the spots, then you realized that he just wanted a opportunity to grope you… But you won't say anything against it because you enjoy how thoroughly he massages the suncream into your skin.

𝐸𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝐾𝑖𝑑

» How you dance: No matter how full the pub is, his eyes are always on you and follow your rhythmical movements. His breathing slows down while your hips move seductively. You are a passionate woman but you dance just for yourself and simply enjoy the music as it moves through your body. Kid sometimes doesn't even notice when one of his crew members is talking to him… mostly it takes him a moment or two to react. He also finds it very satisfying to watch you reject other men. He feels proud. However, if someone touches you, he doesn't hesitate and intervenes aggressively. Just look and don't touch is the motto. You also like the way he gets angry and intervenes, so you happily snuggle up to him while you make a face at the other guy. Kid doesn't seem like it, but it takes a while before he forgives you for being such a hottie that other men keep coming crawling up to you. You enjoy it though, because it's almost cute how a tough guy like him pouts. However, he will forgive you... at the latest when you dance for him in your shared bedroom, in private ;)

» Your quick wit: Well, you do not only bark, you also bite. The Crew knows that and those who don't know you will find out soon enough! Kid never has to get involved when you're arguing with others. You're eloquent and if necessary you'll hit them! But don't worry, he's always keeping an eye on you and if you show him that you need his help, he won't hesitate and will happily take over the beating.

» Your relationship with his crew: Even if you are the captain's lover, it doesn't mean that you have automatically earned the respect of his crew... But it didn't take long for everyone to consider you one of them. For Heat, for example, you're like a little sister and you're probably the only one he's okay with when she cries (He hates crybabys, lol). The first person you really became friends with was Killer, and not just because Kid told him to look after you when he couldn't himself. It's actually because you both like spaghetti, while the others are already sick of it and you're an insane cook. The first time you cooked spaghetti, he liked it so much that he ate all the leftovers at night. This is especially important for Kid, because if his people don't love you, why should he?

𝐷𝑜𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑜

» Your appearance: Doflamingo is an obsessive narcissist. He may love you in his own twisted way but he always says he owns you. He proudly displays you by his side and that's why your looks are important. In Doffy's eyes, you wouldn't be his queen if you weren't the most beautiful woman in the world. People who disagree with him will lose their lives faster than they would like… Because how dare they think that a man like him doesn't have the most beautiful wife. Not because you are incredibly beautiful (which is definitely true) but because Donquixote Doflamingo will only have the most beautiful woman by his side. (Know the difference..)

» How you moan his name: Doffy loves to get the softest sounds out of you while he fucks you into madness. "Say my name, my angel." You look up at him hesitantly. You can't think straight as he hammers into you, his movements are vigorous but so skillful that it doesn't hurt. It just feels so good when his tip triggers your G spot. Since Doflamingo isn't even waiting for you, he casually wraps a hand around your slender neck, forcing you to keep your gaze upright. You feel so intimidated when you look into his eyes… When you are intimate with each other, you have the honor of looking into his eyes. His gaze burns itself into your brain and if you're honest, you feel powerless. When you finally let yourself be overtaken by all your feelings, you can't help but release them through your voice. You are incredibly turned on by the way his elegant hand slowly takes your breath away and you arch your back. "Oh Doffy…" With these two words, you let the last bit of air out of your lungs and let your head fall back. "Fufufufu… My beautiful angel, don't stop singing for me." You completely let go of your embarrassment and give yourself completely to him. Your sweet sounds have an electrifying effect on him, feelings are released in his body that he can't identify, he only knows that he won't leave you to anyone. Your voice belongs to him alone and he decides to let the whole castle hear how he ruins you.

Masterlist

Hope you like it, I'm off to the land of dreams, good night :3

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒚𝒖𝒓𝒊 ♡

[raitonsfw]

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: | 1 | Nagito was obsessed with your pussy, the slick that leaked from it, and the graces of hope that poured from your precious lips. | 2 | Nagito absolutely adored you – in all of your flowered expressions – and for valentine's day, you both picked out the perfect position for the two of you. | 3 | Maybe Nagito shouldn't of been so condescending during the first trial, because now he was tied up within your grasp and it seemed like you'd never touch him– even if he begged. | 4 | When you first met Nagito, you couldn't stop staring at him– and his thighs that smoothed under his shorts. Now he's lying back for you... letting you do as you please.

warnings: 18+ mdni, fem! reader, smut... | 1 | pussy worship, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus, orgasm (reader), petnames (honey, my beautiful hope), nagito likes talking to your pussy. | 2 | lotus position, soft!nagito, loving, sensual, caring sex, orgasm (both), praises, petnames (honey, baby), nagito's a lil clingy, a bit more rough in the end but not by much. | 3 | tied up and submissive, sub!nagito, sdr2!nagito, begging & pleading, edging, mentions of sex toys, teasing, slight degrading, nagito begs for reader to touch him but is refused each time, allusion to first trial (no spoilers except his switch up). | 4 | thigh worship, boyfriend!nagito, body worship, massaging, licking, hickeys, handjob, masturbation, nagito lets you do whatever you want to his thighs as long as he can get off too, slight mention of scars (udg canon)

a/n: i tried to make them as blunt as possible tag wise so we know whose is who though everyone had a fairly different idea in their v-day thirsts so i think were good on that aspect. i had four in total for the lucky boy, making him my lead character. (honestly me too though, im obsessed with him so this wasnt much of a surprise) wc: 600ish each v-day m.list | m.list

thirst count: 4

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

| 1 |

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you?” 

Nagito’s not talking about you– to you even, he’s between your legs. You looked down from where you were planted, laying amongst the soft blankets he had taken the courtesy to place between you and the mattress. His hair was disheveled, some of its white fluff sticking out in different directions on top before falling down against his shoulders in a pale cream. That wasn’t your doing, it was normally like that. But you wished it was your doing– the way he’d whimper out as you pulled on it made you see stars sometimes. But this wasn’t about him, it was about you– as you’re splayed out in front of him, waiting for him to make a luckful gesture.

You whined as his forefinger swiped through the collected arousal that stuck to your folds, but it didn’t push past your entrance and a quiet chuckle sounded from the edge of the bed as you clenched around nothing. 

“Ah, she’s crying for me…” He cooed, sucking his finger into the cavern of his mouth and he stared at you for a minute as you calmed yourself down again. “There we go… back to normal?” 

“N-Nagito… please do something.” You whimpered, your legs fully spread open and you could feel yourself leaking all over the gray blanket beneath you. Thankfully, you spurred him on a bit and he positioned himself eye level with your cunt now. 

“Patience.” He commanded softly, pressing a feathered kiss against your swollen clit. His eyes had fluttered shut with a quiet hum as he tasted you against his tongue, laving at the raised bud languidly. Pleasure washed over you as he finally caved in, after who knows how long– God, he was mean sometimes… all because he wanted to admire every crevice of your body, of your precious pussy.

You felt more of your slick pour out of you, into his open palm that he placed underneath you. Nagito tucked it slightly against your thighs and as the fluid spilled between his fingers, he pulled off your clit with a wet noise to focus on the glistening mess. “Oh, you’re so sensitive… I haven’t even fully touched you yet.”

You were quick to open your mouth, it was obvious he was still praising your leaking hole but as you went to object and plead for him to do something– anything, his fingers slipped inside thoughtfully. 

“She’s such a good girl for me…already squeezing the tips of my fingers– Ah!” Nagito let out a surprised sound, a doe look flushing his face, as you started to fuck down against his hand with utter desperation for anything he had to give you. “So needy… for someone like me? Thank you…”

He curled them upwards, grazing over your sweet spot and it took everything in you not to clasp your thigh shut around his arm from the sensation. You were so neurotic, your senses shot to dust as another chuckle echoed off his cottage walls. His other hand rested against your left thigh, it made you shiver as it was cold against your skin and you warmed up to the fact that he was soothing you– Nagito was rubbing soft circles into the flesh of it as he brought you to your high. 

“Go on, honey.” He was finally talking to you now, his gray eyes glancing up towards yours and you fell apart against his fingers. He cooed at you through it, soft remarks falling from his lips like ‘that’s it, my beautiful hope’ and ‘did so well, love you so much’ while your pent up arousal leaked all over his palm. You muffled your moan, the back of your hand pressing up against your lips and your eyes squeezed shut as you shuddered into his still caressing fingertips. 

It took you a minute to come down from your high and as you did, you noticed Nagito still hovering between your legs– his eyes devout of lust. 

“‘M going to clean you up now, hope you don’t mind.”

| 2 |

“You okay?” Nagito asked you, his arms holding you close into his chest. His cock was nestled deep inside you as you huffed out a quiet sigh, adjusting to the position you two agreed upon. Your legs hugged his backside and you were utterly exposed in his eyes as they scanned over your face for any cause of concern. 

“Yeah, I’m okay baby.” You nodded with a small smile, bringing one of your hands from his shoulder to his cheek and you leaned in to press a poised kiss against his lips. Nagito hummed into the kiss, his fingertips trailing down your back lovingly as he further deepened the kiss. He hasn’t moved inside you yet, completely entranced in the intimacy that doused the both of you like a spell as both of your eyes had slipped shut– just reveling in the touch of one another. But when you grinded subtly against the length of his cock, he panted into your mouth and his hands slipped down to grab at your waist– an indication he needed to move inside you.

You made the first full move, gently lifting yourself up and planting back down in a gentle manner and he was putty within your arms. A quiet moan left his lips and he tilted his head back, which gave you access to litter his pale neck with hickeys. Nagito held you with one arm now as he leaned back, his other pressing into the mattress to stabilize his movements as he started thrusting up into you now. 

“Oh my God… Y/N– you feel so good…” He breathed out, his eyes opening and flickering down towards where you bruised a hickey into his collarbone and his hips stuttered into you as you bit down. You looked up at him through your lashes and he only moaned out more, trying to get you to bounce more on him now. You noticed how his hips rolled right into you, lazy– unhurried and it turned you on even more as you started to let out sounds of your own. 

His cock brushed against your sweet spot and your nerves stood straight up, tiny whimpers pouring out of your mouth now as you rocked down in time with his thrusts now. “Nagito– right there, please, do that again…”

“Whatever you want, honey.” His eyes were completely focused on you as you intertwined your hands around the back of his neck and you threaded your fingers into his hair. You pushed his head towards your neck, which he took the leisure to kiss at it– sucked a few marks down it as you bounced earnestly on him now. Every jolt of his cock sent you into a frenzy, your head burying deep in his precious hair to try to hide the fucked out look that spread on your face. 

It didn’t last long as he murmured against your skin ‘why’re hiding from me? come back down, i miss you…’ and his hands pulled you down by your shoulders, his cock nestling deep into you. You whimpered out as it pressed directly against your cervix and you could feel the dull pleasure within your tummy as you edged closer to your release. 

“C’mon, baby…” Nagito’s fingers traced the swell of your clit and you threw your head back, your walls nearly choking his cock as you came all over it. “T-That’s it, knew you’d do so good for me…” 

His thrusts had sped up, fucking you through your orgasm and he was practically bouncing you on his own now, chasing his climax with low groans leaving his lips. “Baby… ‘M so close– just a little more, you can take it.” 

His eyes screwed shut moments after and his jaw fell slack as he came in you, lazily pumping into you as he shuddered through his orgasm. Quiet breathy moans escaped him as you felt his cock twitch, his fingers gripping the back of your shoulders in a close hug. 

“Love you lots, should do that again soon…” Nagito babbled on afterwards while letting you fall against him in a cuddle, not bothering to pull yourselves fully apart.

| 3 |

Nagito’s eyes brimmed with cupidity from where he was tied up– his legs and arms bound behind him as he tried to roll over to look at you. You had positioned yourself against his back, your palms caressing the sweat that glistened on his chest. You hummed softly as a sob wracked Nagito’s body when you tweaked one of his nipples with lithe fingers, compliant words spilling from his lips. 

“Y/N, fuck me already.” The words were nothing but a rasp, his hair fluffing as his head hit the pillow again in defeat when your hand pulled away.

“That’s not how you ask.” 

“Please– fuck me please… I’ll do anything–” Nagito groaned and you could see the anguish of his face even as he faced away from you. His cheeks burned with hotness, a flush he couldn’t escape as it trailed down his pale chest. His eyes were squeezed shut in agony as he tried to rut into the mattress, but you wouldn’t let him as you hooked him back by his rope. He let out another whine, tears falling freely from his eyes as he looked back at you with a saddened pout. “Please… I swear– just touch me.”

 You smoothed his hair down, threading your fingers through it as you reached for the waistband of his boxers. A short whimper escaped him as you pulled out his cock, aweing at the sight of it lying against his tummy. You felt bad, but then again– who was the one who was being a brat during the first trial? Nagito was lucky he was saved from the cold confines of the ground in the old building, he should be thankful that he was tied against the comfort of your bed. 

“Nagito dear…” You cooed, your fingers ghosting over the tip as it dripped precum onto the sheets. He shook with anticipation as he watched them intensely. Oh, the relief he was going to feel when you finally wrapped your hand around his aching cock– he’s been like this for hours now and you hadn’t let up one bit in your teasing. 

You’ve driven him on the brink of madness several times, by playing with his nipples and hovering your lips over everywhere you could reach. You’ve showcased your collection of sex toys, buttplugs and whatnot with jewels littering the bed before him and he’d whine for any of them but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of one. You needed to show Nagito that everything wasn’t set in stone– when you act like a condescending asshole, this is to be expected.

And all he wanted was your touch– exactly where you’ve abandoned him. His cock had been flushed red for God knows how long and it was starting to really hurt. Nagito pulled at the rope against his wrists, struggling against them and you tutted at him with a long sigh. “None of that, please. I’ve worked real hard on those knots.” 

He instantly obeyed because maybe, just maybe you’d touch him if he was good. Maybe if he begged… “Please, Y/N… I need you. Pleasepleaseplease, need your hand– I’ll be good, I promise. Next trial I’ll be good…”

Next trial? You wiped that thought from your mind as your hand drifted to his cock again. Quiet mutters fell from his lips, more like empty pleads that didn’t make sense and you sighed in defeat as you moved him over to straddle him. You planted yourself right against his knees, taking in the wrecked figure in front of you. Tears stained his cheeks, his dull eyes rimmed with red, and a fucked out expression painted his face as he realized what you were about to do. An unstable, yet warm still leveled his lips.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” 

“A-Anywhere…I don’t care–! Thank you…” 

| 4 |

When you looked at him the first time, his legs stuck out to you– the tall lengthy figure that sat near the edge of Jabberwock. You didn’t know him then and someone from the island introduced you and all you could think of was how perfect your head would fit between his legs down under. As you shook Nagito’s hand in greeting, you knew you needed to know everything about him, the moon and stars nudging you further. 

He wore shorts underneath the dusk, the hotness of the island wafting over the both of you and his hair fluffed with humidity as you two sat against the sand, overlooking the beach. Your eyes would keep drifting towards the plushness of his thighs as he sat criss crossed on the beach, taking in your every word– naturally by the end of the night, you had him wrapped around your finger.

And here he was, pressed back into the divet of your mattress with sighs and pants spilling from his lips. Now you two had a label between you months later and he was entirely open to you, letting you adore his thighs. Your hand had slipped up and down his cock lazily, giving him some friction as you pressed your lips against the flesh of his right thigh. Your other hand fondled at the other, circling the scars that adapted to his skin and you hummed contently. 

Nagito knew you loved his thighs, saw you drooling over them the first time you both had met underneath the darkened sun. And he was intrigued, so he bit at the line you fed him and this is where it got him– you practically praising, worshipping him like he was an esteemed deity– all for the granted hope of his body. 

He was lucky.

“Y/N…” You heard from above you and your eyes met his, glancing up quickly and taking in his lust rimmed eyes. “Admiring me again?” 

You nodded, your tongue darting out to lap at a bruise you made a few hours prior when you had him splayed out for you before breakfast. You sped up your hand that encased his cock in pleasure, a sharp inhale emitting from him. “And what about it?”

“Ah- N-Nothing…” He groaned out, his head falling back onto the pillows with a slight arch in his back. You smoothed your hand over his milky thigh once again, suckling a new mark into the soft flesh and you felt Nagito jolt a bit. You hazily giggled as his lengthy hand wrapped around yours on his cock. 

He practically gave you permission to bury your face between his thighs as he lightened his grip to let you pull away, both of your hands now pillowing against his thighs– you were so thankful as he pressed them slightly together, your cheek resting against one of them as you toyed with the other. 

Nagito’s hand sped up on himself as you pinched softly, the sharp sting running through his spine and you heard his breathing get more raspier. His hand movements had gotten sloppier too, more uncoordinated as you licked a heavy stripe up the inside of his thigh. 

You clenched your legs together as you felt his body tremble, nearing his orgasm and you felt as though you could watch him from this angle forever. His pale slender thighs shook like a leaf as he fell apart, spurting all over his hand with a quiet gasp and you tried your best to contain yourself. 

But once Nagito came down from his high, your teeth were nipping at his thighs again– your hands massaging near his hips and he happily let you do as you pleased. 

[peachdues]

rejoice everyone, my sex drive as returned with a vengeance.

MDNI. Explicit sexual content.

Inside your apartment offers little relief from the suffocating heat and humidity.

The air is thick with the scent of sex, musky and heady. Sweat sticks your hair to your forehead, slides down the side of your neck to join the thin sheen coating the rest of your skin. Above you, Sanemi fares no better, the ends of his hair having turned a muted gray from the moisture that’s gathered just above his brow.

The coarse hairs around his base are matted down against his skin, soaked from a combination of your cum and his. Still, the faint stimulation his groin offers against your clit with every feeble turn of his hips makes your thighs twitch and spasm where they lay draped over his.

One last, shallow thrust later and Sanemi stills. You hardly notice the shock of cold left behind as he pulls out and collapses next to you in a sweaty, panting heap. His little finger sneaks across the mussed blankets and interlocks with yours. It’s the only contact either of you can tolerate now; he knows it’s too hot for anything more.

“Jesus,” he pants, his voice hoarse from exertion. “That was fuckin’ incredible.”

Two weeks into your relationship with Sanemi and the novelty of it hasn’t worn off.

Despite the exhaustion sitting heavily in your limbs, you can’t help but smile. It’s what he says every time after you’ve finished, and it’s always with the same, breathless wonder.

Content, you roll to your stomach, kicking the blankets away where they tangled around your shins. You bury your face into the lumpy pillow and sigh, marveling at the gush of fluid from between your thighs that further dampens the sheets below.

You don’t mind; Sanemi will wash your sheets for you, anyway, like always. Besides, it may be hot and stuffy inside your apartment, but the warmth left behind by him is a welcome one; tangible proof of how thoroughly he’d just claimed you.

Sanemi is nothing short of thorough.

Exhausted though you are, you can’t help the flutter in your stomach as you feel his hand smooth up the back of your thigh, his fingers gently massaging your hamstring, and then your ass.

If he were to straddle your backside right now and slide into you from behind, you wouldn’t know how to object; wouldn’t want to, anyway.

He’s only taken you from behind twice in the weeks since you’ve begun sleeping together, but it’s rapidly become your favorite position by far. The first time had been slow; a lesson more than an indulgence, with Sanemi gently bending you over the side of your bed, his hands guiding your hips into place and pressing on your spine to deepen the arch of your back.

The second time had reduced you to tears.

There’d been no manipulation of your body that time. Instead, he’d shoved a pillow under your belly and mounted you, those big, strong hands of his holding you down by the small of your waist as he’d rutted into you, hard and deep. At first, you’d only managed a few, gasping squeaks, too focused on the way Sanemi’s thick tip battered away at that spot deep inside that made your toes curl.

One hand pinned your wrists to the small of your back while the other wound gently through your hair. With a firm tug, he pulled your head back, pausing only to press his lips softly to the crown of your head in quiet reassurance.

Then, came his command. Scream, baby. Show me how good I’m makin’ you feel.

Right on cue, Sanemi slammed his hips forward, pushing right into that painfully wonderful spot that made you see stars. He drew back and hit it again and again, and you couldn’t help but wail for him while your eyes rolled into your head, your throat, burning.

You’d ended up making an embarrassing mess atop your sheets, one that made your legs jerk and twitch so violently that Sanemi had been forced to pin them down by pressing his feet to your calves. Yet, he’d seemed to delight in your ruin, if his rumbling baritone groans had been any metric to go by. Certainly the increased force behind his thrusts as he fucked you harder into the mattress meant he hadn’t minded. Not one bit.

But if Sanemi wants to have you again, now, he doesn’t act on it. Instead, he finishes his appreciative knead against your ass and sits up, running a hand through his hair. From the corner of your eye, you spy him as he pretends to look back at you, half-asleep atop the messy heap of your pillows and blankets.

His quiet exhale of approval gives him away. He’s not admiring your post-sex beauty; his attention is locked squarely on the mess he’s left between your thighs.

He’s admiring his handiwork just as much as you are.

[sabrinasopposite]

santa doesn’t know u like i do ⋆⁺₊❅。

clark kent x fem! reader

i’ve been there through the good and bad

know how to make you laugh

kiss all your tears away, babe

only I can do that

summary °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ : its christmas eve in smallville and y/n can’t wait till tomorrow to give her self-made gift to clark kent.

The snow fell gently, blanketing Smallville in a shimmering hush, as though the world had been tucked into a silver-white quilt. Even the stars seemed to lean closer, curious to watch the scene unfold below. Y/N tugged her scarf tighter, her breath unfurling in soft clouds as she stepped lightly through the snow. Each crunch of her boots on the frosted path felt impossibly loud in the stillness, but her heart raced faster with every step, urging her forward.

When she reached Clark’s barn, the wooden door creaked softly as she pushed it open. A faint golden glow spilled out, illuminating the snow beneath her feet. Inside, the air was warm, infused with the scent of hay, woodsmoke, and something uniquely Clark—a comforting mixture of earthiness and calm.

Her gaze lifted to the loft, where light danced across the beams. She climbed the ladder carefully, peeking over the edge. The sight that greeted her made her heart skip a beat.

Clark was sprawled on a makeshift couch by the loft window, wrapped in a knitted blanket. A steaming mug of cocoa rested in his hand, and an open book lay balanced on his lap. The soft light made his features look impossibly gentle, his messy hair haloed by the glow. He looked like a painting—perfect and timeless.

At the creak of the ladder, he glanced up, his blue eyes widening for a moment before softening into a smile that warmed her more than the stove below.

“Y/N?” he said, setting his book aside. “What are you doing out here?”

“I...” She hesitated, her cheeks blooming pink. “I wanted to see you.” Her voice was soft, almost shy. “Merry Christmas, Clark.”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, his smile growing. “But it’s freezing outside. You could’ve waited until tomorrow.”

Y/N laughed, the sound filling the space like the chime of distant bells. She reached under her coat and pulled out a small package, its crimson wrapping crinkling in her hands. “I couldn’t wait. I wanted to give you this.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a teasing grin as he accepted the gift. “And here I thought Santa was the one sneaking into barns at night.”

“Santa doesn’t knit scarves,” she retorted, crossing her arms in mock indignation before breaking into a laugh.

He unwrapped the package carefully, his fingers brushing over the soft red scarf inside. His grin softened into something tender as he held it up, running his thumb along the stitches. “You made this?”

She nodded, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “I thought it might keep you warm up here. It’s not perfect, but—”

“It’s perfect,” he interrupted, already wrapping it around his neck. “I love it.”

Her heart swelled, and she looked down, pretending to straighten her coat to hide her smile. “I’m glad.”

Clark set his cocoa aside and walked to a small table tucked into the corner of the loft. From underneath it, he pulled out a box wrapped in silver ribbon. “Your turn,” he said, his tone a little more nervous now. “I, uh, didn’t know how to wrap this very well, but...” He trailed off, holding the box out to her.

Y/N took it, her fingers trembling slightly as she untied the ribbon. Inside, nestled against soft velvet, was a delicate necklace. The pendant was a heart, small and simple, but it seemed to shimmer with its own quiet light.

“Clark...” she whispered, her voice catching. “It’s beautiful.”

“It reminded me of you,” he said quickly, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink. “Something simple but... special. And full of love.” He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes flicking nervously to hers. “I just... wanted you to have it.”

Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted gently, echoing her earlier words.

He stepped behind her, brushing her hair aside as he fastened the necklace around her neck. His fingers lingered on her skin for a moment longer than necessary, and when he stepped back, his eyes traced the way the pendant rested just above her heart.

“Something beautiful,” he said softly, “just like you.”

Y/N reached up to touch the pendant, feeling its weight, its meaning. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but they didn’t fall. Instead, she looked at him with all the love she felt, unable to find words big enough to hold it. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I love it.”

Clark’s expression melted into something impossibly tender, his voice low as he replied, “I love you.” He reached for her hands, threading his fingers through hers.

For a moment, they stood there, the world outside the barn fading into nothingness. The snow whispered against the roof, the stars glittering beyond the window, but all Y/N could feel was the warmth of Clark’s presence, the steady beat of love between them.

Then, with a sudden grin, Clark reached to the side and held up a sprig of mistletoe. “I figured I’d keep this handy,” he said, his voice playful but his gaze filled with affection.

Y/N laughed, her breath misting between them. “You really planned this, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” he teased, leaning closer. “But I’d call it good planning.”

Their lips met, soft and unhurried, a kiss that felt like the first brush of sunlight after a long winter. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, warm and steady, that even the coldest nights couldn’t touch.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his, her voice a whisper. “Merry Christmas, Love.”

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart,” he replied, his voice as steady and full of warmth as the glow in his eyes. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

And as they settled back onto the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, the barn seemed to hold its breath around them, cradling their love like a secret too precious to let go.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 merry (early) christmas to everyone! its my gift to u and i hope u like a clark kent!

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ taglist: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23

[oceantornadoo]

price’s secret wife…just some comfort and fluff tbh

john heard a small knock, then the sound of his door being opened slowly, as if not to disturb. he tried to quell the adrenaline rush in his body, the need to tackle an incoming threat. it could only be one person, the one person he kept his door unlocked for.

there you were, his old oversized tshirt and boxers serving as your pajamas. you only wore them when you needed comfort, and when you were off duty. you were the one concerned with how it would look to the other soldiers on base, a female officer wearing her coworker’s name on the back of her shirt. if only they knew it was your legal name too. you perched comfortably on his bed, too tired to properly acknowledge him. he turned off his desk light, abandoning his paperwork in favor of his wife. his first and only priority. john sat next to you, spreading his thighs to make his lap bigger as he left his hands at his sides. he knew you like the back of his hand, knew you needed to sit in silence sometimes. you drained your social battery all day, giving out orders and dealing with subordinates. john was your rock, your lighthouse in the sea of duty. you leaned your head on his shoulder, the top of it scratching his beard. he leaned his on top of yours, taking your calloused hand into his own. he traced the lines of your palm slowly, pressing slightly to massage it. you hummed and he placed a kiss on your head, glad you were warming up out of your trance. “john…” you whispered, tucking your chin. “love?” he was a bit worried now. you still hadn’t looked at him.

your hand left his in favor of his shoulder as you turned your body to straddle him, your favorite seat in the world. you crossed your legs around him as you tucked your head into his neck, your hands exploring the taut muscles of his back. “hi baby.” you said into his neck, placing a kiss into the juncture of his neck, where his beard met smooth skin. his hands finally settled on your waist, massaging the skin there. “rough day?” you nuzzled further into him, giving him small nods as you tried to disappear into your husband and his comforting touch, “lost our target. set us back 3 months.” he hummed thoughtfully, his right hand leaving your waist as he threaded his fingers into your hair. his thumbs pressed against your scalp as you let out a small moan, becoming putty in his hands.

“‘s not your fault.”

“i know. still feels like it.”

“i know.”

the silence was comfortable, a warm blanket on a rainy day. your husband was a strong man, always strong for his task force, for the duty required of him. he hid it well, disarming with his muttonchops and fatherly nature, but there was stone under him, a fortress. with you, though, he was just a man with his wife. selfishly indulgent and unselfishly caring, open in only places you could reach.

“when are we retiring? getting that cottage where we always talked about.” he let out a small chuckle, kissing the crown of your head as he maneuvered to tuck you both in bed for the night. “whenever you want. you’re the one who keeps holding out.” he slipped you both under the covers. powerful arms able to keep you around him as he moved the blankets out of your way. “i know. seems like there’s always another mission. always another need to save the world.” his closeness wore you down, honesty running out of you like a faucet.

“what about our world? where we’re just husband and wife?” you hummed thoughtfully. john price was a man of duty, of loyalty, but at the end of the day, he had a man’s wants and needs. all he needed was you, safe, with him. “soon, baby. soon.” you weren’t lying. the next mission was your last. you needed him to yourself too much to pretend anymore. john was laying down now, your leg thrown over his legs as you spread your arms on his chest. “i love you.” you said into the darkness, eyes already closing at the comforting scent of his sheet detergent. “love you to the stars, sweetheart.” john price found elusive, peaceful sleep, comforted by your touch again.

—

are there two captains on the same base? i don’t care!

my first time writing price…tried to show his maturity without giving grandpa lol

[mrsbarnesblog]

Mattheo Riddle headcanons

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: what is it like dating Mattheo

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff, no mention of y/n, you can be in any house, spicy content under the warning

Author’s note: For all my Bucky fanfic readers, I'm sorry that I haven’t posted in almost a month. This December is just too overwhelming, and every time I tried to finish my fic, it felt like I was wasting my time. I literally just miss the ending, and I hope to finish it as soon as possible.

For my possible new followers and/or HP stans, Mattheo is my current obsession, and I’m literally head over heels for him. And you know what they say: if you can’t find a fanfic that you like, write it yourself. So yeah, I'm trying something new, and I have a few ideas that are poisoning my head every single minute lmao.

sorry if there are any mistakes. hope you’ll like it💘🎀

Mattheo was never that much of a playboy because he didn’t like to share his space and, well, communicate with people in general

Due to his family, he was really reserved and refused to be weak

You weren’t that popular in school, so he had never really noticed you but one day, you suddenly started hanging out with Pansy and he could not get you out of his head anymore

He hated it

He hated that you occupied all of his thoughts for at least a few weeks 

Tried to ignore his feelings for you as long as possible, but from the moment you two had to work together on the project, everything went downhill 

He was scared to ask you out, not ready to be rejected by the only person he genuinely liked and thinking that maybe you secretly hated him like everyone else

At the beginning of the relationship, Mattheo told you that sometimes he might get cold and distant, but it wasn’t your fault and that you should just give him some time 

Mattheo is romantic and for his favorite girl, he always arranged the best dates

He was nervous to kiss you after the first date when he walked you to your dorm

Little did he know, but that sexy smirk and the way he looked at you all night drove you insane

So you just pulled him by the tie, connecting your lips

Since then, Mattheo has been addicted to you

Hands are always on you, holding your hand, your waist or your thighs

Looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars

He kisses you in front of everyone to make sure that they know that you are his, and he is yours

Likes to pull into into his lap while he’s talking with his friends in the common room

Holding you close, slowly strokes your arms or your back, unable to keep his hands away from you

Whispers sweet nothings

Loves your smell and always buries his nose into your hair

He wears rings and allows you to steal them

His hoodies and t-shirts too

Secretly likes to be little spoon or lay on your chest while your hands are playing with his curls

Buys you everything you might possibly like, even though you always tell him to stop spending his money on you

Likes to study with you because you can actually get ready for the lessons while he has another opportunity to stare at you 

So overprotective and always snaps back at people who, even in the slightest way, disrespect you

He never lets you go to the parties alone in case some creepy guys decide to hit on you

Possesive

When you’re wearing revealing clothes, one part of him is proud and wants to brag that his girlfriend is the sexiest woman on the planet, but the other part wants to cover you with big blanket and keep you to himself

Always sarcastic and sassy

Fights a lot 

He had never gone to the medical wing because he wasn’t used to asking for help, but since you started dating, he let you heal his wound 

Loves when you scold him for those fights, just because you look so cute when you’re angry and he has an excuse to kiss and spoil you 

He has anger issues, but he has never raised his voice at you

Actually, you are like a sedative to him because only you can calm him down in a matter of seconds 

Will never make you feel uncomfortable or insecure

You don’t like something or someone? Mattheo will make sure to get you out of the room and won’t let that person come near you ever again

The way you call him “Matty” turns him into a literal puddle

Can’t sleep without you in his arms

spicy

During your first time, he was super attentive and always checked whether you were okay or not

Praises. A lot of fucking praises

“You’re taking me so good, my love”, “you look so pretty when you cum around me.” 

He likes every position, but prefers when he can see your face

There is literally not a single place in his dorm where you two haven’t had sex

Gets turned on literally by everything you do

He’s risky. As soon as he finds out that you actually liked it, he always teases you under the table, pulls you into the storage rooms, and talks dirty while there are a lot of people around

Got you two in detention a few times for getting caught kissing at night by Snape (you were lucky that he caught you before Mattheo’s hands slipped under your skirt)

His personal favorite is sex in the astronomy tower. The way you’re trying to hold back your moans drives him crazy

Also bathtub in the prefects’ bathroom, where you love to sit with him deep inside of you  

He usually dominates, but sometimes likes to let you be in charge and see how you ride him

He has a big appetite, and what is the best way to deal with it? Right, you.

Mattheo would’ve spent hours in between your legs if you allowed him

He never asks for anything in return, but still seeing you on your knees for him is a fucking miracle

Your hair are around his hand, while you’re taking as much of him in your mouth as you can

Eye contact

He’s willing to try in bed anything that you want, except things that might get you hurt

He likes to keep his hand on your neck while he’s thrusting into you but never actually squeezes

Can be rough and fast or really gentle and slow, depending on the mood

After someone pisses him off or if you had a small fight, he always fucks you into the bed with your hands pinned above you until you’re literally crying from pleasure

By the way, when you don’t have time to put a spell on the room, it gives him satisfaction to know that everyone hears the way you moan for him

He always makes sure that you came, and if you didn’t, he’s more than happy to go down on you

Love confessions 

Aftercare is a must

Hugs, kisses, food, baths—anything you might want

He always keeps you close until you fall asleep and then just stares at you, wondering how he could be so happy to have you  

[sundropflowerr]

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas | Steve Harrington

★ Warnings: dad!steve, mom!reader, husband!steve, fem!reader, no use of y/n, established marriage, domestic fluff, mentions of parenting and child behavior, playful family banter, holiday traditions, mild chaos caused by kids, Steve being the ultimate dad, tender family moments, sweet kisses, references to Home Alone, soft nostalgia, and an abundance of Christmas warmth.

★ Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, 1995, and the Harrington family is in full holiday mode. Between their six-year-old son Ethan’s endless questions, their four-year-old daughter Sadie’s knack for causing adorable mischief, and Steve’s playful dad jokes, the night is full of warmth and laughter. 3k

★ Pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

★ Fic Inspiration: “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” - Frank Sinatra (again)

★ Dividers: thank you to @bernardsbendystraws for the adorable divider, it’s greatly appreciated!

★ Author’s Note: husband and dad steve harrington. goodness. anyways this should be the last Christmas and overall fic of the year (be on the look out for new year’s day) unless i get inspiration again. this is horribly messy and terribly written but nonetheless enjoy!

Snow fell steadily outside the Harrington home, muffling the usual sounds of Hawkins under a thick, sparkling blanket.

The rooftops were capped in white, the snowdrifts shimmering under the glow of streetlamps. Icicles hung from the edges of the roof, catching the twinkle of the colorful Christmas lights that Steve had painstakingly strung up a week ago, with the help of 6 year old Ethan’s enthusiastic, yet, chaotic help.

Each light blinked in perfect rhythm, painting the snow below in shifting hues of red, green, and gold. Through the fogged-up windows, the warm golden light of the Christmas tree spilled onto the lawn, offering a glimpse of the cozy world within.

Inside, the kitchen was a war zone of holiday cheer. Flour clung to nearly every surface—the countertops, the floor, and even the stool where little 4 year old Sadie stood, perched like a determined little artist. It dusted the tip of her nose and her wild curls, making her look like a miniature mad scientist as she meticulously squeezed green frosting onto a gingerbread man.

Her tongue poked out in focused concentration, her small hands gripping the frosting tube as if her life depended on it. Beside her, an array of cookies lay half-finished on the counter, buried under uneven layers of sprinkles and frosting swirls. Each one was a testament to her boundless creativity, if not her precision.

“Santa loves sprinkles,” Sadie declared with absolute certainty, her little face scrunched in concentration as she scooped a generous handful of the colorful confetti-like decorations from the nearest bowl.

The sprinkles scattered across the gingerbread man with wild abandon, tumbling off the edges and onto the counter, onto the floor, and even into the air, as if they were little bursts of festive confetti.

“Santa doesn’t want to eat cookies that are all sprinkles,” Ethan countered from across the counter, his voice dripping with the kind of exasperation only a six-year-old with a perfectionist streak could muster.

He was working on a star-shaped cookie, his movements precise, deliberate. The tiny silver balls he was placing on the edges of the cookie were perfectly symmetrical, each one spaced exactly the same distance apart, as though he were an engineer and this cookie was his blueprint.

Sadie, undeterred, shot her brother a sideways glance, her lips twisting into a defiant pout. “Santa loves all cookies!” she shot back, her voice high and firm, as if daring him to challenge her further. She grabbed another handful of sprinkles, her tiny fingers clumsily but lovingly adding them to her gingerbread creation with a look of pure determination in her eyes.

Steve, who had been quietly observing the sibling exchange from his spot leaning against the fridge, let out a low chuckle, his arms crossed loosely across his chest. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched his children, clearly entertained by the growing battle of wills between his two little ones. “You know, Sadie,” he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “I think Ethan might have a point. That gingerbread guy looks like he just survived an explosion at a sprinkle factory.”

Sadie gasped dramatically, clutching the cookie to her chest as if Steve had just insulted her entire artistic vision. “He’s festive, Daddy!” she protested, her eyes wide with faux horror. “Santa will think he’s beautiful!”

Steve raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, alright. Festive, got it. You win, kiddo,” he said, backing off, but his smile never faded.

You glanced up from where you were carefully transferring a fresh batch of cookies onto the cooling rack. You’d been absorbed in your task, the warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla filling the room, but the sounds of your kids’ banter had been too amusing to ignore. You shot a smirk over at Steve, catching the tail end of his playful exchange with Sadie. “Don’t encourage them, Steve,” you said, your voice a mix of amusement and mock exasperation. “This kitchen already looks like a bomb went off in a bakery.”

Steve turned to you with that familiar, mischievous grin that always seemed to pull at your heartstrings. He pushed off the counter and sauntered over, his presence a comforting warmth that seemed to fill the space between you. As he reached you, he slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you close, his chin resting on your shoulder as he kissed the side of your neck, his lips soft against your skin.

“Oh, come on," he said, his voice a playful murmur, "It's Christmas. A little chaos is good for the soul."

The warmth of his touch and the affection in his kiss made your heart flutter, but before you could respond, you heard a chorus of groans from behind you.

"Eww, Daddy, gross!" Ethan wrinkled his nose, his six-year-old voice full of dramatic disapproval. Sadie was standing beside him, her eyes wide as she tugged at his sleeve, mimicking his disgust.

"Yeah, gross!" she added, her voice just as playful, though her face was scrunched in exaggerated annoyance. "Get a room!"

Steve pulled back slightly, his smile widening as he laughed. "Hey, you two can't appreciate true love yet," he teased, raising an eyebrow at them. "When you're older, you'll understand."

You chuckled, shaking your head as you met Ethan’s wide-eyed gaze, his expression a mix of surprise and genuine concern.

"They're right, Daddy," you teased. "We'll have to save the romance for later."

"Yeah, later!" Sadie agreed with a dramatic sigh, making a show of fanning herself with one hand, as if the display of affection had been too much to handle.

Steve gave a mock sigh of defeat, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer for another kiss, this time to the top of your head. "Guess we'll have to keep it PG for a little while, huh?" he murmured with a playful grin, his voice soft but full of affection.

As you hold onto his arms that wrap around you, the warmth of his embrace grounding you, you couldn't help but smile at the chaotic love that surrounded you. The kids' teasing, the laughter, and the warmth in the room-all of it felt like exactly what you needed. It was chaotic, but it was perfect.

The kitchen was, indeed, a disaster—sprinkles everywhere, frosting streaked across the table, and flour footprints leading from the counter to the floor. And yet, in the midst of the mess, there was something so perfectly Christmas about it all. You couldn’t help but shake your head fondly at the sight of your two children, Sadie with her chaotic artistic flair and Ethan with his precision, both creating their own little pieces of holiday magic in their own ways.

You let out a soft sigh, your heart swelling with a mix of warmth and contentment. This was your life now—messy, loud, and filled to the brim with joy. The kind of joy that came from every moment spent together, it was imperfect, but it was yours. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

“I suppose a little chaos is good for the soul,” you muttered, leaning into Steve’s embrace, your back resting against his torso. “But we’ll have to clean it all up before Santa comes.”

Steve’s grin widened as he kissed the top of your head. “Deal,” he said softly, his voice warm, full of affection. “But for now, let’s just enjoy it.”

And in that moment, amidst the mess, the laughter of your kids, and the hum of Christmas music playing softly in the background, you truly did. You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas Eve.

By the time the last batch of cookies had cooled, the kids had moved on to decorating with gusto. Sadie was a whirlwind of frosting and sprinkles, her hands sticky but her smile wide. Ethan’s creations, on the other hand, could have been featured in a magazine—each one neat, symmetrical, and perfect in its own way.

“Do you think Santa will like mine better?” Ethan asked as he placed a gingerbread snowman carefully on the plate.

“Santa loves everything,” you replied diplomatically, shooting Steve a look that warned him not to stir the pot.

“He’ll love Sadie’s too,” Steve added, crouching down to examine one of her creations. “Especially this one. It’s, uh… very colorful.”

Sadie beamed, clearly taking this as the highest of compliments.

Once the cookies were arranged on a plate, along with a glass of milk, the four of you moved into the living room. Ethan darted ahead to claim the best spot on the couch, while Sadie grabbed her stuffed reindeer and curled up in Steve’s lap.

Steve held up a VHS tape like it was a trophy. “Tonight’s pick: Home Alone.”

Ethan pumped a fist in the air. “Yes!”

Sadie giggled, clutching her reindeer tightly. “Kevin’s so funny!”

You settled onto the couch next to Ethan, draping a blanket over your lap as Steve popped the tape into the VCR. The kids quieted as the familiar opening music began, their eyes glued to the screen.

The living room was warm and cozy, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. The Christmas tree lights cast colorful patterns across the walls, and the faint scent of pine mingled with the sugary sweetness lingering from the kitchen.

As Kevin McCallister navigated his hijinks, Sadie giggled uncontrollably at the Wet Bandits’ antics, her laughter ringing through the room. Ethan, meanwhile, provided a running commentary.

“They’re so silly,” he said, shaking his head as Harry slipped on the icy stairs for the third time. “Why don’t they just give up?”

“That’s not the point, buddy,” Steve replied, chuckling. “They’re supposed to be silly. It’s funny.”

“Kevin’s really brave,” Sadie whispered, clutching her reindeer as Kevin faced off against the burglars. “He’s all alone, but he’s not scared.”

You smoothed her curls with a gentle hand. “He’s smart too, just like you.”

Steve caught your eye, his expression softening as he smiled at you. These moments—the quiet, ordinary ones—were the ones he cherished most.

By the time the credits rolled, Sadie was fast asleep in Steve’s lap, her tiny hand clutching the fabric of his sweater. Ethan was valiantly trying to stay awake, but his head kept nodding forward, his stubbornness no match for his exhaustion.

Steve glanced down at Sadie, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Looks like it’s bedtime for these two.”

You nodded, sharing a glance with Steve as you both made your way toward the kids. Without a word, you reached down to gently lift Ethan into your arms. He squirmed slightly, grumbling under his breath, but didn’t protest as you settled him against your chest, his head resting on your shoulder. Steve, in turn, scooped up Sadie with ease, her small body curling instinctively into his hold. She mumbled something incoherent, her voice muffled by sleep, but didn’t wake as he cradled her against him.

The two of you made your way upstairs in comfortable silence, each step echoing softly through the house. It felt like a peaceful rhythm, this simple act of carrying your kids to bed, a reminder of how much you both cherished these little moments.

You reached Ethan’s room first, carefully lowering him into his bed. He groggily shifted under the covers, his sleepy eyes flicking up at you with a mix of curiosity and exhaustion. You helped him into his pajamas, smoothing out the fabric with a practiced hand before tucking him under the covers.

“Do you think Santa’s gonna like the cookies?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep but still filled with that unmistakable childlike wonder.

Steve, who had followed you into the room, chuckled softly as he leaned against the doorframe. “He’s gonna love them. Especially that one with all the sprinkles,” he said, grinning.

Ethan let out a small giggle, his eyes already fluttering closed. “Good,” he mumbled, his face relaxing into sleep as he drifted off, his soft breathing the only sound in the room.

Meanwhile, Steve took Sadie to her room. As soon as he placed her on her bed, she curled up into her blankets, her little reindeer toy tucked under her arm. She sighed contentedly as he adjusted the covers around her, kissing her forehead gently.

“Goodnight, lovebug,” you whispered from the doorway, watching the tender moment unfold.

Sadie mumbled something sleepy and incoherent, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into her pillow. “Goodnight,” she whispered back, her voice already soft with sleep.

As you and Steve stood in the doorway for a moment, watching your kids drift off into peaceful slumber, a sense of quiet satisfaction settled over you both. The house was still, the Christmas lights outside casting a gentle glow through the windows. Everything felt right. You turned to Steve, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “They’re going to be so excited when they wake up tomorrow.”

He nodded, his arm naturally finding its way around your waist as you both quietly left the room. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’ll be up before the sun is,” he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and fondness.

You smiled up at him, leaning into his side as the two of you headed back downstairs, the soft hum of Christmas music filling the air around you. It was a quiet night, just the two of you, in the calm after the chaos. And as the two of you settled back into the warmth of the living room, the love and laughter of the night still lingering in the air, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. Christmas was here, and your family was exactly where they belonged.

“Think they’ll notice if we eat one?” Steve asked, breaking off a corner of a gingerbread man with a playful grin. He popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly as if savoring the moment.

You looked at him over the top of the cookie jar, raising an eyebrow. “Not unless you want to explain why there are bites taken out of the cookies they spent hours decorating.”

Steve shrugged, his eyes glinting with mischief as he reached for another cookie. “Eh, they’ll never know. Besides, Santa can always come up with his own cookies.”

You smirked, swatting his hand away as you grabbed one for yourself. “I’m pretty sure Santa’s going to have a sugar high with how much we’ve put out for him.”

He laughed, popping a piece of cookie into his mouth. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. I mean, we’ve done all the hard work, haven’t we?”

You took a bite of your own cookie, sighing in contentment. “True. These are way better than store-bought.”

Steve’s grin widened as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I think we’ve officially earned it. We’re doing all the Christmas magic around here.”

You laughed as Steve pulled you into his arms as the fire crackled softly behind you. The glow of the Christmas tree bathed the room in warmth, and Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” played faintly in the background.

As you leaned against him, the quiet of the moment settled over you like a blanket.

"This is it, you know," Steve said suddenly, his voice low and serious. His eyes were soft, distant in a way, as if he were taking in the entire scene-the glowing lights, the quiet of the house, the warmth of it all.

You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What is?" you asked, curious but not entirely sure what he meant.

"This," he said again, his gaze sweeping across the room, lingering for a moment on the kids' cookies on the counter, the half-empty mugs of hot chocolate, the soft Christmas lights casting a warm glow over the space. Then, his gaze landed back on you, his expression tender.

“The kids, the house, you. Everything I ever wanted. It's right here."

The way he said it-so genuine, so full of admiration-caught you off guard. Your chest tightened with emotion, and for a moment, you couldn't find the right words.

You reached up instinctively, cupping his cheek, feeling the stubble there beneath your palm, the warmth of him as you held him close.

"You deserve it, Steve," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. "Every bit of it." You didn't need to elaborate. You knew what he meant.

Steve's gaze softened even further, a look in his eyes you could only describe as reverent.

Slowly, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as if savoring the feeling of being with you in this quiet, perfect moment. When he pulled back, he looked at you, his eyes filled with something deeper, something that made your heart swell.

"I don't know how I got so lucky," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for this. For us." His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you gently against him. He didn't rush it, just held you there, his lips grazing against yours in a kiss that was soft, slow-like he was trying to memorize the feeling of being close to you.

You smiled, your chest tight with affection. "I love you.”

There was a quiet stillness between you both, a peacefulness that wrapped around you like the softest blanket. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of Christmas music drifting from the speakers and the distant sound of snow falling outside. But in this moment, nothing else mattered.

You were together. The life you had, the love you shared-it was everything, and it was yours.

Steve's hand gently brushed the back of your neck, and he kissed you again, his lips soft, lingering. It was a kiss that said more than words ever could-more than any ‘thank you' or 'I love you' could ever express.

You had everything. And you wouldn't change a single thing.

thank you so much for reading! please like/reblog or comment if you did, it would be greatly appreciated. have a great day and a happy holidays!!