#12 days of drabbles

[kpop-with-mars]

|12 Days of Drabbles| Day 5; Snow On The Beach|

{Felix X Gn!Reader}

{Plot; Felix finds their childhood friend alone on the cold, snowy beach.}

{A/N - Inspired by Snow on the beach by ts/lana del rey, Enjoy! :3}

{Word count; 441}

{Tags; Friends to lovers, mild hurt/comfort, drabble.}

Felix was all that they could think about; they were his best friend. It’s no wonder Felix ran out of his hotel room to the bay with an extra coat for Y/N.

Y/n hugged themself as the winter breeze swept through their thin sweater. "Y/N!, hey!” They turned around to the sound of his voice. Felix ran up to them along the beach behind them; he quickly caught up to them and held out the coat as he tried to catch his breath. "Don't get cold, Y/N. It's still winter, you know, even at the beach." Y/N took the coat from him and put it on; he didn’t have to ask to know it was his. “Thanks…”. Y/N kept their gaze lowered; they couldn’t bear to look at him with all the thoughts that swirled like cocoa in their mind. “What’s wrong?” Felix asked. “Nothing” ‘Everything’ was what they wanted to say, and Felix knew better: you wouldn’t be walking down the frost-dusted sand if it was nothing. “Don’t lie to me… please.”  He sounded desperate, and it made Y/N feel guilty having caused that tone.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered up at Felix as they took in a breath of frosty air. “Would you hate me if I liked you?…” Their eyes grew teary. Felix and Y/N stood in the snow as waves ran up and down the shore, snow settled on sand like dust, with no one else but them. Felix wasn’t surprised by their question; it hurt that they didn’t know the answer. He placed his hat on their head snugly and hugged them tightly. “No… Never.” He whispered, as if his breath would blow away the dust-like snow on the beach. Y/N let their tears fall in small lines, growing cold on his face with the coming breeze, as he put his arms around Felix as well. “Good…”.

Felix wiped away their tears once he saw them with mittened hands, holding their face to keep them warmer. A small smile fell on his lips like the falling frost. “Your lips look cold. May I?" He felt it wasn’t necessary to say what he wanted, and Y/N knew what he was asking, so they lifted themselves up on their toes and brushed their lips to his. Their kiss didn’t become any more passionate than how it started, because it's what they both needed most; Y/N more so than Felix was a soft love. Felix’s arms wrapped around Y/N’s torso for more warmth and closeness.

Even in the numbing cold, Y/N felt the warmth and no frost, and just like snow on the beach, it all was weird but fucking beautiful.

[mommynott]

Lights, Lust, and Leather

12 Days of Dickmas — Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Christmas break has you feeling lonesome, taking matters into your own hands you decide to decorate the common area when suddenly your…enemy? 👀 Stumbles in…and let’s just say he’d much rather decorate you.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, college au, ewb!theo, enemy!theo, dom!theo, blow job, throat fucking, restraints, rough sex, degrading, dirty talk, choking, slight slapping, spanking, slight brat taming, slight edging, PIV, creampie, dom&sub, enemy!theo going to fucking town

The Common Room felt deserted, almost empty in the absence of the other Slytherin students. It was the first day of Christmas break and the vast majority of the students were eager to head home for the holidays.

But you had stayed behind. You decided to take it upon yourself to decorate the usual brooding common room, turning it into a dark Christmas wonderland.

With a slick twirl of your wrist, you flicked your wand toward the speaker, ‘Santa Baby’ starting to coo ever so softly around the area. A gentle yet merry smile painted over your face as you rummaged through a box filled with string lights.

Singing softly along to the cheerful music, you felt content. Just a few classmates had stayed behind. But with one particular classmate…you weren’t sure how to feel. Would something even happen?

Wearing a tight verdant v-neck along with a form-fitting, black leather skirt. You felt completely enveloped in the cozy holiday feel. Climbing up on the ladder you had set up next to the fireplace, you carefully began to hang the twinkling lights, draping them with ease yet sophistication.

However, that damn skirt seemed determined to reveal more with each movement. You found yourself teetering precariously on the ladder diligently hanging the set of lights with one hand as the other tried to tug down the leather.

Even with the ladder, you couldn’t seem to reach certain areas across the fireplace. “What the fuck-“ Mumbling a groan to yourself, you messed with your skirt, trying to pull it down to cover the creek of your ass.

Maybe wearing a skirt this short wasn’t the brightest idea. Fuck it. No one was around anyway. You shrugged your shoulders with a sigh as you reached even higher, placing the lights as you could.

At this exact moment, Theo stumbled into the empty common room, his mind still occupied with the final grades yet to come and the fact Mattheo had taken off with some random girl for a week.

Unaware that he had even entered, you were heavily concentrated on the decor. Your tongue creeping from between your lips, your eyes squinting at the bulbous lighting.

As Theodore stepped deeper into the space he froze, his eyes falling on a sight that immediately banished all thoughts of finals and grades from his mind. There, amongst the twinkling lights and Christmas decorations, was you.

You struggled on the ladder. Your skirt having ridden up to reveal a tantalizing expanse of tempting and smooth skin. The skin he knew so fucking well.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed behind you. "Well, well, well…" Theo had walked in on your festive preparations, eyeing you down fully. His stare was searing into your juicy ass just as you turned your head with a smirk.

Playfully rolling your eyes to the Italian. “Nott…” With a soft giggle, you swore you felt your cheeks flush up. Fuck. How could he always get you this flustered? You hated him. Loathed him. In every aspect…besides sex.

Taking another stride toward you, Theo shoved one of his hands in his pocket. Slowly caressing his knuckles down your bare thigh with the other one.

His gaze now shifting up to meet with yours. “-Surprised you’re doing all of this.” In his usual taunting tone, you could feel your jaw clenching. Why do you have to be so annoying yet so fucking hot?

“You’d be surprised by a lot of things I can do, Nott”

Theo now palmed around your thigh, giving it a faded squeeze while a deep chuckle muttered from his lungs. “Hm…Would I be though?— I think I’ve seen all you can do, Bella.” For fucks sake. That damn Italian nickname. It drove you up a wall.

You could feel the heat already shooting down between your legs from not only his words but his touch too. The sexual tension already spilling over the edge. Something that happened quite often with the two of you.

“Actually, you haven’t.” Replying in a snippy manner, you slowly cocked your head to the side as you continued to hang the Christmas lights onto the mantle.

Trying to ignore Theodore, you shifted over, standing on your tiptoes. Your smooth skirt riding up more so. He could hardly hold it together at this point.

“Being a fuckin’ brat today aren’t we?”

Through a growl-like tone, Theo took a step back and you sighed. Your eyes rolled once more as you faced him. “Maybe I wouldn’t be if you weren’t such a dick.” Mumbling your words, you fully turned your back.

Putting your focus back on the decor. Theodore, walked to a nearby couch, plopping down as he placed his hands behind his head, manspreading as he observed you.

Engrossed in the twinkling lights, you began to think he had wandered off. But no— Theo was still there. His sight traced down your entire body. Admiring every single crook and curve. “Fuckin’ hell-“ Breathing his thoughts aloud, your head whipped around in surprise.

“If you’re still here, why don’t you get off your ass and help me?” The irritation radiated off of you, but fuck, Theo found you that much hotter when you were angry, annoyed, bratty. Liking the challenge of you.

“You see…I could help you…” he started, relaxing further into the couch with a sly shit-eating grin. “…But what fun would that be? I’m enjoying the view, Tesoro.”

Even through his annoying aura, Theodore held his charm. Something that always worked on the ladies. Even you. “God— You are so fucking annoying…” Sneering your words, you felt the rage bubbling inside of you.

The rage that would so easily turn into passion with him. Fuck me. Suddenly you realized what you had said. What you had done. But you weren’t upset about it in the least.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Theo stood up abruptly, making his way over to you on the ladder. Feeling your knees already start to go weak. You had pushed him over the edge like you always did. His aggression was going to be taken out on you like it always was.

“I— nothing. I said nothing.” Stifling back your flirty laugh, you gave Theodore a bratty yet knowing look. Coaxing him deeper into sexual frustration.

“Oh, you’re going to regret this, brat-“ Before you could even respond, he picked you up easily. Throwing you over his shoulder, his free hand yanking the string lights off of the mantel.

“Hey! Those took forever to put up!” With a whine, your body limped against his own. Feeling his strong hands holding tightly onto your thighs. “Don’t care.”

Practically spitting out his words, he stormed you both off to his dorm room, locking the door behind him before throwing you down on the bed. “I got under someone’s skin didn’t I?” You were only fueling the fire now, but fuck. You loved to see Theo so angry.

The way he’d dominate the fuck out of you. The way he’d pound into you like crazy. Angry sex with Theodore Nott? Top fucking tier.

“I’m going to fuck that bratty mouth of yours until you can no longer speak.”

Nothing but dominance danced in Theo’s eyes. He stalked over, plugging the string of lights into the outlet behind his bed before sitting you up on your knees. “Maybe that’s what I wanted…”

The excitement was coursing through your veins but all of a sudden he brought both of your hands behind your back. Tying your wrists together with the wired lights. Feeling the warmness of them against your delicate flesh.

“W-what are you doing?” Stuttering through a low laugh, you felt Theodore tighten them snuggly. However, he didn’t respond. He was in full Dom mode now. Throwing off his shirt before Unbuckling his belt, he tossed them both to the side.

His ocean gaze filled with an assertive winter storm now as he shuffled his jeans off, pulling out his massive hardened length. “Open up, marmocchia-“

The Italian pet name for brat slipped through his lips while he grabbed a fistful of your silky hair. Bringing you closer to his cock. “Needy for me hm-“ Cutting off your words, Theo took his free hand, using his thumb to part your lips open before ramming his blood-filled throbbing cock into your mouth.

“Fuck— Shut the fuck up and suck me, slut.” He groaned loudly, both of his hands wrapped throughout your locks now.

Thrusting his hips against your face, your once siren-like eyes turned to a doe-eyed stare. Taking him all in as your hands instinctively fought against the restraint of the lights.

—Gluck Gluck Gluck- the noises you were making while he fucked your throat was making Theo’s dick spasm with pleasure. Snaking his hands down quickly, he took the material of your shirt and tore it straight down the middle, your forest green lace bra popping out.

“Let’s get these perfect titties out, Tesoro.”

He growled, tugging your breasts right out of your skimpy bra, seeing those hardened nipples perk right up. Theo fought out a groan, mercilessly thrusting down your throat while his hands found their way back into your hair.

One gripping hard on the back as the other brushed through your strands gracefully. Pushing his length further down your throat, you gagged against him, tears now pricking the corners of your eyes.

A low and menacing laugh freed from Theodore as he fucked your face even harder. Taking one of his hands and lightly slapping the apple of your cheek. “Open up that throat, slut- I know you can do it…Open.” The assertiveness was prominent through his grunts.

You tried to loosen up your throat muscles, your mascara dripping down your face as you did. But when you heard an approved moan from Theo, you knew it was working.

“Ah— Good fuckin’ girl…Just like that”

Seeing him bite his lower lip through your blurry vision, you felt a sense of pride run through you. Knowing you were feeding Theo with nothing but pure bliss.

He started to cram further and further down your throat, seeing the outline of his cock down your esophagus. Fuck. Your binded wrist felt hot to the touch by now, whimpering through his intense plows.

This went on for a good few minutes until Theo felt like he could fucking bust a nut on the spot. Not only that but your throat had an intense beating. And he fucking knew that.

He slowly pulled out, drool falling from your mouth as you inhaled sharply. “Fuck—“ Your voice was burnt, sounding hoarse. He did in fact keep his promise.

“C’mere…Imma fuck that perfect pussy of yours now.” Your cunt throbbed with excitement as he spun you around. Not having access to your hands, your head fell directly onto his silk bedsheets.

Your ass flawlessly perked up for him. But that leather skirt? It remained on, he just made sure to carefully roll it up.

-Smack! Theo’s hard and heavy palm swatted across your bottom causing it to redden instantly.

“Gods— P-please fuck me…please.” You begged the Italian through a whimper, veering your head to the side so your submissive eyes could lock with his.

A cruel and ungodly smile of seduction plastered over his features before he gave another slap to your ass, watching as it rippled. “How can I say no when you beg like that?” With a smirk, he slammed his needy cock deep inside of you without warning.

“Cazzo— You’re so fuckin’ wet for me-“ Theo rasped through his rough slams, feeling your walls stretch out with ease. Tightly grabbing your restrained wrists with one hand, the other dug into your hip, surely breaking skin.

But fuck did you enjoy this. “I forgot how big you were!” Crying out from the swirling sensations of pain and pleasure, he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath.

“Yeah? I’ll have to fuck you more often, Cara Mia.” Thrusting into your soaked cunt even harder, he pulled back on your wrists, hovering you just above the bedding.

“-Yes—Yes…Fuck! I’m so close, baby—“Your moans only seemed to get louder with each passing second. The gushing sounds of your wetness and Theo’s skin slapping against your own echoed around you.

But suddenly, he quickly pulled out of you. Just as you were on the brink of climax. “-The fuck?!” Squeaking out, your brows furrowed up at him, seeing that taunting, edging look in his eyes.

“Not yet.” Firmly speaking, he swiftly untied your wrists, wincing from the blood pooling back to them. “On your back, slut.” With his demanding tone, he didn’t even give you a chance to respond.

Tossing you over on your back, a raspy yelp emitted from your lips, breathing heavily as Theo restrained your left wrist to the bed, using the sparkling lighting.

Your lips parted but no words seemed to come out. You simply watched as he moved over to your other wrist, tightly binding it to his bed frame. “But what if-“

A hint of concern tainted you. —what if something went wrong? But Theo could see the anxiety spiking within your mind. A small closed-mouth smile twitched on his lips.

“It won’t- I promise…I won’t let anything happen to you…alright, Tesoro?” He reassured smacking a sweeter kiss to your lips as he positioned himself between your legs.

That was the thing with Theodore Nott. As much of an asshole he could be with you, he would randomly show a more soft and affectionate side. Something you wanted to explore even deeper. “O-okay…” Bright red tinged your cheeks, Theo teased your leaky slit with his pre cum covered tip.

Lifting that black leather skirt so it bunched right around your midsection. “Fuck…you’re drenched.” Through a breathy rasp, he tilted his head back momentarily. And right when you’d least expect it, slipping right back between your clenched walls.

Twisting your own hands and gripping the bases of the string lights, you pulled them ever so slightly, feeling the burning bulbs dig further into your flesh. A burn you were slowly craving more and more of.

“You fuck me so good, Theo!— just like that!” Arching your back, you could feel the now warmed sheets shifting beneath your body, Theo only railing into you faster than before.

“That’s right, slut— No one else fucks you like this, hm?” His domineering tone croaked through his own deep moans. The sensations you were sending through Theodore were otherworldly. “N-no fuck!— Only you…only you, Theo…gods- I’m so close!”

Your moans now turning into screams that bounced off of the stone walls of his dorm room. He smirked, wrapping one hand around your throat, the other grabbing onto the top of his bed frame.

The pounding of the wooden oak ramming against the wall was hefty and loud, your eyes practically rolling into the back of your head.

“Yeah? My dirty little slut wants to cum? Release for me.” He husked, those dead eyes flickering between your own. Rolling his hips smoothly at great speed, he was hitting all your sweet spots.

However, as soon as you got the go-ahead, you didn’t wait any longer. Throwing your head back against the pillow, your eyes squeezed shut while your legs trembled. The rush of your juices squirting out all over Theo’s length, soaking it whole as you hit a sensational orgasm. “See…”

A ragged whisper strumbled through his lips, the Italian accent rolling off perfectly along with it. “…No one fucks you like I do…no one makes your body react the way I do…no one can make you feel as good as I do.” His raunchy words only made your heart flutter.

As fucked up as that was, it was true. You were catching your breath, your body fully limp after finally cumming. The pulsating feel of bruises forming shooting up to your wrists.

“You’re…right….”

You moaned through Theo’s plows, your gaze locking with his before you continued. “…But it goes the other way too, Theo…” bucking your hips forward, pushing him deeper inside of you. He smiled, sweat beading down his forehead from how hard he was fucking you.

“And you are also right, Bella.” His muscles flexed, both of his hands holding onto the headboard now as he let himself lose control within you. That perfect fucking pussy

“Fuckin,— God- you’re going to make me cum…Fuck—“ he tripped over his words, feeling his dick twitching within your warmed walls. His seed shooting deep inside of your cunt could have had you cumming again.

Just seeing the way he tensed up, his groans, the way he never took his hungry eyes off of you. Not even for a second. He kept his cock inside of you as he came to a full stop.

Both of your breaths matched each other, a comforting silence wrapping around both of you like a cozy winter blanket before he leaned down. Pressing a lingering soft kiss to your lips, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re too good, Tesoro.” He complimented, pulling out of you and watching his white load dripping out of you. Letting out a satisfied groan as he did. Theodore quickly grabbed a towel to clean you up before untying your wrist.

Massaging your now bruised arms, you hissed. Giving the Italian a cheeky smirk. “I suppose I should go finish hanging those up.” With a giggle you pulled your leather skirt down, throwing your bra back on.

But your shirt? It was a torn mess. Before you could even say something about it, Theo playfully tackled you back on the bed. “Nah- you’re not going anywhere…That can wait.”

The most sarcastic and egotistical grin spread across your face as you stifled back a loud laugh. “Oh? Thee Theodore Nott wants to hang out with me huh?” You teased him, feeling as he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you into a spooning position. “Oh shut it…don’t let your head get too big.”

Playfully rolling his eyes, he smacked a kiss to the crook of your neck as you both relaxed. Weirdly enough as much as you both loathed each other in a public setting, when it was just the two of you— and sex was involved- Theo wasn’t half bad. You could get used to this. Maybe Christmas break wouldn’t be as boring as you anticipated.

AHHHHH THE START OF DICKMAS !!! I hope everyone enjoyed the first of twelve 🎄🎁

If you haven’t already please go check out @nottsangel @nottswitch @slytherinslut0 as they’re also doing fun little Christmas works!❄️

Dividers linked in my masterlist 🌙

Love my naughty smut sluts 💋

[lostalioth]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭

→ premise: eddie wasn’t convinced you were as innocent as you acted. his pervy thoughts of you were often guided by all the little dirty things you did. he knew he shouldn’t think that way you were his friend after all but you had to know what you were doing to him right?

→ pairing: perv!bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, 2.1k words, corruption kink, dacryphilia, frontagge? [eddie rubs his dick against her til he cums?] unprotected penetration, small bit of degrading language [whore], nicknames [baby, pretty girl, sweets, pretty best friend], reader is described to wear eddies shirt and pink/girly clothing a bit, not proofread

→ a/n: kinktober 12

Eddie was a touchy guy, a very touchy best friend in fact. He seemed to lack any awareness of personal space when it came to you.

Having you sit in his lap during movie nights whether it's just the two of you or if Robin or Steve join in. Laying his head in your lap while you play with his hair and his hands palm at your thighs tracing shapes on them. Draping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you to his side when you're in the middle of a conversation with someone or leaning his body weight against you. Now to you and your naive mind, you found all this and everything else he may do as innocent, you didn't understand why everyone new you met assumed the two of you were dating.

Except for Eddie everything he did, he had a little pervy underlying reason to it. Leaning on you and pulling your body against his to feel your soft skin on his and subconsciously claiming you as his. Sitting you in his lap to feel the heat radiating from your pussy on his cock even through multiple layers of fabric. Laying his head on your lap and rubbing on your thighs Imagining his head is buried between them instead.

Constantly he came up with any excuse he could to have his hands on you, to have your body against his, even rub up against you when given the chance when he’d scoot behind you to get somewhere even if there was a clearer path to his destination. Rubbing his bulge lightly against your ass when he’d brush by. To him there was no way you weren’t aware of his intentions when he did these things and all the little pervy moves he made. Every dirty thought he had or thing he did was guided by the seemingly not so innocent things you would do.

Though you weren’t actually aware of just what the things you'd do, did to poor ole’ Eddie. Batting your eyelashes at him when you wanted to be the one to pick the movie, pressing your body against him of your own accord when a scary part came on during one of his movie picks. He even swears though he isn’t 100% sure it wasn't a very vivid dream that you were grinding your ass against him for a second one time you were sitting in his lap.

It was currently one of those frequent movie nights and Eddie was painfully hard, his cock has been aching the moment he walked inside your house. Part of it sure was that he was just excited to have quality time with his pretty little best friend but then when he came in and saw the state you were in he was a goner. You were more comfortable around Eddie than anyone and you had opted to be cozy so all you had on was a long t-shirt and frilly pink socks, no pants on. Being the perv he was and with the fact he couldn't tell exactly he was secretly wishing you didn't have any panties on either.

Eddie got to pick the movie and it was one he’d seen a million times over so it didn't matter that he couldn't bring himself to pay attention. His eyes glued to you, your thighs exposed almost more than they are when you wear your tiny lacey skirts that also almost kill Eddie. Any last drop of reserve or self-control he had was slowly draining away from his body.

If he thought too hard about everything he felt like a piece of shit bestfriend that all he could think of during movie nights anymore was bending you over your living room couch and claiming your pussy as his. Making you his as you whine and moan that it's too much to take and he tells you what a good girl you’re being. Expect there was a small denranged part of him that desperatly wanted to corrupt your sweet naive mind until you’re the one who can only think about him fucking you, making you just as much of a pervert as he was.

Far too lost in own dirty thoughts he fails to notice that the movie has now ended, meaning it was your turn to pick and he should probably stop staring at your body.

“That was a good movie. Ed's wasn't as scary of a movie as you usually pick” your sweet voice snaps him out of his trance and he reluctantly tears his gaze away from your thighs crossed over one another.

“Oh uh yeah, figured I’d pick a calmer one this time for you sweets” he explains, lightly coughing as he squeezed the pillow that's been covering his lap this whole time, a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes forms on his face as he finally turns his attention to your face. Though switching his focus fails to dull the throbbing in his stiff cock, if it goes on any longer there's definitely going to be a wet spot in his boxers. You smile back at him before getting up from the couch, running over to the kitchen and putting the empty popcorn bowl in the sink. He watches as you walk away, a small groan leaving his lips, it didn't help that the shirt you wore was one of his old hellfire shirt’s. You in his clothes always made his heart ache just as much as his dick, you often stole his shirts or hoodies which didn't help people thinking you were dating and Eddie secretly loved that.

With a bounce in your step you make your way back over to the couch, standing more in front of Eddie as you do. Bending at the waist you lean over to pick the remote up off the oddly low coffee table, your shirt riding up as you do. Giving him an agonizingly perfect view of your ass and the mound of your pussy in your little pink panties. “Oh fuck..” he groans out, his knuckles turning white from how hard he is gripping the pillow infront of him. You turn around facing him now as you lean back up, having heard Eddie mumble out something. “What’d you say Ed’s??” You question with a cute look of confusion on your face.

His last ounce of composure and restraint flies out the window as he throws the pillow off his lap and grabs ahold of your hips pulling you into his lap.

“You fucking feel that pretty girl? That’s what you do to me, fuckin’ killing me sweets” he groans out, his bulge pressed right against your cunt, his jeans and your thin panties do nothing to stop him from feeling the heat settling in your core. you gasp out dropping the remote onto the cushion besides you as you feel just how hard he is. The cold metal of his rings sends a shiver down your spine when his hands push up at your shirt, bunching it up as they go. “But- I didn't do anything, or- I didn't mean to anyway Ed’s” you manage to stutter out, taken aback by both his abruptness and how good his cock feels against you even confined in denim. Lifting you up before letting go of your hips for a second so you're hovering over him, he unbuckles his belt and button to his jeans before tugging them down his thighs. “Ed’s I-I dont think best friends do this…” you whine out yet don't make any move to stop him as he grabs ahold of your hips again, planting your pussy right on his cock again with only thin underwear separating you now. You may be naive and innocent but you weren't a virgin you were well aware of what he was doing.

“it’s okay baby, just be my pretty little best friend and let me play with you okay, my cocks aching for ya’ yeah?” His tone is soft and slurred, his head going hazy in desire for you and the fact you were letting him go this far. “Mhmm~ okay i can do that” you whine out, your hips having a mind of their own squirming and grinding against him as his hands rub down your thighs.

“Atta girl sweets, s’good to me, always so sweet on me” he groans out as his fingers inch closer and closer to your aching pussy. Your slick has managed to begin soaking your panties, while Eddie's tip leaks precum forming a matching wet spot on his boxers. Tugging your panties to the side he runs his middle and ring finger through your slick folds, running over your clit that jumps at the small bit of attention. Your breath catches in your lungs as your eyes are glued to where your best friend's hands are playing with your leaking pussy. “Eddie.. it feels s’good” you whine out your hips bucking at his touch every time his fingers brush over your bundle of nerves.

“Look at you pretty girl, so fucking wet f’me like a little fucking whore” he groans out as he pushes down at his boxers, you lift your hips to help subconsciously. He pushes them down only enough to let his cock spring free, his cock thick, tip reddened and as veins run along the underside of his shaft. Your eyes are entranced by the sight, your mouth watering and your hole clenching around nothing, who knew your best friend had such a pretty cock.

Grabbing onto the base of his cock he angles it to nudge open your slit and run his tip through your soaked folds, grinding his shaft against your pussy. “Ahh~ pleasee Ed’s need you inside” you whine out, already getting overwhelmed, his cock rubbing against your bundle of nerves and tip just barely pushing at your hole before slipping out. The ongoing teasing and desire for him to push inside you crowd your head making it go fuzzy. “Nooo not yet baby, not till you're begging for it, gotta corrupt my sweet innocent little best friend til shes a cock hungry whore begging for me to fuck her” he chuckled darkly, even though he was more desperate than you to finally push into the warm heat of your cunt he was gonna make you beg for it.

Tears well up in your eyes threatening to fall as you buck against him in response to his hips grinding against your pussy. “Aww ya’ gonna cry sweets? Go on cry baby, beg for it” he groans out, he knew it was sick but as your tears fall down your cheeks he can feel his balls tighten, heavy and full of cum that's almost ready to burst. Your slick and his precum mix together to soak your panties, the thin fabric turning see through as he hooks it over his cock to keep it pressed between your folds.

“Fuck im gonna cum pretty girl, should cum in these fuckin’ flimsy panties and ruin em’ then stuff them in your mouth as i stuff this pussy” he growls out, his words making your pussy throbbing and your head spin, your head nodding frantically desperate for him to do exactly that. “Yeah baby? Want me to do that?” He taunts, a lopsided smirk glued to his lips as he leans in closer, forehead pressed against yours while your tears continue to fall down your cheeks, your eyes turning red and puffy the longer you cry out in pleasure.

“Please Ed’s yes!~ please need you to cum and i need you to fuck me please” you moan out, a deep stasifaction settled in eddie at your plea and he surges forward to press his lips to yours muffling your whines. Your thighs burning from grinding desperately against him, the last string of Eddie's snaps just as you dig your nails into his biceps and cry out his name into the heated frantic kiss. Hot ropes of cum spurt out and coat the inside of your panties and paint your puffy folds. Not stopping his thrusting Eddie grabs his cock that's still sandwiched under your now ruined panties and guides his still leaking tip to your entrance. Pulling away from your lips, he slaps his hand over your mouth just as he pushes inside you in one sharp hard thrust. A cry of pleasure and maybe some pain falls from your lips, along side a long line of curse muffled agianst his rough hand as he fucks up into the wet heat of your pussy that clenches down on him.

“My pretty bestfriend’s gonna be such a good fuckin’ cock drunk whore, all f’me now, all mine” all you can do in nod in respone, your eyes nearly rolling back in pleasure.

→ a/n: I rushed the end of this so i could get it out today and get back on track with kinktober lmao and somehow its still 2 thousand words and some change lmao but anyway enjoy loves give me feedback and tell me if something is misspelled this wasnt read over as im tired.

[23victoria]

gingerbread cookies!

pairings: 𝓯1 𝓰𝓻𝓲𝓭 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

word count: 3.8𝓴

synopsis: 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓾𝓼𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓴𝓲𝓭𝓼

authors note: 𝓭𝓪𝔂 1 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓼! 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂! 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼, 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭!!

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽?! CLICK HERE!

F1 MASTERLIST F1 CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST

Lewis

The kitchen is already buzzing with excitement. Lia’s tiny voice fills the room as she sits on the counter, clapping her flour-covered hands while her big brother Leo drags a chair to the counter so he can reach the mixing bowl. Lewis stands next to you, grinning from ear to ear, his apron slightly already dusted with flour. You’re armed with a rolling pin and a smile, ready to face the inevitable chaos of baking gingerbread cookies for the first time as a family.

“Alright, team,” Lewis says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s make some gingerbread magic happen.”

“Cookies, Daddy!” Lia cheers, throwing her arms in the air. The sudden movement sends a puff of flour into the air, and both you and Lewis cough, laughing as the powder settles.

“Cookies, yes, princess,” he says, scooping her up and planting a kiss on her flour-speckled cheek. She giggles and squirms, and he sets her back down on the counter. “But first, we have to mix the dough. Leo, you ready to be my sous-chef?”

Leo’s chest puffs up with pride. “Yes, Dad! I’m ready.”

You hand him the wooden spoon, and he gets to work mixing the dry ingredients. You and Lewis guide him, taking turns measuring out the cinnamon, ginger, and cloves while Lia alternates between sneaking handfuls of flour and trying to “help” by stirring.

“Lia, no eating the flour,” you say gently, pulling her flour-covered fingers out of her mouth. “It doesn’t taste good yet.”

She pouts dramatically, her big brown eyes shining with mischief. “But I’m hungry, Mommy!”

“You’ll get cookies soon,” Lewis assures her, ruffling her curly hair. “But first, we have to make the dough.”

The dough comes together quickly, though not without a few mishaps. Lia accidentally dumps too much sugar into the bowl, prompting a quick rescue mission from you and Leo. Lewis adds a bit too much molasses, which makes the dough stickier than it should be. But the laughter and teamwork make up for any imperfections.

When it’s time to roll out the dough, you dust the counter with flour and hand Lia a miniature rolling pin. She takes her job very seriously, rolling the dough with all her might, even if it’s uneven and full of tiny fingerprints.

“Look, Mommy! I’m a chef!” she announces proudly.

“You’re the best chef,” you reply, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Meanwhile, Leo focuses intently on cutting out shapes with the cookie cutters. He’s careful and precise, his tongue poking out in concentration as he presses a star-shaped cutter into the dough.

“Good job, buddy,” Lewis says, giving him a fist bump. “That’s a perfect star.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Leo says, beaming.

Of course, it’s not long before things start to spiral into delightful chaos. Lia, bored with rolling dough, begins decorating her face with flour, creating what she calls a “gingerbread mask.” Leo accidentally knocks over the bowl of sprinkles, sending colorful candies skittering across the floor. And Lewis, in his attempt to “help,” manages to get icing on his nose and eyebrows.

“You’re supposed to decorate the cookies, not yourself,” you tease, laughing as you wipe a smear of icing off his cheek.

“I’m just setting the vibe,” he quips, leaning in to kiss you. Before his lips can meet yours, Lia interrupts with a loud, “Ewwww, Mommy and Daddy are kissing!”

You and Lewis laugh, pulling apart but not before he winks at you. “We’ll finish that later,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear.

Finally, the cookies are ready to go into the oven. You let Leo and Lia take turns placing the tray in with Lewis supervising closely.

As the cookies bake, the smell of ginger and cinnamon fills the kitchen, making everyone’s mouth water. You’re wiping down the counter when Lia tugs on your sleeve.

“Mommy, can we make hot chocolate?” she asks sweetly, her flour-covered face tilted up at you.

“Of course we can,” you say, lifting her off the counter and setting her on the floor. “Let’s get the mugs.”

By the time the cookies are ready, the four of you are sitting at the table, sipping hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. The cookies, though slightly misshapen, are delicious, and Leo takes great pride in pointing out which ones he decorated.

“This one’s mine,” he says, holding up a star-shaped cookie covered in lopsided icing. “And that one’s Lia’s.”

“It’s so pretty,” Lia says, clapping her hands. “Just like me!”

Lewis bursts out laughing. “You’re not wrong, princess.”

As the evening winds down, you survey the mess in the kitchen: flour on the counters, sprinkles on the floor, and sticky fingerprints everywhere. But the sound of your children’s laughter and the sight of their frosting-smeared faces make it all worth it.

“We’re definitely doing this again next year,” Lewis says, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Absolutely,” you agree, leaning into him.

The kids, now on a sugar high, start a game of tag around the table, their giggles echoing through the house.

Charles

The twins are perched on either side of the kitchen island, their little hands eager to dive into the pile of cookie cutters and bowls of colorful icing. Jules, ever the perfectionist, carefully lines up the cutters, his brow furrowed in concentration. Alessandro, on the other hand, is already elbow-deep in the flour, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Papa, is it like this?" Jules asks, holding up a perfectly shaped gingerbread man. Charles leans over, his green eyes sparkling with pride. "C'est parfait, Jules! You’re a natural."

You’re busy rolling out another sheet of dough when Alessandro lets out a frustrated huff. "Mine broke!" he exclaims, holding up a decapitated gingerbread man. Tears threaten to spill as he glares at the dough.

Before you or Charles can intervene, Jules slides his own gingerbread man over to his twin. "Here, Ale. You can have mine. I’ll make another one," he says softly, his tone filled with understanding.

The gesture melts your heart. Charles places a hand on your back, his expression a mix of pride and tenderness as he watches his sons. "They’re good boys," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Alessandro sniffs, accepting the cookie with a shy smile. "Thanks, Jules. You’re the best brother."

The rest of the baking session goes smoothly, with Alessandro taking his time to mimic Jules’ careful technique. The boys work together to decorate their cookies, laughing as they sneak tastes of icing and sprinkles. Charles manages to snap a few candid photos, capturing the flour-streaked faces and genuine smiles that light up the room.

When the cookies are finally done, the twins proudly present their creations to you and Charles. "Look, Mama! Papa!" they say in unison, holding up their plates of colorful gingerbread men.

"Magnificent!" Charles declares, pulling the boys into a bear hug. "You two are master bakers."

You smile, wrapping your arms around your little family, your heart has never felt fuller.

Carlos

The kitchen is a whirlwind of chaos and laughter as your three little ones dive into the gingerbread-making process. Ruby, your five-year-old, takes charge immediately, carefully measuring out ingredients with her tongue poking out in concentration. Marco, who is four, is more interested in sneaking tastes of the dough, while Roman, your three-year-old, is determined to use every single cookie cutter at once.

"Mama, can I do the sprinkles now?" Ruby asks, holding up a shaker of red and green sprinkles. Before you can answer, Marco bumps into her, causing the shaker to topple over and coat the counter in a glittering mess.

"Marco!" Ruby scolds, her lower lip trembling as she surveys the ruined sprinkles.

"Sorry!" Marco says quickly, his big brown eyes wide with guilt. Roman, sensing the tension, toddles over to Ruby and wraps his little arms around her waist. "Don’t be sad, Ruby. We help," he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Marco nods earnestly, grabbing a dishcloth. "I’ll clean it up, Ruby!"

You exchange a look with Carlos, who is watching the scene unfold with a soft smile. "Our little team," he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

With Ruby’s spirits lifted, the three kids work together to fix the mess. Marco carefully wipes up the spilled sprinkles while Roman hands Ruby a new shaker. "Here, Ruby. You do it better," he says, his tiny voice full of sincerity.

Carlos crouches down to help Ruby and Marco roll out the dough again, his hands guiding theirs as they press the cutters into the soft surface. Roman, meanwhile, has discovered the joy of throwing flour into the air, creating a fine white mist that settles over everyone.

"Roman!" Carlos exclaims, laughing as he tries to stop the little boy. But Roman is too quick, and soon even Carlos’ dark hair is dusted with flour.

By the time the cookies are finally baked and decorated, the kitchen looks like a tornado has passed through. But as you sit on the floor with Carlos and the kids, nibbling on warm gingerbread and sharing stories, the mess feels like a small price to pay for such a perfect family moment.

Max

The kitchen feels extra cozy as little Mia, your three-year-old daughter, toddles up to the counter on her step stool. She clutches a rolling pin almost as big as her, her tiny tongue peeking out in concentration.

"Dada, I’m making a big cookie!" Mia announces, pressing down on the dough with all her strength. Max chuckles, standing beside her. "A big cookie for a big girl, right?"

You’re sifting flour when Mia suddenly sneezes. A puff of flour rises into the air, landing on her nose and cheeks. Her eyes go wide in surprise before she bursts into a fit of giggles.

"Dada! I’m white!" she exclaims, pointing to her face. Max grins and taps her nose with his finger, adding another smudge of flour. "Now you look like a snowman!"

"Mama, I’m a snowman!" Mia declares, holding out her arms for you to see. You laugh, wiping your hands on a towel before leaning in to kiss her floury cheek. "The cutest snowman I’ve ever seen."

As Mia works on her giant cookie, Max decides to get creative. He scoops a bit of icing and dabs it on your nose, earning a playful glare from you. "Max!"

"What? It’s Christmas spirit!" he says innocently, though his mischievous grin gives him away.

Before long, the kitchen turns into a playful battlefield. Mia joins in, flinging tiny handfuls of flour at both you and Max. Her giggles echo through the room as Max lifts her up, spinning her around to evade your “retaliation” with a handful of sprinkles.

When the cookies are finally in the oven, the three of you are covered head to toe in flour, sprinkles, and icing. Mia sits on Max’s lap at the kitchen table, munching on a leftover piece of dough. "Dada, can we eat the cookies now?" she asks, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Soon, angel," Max says, brushing a strand of flour-dusted hair out of her face. "First, they have to bake."

As you all wait, you take a moment to snap a photo of your messy but happy little family. The kitchen might need serious cleaning, but the memories made within its walls are priceless. Once the cookies are out of the oven, cooled, and decorated with Mia’s enthusiastic smears of icing and an overload of sprinkles, she proudly holds up her "big cookie."

"Look, Mama! Dada! My cookie is so pretty!" she beams, her little chest puffed out with pride.

"It’s the best cookie I’ve ever seen," Max says earnestly, leaning down to kiss her cheek. You nod in agreement, wrapping an arm around both of them.

"Absolutely. This one’s going in the family hall of fame," you tease, already planning to snap another picture. The three of you sit down to enjoy the sweet treats together, your hearts full despite the flour-coated chaos surrounding you.

Lando

The kitchen is a whirlwind of flour, sugar, and laughter as you and Lando attempt to make gingerbread cookies with your four-year-old daughter, Celeste. Standing on her little stool by the counter, she’s already covered in flour from head to toe, her tiny hands eagerly grabbing at the cookie cutters. Lando leans close to her, his face alight with a mixture of amusement and pure adoration.

“Alright, baby,” Lando says, handing her a star-shaped cutter. “Press it down nice and hard, just like this.” He demonstrates with a gingerbread man cutter, and Celeste mimics him with all the determination of a toddler on a mission.

“I did it!” she announces proudly, holding up her slightly lopsided star. Her big green eyes shine as she turns to you for approval.

“That’s perfect, baby girl,” you say, brushing a bit of flour off her nose. “You’re a natural baker.”

Celeste beams, and Lando’s grin widens as he grabs another piece of dough. “She takes after me,” he teases, earning an eye roll from you. “What can I say? Talent runs in the family.”

“Oh, does it?” you reply, arching a brow as you sprinkle a little flour onto his cheek. Lando gasps dramatically, grabbing a handful of flour and tossing it into the air like confetti. Celeste squeals with laughter, clapping her hands and sending a puff of flour everywhere.

“Lando!” you scold, though you’re laughing too.

“What? She started it,” he says, pointing at Celeste, who giggles even harder.

When the cookies are finally in the oven, the three of you sit at the table with bowls of icing and sprinkles. Lando takes one look at the little tray of cookies and shakes his head. “I think these might be the most... abstract gingerbread cookies ever made.”

Celeste holds up a cookie she’s decorated with three blobs of icing and a pile of red sprinkles. “It’s a snowman!” she says proudly.

Lando’s face softens, and he nods. “The best snowman I’ve ever seen,” he says, leaning over to kiss her flour-dusted cheek.

You watch as Celeste happily eats her cookie, her tiny teeth nibbling away at the edges. Lando’s eyes never leave her, his expression so full of love it makes your heart ache. “She’s perfect,” he murmurs, reaching over to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

As Celeste finishes her cookie, Lando scoops her up into his arms, spinning her around until she’s giggling uncontrollably. He plants kisses all over her face, making her squeal and squirm. “Daddy, stop! It tickles!”

“Never!” Lando declares, holding her close and laughing along with her.

By the end of the evening, the kitchen is a complete mess, but you wouldn’t trade the chaos for anything. With Celeste snuggled up between you and Lando on the couch, her tiny hand clutching a gingerbread star, you feel like the luckiest family in the world.

Oscar

The kitchen is calm but buzzing with a quiet excitement as your twins, four-year-old Odessa and Ocean, stand on their step stools by the counter. Odessa’s brows are furrowed in deep concentration as she carefully presses a gingerbread man cutter into the rolled-out dough. Ocean, on the other hand, is humming a Christmas tune, sprinkling flour on her side of the counter with as much flair as possible.

"Mommy, look! Mine has arms this time!" Odessa says proudly, holding up her perfectly shaped cookie. You smile and nod, brushing a bit of flour from her cheek.

"Great job, honeybun! You’re getting really good at this."

Oscar, standing nearby with a mixing bowl in hand, chuckles softly. "'s precision is unmatched," he says, ruffling Odessa’s dark brown curls before turning to Ocean. "And Ocean, are you making snow angels or cookies?"

Ocean giggles, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Both!" she declares, throwing a puff of flour into the air. It lands on her hair, turning her into a mini snow queen.

Oscar shakes his head, amused, and places the bowl down to help. "Alright, let’s focus on the cookies before we lose the rest of the flour," he says, guiding Ocean’s tiny hands to press a star cutter into the dough.

"Daddy, do you like stars or trees better?" Ocean asks, glancing up at him.

Oscar pretends to think for a moment. "Hmm, I think I like stars better because they remind me of you and Odessa—my two brightest stars."

Odessa rolls her eyes in good-natured embarrassment. "Papa, that’s so cheesy."

You laugh, nudging Odessa gently. "Sometimes cheesy is good, honey."

As the cookies bake in the oven, the four of you sit at the table, readying bowls of icing and sprinkles for decorating. Odessa picks up a piping bag, her little hands steady as she carefully outlines her gingerbread man’s shirt. Ocean, meanwhile, goes for an avant-garde approach, covering her cookie with every color of icing she can reach.

"Ocean, your gingerbread man looks like a rainbow exploded on him," Odessa comments, tilting her head as she examines her work.

"It’s called art," Ocean replies with a dramatic flip of her flour-dusted hair.

Oscar hides a grin behind his hand, leaning over to whisper to you. "She’s got your sass."

You laugh softly, watching your little ones pour their hearts into their creations. When the cookies are finally finished, Odessa presents her gingerbread man with a proud grin. "Look, Daddy, it’s you!"

Oscar inspects the cookie’s neat icing tie and buttoned shirt, his eyes crinkling with delight. "Wow, Odessa. You’ve made me look very handsome."

"And this one’s Mommy!" Ocean chimes in, holding up a colorful cookie that’s practically drowning in sprinkles.

You gasp playfully. "Ocean, I’ve never looked better."

The evening ends with all four of you sitting on the couch, enjoying your gingerbread creations and a Christmas movie playing softly in the background. Odessa leans against Oscar’s side, and Ocean cuddles in your lap, both happily munching on their cookies. As the glow of the Christmas tree lights flickers across the room, you catch Oscar’s eye. He smiles at you, the warmth in his gaze saying everything words can’t.

The kitchen may be clean now, the flour swept away and the cookie cutters put back in their drawers, but the memory of this perfect family moment will linger long after the last crumb is gone.

Sebastian

The kitchen is lively with chatter as Sebastian stands at the counter, helping your children, Tommy, Jamie, and Ambria, shape gingerbread cookies. Jamie, determined to make the perfect reindeer, furrows his brows in concentration while Ambria giggles, sprinkling flour onto the table—and accidentally onto Sebastian’s hair.

"Ambria," Sebastian says in mock seriousness, brushing flour off his curls, "are you trying to turn me into a snowman?"

Ambria bursts into laughter. "You’d make the best snowman, Papa!" she declares, tossing another puff of flour into the air. Jamie snickers, but his focus remains on his dough.

"Alright, alright," you interject, smiling as you place a tray of freshly shaped cookies onto the counter. "Let’s save some flour for the actual baking, shall we?"

Sebastian grins at you, his green eyes sparkling. "They’re creative, what can I say?"

The oven hums as the first batch of cookies bakes, filling the air with the warm, spiced scent of gingerbread. Jamie and Ambria lean against the counter, eagerly watching the timer count down.

"Papa," Jamie says, glancing up at Sebastian, "why do we always make gingerbread cookies at Christmas?"

Sebastian kneels to Jamie’s level, his hands resting on his son’s flour-dusted shoulders. "Because it’s a tradition," he explains gently. "It’s something we do together as a family, so that every Christmas, we can remember these moments."

Ambria tilts her head thoughtfully. "Like a memory we can eat?"

Sebastian chuckles, pulling her into a hug. "Exactly, my little philosopher."

When the cookies are done, the decorating begins. Ambria meticulously decorates each cookie with colorful icing and sprinkles, while Jamie opts for a simpler approach, carefully outlining each one. Sebastian joins in, creating a gingerbread version of each family member.

"This one’s Mama," he says, holding up a cookie with icing hair that matches yours. "Beautiful, just like the real thing."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Seb."

Later, as the cookies cool, the four of you sit around the Christmas tree with mugs of hot chocolate, the lights casting a soft glow around the room. Ambria snuggles into Sebastian’s side, her head resting on his shoulder, while Jamie leans against your arm, holding a gingerbread cookie shaped like a snowman.

"These are the best cookies we’ve ever made," Ambria declares, her voice sleepy but content.

Sebastian smiles, pressing a kiss to her hair. "That’s because we made them together," he says softly, his gaze meeting yours.

In that moment, surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the scent of gingerbread, you realize that these simple traditions, messy, flour-filled, and full of love, are what make the holidays truly magical.

Jenson

Your home is filled with the chaos and warmth only a family of seven can create. The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity as your five children—eleven-year-old Orion, nine-year-old Brandon, eight-year-old Killian, four-year-old Isabella, and one-year-old Luna—all take their positions around the counter. Jenson stands at the center, his sleeves rolled up and a mischievous grin on his face, ready to lead the troops.

“Alright, everyone,” Jenson announces, clapping his hands. “We’re making gingerbread cookies. Team Button, are you ready?”

“Yes!” Orion and Brandon shout, already reaching for the flour and rolling pins. Killian grabs a handful of cookie cutters, examining them with the precision of a race engineer. Isabella bounces on her stool, her excitement contagious as she claps her flour-dusted hands. Luna, perched safely in her highchair, babbles happily, smacking her little fists against the tray.

You laugh, standing back for a moment to watch the organized chaos unfold. “This is either going to be amazing or a complete disaster,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter.

Jenson winks at you. “It’ll be both,” he replies confidently.

Orion, the eldest and self-appointed leader of the kids, takes charge of measuring the ingredients. “Dad, do we really need this much cinnamon?” he asks, holding up the spice jar.

Jenson pretends to think deeply. “Hmm, cinnamon makes everything better, so maybe add just a little more.”

Brandon nudges Orion with a smirk. “He just wants an excuse to eat more cookies.”

Killian, meanwhile, has commandeered the cookie cutters and is lining them up in a perfect row. “We need a reindeer, a star, and a Christmas tree,” he declares. “And maybe a race car, if we can make one.”

“A race car?” Jenson grins, his eyes lighting up. “That’s my boy.”

Isabella, not to be outdone, grabs a rolling pin and starts flattening the dough with all her might. “I’m making the biggest cookie ever!” she announces, her tiny hands working with determination. You step in to help guide her efforts, laughing as she sticks her tongue out in concentration.

As the dough begins to take shape, Luna decides she’s had enough of just watching. She smacks her tray again, this time sending a puff of flour into the air.

“Luna wants to help too,” you say, lifting her out of the highchair and handing her a soft piece of dough to squish in her tiny fists. She giggles, smearing it across her cheeks like war paint.

“She’s starting her own cookie war,” Jenson jokes, snapping a picture on his phone.

Once the cookies are cut and placed on baking sheets, the decorating begins. Orion and Brandon focus on intricate designs, their competitive streaks coming out as they try to outdo each other. Killian, ever the perfectionist, takes his time with each cookie, ensuring every sprinkle is in its rightful place. Isabella opts for a more abstract approach, piling on as much icing and candy as possible. Luna, of course, eats more sprinkles than she applies, her little face sticky with sugar.

“Look at this one,” Jenson says, holding up a gingerbread man with a green icing bow tie. “This is Uncle Lewis. What do you think?”

The kids burst into laughter. “He needs sunglasses!” Orion suggests, grabbing black icing to add the finishing touch.

When the cookies are finally done and cooling on the racks, the kitchen looks like a snowstorm of flour and sugar has hit it. Jenson surveys the mess with a chuckle. “Well, we might need a pit crew to clean this up.”

“I’ll help, Dad,” Brandon volunteers, grabbing a dishcloth.

“Me too!” Killian chimes in, his perfectionist tendencies extending to tidying up.

As the cleaning begins, you notice Isabella carefully placing her cookies on a plate. “These are for Santa,” she explains, her voice serious. “He needs the best ones.”

“And these are for us,” Orion says, holding up a tray. “Because we’re the best cookie makers in the world.”

Jenson wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as you watch your children’s teamwork and laughter. “We did good, didn’t we?” he murmurs.

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah, we really did.”

That night, after the kids are tucked into bed, you and Jenson sit by the Christmas tree, sharing a plate of gingerbread cookies and a quiet moment together. The chaos of the day lingers in the best way, filling your heart with warmth and love.

“Same time next year?” Jenson asks, a playful glint in his eye.

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “Definitely.”

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽! ❥☽ @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @teti-menchon0604 @bxtosa @fadingcloudballoon-blog @whatevenisthisxxxxx @anamiad00msday @luula @jimcarreyfann42 @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld @goldenroutledge @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @flowerpetalk @paucubarsisimp @its-elias-world @magixpracticality @poppyflower-22 @pear-1206

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[inazuman]

dec. 14 ✧ day one ✧ preparing your home for winter - itoshi sae x reader fluff, blue lock. note: reader is close with her mother in this, and has some personality.

"Cute." Sae raises a soft toy out of the box of them, squeezing its head in your direction as if it's nodding. You can't help but laugh at his nonchalant face whilst doing something so childish.

The box is full of them, never thrown out since the day you were born. It makes him about what you must've been like as a child. With a room full of stuffed toys, he imagines, from how many he's seeing in the box right now. Did you covet them, similarly to how you do with him now?

"I don't know what my mom was thinking, buying all of these for me." You sigh, sifting through them for a bit before shutting the box back again, a lift of dust catching the light like fireflies.

"She loves and spoils you. Are you sure you wanna throw all this out?" He gestures to the row of boxes lined against the wall.

You sigh again. You've done that a lot throughout this process, something like pain and grief and fatigue all in one.

"My grandmother was a huge hoarder. It might seem strange but… This is the best thing. The thing I've wanted to do for so long."

You take his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together. "Thank you for being here for me through this. The donations… it feels like a good thing."

He's never sure what to do or what to say when you get like this. Your heavy-heartedness, the sentimentality you hold. Sometimes, he can't believe that all you feel fits in your chest.

It must be heavy, he thinks. He loves you. He'll hold it with you.

He pats your head, and the way you beam at him makes everything a little lighter.

"You've provided so much for me, Sae," you wrap your arms around his neck. "You've given me so much. It feels right, to be able to at least give back a little." You stare out at the boxes, a nostalgic look passing over for just a moment. "This'll all go to homes. It's something my mom and I used to do together, give them out. She'd be happy to hear it's finally going to be of good use. I'll call her and let her know."

You've said this before, that he provides for you. Something about having a home, about security, about finally being able to relax. He's not always sure what you mean, just happy to make you happy. What you provide for him, someone to come home to, a love that feels bigger than the world, your innovation and communication and compassion -- That, he knows. He imagines it's something like that. He hopes it is.

"Giving back does sound good," he hums.

"My mother says it's good feng shui, too, you know. To clear out a home before the new year starts."

"New year, new me?" he jests, and you smack him in the chest.

"It sounds weird when you say it!"

twelve days of selfshipmas event

late post to this event! my family's place is indeed being cleaned out rn w everything going to donation ahaha. i hope everyone has the most loveliest christmas!

[whumpshots]

Whumptober #12

Trope of the day: "Just a little more"

_

Caretaker pushes Whumpee back down as they try to sit up, cradling their head on their lap. Team leader is driving fast, hopefully faster than Whumpee loses blood.

"Almost there. Try to move as little as possible," they mutter as they watch Whumpee's eyes go in and out of focus. Do they even know where they are? What happened? Caretaker can only guess.

"Hurts," Whumpee manages to croak, flinching when Team leader has to hit the breaks. Trying to hold them still, Caretaker nods understandingly.

"I know. Just a little more, we're almost there... Just a little more," they mutter, stroking their thumb over Whumpee's pale cheek. Watching Whumpee battle their heavy eyelids, they tell Team leader to hurry.

[lupinsweater]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

James Potter x Latina!Reader 🎁 1.2k words

← part one part three →

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆ ꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You were frustrated.

Ever since your apartment complex had gotten a new postman in January, your mail had been getting mixed up. At the beginning, it had been a logical mistake. By now, though, you almost expected to see the name “James Potter” printed across the packages you had outside your door.

James lived in apartment 210- it was one of the nicer ones on your floor that had been newly remodeled. You lived in apartment 218 (which had not been newly renovated, and was much cheaper). James’ nice new apartment number had a fancy little slash through the 0, and your apartment number was falling apart- the middle of the 8 had chipped away, making it more like a 0.

You’d been leaving each other’s mail outside your doors, which worked fine, but it had been a nuisance, to say the least. Now that it was December, the thought of Christmas packages getting mixed up was just too much. Throwing on a jumper and grabbing the package you had received for James that morning, you marched down the stairs towards the front desk. If you could see your reflection, you were positive you would see steam coming out of your ears.

What happened next was fully your own fault. You had been known to have a one track mind, and today was certainly no exception. That’s how you found yourself slamming face first into a very handsome, very angry man.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, stumbling backwards and fumbling with the package in your hands. The handsome man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he reached forward to grab your waist to stabilize you.

“I’m so sorry-”

“That was totally my fault-”

You both chuckled awkwardly, and he removed his hand from your waist, grinning sheepishly. He held it out to you as he said, “James Potter. I’m so sorry again.”

“Oh! James!” You said. He furrowed his brows in confusion, and you blushed, quickly amending, “Sorry. Our mail just keeps getting mixed up.” You reached out to shake his hand, giving him your name as you did so.

His eyes lit up in recognition. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a few letters with your name on them, and you handed him the package.

“Bit ridiculous that this keeps happening, isn’t it?” James chuckled awkwardly as you pocketed your mail. You groaned, despite yourself.

“Tell me about it. I was just heading down to the front desk to complain about it again. I’m not sure what more they can do about it, but it just needed to be said.”

“Oh, brilliant! I was just going to do the same thing,” James said, grinning brightly. His smile could have lit a whole room, and you could feel your cheeks flush. “Why don’t we go down together? Maybe it will be more effective that way.”

“Alright,” you said with a nod, smiling at him in a way you hoped wasn’t too awkward. The two of you made your way over to the elevator, and he followed you in, pressing the button for the lobby as he did so. You were grateful your apartments were only on the second floor- the elevator ride was only a bit uncomfortable. When you reached the ground floor, he gestured for you to exit first, and he followed you over to the front desk. James slipped around you, and leaned against the desk casually.

“Good morning, Mrs. Pince,” James said, winking at the older woman playfully. She hardly looked up from her computer as she replied.

“Mr. Potter. To what do I owe the immense pleasure?” she said dryly. James deflated slightly, and you bit back a laugh.

“Well, you see, it’s about my mail…” James started sheepishly. She looked up sharply from her computer, sighing impatiently at him.

“I’ve already told you, Mr. Potter, there’s not much more I can do. You could try waiting for the mailman, but he isn’t consistent with his delivery times. I’m afraid you might be out of luck.” She began typing again, clearly dismissing him.

“Please, Mrs. Pince,” you pleaded, pushing him out of the way slightly to come up to the desk as well. She looked up at you and sighed again, turning to face you with a glare that made you shrink into yourself. “This has been an issue since January. It’s December. Surely you can talk to the mailman when he comes tomorrow?”

“As I just said to Mr. Potter, there’s nothing else I can do for the two of you,” she repeated flatly, turning back to her computer. She pushed her glasses up her pointy nose as she said, “It seems the two of you know each other well enough, anyways. I can’t imagine it’s that much of an issue.”

You huffed, opening your mouth to yell at her, but James grabbed your arm quickly, giving you a warning glance and tugging you away from the desk. As he guided you back towards the elevator, you grumbled.

“What was that for? I was about to give her a piece of my mind,” you said, glaring at him. He just shook his head.

“Yelling at her won’t change anything, besides giving her a reason to try to get you evicted,” James said patiently. “Besides, she’s stubborn. If she refuses to talk to the mailman, then there’s nothing else we can do about it.” The elevator arrived again, and he nudged you inside, pressing the button to your floor.

“I hate that you’re right,” you mumbled, kicking at the elevator floor lamely. James smiled.

“Hey, it’s not so bad. At least we’ve met now- I don’t feel weird knocking on your door to give you your packages. I don’t want any Christmas things to get stolen.”

You nodded. “That was my biggest concern. Maybe I’ll try leaving notes on my door again, too. Not that it helped last time.”

James laughed. “Hey, I did that too. Maybe the mailman can’t read.”

You snorted unattractively, then clamped a hand over your mouth, wide-eyed. James raised an eyebrow, clearly fighting back a grin, and you felt your cheeks heat up again.

“Well, if we’re stuck with this mess, at least we can make the best of it,” he said, leaning casually against the elevator wall. His easy confidence was almost contagious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly. “I mean, it’s been eleven months of mixed-up mail. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of forcing us to be friends.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in mock skepticism. “Friends, huh? I don’t even know what kind of mail you get, James Potter. For all I know, you could be ordering dodgy stuff off the internet.”

James feigned a look of scandalized offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “Dodgy stuff? I’ll have you know, I’m an upstanding citizen! My mail is nothing but perfectly respectable Christmas decorations, thank you very much.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and James grinned triumphantly. When the elevator doors opened again, you both stepped out and lingered in the hallway, neither of you in a hurry to leave.

“Well,” you said, clutching the mail in your hands, “I guess I’ll see you the next time the postman gets it wrong, which will probably be tomorrow.”

James sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “At this point, I feel like we should just swap keys so we can handle this ourselves.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Right, because that wouldn’t be weird at all.”

He smirked. “Okay, bad idea. But seriously, if this keeps up, maybe we should leave a complaint together. A united front might do the trick.

You shrugged. “We can try. Though judging by Mrs. Pince’s reaction just now, I’m not holding my breath.”

James nodded in agreement. “Fair point. I guess we’ll just keep playing mail roulette for now. At least it keeps things interesting.”

“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use,” you muttered.

He grinned, stepping back toward his apartment.

“Alright, well, see you at the next hand-off. Maybe next time we’ll get lucky, and the mailman will actually deliver things correctly for once.”

“Don’t jinx it,” you said with a small smile.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he called over his shoulder as he turned toward his door. “Have a good night!”

“You too,” you replied, heading back to your apartment.

As you stepped inside and set the mail down on the counter, you felt some of your earlier frustration ebb away. Sure, the constant mix-ups were annoying, but at least now there was a friendly face—and a pretty attractive one, at that—to go with the name on all those packages. Maybe dealing with the mail wasn’t going to be as much of a hassle as you’d thought.

[pedrospatch]

when i’m feeling alone, you remind me of home

Javier Peña x DEA Agent Female Reader

summary: Spending Christmas in Bogotá, Colombia isn’t ideal. Javier knows you’re missing home a little harder than usual, so he comes up with a plan to cheer you up.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. minor deviation from canon timeline (had to make it work), reader is an agent for the DEA, NO AGE SPECIED, NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION, reader understands and speaks spanish but no mention of her race or ethnicity, friends to lovers trope, reader celebrates christmas, reader has a good relationship with her family, minor smoking and alcohol consumption (both reader and javi), reader’s a bit rough around the edges sometimes. fluff, soft javi, he’s a bit of a grinch in the beginning though. switches in pov’s and tenses.

*ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS AT THE END.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: thank you to @hellishjoel for inviting me to join in on this fun project!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist

Javier Peña doesn’t do Christmas.

He especially doesn’t do Christmas in Bogotá.

He doesn’t see the point even acknowledging it.

There are more important things on his mind.

Capturing Pablo Escobar.

Dismantling the dangerous Medellín Cartel.

Living long enough to tell the fucking tale.

Those were his priorities while in Colombia.

Not decking the halls with boughs of holly.

And yet, there he is, fighting with a string of bright and colorful lights, wishing these damn things would put themselves on the tree. “Puta madre,” Javi curses underneath his breath as he tries untangling them from around his waist. Somehow, he only makes it worse. He grumbles, “This is fucking ridiculous—it shouldn’t be this fucking hard throwing lights on a goddamn fucking tree—” He pauses, spins around to find where he’d gone wrong and then continues grouching to himself. “Can’t believe people do this fucking shit for fun. Stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

Javi manages to free himself and glances down at his watch to see he’s running out of time—it’s past five now, and unless Messina’s in one of those bad fucking moods of hers and decides to dump some last minute paperwork onto your desk, then you’re going to be walking through the front door soon.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep and frustrated sigh.

He’d been an idiot to decline Connie’s offer to help him when she had dropped off the decorations for him earlier that afternoon.

“You sure you don’t need my help?” she had asked as she handed him the cardboard box overflowing with festive ornaments and tinsel. “I have a couple of more hours before I have to be at the clinic, you know. I can help you set it all up for her, make it all nice and pretty.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it handled,” he’d replied. “I’m sure it won’t take me too long to put some—is this fucking fruit?” Confused, Javi shifted the box over to his hip, pulling out a string of dried oranges and red cranberries. “Um, what the hell is this for? This supposed to be a snack for me while I decorate?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a homemade garland.”

“It’s a homemade what now?”

“Garland, Javier. It goes on the tree.”

Amused, he’d raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fruit going back onto the tree? That’s ironic.”

Sighing, Connie rolled her eyes at him once more.

“Last chance. Do you want my help or not, Javi?”

“I appreciate it, but like I said, I’ve got it handled.”

She’d shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself, then.”

Little did he know how he’d regret his decision. It’s a bigger headache than he thought it would be, an incredible waste of valuable time he could’ve been using to hunt down new leads, do the job he came here to do and find Pablo Escobar. Then again, the more he thinks about it, the more Javi realizes this isn’t a waste of his time at all—not really.

Because he’s doing this for you.

Because he knows you love Christmas.

Because he knows you’ve been feeling homesick.

The season you normally adored was bringing you nothing but heartache this year. There is a void—a hole in your heart that only your family could fill.

“Messina denied my request for time off,” you had told him, taking a drag of his cigarette—you’re not much of a smoker, but he’d learned that tended to change on occasion when you were upset. “Said it isn’t fair to let me go home for Christmas. That I’m not the only one who wants to be with their family. And I get it. I do.” Sighing, you took a second drag and then handed the cigarette back to Javier; he’d put it between his lips, the taste of cherry flavored lip gloss that lingered on the filtered tip prompting a craving stronger than his craving for nicotine. “It was selfish of me to even think of taking time off. I just—I miss spending Christmas in my hometown, you know? Waking up to snow outside my window in the mornings. Building snowmen with my sister, hurling snowballs at my brother. I miss my mother and her cooking. I miss my father and how even at our age, he still insists on pretending to be Santa.”

Laughing, Javier leaned forward on his stool.

You’d asked him to meet you at your usual spot—a quiet lounge bar right around the corner from your apartment. When he walked in and saw the scotch in front of you on the table, he’d known something was wrong. You’re not much of a drinker, either.

“Does he eat the cookies and drink the milk too?”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, a little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. He tried not to let his gaze longer there too long—he’s just one man. There was only so much strength he could muster to keep fighting the temptation.

“Of course. He takes his role very, very seriously.”

Despite your smile, he’d noticed it right away.

The unmistakable sadness in your eyes.

You were tough as fucking nails.

In this line of work, you had no choice but to be.

But Javier knew your family was your weakness.

His weakness?

His weakness was sitting there in front of him with a crestfallen expression on her pretty face, tracing around the rim of her glass with her finger.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Your voice had thickened, the emotions you’re used to bottling up threatening to boil over.

“Of course not,” he assured you. “There is nothing stupid about wanting to go back home to see your family. There’s nothing stupid about wanting to be with them for the holidays. I promise you that.”

You snorted. “Peña, we’re trying to bring down the most dangerous man in all of South America. Last thing I need to be doing right now is dreaming of a white Christmas. It’s fucking stupid, alright?”

Hesitantly, Javier lifted his hand and placed it over yours—it wasn’t the first time he’d ever held it, not the first time he had shown physical affection, but this was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you and he didn’t want to make things worse. Once he realized it was okay, he brushed the back of it with his thumb softly, soothingly.

“Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño.”

“No hay caso para eso, Javier.”

“Maybe I can convince her to let you go. She’s got me and she’s got Murphy. We’ll handle things here while you head home for a few days, spend a week with your family for Christmas. Doesn’t hurt to try, you know.” Javi squeezed your hand. Knowing just how fucking stubborn you could be, he insisted on it. “Por favor, cielo. Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. Dejame ayudarte.”

You drained the rest of your scotch and swallowed it along with the lump that had climbed it’s way up your throat. Setting the glass back down, you then pulled your hand out from under his and stood up.

“Forget it. I’m here because I have a job to do—we both have a job to do. I’ll get over it, Javier. Always do.”

Before he could say another word, you’d picked up your jacket and purse, making a quick dash for the exit before he could see the stubborn tear slipping out from the corner of your eye and down the side of your face. But he had seen it, and that’s exactly why he knew he had to do something for you.

About an hour later, Javi places a glittering star on top of the white spruce and then takes a couple of steps back, hands on his hips. Cocking his head to the side, he observes the tree and makes sure that he hasn’t left a single spot bare. He decides to add more gold tinsel until he feels oddly satisfied—and once he is, he pulls out his pocket knife, using it to open the small sized box he had brought with him; two different addresses were scribbled on the side of it in your mother’s handwriting, his apartment’s address the destination, her address the return.

“I wrapped it well,” she’d said over the phone. “It’s her most prized possession, so I really hope it gets to you in one piece or she’s going to kill us both.”

Javier slowly unwraps the object inside and feels a wave of complete and utter relief wash over him to see it made it through customs without breaking.

He squints, taking a better look at the ornament.

The little blonde ballerina is made of porcelain and holds a nutcracker soldier in her arms—the skirt of her dress is white lace embroidered with teeny red rosettes that perfectly match the blush painted on her cheeks and the color of the bow in her hair.

“It’s Clara,” your mother had explained to him.

“Who?” he’d asked, stupidly.

“Clara. You know, from The Nutcracker?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he’d fibbed. “Clara. Got it.”

He had no clue what she had been talking about—but if it’s special to you, then it’s special to him.

Carefully, Javi hangs it on tree just as he hears the front door open and then slam shut so hard that it causes the paper thin walls of your unit to rattle.

“Peña!” you shout loudly. “You fucking asshole!”

Lip rolling between his teeth, he stifles a laugh.

You must have seen his Wrangler parked outside.

Grinning, Javier steps out into the hallway to greet you. “Hola, hermosa. Bienvenida a casa.”

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, tossing your purse and unit keys onto a nearby table. “You offer to give me ride to and from work but then proceed to ditch me and leave work three hours early—you leave me with no other fucking choice but to call a cab to bring me home and when he drops me off, I see your fucking car outside of my apartment?”

Rubbing his chin, he hums, “Sounds about right.”

You approach him, your hands curled into fists.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Javier?”

Javi’s quick to hold up his own hands in defense.

He won’t put it past you to knock him out—he and Murphy have seen you bring down men twice your size before without a weapon. Neither of them can decide if it’s hot as hell or downright terrifying.

“Okay, put those away and let me explain,” he tells you, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry I did that to you, but I did it for a reason.”

You scoff, “Well, if that reason was to piss me off, I have some news for you—it fucking worked.”

“That wasn’t the reason. Not this time, anyway.”

Chuckling, Javier extends a hand, holding it out to you.

You peer at it. “What are you doing, Peña?”

“Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti.”

Suspiciously, you ask him, “What did you do?”

He laughs again. He knew it wouldn’t make it easy for him. “You do know how surprises work, right?”

You lift your chin. “I do and I don’t like surprises.”

“I know you don’t, but I think you’ll like this one.”

Javi continues to hold out his hand and waits.

He’s just as stubborn as you are, if not more.

“We can stand here all fucking night, corazón.”

Sighing in defeat, you place your hand in his, heart skipping a beat when he smiles and laces together your fingers with his own.

“Cierra tus ojos.”

“Javier, I don’t want—”

He quickly cuts you off. “Do you trust me?”

Of course. Hell, you trusted him with your life.

And not just because it’s a job requirement.

Huffing, you do as he says and close your eyes.

“Good.” Javier places his other hand on your waist and his fingers brush against the patch of smooth, soft skin peeking out from between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your blouse. Ignoring his burning desire to feel more of you, he leads the way into the living room and positions you in front of the tree. Without dropping your hand, he moves to stand directly behind you, chest pressed lightly against your back.“Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita.”

“Look Peña, I don’t know what you’re up to but—”

Your own startled gasp cuts you off mid sentence.

Squeezing your hand, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and you can feel his grin as he whispers, “Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parece?”

You open your mouth to speak, then clamp it shut.

His surprise had left you speechless.

Pleased with himself, Javi nudges you towards the tree and then drops his hands down at his sides as he watches you gingerly touch the needles.

Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply, the delicious, woodsy smell of pine reminding you of your family and how you’d all pile into your father’s old pickup truck and head to the Christmas Tree Farm to find the perfect white spruce to take home. Your father took great care in the picking process—he wanted the tallest, fluffiest, most fragrant tree. “Need this place to smell like the farm!” he’d boom. You smile and can’t help but to think he’d approve of Javi—if not because of what he had done for you, then the choice in tree would be enough to win him over.

“Do you like it?” he asks, softly.

You open your eyes and whirl around. “Javi, I can’t believe you did this,” you say, breathlessly. Smiling brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree, you throw your arms around him. “I love it so much!”

He savors the embrace—and wonders if you know just how perfectly you fit right in his arms.

“There’s one more surprise,” Javier informs you as he spins you around to look at the tree once again. “Do you see it?”

“See what?” Peering at the tree, you frown. “What am I supposed to be looking for—wait a second, is that—is that Clara?” Your hand flies to your mouth and you look up at him in complete shock. “That’s the ornament my grandmother made for me when I was a baby! I’ve had her since my first Christmas. How did you—?”

“Santa no cuenta sus secretos.” Javi grins, pulling you closer against his side. “But if you must know, your mom sent it to me,” he confesses. “Actually, I have to be honest—this whole thing was her idea.”

Perplexed, you ask, “This was my mom’s idea?”

“I know you’ve been having a hard time being here during the holidays instead of with your family,” he says. “I called her up a couple of weeks ago, asked her what I could do for you. We started talking and came up with this.” He shrugs and touches a hand to the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I know it’s not the same as going home. But I thought it might be nice to bring a little piece of home here to you.”

Warmth blossoms inside of your chest as you turn to face him. You place a hand on his chest. “Javi?”

Nervously, his throat bobs. “Yeah?”

“Why did you do this for me?”

Javier lifts his hand and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told you. I just want to see you happy.”

“But why?”

You know why.

But you need to hear him say it.

You need to hear it from his own mouth.

Javi’s hand moves to cup the side of your face. “Is it not obvious?” he murmurs as he grazes the silky soft skin over your cheekbone. “Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientas igual.”

“How do you know I don’t feel the same for you?”

“Do you?” His thumb sweeps your bottom lip. “Do you feel the same for me?”

Your hand curls around his red plaid flannel.

“I shouldn’t,” you admit. “We’re work partners.”

He feigns offense. “Ouch. And here I was, thinking we were friends.” He now takes your chin between his index finger and his thumb. Licking his lips, his eyes meet yours. “Breaking my heart, baby.”

Your breath audibly catches. “We are friends—and it scares me to put our friendship on the line.”

“But?” he prompts as he tilts your head up toward his. His opposite hand finds your hip and pulls you closer to him.

“But when you do things like this—it’s hard for me not to fucking fall in love with you, Peña.” You drag your hand down his chest, your fingers relishing in the softness of his flannel. “It’s so fucking hard for me not to fall in love with somebody who feels like home.”

Javier’s chuckles softly.

“For the record, this wasn’t a ploy to get you to fall in love with me, corazón. But if it worked—” Javier pauses, dropping his hand from your face. “Then I guess it’s worth pulling this thing out.”

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Javi, what the hell are you—?”

He grins, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

“Connie said this might come in handy.”

Your eyes flicker to his lips, then meet his gaze.

“Ven aqui, Peña.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull Javi in and crash your mouth against his. You brush his bottom lip with your tongue and he grants you the access you’re looking for. He tastes like spearmint and scotch, and something else too.

He tastes like yours.

And he feels like home.

diver credit to @saradika-graphics ❤️

Translations

Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño. - I’ll talk to Messina, darling.

No hay caso para eso, Javier. - There’s no point, Javier.

Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. - Let me help you with this. I just want to see you happy.

Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti. - Come with me, I have a surprise for you.

Cierra tus ojos. - Close your eyes.

Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita. - You can open your eyes, pretty girl.

Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parch? - Surprise, precious girl. You have a Christmas tree. What do you think?

Santa no cuenta sus secretos. - Santa doesn’t tell his secrets.

Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientes igual. - You know all too well I have feelings for you. Even if you don’t feel the same.

Ven aqui, Peña. - Come here, Peña.

[carefreecoffee]

Fluffmas Day 11: Holiday Shopping w/Bakugou Katsuki

Word count: 2k, Gender-neutral reader

Bakugo was walking beside you through the mall, keeping a hand on your waist, while the Bakusquad followed behind you and him. "Why do we have to come here again?" Bakugo muttered to you.

“It's christmas time, duh! Gotta find presents for family and stuff” You look around tentatively at the stores around you, trying to find a good starting point.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, but said nothing, as he continued to walk with you, keeping close and glancing around at the other shoppers, as the rest of the baku squad talked together, trying to decide on what stores to go to first.

Kirishima finally spoke up, his eyes on the many different stores ahead of them. "Guys look! The new Crimson Riot merch came out today!! we gotta go see it!!" He exclaimed, before he immediately started to rush off and towards the merch store.

You watch him rush off. “I guess a bit of pro hero merch wouldn't be a bad gift.” You take Bakugou's hand into your own, guiding into the store as the others follow. Bakugo allows you to take his hand without any complaints, letting you drag him towards the store.

He glanced around at the other Pro-Hero merchandise being sold, his eyes stopping on the Crimson Riot merch. Kirishima was staring at the collection of merch, like a kid in a candy store, his excitement level off the charts. He quickly rushed forward, grabbing a new Crimson Riot plushie and a hoodie off the shelf.

Mina, Sero and Denki slowly dispersed throughout the shop as well, picking up a few pieces of merch that they wanted, while Bakugo stuck close to you, his hand still holding yours. He glanced down at the items you were picking up and looked at you. "Who's that for?" He asked, gesturing towards the collection of merch in your arms.

“I've been meaning to pay Mina back for a favor, i think she'd like some new merch for her collection” You grin, holding a Midnight plushie in your hand along with a Ryukyu keychain.

"Of course you're getting Raccoon Eyes something..." He said with a small sigh, shaking his head slightly. "Can you at least get something for someone else before you get Raccoon Eyes somethin’?"

“Hm?” You tilt your head, glancing at him. “Oh! Well i can't get you anything yet since you're with me” You playfully nudge him, scooching the items into your arms.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, but a small smirk tugged at his lips. "I meant other people, idiot..." He said, using his free hand to ruffle your hair gently.

“Orrrrr maybe I already have” Giggling as you look over the multitudes of hero memorabilia. Bakugo's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and he looked down at you with a surprised expression. "You actually already got me a present? When the hell did you even do that?" He asked, looking quite surprised.

“Can't tell, it's a secret!” You say, eyes scanning for a present material. Katsuki picks up an Endeavor plush, smirking. "What if I got this one for icy-hot?" You look at the plush in his hand as your eyes widen. “Now that's just mean! He’d probably burn it on the spot.” 

Bakugou grunts in agreement. “Yeah, probably a waste of money, not that I'd spend any on that half and half bastard.” 

You chuckle, knowing this is just how he was and that he was picky about who he’d actually spend his money on. You pick up random merch ranging from Mirko and Best Jeanist to Fatgum and Gang Orca. You pick up the plush material, looking at it longingly in thought. Bakugou’s focus shifts to the plushie in your hands. "What exactly are you staring at that plushie for, idiot?" He asked, nudging his elbow against your side.

“Oh- nothing just...just thinking about how when we're pros, we'll have plushies of our own” You grin, setting it down. He thought about that for a moment, his eyebrow raising in slight confusion.

"It's a bit weird thinking about having plushies of ourselves, isn't it?" He said, pausing for a moment, before a sly grin spread across his face. "Although, I bet my plushie will look damn better than yours."

You shove his shoulder, “Oh shut up” You head over to the register, ready to check out. Bakugo rolled his eyes once again, but smirked back, enjoying your banter, as he followed after you. "Don't get mad just cause you know my plushie will look better." He teased.

The two of you check out, getting out of the store before the others. You look at Kirishima with a wave, “Hey! We're gonna go look around the mall more, guys” Kirishima looked over at you, and nodded with a smile. "Alright! We'll let you know when we're done, okay?" He said, waving to you, before the rest of the bakusquad returned their attention to browsing the collection of Pro-Hero merch.

Once the others' attention was off of you and Bakugo, he turned back to you, still grasping your hand on his own. "So, where the hell are we heading off to now?" He asked. You shrug, “Wherever you want, we've got time”

He glanced around, thinking for a moment, before he shrugged as well. "Come on..." He tugged on your hand, before he started to stride off, pulling you along with him. Bakugou led you through the mall, weaving through the other Christmas shoppers. His pace was a bit faster than normal, causing you to almost have to jog to keep up with him.

He didn't say anything, just held your hand, and kept walking. It seemed like he had a destination in mind. Every now and then he would glance back to make sure you were keeping up. Eventually, you both come to a stop in front of a jewelry store. They had a large variety of different types of jewelry, from necklaces, to rings, and even hair clips.

Bakugo turned back to look at you, a slight look of uncertainty on his face, before he reached out and grabbed your other hand as well, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. "I want you to pick something out." He said, his tone lacking much of his normal gruffness, instead replaced with a slight hint of softness.

You raise your brows skeptically. “What? Are you sure?! This is like....the most expensive place in here!”

Bakugo rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. "I'm sure. I want to get you something special for Christmas, I won't take no for an answer." He said in a firm tone, his expression set in a determined glare, that only showed he had made up his mind. “Why not give it to me for Christmas then?” You grin, heading toward the glimmering cases.

Bakugo followed after you, a slight pout forming on his face as he shook his head. "No way in hell I'm gonna wait that long, and I want to see you wear it as soon as possible."

“Touché” Your eyes rake over the amalgamations of diamonds and rhinestones, eyes in awe. Bakugo stayed beside you, looking at the various jewelry with an almost blank expression. He glances at your face, noticing the awestruck look in your eyes. He smiles softly, glad to see you happy like that. He gently squeezed your hand, before he spoke. "See anything you like yet, idiot?"

You shake your head, “What do you think would look nice?” Bakugo thought for a moment, he tilted his head, before speaking. "Gold. It looks better on you than silver." He said, before he looked back down at the jewelry. His eyes glanced over the necklaces and bracelets, trying to think of something that would look good on you.

"Maybe...a necklace...or a bracelet?" He mumbled softly. He called over a worker to take out a set of jewelry, his fingers gently wrapping around a thin, gold chain, the chain attached to a small, gold heart.

Bakugo carefully picked it up, looking at it for a moment, before he grabbed a matching bracelet. He looked over at you, holding out the items. "Try them on." He said, with a small commanding tone. You tilted your head before letting him put on the bracelet, lifting your hair up for easier access to your neck. 

His movements were surprisingly gentle, as he placed the necklace around your neck, before carefully fastening the clasp and laying it against your skin.

He ran his fingers over the necklace once, before he stepped back, admiring you for a moment, before gesturing towards the mirrors. "Go look at yourself, idiot." He said, a slight smirk on his face.

You turn to look toward the mirror, seeing the charm on your necklace glimmer in the bright lights of the shop, eyes in awe at the sight of it on your skin.” 's really cute!”

Bakugo watched you admiring the jewelry in the mirrors. His smirk widened as he watched a smile spread across your face. He crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke. "Told you it would look good on you." He said, an almost proud tone in his voice.

You hum, moving toward him once more, having him take off the necklace and bracelet for him to purchase, “Guess I should trust you more often, Blasty” He rolled his eyes, but chuckled back nonetheless as you handed him the items, his hands wrapping around them.

"You definitely should, idiot." He said, before he turned and walked over to the cash register. He spent a few minutes paying for the items, the whole time, the grin never leaving his face.

Your eyes widen a bit as the items are rung up, the amount more than you could imagine. You mutter softly, “Kat’s thats- thats a lot of money!”

He gives you another eye roll as he turns back to you. "I know it is." He said bluntly, his voice showing off his lack of concern about the price. As soon as the items are safely in the bag, and he has a hold of the bag, he is suddenly tugging your hand again, pulling you out of the shop and back into the rest of the mall.

He comes to a sudden halt right outside of the shop, before he turns to you, a firm look on his face. "I'm putting the necklace and bracelet on you, and you're gonna wear them right here. No arguments."

Bakugo gently removed the items from the bag, with the same gentle demeanor as before. He reached up and unfastened the necklace, then carefully wrapped it around your neck, before he refastened the necklace, the small charm laying against your skin, in the center of your collar bone.

He then does the same with the bracelet, a look of concentration on his face, as he fastens the buckle, before gently wrapping his hand around your wrist, admiring the sight of the bracelet on your wrist. He slowly lowered your hand back down, and his small smirk returned once again.

You look at him, cheeks warm and face gleaming with joy. “Thank you, Kats! Really” Bakugo's smirk softened as a hint of a blush appeared on his cheeks as you thanked him. He gave your hand a small squeeze, before he spoke up.

"It's Christmas you idiot. Course I'm gonna get you something. I would have anyway even if it wasn't Christmas..." He mumbled softly, glancing away, an almost sheepish look on his face. You smile and lean up, pecking his cheek and taking his hand into your newly decorated one. “Love you, dork. Now c'mon we gotta find the others”

Bakugo's blush darkens at your comment, his eyes widen slightly. Though he doesn't pull away or protest. Instead he gives your hand another squeeze and intertwined his fingers with yours. "I love you too, idiot."

He glanced around and sighed heavily, his expression becoming slightly annoyed again. "Yeah yeah, we've gotta go find the dipshits..."

Please request! <3

{Taglist: @staygoldsquatchling02}

[stayteezdreams]

Christmas Spirit

Plot: You and Wooyoung have a cute Christmas movie night together at home to get yourselves into the Christmas Spirit.

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Gn!Reader

A/N: Just a quick short drabble to get us into the spirit before the longer fics start! The song mentioned is 'When Love Is Gone' from a Muppets Christmas Carol lol.

Words: ~640

The silence in the kitchen as you stirred the freshly made hot cocoa was severed as you heard a familiar groan from the living room.

"What's wrong?"

Wooyoung’s whiney voice followed your question, making you chuckle under your breath. "They don't have Home Alone."

Grabbing the two mugs of hot cocoa carefully, you padded into the living room, your eyes finding a pouting Wooyoung as he flipped through all the Christmas movies.

"I think they have it on Prime."

A look of hope crossed his face as he switched apps to check. Setting down his cocoa you smiled as he glanced at it, "Thank you jagiya."

Returning to the kitchen to grab the tray of snacks you put together, you returned just as Wooyoung jumped lightly in excitement. Looking at the TV you saw him selecting the movie happily.

As you sat on the couch, Wooyoung sipped at his cocoa before he turned to you with a grin. Adjusting himself on the couch, he opened his arms, and you smiled, letting out a soft giggle.

Kicking off your slippers, you laid against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. He laid down, bringing you with him as he reached behind you. Grabbing the soft blanket from the couch, he laid it over the both of you.

He let out a happy groan as he squeezed you in a hug against his chest. Tilting your head back, you could just see his head behind you. Noticing this, he grinned as he leaned over you and pressed a kiss to your forehead, making you chuckle.

Getting comfortable in his arms, you let your eyes roam around the room you and Wooyoung had spent all day decorating.

It looked great before, but as it grew darker outside, it became magical. Bright twinkling lights above the windows and around the Christmas tree created a colorful aura throughout the room.

Garland was draped across the shelves, every pillow and blanket donning Christmas colors and cute designs. Candles were burning around the room, making the room smell like Christmas cookies, peppermint, and pine trees.

A pale glow from outside telling you it was still snowing brought it all together as you let warmth and comfort wash over you.

Two movies later, you sat in the corner of the couch as Wooyoung sat nearby snacking on some popcorn.

You sang along to the song playing on the movie, "There comes a moment in your life like a window and you see, your future there before you, and how perfect life can be."

You weren't aware of Wooyoung looking over at you, or the loving gaze he had as a soft smile crept along his face as your soft voice met his ears.

Your eyes finally left the screen as you felt Wooyoung crawling up the couch towards you.

As your eyes met his, he had a grin as you chuckled. "What?"

He shook his head softly as he crawled over you, his eyes locked with yours. "Nothing, I just think you're so cute."

Leaning forward, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he kissed you once more on the forehead before he laid down, resting his head on your chest as he brought his hands to your sides. He let out a contented sigh as you brought your hand to his head, running your fingers through his hair.

You smiled down at him as your heart fluttered at his actions. The sweet moment faded as your stomach audibly grumbled, making Wooyoung laugh.

He looked up at you with a grin, "Wanna order out?"

You chuckled before nodding as Wooyoung giggled again before grabbing his phone and lying back down on you. Your smile refused to leave your face as you felt nothing but comfort, happiness, and peace.

xx End xx

Just a sweet little drabble to start things off with!

Taglist Form

12 Days of Christmas Taglist: @multi-fandommaniac, @mbruben-stein

General Taglist: @charmsprout, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson,

@pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop,  @shymexican,

@stillwjk-channie-lixie, @alexxavicry @luckypaintertyphoon < tag doesnt work

Ateez Taglist: @soso59love-blog, @hongjoongsprincess, @thedistractedwriter, @dear-dreamie, @thunderous-wolf,

@briqnne, @hyukssunflower, @dinossaurz, @skz1-4-3, @carattinymoa,

@demonlineslut, @vnessalau,  @dancinglikebutterflywings, @tunafishyfishylike, @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

[kpop-with-mars]

|12 Days of Drabbles| |Day 3: Last Stop|

{ArtStudent!Hongjoong X Male!Reader}

{Plot; Hongjoong is on a bus to an art exhibit when a certain someone falls asleep on his shoulder.}

{Word count; 670}

{Tags; Non-idol au, male reader, Fluf, Awkward situations (they cute tho)}

Hongjoong threw away his plastic coffee cup in the trash, and with his book bag’s strap on his shoulder, he went aboard the bus; it would only be a good 20 minutes to the nearest art exhibit. “Hey, is it fine if I sit here?” Another guy, Hongjoong guessed was around his age, asked with a polite smile; he looked almost as tired as Hongjoong was; he probably hadn’t had any coffee like Hongjoong had earlier. “Yeah.” Hongjoong replied, and the other man slumped down in the seat beside Hongjoong and rested his head back; his fluttering eyelids told Hongjoong he was trying not to doze off.

The next few minutes proved to be a bit of a snooze fest for the stranger next to Hongjoong; he was asleep faster than a kid on Christmas Eve, and he took it as his cue to really look at the man. His features and form intrigued Hongjoong, and his questions grew as he looked at him with a studious gleam in his eyes. Why was this guy so sleepy? Was he a student at some university or school like Hongjoong was?. His pencil pressed onto the paper of his notebook in the shape of the man before he realized it; artists drew strangers all the time; Hongjoong drew countless art models in his classes as well; besides, it wasn’t like Hongjoong was going to use this sleeping stranger’s face in a major project; it was only practice. As Hongjoong’s pencils drew out to his heart's content, he felt a sudden weight on his shoulders; he didn’t need to turn to see the stranger's head was now resting against him. He took a moment to take in the awkwardness of the moment; there was no doubt anyone else on the nearby seats didn’t notice.

Hongjoong found himself in an odd crossroads his lonely heart didn’t think he’d have to face; the bus was only five minutes from the art museum by now, and he also didn’t know how long this stranger was planning on taking a nap for, but the prospect of having to physically move the man’s head from his shoulder made him anxious. Waking up to find a stranger cradling your face wasn’t a situation anybody would want to find themselves in; Hongjoong considered if it was more or less awkward than the man waking up to find his head on a stranger’s shoulder and making him uncomfortable. But he didn’t even want to wake him up; he had to admit this guy resting on him had quite the looks. Did that only make things feel more awkward to Hongjoong? Yes.

As the bus halted to a stop, Hongjoong’s anxiety nearly skyrocketed; he had to get off or else he’d miss his stop, but he couldn’t let this man next to him remain a stranger. Luckily the bus driver honked, which startled the stranger awake, his eyes rapidly blinking away his unrest. “OH, sorry about that. I assume this is your stop?” “Yeah, it is.”  Hongjoong got up and almost left until his gut made him face the stranger again. “Do you want to come with me?- I mean, I was just going to grab some more coffee and, um—

“Sure, I was just going to the art exhibit here as well. We should go together. The stranger Got up, and they headed out the bus and onto the pavement; Hongjoong’s heart felt like it was soaring. “My name’s Y/N, by the way.”  He smiled again at Hongjoong; this Y/N really was a heartthrob if he could make Hongjoong flustered at the mere thought of them having a shared passion for art. “I’m Hongjoong.”  He responded before he made things awkward; Y/N and Hongjoong shook hands. “I know a great place nearby; I always go before heading to the exhibit.”

As Hongjoong followed close beside Y/N to his favorite coffee shop, he couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to run into someone like him on his last stop.

[mommynott]

White Christmas

12 Days of Dickmas - Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: A cozy December evening staying in with your boyfriend leads to loads of fun together, this year will in fact be a white Christmas.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, modern AU, bf!theo, dom!theo, PIV, breeding kink, rough sex, creampie(s), degrading, slight spitting, spanking, dirty talk, breeding, praising, multiple orgasms, Theodore Nott filling you up but this time he’s your dominant boyfriend

“Agh— Fuck- I’m gonna fill up that pretty little pussy-“

Through his panting, Theodore was pounding into you like a madman. One of his strong hands squeezed both of your cheeks together, forcing your eyes to his. The other gripping onto his headboard for support.

“P-please— creampie me!” Moaning as you felt the pleasure soaring within you, Theo seemed to go even faster. His bicep muscles tensing up with each thrust, and his veins nearly popping out from under his skin from the intense pump.

Suddenly, his body jolted, letting out a deep guttural growl. His hot sticky cum spilled deep inside of you, the tip of his cock rubbing right against the crevice of your cervix. You could feel the way his dick twitched between your tightened walls.

“Fuuuuck— I love it when you cum inside of me…” Both of your breathing haggard now, your gaze flickered between one another. Theo slowly sat up but kept his throbbing cock shoved inside of you. His glistening seed spilling out of the sides of your pussy.

The most satisfied yet smug smirk danced across Theodore’s face. “I know you do…You little slut— My little cum slut…” Speaking through his heaves, a sea of giggles escaped your reddened lips.

Inhaling sharply through his teeth, he began to slowly pump in and out of you again. Looking down at the sight of your swollen cunt and his oozing cum. “I’m not stopping— F-fuck- Your pussy feels too good, amore” Your eyes sparkled with desire, nodding your head.

“Don’t— Keep fucking me, baby…Breed me…I’m begging-“

Breathing out your words, they dripped from your lips ever so seductively. Causing excitement to course throughout Theo. “Is that what you want, huh? Want me to fuckin’ breed you? Get you pregnant?”

He taunted you. Teased you. Just as he got a firm grip on your thighs, slightly lifting your hips. “—Mhmmm- Keep cummin’ in me…” As soon as you gave him the go-ahead, Theo’s eyes darkened with desire. Slamming his soaked cock forcefully once again

The bed frame was squeaking, hearing the way the legs of the bed seemed to scratch along the floor from how hard he was fucking you. The aggression was skyrocketing by the second. Fuck were you loving this.

“All night— All fuckin’ night I’m giving you all of my cum, amore…You’re taking every last drop-“

Sweat beaded down Theo’s forehead, causing his unruly messy locks to cling to his skin, his chest glistening through each plow. Your wailing moans bounced off of the walls. “Y-yes! Give me that cum— Fuck! I’m so close!”

Constantly shifting your head from side to side, whining through the bliss that grew with each thrust. Theo’s ocean gaze burned down at your leaky little slit. “Let’s get ya’ even wetter, amore-“ With that, he spat down on your pussy.

Taking one of his hands, his fingers swirled his spit and previous cum together over your clit. “I-I— Theo! Fuck-“ Letting go, your body quivered with a relishable orgasm. Clawing down Theo’s biceps, leaving your scratch marks as you did.

“Feels good, doesn’t it— Fuck- You look so sexy cummin’ on my cock, Cara Mia- Fuck— Fuck!” Theo started to frantically drive into you, so much so that he took his silver chain that dangled around his neck, placing it between his teeth.

“Imma breed that perfect little pussy— Fuck I’m gonna cum-“

Mumbling through the metal chain, his cock jerked between your clenched walls. His load spurting deep inside of you, both of you hitting climax nearly at the same exact time. Your glossed-over gaze fluttering up to Theodore’s.

Yet again, He slowly rolled his cock into your used cunt. Dropping the silver from between his teeth, His body was still slightly shaky from the sensitivity.

“I’m not fuckin’ done— Cazzo- You feel so good..” He groaned, wrapping his arms around you, swiftly plopping down to his back and having you straddle him.

Now on top of your boyfriend, you waved your Lucious locks down your back. Starting to slowly bounce yourself up his massive length. “You feel even better, baby— I love your cum…” With a whimper, your nails dug into Theo’s pecks, propping yourself up.

—Smack! Swatting down a heavy palm to your ass before firmly grasping it with both hands, Theodore helped guide you. “Dio Mio…You’re a goddess— Keep fuckin’ me like that, amore-“ Growling his vulgar yet sweet words you moved yourself even faster.

“Cazzo— I love breeding this cunt- Filling you up like a dirty little slut- my personal cum toy…”

Biting your bottom lip, your wetness gripped tightly around Theo’s length with each stroke. Your tits bouncing with you had Theo’s eyes burning into them. “Gods— Baby…”

The babbling mess of you could hardly even make out audible words let alone form sentences. Purely focused on the pleasure between the two of you. “That’s it, Cara…Ride the cum out of me-“

Theo popped into you even more, helping you with each thrust. You swore you could feel him in your damn stomach at this point. Your cervix surely taking a beating. His two previous loads swishing within your pussy.

The sensation of it all was only turning you on more so, feeling your eyes start to roll into the back of your head. “How good does it feel, amore?- hm? How good does it feel with all my loads inside of you? Tell me…Use your words”

Those raunchy aspect of it made you shudder, your skin erupting with goosebumps. “S-so good—No- Amazing…So amazing-“ Theo’s hard hand came down on your ass a few more times. Feeling the stinging redness bloom across your cheeks.

“You want my cum inside of you?— Beg for it- Beg for my nut. C‘mon now..”

His domineering tone had you weak in the knees, knowing you were close to another euphoric climax as well. Just the thought he’d cum inside of you a third time had you feeling hot.

Cursing under your breath, you furrowed your brows to spit out what he wanted. “Please— God! Please fill me up..Please breed me! P-please…I’m beggin’- Please!” Driveling from your lips, Theo found the mess of you all too amusing. All too sexy

“My girl wants to be bred again hm? Such a greedy little cum slut— Don’t worry…I got plenty for you-“

Igniting something deep inside of you, Theo bounced you even harder, taking control and thrusting himself into your juicy slit. “I- Please- Fuck!” Moans now turning into screams of pleasure, you were on the brink of yet another orgasm.

“Cum with me, Cara Mia- Cum as I breed you-“ He panted, drilling in your aching pussy even harder before you both spilled over the edge. Theo’s third load shot out between your own climax, your cries heard around the entire bedroom.

Collapsing down on your boyfriend, he gently stroked his knuckles down your spine. Both of you left reeling and catching your breaths together. “sei tutto per me, amore-“ Theo heaved before slapping loving kisses along the side of your neck.

A lazy and tired smile tugged on your lips, his drained cock still snuggly sitting inside of you. Theo continued rubbing down your back ever so softly.

The dim Christmas string lights hanging in your bedroom now creating a cozy feel. Before you knew it, the both of you drifted off into a deep sleep, still plastered together from the intense sex.

On the third day of Christmas…We’re getting a few yummy and delicious pies hehe🥧🎁

Definitely go check out @nottsangel, @nottswitch, and @slytherinslut0 for more smutty Xmas content❄️

Dividers linked in my masterlist🌙

I love you all bunches 💋

[ambassadorarlert]

12 Days of Kelsmin 🎂

ambassadorarlert’s birthday event

8 — #4 holding hands in a happy moment

warning: domestic bliss, fluff, established relationship (husband/wife), dad!min, children + their given name (Dahlia)

They were biased, and they didn’t care. Their daughter was the most perfect, the most beautiful little thing they had ever seen. She laid on her back in the crib her father built just for her, staring up at the mobile her mother crafted from shells, beads, sea glass, and small pieces of driftwood. It clicked and dinged together whenever someone stroked the strings. Eyes as clear and blue as the sky watched the mobile dance above her head.

Dahlia was an equal split of both her parents. Her genes had helped themselves to taking her mothers hair color and texture. Fine, dark hair swirled around her head. As for Armin’s genetics, Dahlia had copied his finer facial details such as his lips, ears, and chin. No one could question or mistake where she could have gotten her sapphire peepers from.

Armin couldn’t believe it when he saw her for the first time immediately he was in love. There was a moment where time stood still. In those split milliseconds between her drawing her first breath Armin noticed every finger and toe, ten of each. When she cried, he swore her wailing could be heard from every which way now that the world was wide enough. She was just a baby bird without feathers.

Here she was, about to do so much more than eating and sleeping. Dahlia realized not only could she oohh and aahh, she could babble and screech as much as she wanted for as long as it pleased her. She was capable of flashing her pink gums with a happy smile whenever she was greeted with a familiar face, and made cooing noises when spoken to. She could do it all even with her toes in her mouth.

Armin stood over his wife while she was leaning over the side of the crib. He watched them both play, talk, and laugh with one another. Her hand rested on the smooth finishing of the wood for support. Armin hand, warm and larger than hers, gently covered over hers.

She didn’t break her eyes away from their baby, not wanting to miss a single second of being so cute. She automatically turned her hand over, letting Armin’s fingers interlock with hers. They stood against each other, rejoicing in the precious moment, admiring their one true love they shared. Little by little with each darling giggle, all of their sins washed away.

© ambassadorarlert 2024 all rights reserved. do not reupload or translate any content that is labeled to be written by ‘ambassadorarlert’ on any other platform.

[23victoria]

𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝔂 𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓳𝓪𝓬𝓴

​​pairings: 𝓯1 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

synopsis: 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓪𝓭𝓶𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷

word count:

authors note: 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓼𝓸 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓪 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮, 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓵 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓾𝓭𝓸 ;)

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽?! CLICK HERE!

F1 MASTERLIST F1 CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST

Lewis

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but watching Lewis chop down a tree was more attractive than you could’ve prepared for. His beanie sat low over his braids, and his tailored winter coat somehow still showed off his lean figure as he worked. He was taking his time, pausing every now and then to adjust his grip on the saw.

“You okay over there?” he called, catching you staring.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you replied, lips pressed together to keep yourself from grinning too wide.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re making it very hard to focus on Christmas right now,” you said, pushing off the car to walk closer.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he went back to sawing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Says the man chopping wood like he’s auditioning for a holiday romance movie,” you teased, standing just close enough to admire the way his muscles moved under his coat.

When the tree finally toppled over, Lewis turned to you, his smile soft and inviting. “So, what do you think? Still distracted?”

“Very,” you admitted, stepping into his space and wrapping your arms around his waist. “Think you can distract me more?”

“I’ll try,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you.

Charles

Charles was doing his best, really. He had one hand on the axe and the other bracing the tree, his face scrunched up in concentration. The axe was slightly too big for him, but he wasn’t giving up.

“Almost there!” he exclaimed, breathless, his accent wrapping around the words as he gave the tree another swing.

You leaned against the side of the car, your head tilted as you admired him. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and the sleeves of his sweater were pushed up to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms. God, the forearms.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you murmured, eyes sweeping over him appreciatively. “Take your time, baby. No rush.”

He glanced back at you, chest heaving, a strand of dark hair falling into his face. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“No reason,” you replied, biting back a grin as you watched him plant his feet and take another swing.

When the tree finally came down, Charles threw his hands up in triumph, laughing. “Voilà!”

“Very impressive,” you teased, stepping closer to loop your arms around his waist. “You know, you look really good with that axe.”

His eyebrows raised. “Do I?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. “Good enough to make me forget about decorating the tree.”

Carlos

Carlos had insisted on chopping the tree down himself, despite your offers to help. He had his jacket unzipped and his scarf hanging loosely around his neck, clearly starting to warm up from the effort. His strong hands gripped the axe expertly, his movements steady and deliberate as he worked.

“Looking good, Sainz,” you called, leaning casually against a nearby stump.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “I always look good, cariño.”

“Mhm, mhmm,” you hummed, your gaze fixed on the way his biceps flexed with each swing. You weren’t even trying to hide the fact that you were ogling him.

Carlos noticed, of course. “You’re not even looking at the tree.”

“That’s because I’m looking at something much more interesting,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

With one last swing, the tree fell, and Carlos turned to you, resting the axe on his shoulder. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re too attractive for your own good,” you replied, stepping closer and tugging lightly on his scarf. “Think we have time to christen the cabin before we decorate?”

His grin widened. “You read my mind baby.”

Max

You stood back, bundled in your warmest coat and scarf, watching Max work with the hand saw on the pine tree trunk. His jaw was clenched in determination, blond hair messy under his beanie, and his broad shoulders moving rhythmically with each pull of the saw. The man was efficient—grunting softly every now and then, his strength on full display.

“Almost there,” he muttered, glancing at you for just a second, flashing a confident smirk.

“Mhm,” you hummed, biting your lip and crossing your arms. You weren’t even cold anymore, not with the way he looked like some kind of outdoorsy calendar model.

When the tree fell with a soft thud, Max stood up and leaned against the trunk, wiping sweat off his brow. “What do you think?” he asked, breathing hard.

What you thought was that he looked so damn good doing that, you wanted to drag him into the cabin and forget about the tree altogether. “Yeah… looks great,” you murmured, trying to keep your cool.

Max narrowed his eyes knowingly. “You’re staring, schatje.”

“Maybe I like what I see,” you shot back, smirking.

“Careful,” he teased, stepping closer with that cocky swagger of his. “We might not even get the tree inside if you keep looking at me like that.”

Lando

Lando wasn’t exactly the most experienced with an axe, but he was determined to prove himself. He stood in front of the tree, beanie crooked on his head, and his tongue sticking out slightly as he swung the axe.

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” you asked, hiding your amusement.

“I’ve got this!” he said confidently, though the axe got stuck in the trunk on his next swing.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him, his cheeks red from the cold and his hair peeking out from under his beanie. “Mhm, mhmm,” you murmured, mostly to yourself. He might’ve been struggling, but damn if he didn’t look good doing it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lando asked, catching the tone in your voice.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, though your grin gave you away.

Lando narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Not at all,” you replied, stepping closer and brushing some snow off his shoulder. “In fact, I think you look pretty hot right now.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh. Well. Thanks.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Now hurry up before I get too distracted to wait for you to finish.”

Oscar

Oscar insisted he could handle chopping the tree himself, even though you’d offered to take turns. His cheeks were already pink from the cold, the soft rise and fall of his breath visible in the winter air as he focused on the task. His grip on the saw was firm, and his jaw tightened in determination with each pull.

You stood nearby, bundled up in your jacket, unable to stop staring. He wasn’t showy or dramatic like some of the others might be—Oscar’s charm was in how quietly capable he was, how his calm confidence made it impossible to look away.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you murmured under your breath, leaning against a nearby stump as your eyes trailed over the way his arms flexed with each movement.

He paused mid-saw, glancing up at you with a raised brow. “What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, biting your lip to hide your smirk.

Oscar tilted his head, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You’re staring at me, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” you teased, crossing your arms as you walked closer. “My boyfriend looks very attractive chopping down a Christmas tree. What am I supposed to do, not look?”

His cheeks flushed, and it wasn’t just from the cold this time. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, though his smile betrayed him.

“You love it,” you shot back, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Finish up so I can drag you inside and show you just how much I appreciate your hard work.”

Sebastian

Sebastian looked like something out of a winter magazine as he worked, his green jacket snug against his frame and his woolen hat perched perfectly on his head. He made chopping down the tree look effortless, his movements efficient and controlled as though he’d been doing this his whole life.

You stood off to the side, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to suppress the utterly indecent thoughts running through your mind. Watching him chop wood should not have been this attractive. And yet.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you hummed softly, tilting your head to admire the way his muscles shifted beneath his jacket with each swing of the axe.

Seb turned, catching your gaze, and a knowing smile spread across his face. “What’s that sound for?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, though the way you bit your lip gave you away.

“Nothing, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, resting the axe on his shoulder as he walked over to you. “You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes.”

“Can you blame me?” you asked, shamelessly letting your eyes sweep over him. “You look so good doing this, I’m starting to forget why we even need the tree.”

Seb chuckled, his gloved hand reaching out to tug you closer by the waist. “If we don’t decorate the tree, it won’t feel like Christmas,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Decorating can wait,” you murmured, tugging lightly on his scarf. “I have other priorities right now.”

Jenson

Jenson looked like he belonged in a holiday commercial as he worked, his scarf casually thrown over one shoulder and his jacket unzipped just enough to hint at the sweater underneath. He was taking his time, not rushing, his movements deliberate and precise as he wielded the axe with ease.

You stood nearby, watching him with an almost embarrassing amount of focus. His silver hair caught the sunlight, and the way his body moved with such confidence and control was doing things to you. Things you probably shouldn’t admit aloud.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you hummed appreciatively, your eyes shamelessly glued to him.

Jenson straightened, brushing snow off his hands as he turned to you with a smirk. “What’s with that look on your face?”

“What look?” you asked, feigning innocence even as your cheeks warmed.

“The one that says you’re not thinking about Christmas anymore,” he teased, resting the axe against the tree as he walked over to you.

You shrugged, tilting your head as you gave him a once-over. “Can you blame me? My boyfriend looks like he walked straight off the set of a Hallmark movie. How am I supposed to focus on the tree?”

He chuckled, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “So, what you’re saying is, I’ve distracted you?”

“Completely,” you admitted, running your hands up his chest.

Jenson leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about ways to distract you since we got here.”

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽! ❥☽ @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @teti-menchon0604 @bxtosa @fadingcloudballoon-blog @whatevenisthisxxxxx @anamiad00msday @luula @jimcarreyfann42 @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld @goldenroutledge @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @flowerpetalk @paucubarsisimp @its-elias-world @magixpracticality @poppyflower-22 @pear-1206

[inazuman]

dec. 15 ✧ day two ✧ going on a date - sae x reader fluff (a lil suggestive)

"Saeee! We're gonna be late!" You press your jewellery on at the mirror in the corridor, giving your outfit one last look.

"Who's gonna be late?" Sae leans against the doorway of the the bedroom. suit jacket in his arm.

"Sae!" You wrap your arms around his neck immediately, and god does he smell good. He still wears the same cologne since the first time he met you, when you told him you loved it.

He lets you hang off him for a moment, loves the way you beam up at him, doe-eyes gazing up at him. He can't resist, giving in to wrap an arm around your waist, his watch pressing against your side.

"You look nice." He looks you straight in the face when he says it before tugging at your dress. He cups your face in his hand, eyes drifting from your eyes to your lips before he kisses you -- softly, knowingly, with so much heart he can practically feel it sitting in his chest.

"Saeee," you whine when he finally lets up, kissing his cheek as your breath ghosts over his ear. "If you're gonna kiss me like that, we'll never make it to dinner."

That makes him smile, a smug look that makes you smack him in the chest.

"Okay." He wraps a hand around the back of your head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "After dinner."

"Sae!"

He smiles even wider at that.

this is part of the twelve days of selfshipmas event, thank you tartagliove for hosting :)

[lupinsweater]

Where the Love Light Gleams

James Potter x Latina!Reader 🎁 1.1k words

← part one part three →

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆ ꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You saw James again about a week later.

You were standing outside your apartment, wearing a joke sweatshirt you had stolen from your dad’s closet before you moved away (an unflattering photo of him, with the words “Feliz Navi-DAD” surrounding his face) and your hair in two braids. Your voice was strained with frustration as you argued with your landlord, Mr. Dursley, in front of your door. It had already been a long week, and the conversation wasn’t making it any better.

“Please, Mr. Dursley. All I’m asking for is to put out a few luminarias for Christmas Eve,” you said, your voice just short of pleading. “They’re simple. They won’t even block anything- I’ll put them along the wall so they’re not in the way, and they’ll have sand in the bottom so they don’t tip over. I even bought fake candles for them, so they aren’t a fire hazard. They’ll just sit outside my door for one night, and I’ll clean them up right after.”

Mr. Dursley sighed, adjusting the sleeves of his sweater and running his hand over his greasy toupee. “You know the policy: no decorations in the hallways. It’s not about you- it’s about everyone. Once I make an exception for you, other tenants will want the same, and then we’ll have all this…clutter…everywhere. And don’t get me started on theft. Things disappear all the time. I can’t be liable for that sort of thing, you know.”

“It’s not clutter,” you insisted, holding the paper bags out towards him. “It’s just a few small lanterns. I don’t even care if they get stolen. It’s a family tradition. My parents would set them up every Christmas Eve. It’s something I’ve always done. It’s something that’s important to me.”

“That’s lovely,” he said, in a tone that suggested he didn’t think it was lovely at all. “But the answer is still no.”

“It’s Christmas,” you said, your voice softening in defeat. “Just for Christmas Eve. Just for a few hours, even-”

“No exceptions,” Mr. Dursley snapped, cutting you off harshly. “That’s my final answer.”

Your heart sank, but you forced yourself to nod as you blinked back frustrated tears. “Alright. Thanks for your time.”

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the hallway, your shoulders slumped and heart heavy. You’d known it was a long shot, but you’d hoped that explaining the significance might change his mind. Not that Mr. Dursley had a sympathetic bone in his body. You turned to go back inside, but you stopped as you heard footsteps.

“Everything alright?” a familiar voice called, and you turned to see James rounding the corner, his hands full of packages and letters. His glasses were slipping down his nose, and he was squinting to try to see you. He looked surprisingly concerned. You bit back a smile- how could he look so ridiculous and so handsome at the same time?

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you said with a small sigh. “I was just trying to get permission to set up a few luminarias outside my door for Christmas Eve, but Mr. Dursley said no.”

“Luminarias?” James said, coming to a stop beside you. You reached up and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and he smiled at you gratefully.

“They’re paper lanterns,” you explained. “You fill them with sand and put a candle inside, and line walkways with them. It’s an old tradition- they’re symbolic. Anyways, my family has done them for as long as I can remember. But apparently, they’re against the rules here.”

James frowned, his brows furrowing. “Why would he say no? It’s Christmas. Everyone should be able to celebrate however they want.”

“It’s the building’s policy,” you said, shrugging. “He says there can’t be clutter in the hallways. Apparently it’s a safety hazard, and he doesn’t want any theft.”

“That’s ridiculous,” James muttered, shaking his head. “It’s not like you’re putting a giant inflatable Santa in the hallway. They’re just little lanterns.”

You smiled faintly at his indignation. “I appreciate it, James, but it’s not worth fighting him over. I’ll just have to go without them this year.”

James huffed, but didn’t press the matter. Instead, he held out the pile of mail towards you. “Here. Another delivery for you. Our new idea clearly isn’t working. I feel like it’s becoming a full time job, being your postman,” he joked. The two of you had decided to try a new tactic this week- you had paint matched the hallway color at a local paint shop, and he’d painted a piece of paper and taped it over the slash in his apartment number. You’d taken a piece of paper and tried to finish the 8 on your door.

You took the pile from him with a small laugh. “Hold on. I’ve got a couple of yours inside.”

You slipped into your apartment, cringing at your choice of clothes. You set your mail on the counter before grabbing the small stack of letters and a small box marked with his name. When you stepped back out into the hall, James was leaning casually against the wall, reading something on his phone.

“Here you go,” you said. He pocketed his phone, and took the items from you.

“Thanks,’ he said, tucking the box under his arm and slipping the letters into his back pocket. “You know, all of this back-and-forth would be a lot easier if we could just text each other.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you suggesting we exchange phone numbers purely for mail coordination purposes?”

“Exactly,” he said with a cheeky grin. “No more awkward hallway run-ins like this.”

You laughed, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “Well, I suppose that’s not a bad idea. For the sake of efficiency.”

“For the sake of efficiency,” James repeated, a twinkle in his eye.

The two of you exchanged numbers- James had put himself in your phone as “James (the fit guy from 210).” You shook your head with a smile when you saw it. James tucked his phone away, looking thoughtful.

“Well, I’d better get going. But don’t give up on those luminarias just yet.”

“What are you planning, James Potter?” you asked, confused. “He already said no. I can’t risk getting evicted over luminarias.”

“Nothing yet,” James said cryptically, a mischievous grin on his face. “Just…don’t give up. I’ll let you know if I come up with something.”

With that, he gave you a wink and a mock salute, heading back down the hallway towards his apartment, leaving you more confused than ever.