#Universal phone holder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loveshotzz · 1 year ago

Text

We’re supposed to be eating breakfast

older!steve x fem!reader an AIRWIY oneshot

summary: You wake up after your first sleep over at Steve’s house feeling bold.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ older!steve, smut, p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, mentions of past drinking, reader is wearing Steve’s baseball jersey but it’s not really described how it fits on readers body, no real descriptions of readers body.

authors note: this took me over a month to write with everything going on in my personal life, so I’m excited to finally give it to you. thank you all for your patience and encouragement to keep coming back on here every day despite me not writing as much as I used to and to keep me opening my word docs. this one was spurred my @palmtreesx3 brilliant mind and an idea that’s haunted me day and night. This takes place in the All I Really Want Is You universe, but can be read as a stand alone. Just know you’re wearing Steve’s personalized cubs jersey. :)

The harsh sounds of the coffee grinder is what wakes you up, but the golden rays of morning sunshine that leaks through the cracks in the blinds is what gets your eyes to open. Slow soft blinks, with fluttering lashes and brain still fuzzy from the kind of sleep that makes you temporarily forget what year it is, you need a moment to recognize the unfamiliar, much nicer surroundings.

You were in Steve’s room.

A smile you can’t contain spreads wide across your face, butterfly wings tickling at your rib cage. Stretching your still sleeping limbs, your body melts into the soft cushions of his mattress. The feathers that fill his pillows contour to your head perfectly, and the memories of the ways he had you pressed into it resurface, skin igniting with the ghost of his hands on your curves. Biting your bottom lip, the kind of nerves that you haven’t had since the Fourth of July make themselves known again, having never spent a morning with him at his home.

Rolling over, your face hits the cotton of his pillowcase that you’re not surprised is cold. Shamelessly you inhale the cedar and spice that still lingers on it, and the faint ache between your thighs, along with the clinks of glass you hear from his sink, reminds you that he’s just down stairs. It takes a little bit of willpower to leave the cozy cocoon you’ve found yourself in but the need to see him over powers the comfort of his duvet that feels like just the right amount of weight against your body.

Shuffling out of the covers, your bare feet hit the cold hard wood of his floors, a shiver crawling up your spine that you tell yourself is from the chill of the winter air that seeps through his unsealed windows, definitely not your nerves catching a glimpse of your naked body in his dresser mirror. The same mirror you’d seen him in almost five months ago.

Padding across his bedroom you wonder if he can hear your steps as you search for any sign of your clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around after an old bottle of red wine. The clean white color of his jersey catches in your gaze, the blue bold lettering that spells out his last name has your thighs pressing at the memory of your second date as it sits folded on top of his dresser.

The thought of how good he looked with it stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons undone, teasing the chest hair that your nails dragged through last night makes your skin warm. The praises he whispered in hot merlot against your lips, your neck, and between your legs is what gives you the confidence you need to slip it on instead.

The stairs creak under each step, but the popping grease of the bacon that fills his house with the smell of maple lets you go undetected. Familiar voices of who you’re learning are sportscasters, spill out from the small speaker on his phone that you know is propped up on the little plastic holder he always sets it on when he charges it. He mumbles something in response to the commentary under his breath, and you hear the beeping of the oven telling him it’s finished preheating.

Your cheeks hurt from how high they push up when you realize Steve’s making you breakfast.

A little shy from his affections already, your fingers wrap around the wood frame of the entryway with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. With his back to you, it gives you a perfect view of the way his white cotton undershirt stretches tight over his shoulder blades that move with every flick of his wrist, forearms flexing as he whisks whatever is in the bowl in front of him. Black sweats sit low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his boxer briefs underneath, the font across the top of his waist band says Burberry, making your palms sweat. A personal favorite pair.

He turns his head to look at a replay of a game he missed in favor of spending time with you on his phone screen, still completely unaware of your presence. The new angle reveals the silver glasses he wore a few weeks ago in his office, dark chestnut and peppered hair sticking out wild at the ends, a mess you know was made by your hands.

“Seriously? Keep him on the bench.” He grumbles, shaking his head before bringing his attention back to the bowl.

You watch him for a few seconds longer, but his butt jiggling with the force of his whisking makes a giggle slip past your lips blowing your cover. He jumps at the noise no matter how sweet it is, meeting your eyes from over his shoulder. Steve gives you a smile that you’re learning is only reserved for you and sometimes Eddie, punching the air out of your lungs. Watching the way it only continues to grow across his stubble covered face makes your heart swell even more.

It’s only when his gaze finally lands on the only thing you’re wearing that the gold shimmering inside his eyes darken, a starless night lingering where the bottom hem of his jersey sits at the very tops of your thighs.

“Jesus honey, look at you.” The metal whisk hits the glass of the bowl with a loud clink as he turns around to really drink you in, “good morning to me.”

“I hope this is okay,” your voice comes out smaller than intended, suddenly self conscious you might have overstepped despite the way he watches you take your first steps into the kitchen like he wants to eat you alive.

“Okay?” His huffs out a breath like he’s wrecked, long fingers coming up to scratch at his jaw, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to wear anything else in my house ever again.”

You giggle again, and you swear you hear him groan because of it.

“I think we might be able to arrange something, a deal, an agreement of some sort.” you smirk, tapping your nails along the smooth black marble of his kitchen island, giving your hips a little extra sway with your slow steps.

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him as he leans back, chest puffing while he licks his full pink lips. They pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you smile shyly before you slip your hand into his palm, your eyes glaze over watching it disappear in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, he grins down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wrapping an arm around you to keep you from leaving, he lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his eyes turn soft with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, reminded of his dog who he knows is soaking up the sun outside, and the palm on your back squeezes you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he earns, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meet in the middle with eager enthusiasm, and your front teeth hit as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. When he’s met with the bare swell of your ass as he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

You hardly register him turning the oven off beside you.

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by a gasp when two thick fingers trace up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine with shaky knees.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows pinch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out with fluttering lashes, as he spreads you apart.

“You’re right, I don’t think breakfast is gonna be sweet enough for me.” He tuts, letting his middle finger push just a knuckle into your already greedy walls, and the soft moan that he gets from you has him leaking in his sweats. “You gonna help me with that, honey?”

Too lost in his teasing all you manage is a nod and a breathy ‘mmhmm’ looking up at him with big glassy eyes. He lets his lips ghost over yours, with a smirk tugging at the corners of them before spinning you around. Your palms land back on the cool marble of the kitchen island while both his hands wrap themselves firmly around the soft dough of your hips keeping his Jersey rucked up with them. He pulls your ass flush with his hips, letting you feel the hard length of him that begs to be released from the fleece confines of his pants against the ache in your core.

“This is what you wanted when you came down here lookin’ like this huh?” He asks with a low voice, hooking his thumbs under the bottom of his jersey. Lifting it higher up your back, he grinds against you while his eyes drink in all the soft dips of all your curves.

“Maybe,” you giggle a little breathy looking back over your shoulder at him with half lidded eyes.

His smile steals all the warm light from the room as he looks down at you with a cocked brow.

“I was trying to wait till after breakfast, which was hard waking up to you naked in my bed.” He can’t stop his heavy gaze from wandering to his last name covering the top of your back, unlocking something primal and possessive inside of him that he thought he’d lost forever. He wants you to leave it on, he’ll get it dry cleaned. “But honey, I can’t keep my hands off of you lookin’ like this.”

His palm feels heavy as it slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing at the fat with strong fingers spreading you apart a little before shoving his sweatpants half way down his hairy thighs. With hot cheeks, you flutter around nothing when the thickness of his cock springs free, standing at attention just for you. Somersaults in your stomach as you watch his tight grip pump himself a few times. Your hips wiggle in anticipation, whining when he teases more, gliding his tip through your slick, a small moan spilling from between your lips when he catches your clit.

“Always so needy for me,” he groans with a hint of disbelief, “fuck, what’d I do to deserve you?”

Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, slowly pushing in and the feeling of your walls wrapping around him while your body tries to accommodate the stretch has him chanting your name under his breath. Half way in, he regrips your hips a little rougher than before. His cock twitches watching your back bow, making his last name shine against the light while your nails scratch at the cool marble when he bottoms out.

Legs shaking, still sensitive from the night before, his hold on you tightens. You keen at the feeling of his thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin giving you time to adjust. It doesn’t take long for the initial sting subside, giving you the strength to rock your hips a little, a breathy sigh escaping you when it feels good.

“Yeah?” He hums, meeting your hips with his own hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Uh huh” You manage to utter as he pulls almost all the way out, a moan of his name long and drawn out bounces off the walls when he pushes back in letting you feel every inch.

“That’s my girl,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you want to turn around and see it.

Your eyes meet from over your shoulder again as he starts to roll his hips, finding the perfect pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the quiet space between moans every time your ass jiggles from the force of it. That strand falls messily over his forehead when he looks down at you, brows pinching together and jaw going slack like seeing your face only intensified everything he was feeling. He holds your stare, and the snap of his hips starts to get rougher. Burying himself deep focusing on that spot, the one he’s only ever been able to find.

“Oh, oh- Steve. Right there -shit - oh my god.” Your head falls between your shoulders, when he starts to barely pull out anymore. The tip of him making your eyelashes flutter as he reaches the spot that had you screaming his name last night, over and over again.

His eyes wander the expanse of your back, keeping his pace while his hands slowly start to slide up your sides, pushing his jersey with it. He wants to see more of you, but his hips stutter hearing the noises he’s getting out of you with his last name plastered across your hunched shoulders.

“You look so good - shiiit, like this baby. My name on your back, letting me bend you over in my kitchen while I cook you breakfast.” He babbles as your walls start to flutter, already dangerously close to falling over the ledge, your body threatening to take him with you. “Wanna do this all the time, please, let me do this all the time, honey.”

“Whatever, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m - oh fuck, I’m yours.” Your words break off in a moan when he starts to circle his hips at the same time you push yours back and he holds you there, repeating the motion.

“Yeah? You’re mine?” Steve grunts, cock twitching at the thought of filling you up, and for the first time in over a decade he feels the need to mark what’s his in the most primal way he knows. The thought of you round with his kid brings a new kind of intensity to the way he starts to fuck you, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Tell me again.”

“Mmmhmm, always yours.” You whine, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Steve leans forward, somehow going deeper. Long thick fingers find their way between your thighs, where the two of you connect and he starts rubbing messy circles on your clit, pushing you off the cliff.

You flutter and squeeze around him hard enough to almost push him out, but he continues rutting his hips fighting against it, white spots explode behind your lids, his name falling out of your mouth broken in a gasp and a shudder.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it.” He groans, watching the way your forehead hits the cold marble with another tremor that makes his cock twitch. “Gonna cum baby, let me cum inside, need it, please.”

He can make out the nod of your head, and with the little strength you have left, you push yourself further back encouraging him more. He knows you're on the pill, he’s seen you take it, but right now in the heat of it all, a small part of him hopes you missed a day. He blames the blue letters on his Jersey staring him right in the face, or the way you coat his cock with the remains of what he did to you every time you suck him right back in.

He pushes himself deep enough to make you fall forward a little, a low groan rumbling deep from his chest as he spills hot inside of you the rock of his hips slowing down as he falls apart. His forehead hits your back, with one last lazy thrust, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he pants to catch his breath. You wish the fabric of his jersey wasn’t so thick when he plants a kiss between your shoulder blades, before slowly pulling himself back up.

“Yeah, it’s official. This is absolutely the only thing you’re allowed to wear here.”

#my writing #all i really want is you #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut

3K notes · View notes

snowy-vee · 11 months ago

Text

Calling my girlfriend ‘Wife’

INDEX

As always, the inside of the car was the background of your videos as you placed the phone in the holder making sure you both looked okay in the camera frame before pressing the red button. Ellie had zero idea what the video was about, you just told her that you were going to make a tiktok and she had to be in it.

“I’ve decided today I’m going to make a dessert for my wife” If she wasn’t paying that much attention, she did now after hearing how you address her “and I’m going to try-”

“Wait, what?” Her smile was from ear to ear and her eyes were glowing “What did you? For who?”

You looked at her “confused” trying to not smile at her cute face “For my wife”

“Who’s your wife?”

“Is it not you? You don’t wanna marry me?”

“I’m your wife?”

“Yeah” you nodded your head.

“Damm. Wait, me? I’m your wife?” She felt so happy that she thought she was hearing wrong, there was no way you just called her your wife, she couldn’t stop smiling even if she tried.

“Dude, okay, let me do my video!” you were laughing as you cut the video and continue it “Okay, so I-”

“You classify me as your wife?” you rolled your eyes biting your lip and muttering a ‘yeah, of course’ at her “I didn’t put a ring on it yet!”

“Are you going to?” you raised your eyebrow and she nodded energetically “Okay, then”

“I’m fucking with that energy! Let’s put it out in the universe” She was giggling as she clanged in your arm swaying it a little bit, making you also giggle with her “That’s been my dream, to marry you”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Let’s talk about some marriage plans!”

“Propose to me first!” The video ended showing you grabbing the phone and showing a close up of the happiest face you’ve seen Ellie make.

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie fanfic #ellie smut #poc reader #black reader #fem reader #x reader #female reader #snowy vee #tlou ellie #elliewilliams

908 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 13 days ago

Text

Seeing Stars 3

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Summary: You struggle to be star struck by the world’s most famous super soldiers. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: Guess this is happening.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"I can't believe you won," Bonita chimes.

"Uh, yeah, I told you to just claim the prize," you mutter.

"And I told you," she pulls you off the subway, "it has to be the ticket holder."

"Right. You could say you're me."

"Didn't you read the email?" She huffs as you drag your feet behind her. You hate Manhattan.

"I skimmed."

"They have to check ID at the door. As your plus one, I had to submit a bunch of stuff. Didn't you?" She hooks her arm through yours as she urges you through the New York rush.

You grumble. It's like the universe is laughing in your face. Or hers. It should've been her prize. She's the one who likes all that stuff. As much as you don't want to spit in her face, you're not very happy to spend a rare day off somewhere you don't want to be.

You're a good friend. That's why you're doing this. That's it. You'll get through it for her. In spite of her.

You find her waiting where she promised. She's taking selfies right outside the doors of Stark Tower, unbothered by those passing by. You nudge her and hiss, "you're in the way."

"About time. You're almost late." She lowers her phone and bats her fake eye lashes at her. Oh, she went all out. You thought the sweater and jeans was a fine choice.

"Almost, but I'm not," you chirp.

"Lighten up! This is going to be the greatest days of our lives," she squeals and claps, sending her phone to the ground. You let a sigh out quietly. She's so happy. You'll keep the snide remarks to yourself.

You bend to pick up her phone and hand it over. She snatches it and giggles, "I wonder if I could livestream the tour."

"Just... enjoy it," you utter. You don't need her holding up her phone like a tourist. No shame, you swear.

"Woah, hey," you stumble as someone clamours into you. "Sorry, I didn't see you there. Guess I should've looked down."

The man's hands cling to your arms as he keeps you on your feet. You pull away and spin to face him. Bonita makes an inhuman noise.

It's him. Steve Rogers. Again.

"You guys lost?" He asks.

You look at Bonita. She vibrates with excitement, "um, we won! Er. Oh! We're here because we won the tour and you're supposed to be there and all the others and--"

"Ha, yes, I am running behind." He says, “uh, I guess you can come in with me.”

“Oh wow,” Bonita exclaims. “Thanks so much, Captain. I mean Mr. Rogers. No. Er...”

“Steve’s fine,” he chuckles. “So, you two were at the convention?”

“Yes, we got a photo,” she affirms.

He opens the door and waves you ahead of him. You wait for Bonita to take the lead. You reluctantly follow as Steve tails you.

“I thought you were familiar.”

“Oh, no, you must meet so many people,” Bonita slows so that he can catch up and you sidle around them, happy enough to take the rear.

“Eh, yeah, it can get a bit much.”

“Sounds miserable,” you mutter, then cringe as you remember his super hearing. Oops.

“I’m sure the rest are waiting,” he stops at a door and puts in a number on the keypad. It flashes red and buzzes. “Ugh, I always forget.” Instead, he moves to look into the dark lens higher up. An ultraviolet flare runs over his eye and the door unlocks. “I can doing that.”

He opens the door again, a gentleman straight out of the 40s. Once more, you are stuck between the two of them. He points you down the hall to a private elevator. You get on.

You bob impatiently as Bonita inserts herself between you and Steve. You stare at the reflective doors and let your vision blur.

“So, um, is the shield here?” She asks. “Not to be lame or anything.”

“Oh, sure, maybe you could see some of the prototype suits? I think there’s still a few hanging around,” Steve answers.

“That’s so cool,” she chimes.

You struggle not to roll your eyes. Instead, you focus and find another pair observing you in the mirrored surface before you. You quickly glance away from Steve’s gaze.

Finally, your floor comes. You assume since the doors ding and Steve steps ahead of you. You follow him out into a spacious room. You can tell by the windows alone that it’s the very top of tower.

“There you are, Capsicle,” someone calls over.

You turn in the direction of the voice as Bonita grabs your arm and points at the dark-haired man. You know who he is. He’s on too many magazine covers and blogs not to. Tony Stark. He stands amid the group of his fellow avengers.

“I found our lucky winners,” Steve says.

“Bonita, and er, well, she won,” she pokes you as she introduces you. “Erm, we’re super excited.”

You stare dully. You want to lie, for her. You do your best; a nod.

“I remember you two,” Bucky’s voice surprises you. It’s only then you notice him sitting away from the rest of them, lazily flipping a knife. “You had a photo.”

“Yes, that’s us!” Bonita blusters.

“Well, ladies, welcome to the tower, these are the big boys... and girls.” Stark steps in front of the rest, “you’ve met Steverino here, and apparently his sidekick, The Raven.” Bucky scoffs as he stands and sheaths the knife. “Not to be cocky but I assume you know the rest of us.”

“I do!” Bonita declares, “but er...” she looks at you. You half-nod and half-shrug. “It’s Tony Stark!”

“I know that.”

“Who doesn’t?” He winks.

You grumble and his chin tilts slightly in affront.

“That’s Thor! And Black Widow and Scarlet Witch, and Vision, and Hawkeye, and Hulk...” she goes down the list as you lose track and a little bit of interest. It’s your turn in Scrabble, you feel the notification buzz in your pocket.

“What? Were you caught in the ice with this one?” Stark jabs Steve with a snicker. “You don’t know the world’s greatest heroes?”

You stare back at him. “Nice tower, I guess.”

“Ice cold,” he whistles, “I’ll leave this one to you, Vis. She’s about your speed,” he turns and struts away.

“It’s your tour,” the woman with the short red bob says; the widow?

“Contractual obligation but far from my idea,” he counters. “Hey, Banner, how about you take the lead. PhD or whatnot, I’m sure you give a hell of a lecture.”

“We can go.” You offer and Bonita elbows you.

“Don’t listen to him,” Steve insists, “we’re all going on the tour. Right, Tony?”

“Hm, let me grab a whiskey first.”

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #seeing stars #au #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

193 notes · View notes

onekeii · 1 month ago

Text

Can you help me out?

Day 2: Trapped together in a snowstorm | "I thought you knew where you were going?!" Stray Kids: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem!Reader Warnings/Genre: friends to lovers, light angst, bad humour, smut, oral (m!receiving), uni au i guess? Summary: Minho's always there for you when you need a hand. Word Count: 2,628 AN: can’t believe i’ve never written lee know fanfic before lol. also i write in british english but i can’t stand the look of the word “mum” so that is intentionally american.

Read on AO3

“You want me to drive you four hours to your Mom’s house?” Minho groans, his voice muffled through the phone line. “Yep,” you say confidently. If you pretended nothing was wrong with the idea, maybe there wouldn’t be?

“In this weather?” He says. You force yourself to look up. Snow blanketed every available surface - the train station roof, the tops of cars, the bins. The pavement and road before you were clear but slick with muddy snow and grit salt. The cement absorbed each meagre snowflake that fell atop it. You shake a few from your eyelashes and hum, “Mhm.”

He can't mask his sigh, “On Christmas Eve?”

“I was screwed over by the trains, how was I supposed to know they’d cancel them all just because of some snow? Minho, please! Can you help me out?” You were desperate now. You’d fall to your knees in front of him, in the snow, if he was there in person.

Shuffling around, keys jingling, the chk of a door handle, “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Thank you so much!” You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. It turned to steam and lifted itself into the air gracefully, more graceful than your little celebratory jig. Minho hangs up without a word, I should buy him some snacks, at least, you think.

As promised, Minho pulls into the train station within fifteen minutes and you hear the boot unlock with a click. He motions to the back of the car with a lazy hand, making no move to get out the car himself. You grumble to yourself as you dump your heavy suitcase in the back and slam the door a little harder than you should, but when you climb into the passenger seat and greet him, it's with your biggest, toothy smile.

You met him on your first day at university, and the two of you were inseparable ever since. Both of you took the same electives every year, rocked up to every party together, and hung out every day. You’ve called on his help more than you’d care to admit, sometimes just to feel his hand guide yours, or to watch his shirt ride up when he searches the top shelf for you. But he always came. This was your worst grievance by far, though.

“Coffee,” you announce, putting two cups into the holder. “Snacks,” you dangle the bag of crisps and cookies in front of his face before tossing it to the back seat.

“Not only are you using me as your personal chauffeur, but you want to ruin my skin, too?” he tuts.

“Just get to the motorway, I’ll guide you from there,” you pull out your phone and open Maps, but Minho has pulled out, the gritty roads adding a tasteful crunch to the low rumble of the car.

Hour one is spent fighting over the music, complaining about your teachers, and complaining even more about your classmates. Hour two, you feel, is socially acceptable for you to reach into the seat behind you and open up the snacks. “This dude texted me just this morning-” you're cut off by Minho.

“Your flatmate’s ex?” He asks. Far into the infinitely straight motorway, he holds the wheel with just one hand, slouched into his chair a little. He does everything so effortlessly, you can't help but linger on it for a minute. With his eyes fixed on the road, all Minho has to do to be fed is hold out his free hand. Last time you pressed a singular Dorito into it, this time it's a whole chocolate chip cookie. He frowns at your choice, but obliges himself anyway.

Nodding at his question, you leave your directions app to read the text verbatim, “He texted me, ‘I can’t keep this to myself anymore. I broke up with her because I like you more.’” You giggle to yourself as you read - you and your housemate enjoyed poking fun at him together this morning, but you look up to see Minho was not laughing at all. Both hands gripped the wheel tightly, knuckles turning slightly white.

What’s wrong? You wanted to ask, but you just still your laughter and glance out the window. Something turned in your gut, maybe you knew why, but asking him so directly… that risked making it real. “Turn coming up,” Minho’s voice slashes through your thoughts, you scramble to change back to your app.

Mobile Data is Turned Off Turn on mobile data or use Wi-Fi to access data.

No matter, “It’s the second lane,” you say, certain in your memory. I’ll get my signal back in a moment.

Hour three: you had guessed two more turnings, but you recognised neither. Your hometown was, apparently, still a little further, so you were looking out for the town before it on the signs that flashed past, to no avail. Did you remember wrong earlier? You look down at your phone but, still, no signal.

The car was silent from your conversation earlier, but if Minho was still brooding, you were too panicked to notice. Another sign wooshes past, this one informing you of a petrol station a few miles away.

“Can we stop there?” You point it out to Minho.

He nods, “You... you okay?”

Elbow leaning against the car window sill, head in your hands, you shake your head. It was no use lying to him. Only when the car rolled to a stop did you show your face to him. Your vision was blurred with tears that were yet to fall, but you could see him jolt back a little, as if the sight scared him.

“Why are you crying?” He undid his seatbelt and reached forward, using his thumb to wipe one eye clear. A tender move he only reserved for you in dire moments. You run your sleeve across the other eye and mumble, “I think you know why.”

Minho purses his lips together, searching your eyes for a clue, “I really don’t, to be honest.”

“It begins with an ‘L’?” The frustration was a knot in your stomach, balling up tighter and tighter. How was he not getting it? “Like the ‘L’ word?” A poor choice of words on your part, but you were out with it now.

“...Lesbians?” he sits up straight, his eyebrows knitted together. God, you thought, is he trying to be funny, or is he just clueless?

“Lost. Minho,” you say with snark, your eyes turn away from him for a moment in disbelief, “We’re lost!”

Now he seemed to get it, “I thought you knew where you were going?!” his voice peaks. A little too loud.

The tears are seeping into your eyes once more. You want to say something - an excuse, an apology - but nothing comes out your stupid mouth. Instead, you watch yourself open the car door, practically rolling out of your seat before throwing the door back against the car. Then you’re walking towards the little petrol shop lighting up the dark sky. Since when had the sun set? What time even was it? You dreaded the answer.

Minho catches up to you in an instant, planting himself in front of you. The light from behind illuminated the outline of him; he was glowing. Glowing, like an angel who came to save you. He always came to save you, and yet you never did him any favours. Avoiding his eyes, you take one step to the side and try to walk around him. He blocks you again, this time with a hand on your shoulder.

“Can you just slow down and talk to me for a second?” Minho asks. “You always storm off when you’re upset and do something stupid.”

“I’m trying to buy a map,” you spit.

He sighs, then he’s winding his arms around your shoulders and pulling you in. You stumble forward, head against his chest and dizzy from his cologne. It’s far from the first time the two of you have hugged; goodbye hugs and ‘friendly’ movie cuddles and hugs when you’re feeling down. But it was strange this time. Minho committed himself to driving four - no, eight - hours through snow for you, you had just extended that time by getting lost, and now he was the one comforting you. You finally wrap your arms around his back.

“Why’d you bother driving out for me?” You say into his shoulder.

“Because you asked.” He pulls away, one corner of his mouth was pulled upwards into a smile. Then he turns on his heel, “Go sit in the car, I’ll get the map.”

Thanks to that conveniently placed station, and Minho’s suspiciously fast driving, you were waylaid for only an hour. He did slow down, eventually, when you were back on track, for the increased snow covering the windshield and sticking to the road started to scare you a little.

“I hope it clears before you have to drive home,” you chew at your lip, but the snow showed no sign of letting up. When he pulls into your Mom’s driveway, the sky was pitch black. You wouldn’t have noticed it was there save for the snowflakes that fell from it in torrents now. Minho was adamant not to leave his heated car, but you drag him through the front door anyway. “At least stay for a coffee,” you say.

“Goodness,” a familiar voice rings from the kitchen, and your mother soon totters over to the front door, “I was about to ring you my dear- Oh, who’s this?”

“Mom, Minho. Minho, my Mom,” you sputter, realising how woefully unprepared you were for this interaction.

“Hi, Miss,” Minho says awkwardly, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You didn’t mention a boyfriend to me, dear, or did it slip my mind?” she pauses, “No, I would surely remember such a thing-”

Both of you cut her off in unison, “Oh, he’s not-” “Uh, I’m not-” You glare at him and he shrinks back into himself. “My train got cancelled so he drove me here,” you explain, “he was about to leave.”

“If he drove you all this way, then he must stay!” your mother beckons the two of you further into the room with wild hand gestures, “I won’t let him drive home so late, and in this weather too!”

“It’s alright, uh, Miss, I don’t mind,” Minho stumbles. What was he supposed to say? Your mother wasn’t listening. “I’ve plenty of food - too much! And her bed is big enough for the two of you–”

You didn’t hear anything else she had to say after that for she was running back into the kitchen, chatting to no one in particular. Minho turned to you, wide-eyed and lips twisted in an exasperated smile. Snow was still melting into his hair from your brief adventure outside. You reach up and pick one from his hair, watching it sink into your skin, “Sorry, looks like you’re staying here,” you say, the corners of your mouth heaving a smile onto your face.

When your mother finished feeding the both of you and talked Minho to exhaustion, she ushered you upstairs to get some sleep. You looked at the double bed in your room, still in the same place as it was when you first moved to uni. It was like nothing changed, except it had; Minho was in the room with you now. Clambering under the covers, you refuse to look back at him. The bed shifts and bounces a little when he slides under the sheets next to you.

You shared a bed with him many times before, for cheap hotel rooms and unplanned sleepovers, of course it didn’t matter this time. But it did. He’s next to you in your childhood bed, he’s met your mother, and it’s Christmas. You huff and submerge yourself further under the covers, making a point to face away from him. Minho turns off the lamp, rustles around behind you for a moment, then silence falls around you. Silence weaves its way between his steady breaths and your whirling thoughts.

Hours felt like minutes, staring at nothing behind your closed eyelids. You sigh and roll over, hoping Minho had the sense to sleep the opposite way too. He did not. When your head hits the pillow again and you open your eyes out of curiosity, he was staring back at you.

It’s just dark, you think to yourself and blink away the static. But warm streetlights bleed into your room through cracks in your blinds, and you knew you weren’t dreaming. Why is he so weird? Yet you stare back.

“What?” He finally whispers.

Yes, what? You’re drawing blanks, then you can think of only one thing. You absolutely cannot say that, but your mouth is moving anyway, “I really wanna kiss you.”

“Okay,” he blinks. A few rogue strands of hair, freshly washed of snow, fall delicately across his face.

You’re stunned. “...Okay?”

“So?” His lips are parted, inviting you in, deliciously open so that all you need to do to taste him is attack. But you can’t.

This is far from your first rodeo. You’ve always been able to hit on other guys, to pull them closer by their collars, to drag them through your apartment door, to wrap your legs around their waists before you reach the bed. Minho is not other guys. What if you mess it up? Yet another sigh, so far reaching it blows his stray hairs back out of his face, “So, can you help me out?”

Yes. His answer, just like every other time, is yes. But he doesn’t say it; he snakes his arm around your nape, tugs you closer, and that’s all it takes. Your lips are on his, your body is static, your mind is lost from you. You shut your eyes and allow yourself to melt into him. But then your leg is hooked around his waist. His hands travel from your clothed thighs to rest on your ass. Rolling your hips down onto him, hard, he groans into your lips. The vibrations travelling through you only spur you to move faster.

Shirts, pants, underwear, they’re all on the floor in an instant. Five minutes ago, you did not have the faintest idea you’d end up in this position. You're knelt between his legs. Minho’s hard and looking up at you expectantly. His eyes are mocking you, challenging you. So you take him on. Lips closing around his member, you cast your eyes up as you take in as much of him as you can. He’s already tensed his eyelids shut in pleasure. A devious swish of your tongue, another and another, and his head is lolling backwards.

Minho tangles his fingers through your hair, pushing you down further onto his cock. Obliging, you begin to bob your head up and down, moving faster with each of his grunts, tongue working at him furiously. He tenses, dick throbbing and releasing warmth to your mouth; you ride him through it, his shallow panting a musical backdrop as you watch white cum drip from the corners of your mouth, down his shaft. When you release him, the rest spills onto his toned stomach. A deep inhale, to catch your breath, then you swallow what’s left.

With nothing to focus on now, no high to push him to, you’re suddenly very aware of his eyes on you. With delicate fingers, he traces the outline of your hips to your waist, lingering on your breasts and how your nipples are hard with cold and pleasure.

“Your turn,” he grins, sitting up and pushing you back into the bed before you could even defend yourself, capturing your lips with his once more.

@12daysofchristmas

If you enjoyed, please consider helping out by dropping a reblog or follow ☆

158 notes · View notes

miraculouslbcnreactions · 6 months ago

Note

When I first saw a Miraculous Ladybug salt post it was the usual Lila takes away all of Marinette's friends Adrien does nothing Marinette becomes super successful Lila gets exposed blah blah blah

When I see posts like the ones you post where people give actual constructive criticism about the characters and not favor one character over the other has made me realize that these are fictional characters and its not their fault they are the way they are. Also they're 14 what kind of 14 year old makes good choice's? Especially when they have the fate of the world/universe on their shoulders

If anything the character I really blame is Master Fu. He was obviously meant to be some sort of mentor figure for them or at least Marinette's mentor. He was the one to tell and encourage Marinette to keep everything a secret from Adrien. Comparing him to other mentor like figures in the world of superheros he isn't really all that helpful.

Compared to DC Ladybug and Chat Noir do not have any adult superheros to help them. In DC younger superheros have entire superhero families to help them out and if not that than they have other adult superheros to help them or they have an actual team. We know that other miraculous holders exist and the order is back I have a vague idea as to why they can't help but I still find it weird as to why they are around if not to help. Like phones and the internet exist do they not?

Sorry for they rant, I want to know what your thoughts are on this?

Your rant was fine! I don't think that I've talked in depth about mentors as a concept and I should both because I love mentors and because Miraculous has completely failed to give us any good ones. This is a writing failure not because good mentors are required, but because the show chose to have mentors characters and then not use them.

Before I get into the topic at large, I want to start with a brief discussion of mentors in shows aimed at young children as Miraculous' intended audience is young children and that fact is worth keeping in mind when discussing what Miraculous did wrong and some of the ways that you can fix it.

Shows aimed at kids generally avoid adult characters in major roles for the very obvious reason that the intended audience is kids, so you want the kid and teen characters to be the stars. This doesn't mean that adults aren't allowed to save the day or have important roles. It just means that they should be used sparingly. This is why mentors are a great addition to kids shows. They allow adult characters to be deeply involved with the plot without anyone expecting them to intervene because that's not their role in the story. They're not here to be the hero. They're here to guide the hero.

One of the powerful things about this setup is that it allows the writers to give the real kids watching at home real advice about real life problems. For example, if Marinette comes to Fu to talk about feeling alone and overwhelmed, then he can give her real, practical advice that would apply to anyone who is feeling alone and overwhelmed, but no one expects him to directly intervene because he's supposed to say hidden.

A lot of these elements apply to mentors in media aimed at older audiences, the rules just apply for different reasons, so I'm going to stop reminding you that Miraculous is for elementary school kids and focus on the failed mentor issue as it would be an issue no matter what Miraculous' intended audience was.

When it comes to bad mentoring, a lot of people focus on Fu and I get why. At first glance, he's the classic wise old Asian man who is supposed to be there to guide the protagonist on her mystical journey (not getting into the racism issue here, just know that I'm aware of it and that Miraculous dropped the ball on this in a lot of ways even though they absolutely could have made it work.) But Fu isn't the main focus of my ire because, while the writers seemed to have designed him around the mystic Asian trope, they never actually wrote him like a mentor.

He doesn't train Marinette and Adrien in the ways of the miraculous. He just sneakily gives them their miraculous and then disappears from their lives for quite some time. So he's not around to get them properly started on their hero journey. That's strike one for the mentor role.

Strike two is the fact that we never actually see him mentoring Marinette. I don't think that she ever went to him for advice? If she did, then it wasn't a big element of their relationship. When I think of Marinette and Fu, I picture her going to him to grab a miraculous or two before booking it back to the ongoing fight and that's about it. The guardian training she supposedly had was all off screen, so we have no idea how close they were or what he even taught her outside of potion making. Even that wasn't really him teaching her something. It was them working together to figure out a puzzle because Fu never completed his own training, making it impossible for him to properly train a successor.

Strike three is the fact that - outside of the King Monkey incident - Fu never gets directly involved in helping team miraculous. He's never gives them feedback on fights or works with Ladybug and Chat Noir to strengthen their bond. He doesn't even help them track down the two missing miraculous or hand out the temporary miraculous on Marinette's behalf, a choice I still find super weird. "This fight is super hard and we need help, so I'm going to leave Chat Noir to fight alone while I go get said help!" is absolutely nonsense logic and one of the many examples of the writers desperately needing to let Marinette hand her responsibilities off. Why wasn't this Fu's job?

This brings us to fix one: if you want the guardian to be a mentor - which is a role they arguably should have - then the guardian needs to be actively involved in Marinette and Adrien's lives in an on screen way. For this to work in the context of Miraculous - a show that really wants to focus on the teen characters - then the guardian probably needs a teenage apprentice who isn't Marinette and that apprentice will be the one doing the mentoring.

My pick for this is Luka for two big reasons. The first one is that his calm personality is perfectly suited to a mentor. The second one is that it seems insane to me to have the snake be a temp holder. The snake should be watching every fight, but staying out of the actual fight so that they can use their power whenever it's needed. That's the perfect role for a mentor character to fill. Someone who is active in the plot, but only ever as a support because their power stops them from getting more involved.

Moving on to the bigger issue.

As I said up above, Fu doesn't actually get my ire. While I wanted him to be a mentor, he never once filled that role and he didn't really need to because the show already had mentor figures that it was actively using and using poorly. Those figures are the ancient magical creatures that follow our heroes around, dispensing terrible advice whenever they feel like it. That's right, as much as it pains me, Miraculous' biggest mentor failures are Tikki and Plagg.

The miraculous did not need to have magical creatures associated with them. They could have just been magical jewelry that Fu handed out and explained. Instead, the writers chose to give us the Kwamis and I don't disagree with that choice. I like the Kwmais! The problem is that they're used in the most lackluster, asinine ways you possibly could.

The Kwamis are not presented as oblivious to the world and unable to give advice. They give lots of advice! The problem is that advice tends to suck! I can think of many examples of times where the Kwamis made everything worse, but let's look at the one that grinds my gears the most: Plagg's actions in season four.

In Rocketear - the episode where Nino gives Adrien an incredibly inaccurate picture of why he knows Alya's secret identity - we get this:

Adrien: I still can't believe Ladybug entrusted Alya and Nino with those Miraculous. Plagg: Of course she did. She's the Guardian. Adrien: But they're a couple and they know each other's secret identities. Plagg: So...? Adrien: So, why does she make it a rule that we can't know each other's identities but it's okay for them? Plagg: She's the Guardian, the Grandmaster Cheese Ripener, and you and I are just cheese on the platter. She decides what's on the menu.

Hey, Plagg, maybe don't tell your clearly upset and vulnerable teenage holder to just suck it up and deal with it when he's feeling alone and betrayed? Maybe encourage him to talk to Ladybug about his feelings so that he can get the full story? Knowing that they learned their identities during the Scarlet Moth incident would probably do a lot to smooth over Adrien's hurt feelings.

What's even more rich is that the episode Kuro Neko lets Plagg go off on Marinette for not appreciating Chat Noir:

Ladybug: What's gotten into him? I didn't do anything. Plagg: Didn't do anything? Well yeah, you did! You've been neglecting a very classy piece of camemebert on your plate for too long! And as a result it got runny, and moldy! Ladybug: What? Cat Noir never gave me any camembert. Plagg: Of course not, Cat Noir is the camembert! For a while now, you've been neglecting this camembert— I mean Cat Noir, and going on adventures with the all other cheeses! Ladybug: But he should be happy about it, it gives him more time off. Plagg: Cat Noir doesn't wanna have time off, Ladybug! He is in love with you! And your persistent calling on all the other heroes has broken his heart.

Dude, if you saw all of this going on, then why didn't you say something??? You and Tikki are in the same location for multiple hours five days a week. Go tell her how your holder is feeling and figure out how to fix the situation! Or be an actual mentor and encourage Adrien to talk to someone about his feelings! At the very least, cut up a wheel of cheese, sit down, and listen to your kid so that he feels less alone!

Also what exactly do you want Ladybug to do to fix the problem you presented? Let Paris burn until Chat Noir decides to show up to today's fight? Refuse to use the temp heroes even if it means losing a fight? None of those are valid solutions when the problem presented in the episode is Chat Noir missing fights. Especially when we know that he's doing it on purpose. Why are you yelling at her instead of working with her to come up with an actual solution? You are such a terrible mentor...

To be clear, I don't think any of this is intentional. I don't think the writers want Plagg and Tikki to come across as actively hurting their teenage charges via bad advice. I think Plagg and Tikki are supposed to be seen as good and helpful, but they can't fill that role because they're tools of the narrative and the narrative has really wacky views on what good advice is. Thus nonsense like the example I discussed above or Plagg and Tikki picking new holders instead of guiding their holders through an identity reveal.

I personally adore letting Plagg and Tikki be good mentors in my own stuff. It falls under the same category as Alya and Nino being terrible friends on screen. I acknowledge the problem and then delight in fixing it by writing the exact opposite setup because what is fanfiction for if not heavy self indulgence?

#ml writing critical #ml writing salt #anon ask #Tikki deserves better #Plagg deserves better #I love writing Plagg #I know so much about cheese from figuring out how to dispense advice via cheese metaphors #It's great #mentor salt

167 notes · View notes

gloomlet · 2 years ago

Text

Gloomlet’s TS4 Script, Gameplay & Replacement Mods

So I decided to compile a list of all the script/gameplay mods that i use or have used in my game. This was mainly made for my personal use, but i am sure it could be helpful to other people too!

Fully Updated - 1/22/2025

Basic & Recommended!

TS4 Mod Manager ui cheats extension mc command center Carl's Sims 4 Gameplay Overhaul Relationship & Pregnancy Overhaul Wonderful Whims The Mood Pack Mod First Impressions Contextual Social Interactions Simulation Lag Fix Teleport Any Sim Better Exceptions

CAS Mods

Stand still in CAS More Traits in CAS Tidy details in CAS More CAS columns Lifetime Aspirations Child Aspirations Set Housewife - Aspiration Unlimited Likes + Dislikes Preferences Plus Homebody - Preferences 100+ CAS Traits Resized Facial Piercings More Teeth!

Replacements & Retextures

Fan Art Maps Map Replacements Overhaul Clean UI Sims 1 & 2 Font LIS Fonts Fluffy Clouds (Ghibli Clouds) Feet replacement Hand replacement Bra + Panty Replacement better babies Baby bottle replacement Default Cutlery! Cute Kitchenware Replacement Boxing Gloves Aquarium Fish Recolor paint it up mod A brighter mop Selfie Override Phone call animations Extended Phone Calls

Objects Phone Replacement Another phone replacement Phone wallpaper & icons Smaller dollhouses Switch Controller + console Game controller PS1 console pc game override Remote control sponge & spray override Another Sponge & Spray override

Electric Toothbrush Razor Bassinet override infant rug + infant tub child drawing replacement more drawing replacements weather controller Cats & Dogs Fireplace Headphone/earbud override Old-fashioned Suitcase The slightly nicer Tree House Fireplace Lil Campers Light

Replaced + more Interactions Bed Cuddles Better Woohoo Reactions Realistic Reactions Brush Teeth From Toothbrush Holders Wake-up animation Greetings Offer Rose override

Visuals & effects No overhead effects No zzz No object highlight no plumbob please Smaller Mosaic Minimalist CC Icon More Holiday icons

Gameplay!

Playable Pets Slower infant needs Expanded Mermaids Who's Knocking More Visitors No Bad Microwave Buffs Memory Panel Smarter Pie Menu: Searchable Smart Sim Randomizer Play Chess on any computer Strangerville Story toggle

Careers & Jobs Career Overhaul New Careers Simdeed Recruitment Services Flex Part-Time Recruitment Agency Game Developer Career Ultimate Nursing Career Modeling Career Tumbling Tots Daycare Career Shear Brilliance - Cosmetology Seasonal Odd Jobs - Autumn Odd Job Overhaul Modeling and Makeup Odd Jobs Babysitting Gigs Freelance Chef

Education Uni Tweaks Education Overhaul Uni Application Overhaul University costs more Choose Your Roommate Long Distance Learning No Uni Housing Restrictions Uni Aspirations School Lunch Override Longer or Shorter Degree Requirements

Cooking + Food Food Retexture Pack 1, Pack 2, Pack 3 Breakfast Retextures Dinner Food Retextures Pizza Retexture Grannies Cookbook Oni’s Recipe Pack + more recipes Chef Buffet S’more Options Srsly's Complete Cooking Overhaul Dine Out Reloaded Delivery Services Sims Eat and Drink Faster Porto Luminoso Market Cutouts Buyable Cakes Functional Mixer HCH Mixer & Cookbook Functional Air fryer Functional Blender Functional Cookie jar Another Cookie Jar Functional Toaster Functional Cake Stand Functional Rice cooker Functional Pressure Cooker Boba Tea Add-ons Functional Beer Functional Frozen Ice Cart

Pregnancy Realistic Pregnancy Cherished Moments - Pregnancy Science Baby Tweak

Services & Apps Sim National Bank “SimDa” Dating App Exchange Store

Interactions Meaningful Stories Cute Romance Drama Mod Autonomous Go Steady and Propose Autonomous Break Up and Divorce Dynamic Teen Life Parent-Child Relationships Let's Get Fit Modpack Sumba Fitness

Functional Items Playful Toddler Pack Toddler Play Telephone Little Chef’s Toy Kitchen Void Critter Tablet Functional Pool Slide

Functional Toy Bin Functional Hopscotch Functional Broom Functional Paper Sketchpad Functional Drumkit Functional Spiral Staircases In Your Safe Piggy Banks Film Reaper Movie Theater Left End Counter Dishwaser

Random Small mods

Loading and CAS screens

Free Sims 4, Free Loading Screen Bonehilda Loading Screen Custom Color loading screens Lights Out Loading Screen The Blues Collection Loading Screen Lin Sims Loading Screens San Sequoia Loading Screens Abstract Art + Landscape Loading Screens H-O-B & Sulani Loading Screens Autumn Loading Screens Pink Kitten Animated Loading Screen Life is Strange Loading Screens Cloudy TS2 CAS Background Ocean Waves CAS Room Old School - CAS Room Modern Minimalism CAS Room Plumbob replacements Crystal Loading Screens

lighting mods

sunblind lighting + installation Milk Thistle Better in-game lighting Gentle CAS lighting

#ts4 mods #ts4 mod list #gloomlets mod list

1K notes · View notes

lay-z · 1 month ago

Text

☃️ Day 11 ‒ Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

A continuation to 🎅🏼 Day 3 – Altruism, which means it's set in the same universe!

Synopsis: On your way home for Christmas leave, you and Kyle get stuck in a heavy snowstorm. As the temperature keeps dropping, you suggest skin on skin contact to stay warm together.

Pairing: Kyle Gaz Garrick x fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | military!Reader; fluff; humour; domesticity; established relationship; dirty talk; unprotected sex; accidental creampie

Word count: 2.5k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

“Yes, sir, will do. Thank you.”

You’re only half-listening with one ear as Kyle speaks to the Captain on the phone, informing him of your… predicament and coming up with a rescue plan while you glance out of the windshield, watching the rapidly thickening blanket of snow starting to cover it up. It certainly won’t be long until Kyle’s sleek black Audi car will be hidden from view at the side of the road, the only thing visible being its bright hazard warning lights flashing rhythmically.

Kyle sighs deeply as he puts his phone back in its holder next to the steering wheel before he speaks.

“We’re stuck… for the next three hours at least,” he informs you and when you glance over at him, he looks apologetic, almost pitiful, like a kicked street puppy, “I’m sorry, baby,” He reaches over and rests his large, warm palm on your thigh, squeezing it gently, “I should’ve listened to you.”

Despite your initial annoyance at his stubbornness to take the risk and drive home for Christmas in a snowstorm, – a heavily announced one at that, – you cannot find it in you to be mad at your boyfriend, and your anger melts with ease like ice cones in the sun.

“It’s alright,” you reply, cupping your own hand over his, rubbing your soft thumb over his dry knuckles, “I know you just wanted us to be home for the holidays and make the most of our leave.”

Kyle’s lips purse as he exhales sharply through his nostrils, “It’s our first Christmas as a couple,” he mutters, “I just wanted to make it special for you.”

You can tell that he is angry and blaming himself for this, so you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“It is special, though, innit?” You quip, making a vague gesture at the car cabin that you find yourself stuck in with him. For the next three hours. At least.

Kyle snorts, unamused, “Yeah, right.” He pulls his hand back, crosses his arms over his buff chest and leans back into the soft leather of the car seat with an annoyed huff. Not angry at you, but himself; hating the feeling of not being able to live up to his own expectations and standards he’s produced in his head on how to be a good boyfriend. How to be enough for you.

You can feel it, the way he’s starting to overthink, and you swiftly intervene.

“Aw, come on, Ky-Ky. We’ve been through so much worse.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and shift in the passenger seat to lean over the middle console, placing a chaste kiss to his clean-shaven cheek before you pull back and pick up your packed rucksack from the leg room. You unzip it swiftly once on your lap and briefly rummage through it as you hum approvingly.

“Good thing I packed some snacks and drinks for the drive,” you remark, holding up one of your favourite protein bars before dropping it into the chaos inside again. You flash a genuine smile at your boyfriend, “I think we’ll survive those couple of hours.”

“Yeah,” Kyle agrees, kissing his teeth in thought as he glances out of his window, “Price said he’ll send someone out for us once it’s cleared up. Said we should keep the heater on as long as we can and just risk the battery dying.”

But the wind is howling outside, the snowstorm getting meaner rather than ebbing down. Luckily, you two barely made it an hour away from base before you got caught up in the storm and forced to pull over.

“Oh, I’m positive we’re gonna make it, baby. I trust in our combined survival skills,” you mumble casually as you keep going through your stuff, “Remember when we nearly died of hypothermia in Al Mazrah?” You ask, perking up with a snort, “I mean... that would’ve been so embarrassing. Dying in the fucking desert like that.”

“Nah,” Kyle objects softly and the corner of his mouth lifts as he thinks back of that recon mission with you, “Drowning in the desert would be more embarrassing.”

You laugh at that, “Good point.” Kyle’s brows furrow as he glances over at you, watching as you keep going through your rucksack like some manic squirrel looking for nuts, she thought she had hidden in the foliage.

“What are you even looking for in there?”

“Condoms.” You answer is so swift and dry that Kyle cannot quite tell if you’re messing with him or not. “But it seems that I forgot to pack them.” And then you click your tongue with a small shrug, “Guess you gotta go raw and pull out this time.”

His jaw ticks and he squirms in his seat, his biceps flexes under his hoodie as he keeps his arms crossed and spreads his legs wider apart, something curious and warm already stirring in his lower gut, because you must only utter something vaguely dirty or sexual, and Kyle’s loins start buzzing eagerly. That’s how tightly you have him wrapped around your finger.

“What? Why?” He asks, laughing breathlessly.

"Never had car sex before," you mutter as you put your rucksack back between your feet before you start climbing through the space between the front seats to get into the back, already kicking off your boots as you go.

Kyle grumbles but follows you without hesitation, no more questions asked, as he struggles to wretch his bigger body between the seats, "Yeah, I better fuckin' hope ya haven't, princess."

You can't help yourself but laugh at his sudden display of jealousy, snickering softly as you scoot over and make space for him on the backseat. Lacking your feminine grace, he still manages to join you with some huffs and grunts.

It’s getting darker in the cabin as more snow starts piling up and covering the windows, the blowing winds now muffled in your forced shelter.

"Of course not, honey," you say, rubbing his chest affectionately as he pants slightly, looking dishevelled with his hoodie rucked up and his bomber jacket askew. His head turns to follow your movements as the warmth of your touch seeps through his clothes.

Then, he gets that look in his eyes. The one that disarms you, no matter the situation. It has you melting on the inside and always urges you to grab his face and kiss him senseless. Devotion. Love. Sincerity. All mirrored in his warm brown eyes, like freshly harvested honey dripping from a spoon. Sweet and precious, and only reserved for you to taste.

"I'm gonna keep you warm, baby," he says, his voice husky as he scoots closer, raising an arm to wrap around your shoulders, his other hand cupping your cheek as he leans in to kiss you audibly; plump lips smacking against yours two, three, four times until you giggle.

"You know I will, right? Always." He mutters against your lips, his thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek with a tenderness that leaves your chest aching and your pussy pulsating.

Warm as in safe.

When you became official on New Year's, almost exactly a year ago, Gaz became Kyle. Off duty, he is Kyle Garrick. Your sweet, doting, and yes, sometimes jealous, and overly protective boyfriend. The one who holds an umbrella over your head when it rains and adjusts the chair for you in a restaurant. On duty, the lines blur sometimes, and both of you must remind each other in turns that you're still teammates, that the job is a priority and that no, you cannot catch a grenade for each other if push comes to shove. Not if it compromises the mission and puts the rest of your team in danger. You’re both learning, though.

“Are you sure you wanna do it in here? Someone might catch us,” Kyle murmurs responsibly, but starts peppering kisses along your jawline, down your neck.

“Yes,“ you sigh softly, tilting your head to the side as he pulls the collar of your hoodie down, exposing more skin to his mouth, “Anyone who’s daft enough to take a walk right now and is able to peek through these windows, deserves a bloody show.”

Kyle is getting harder in his sweatpants the more you speak, the more he kisses you and you let him. He sucks your skin into his mouth and bites down lightly, growling playfully. The sound of your half-whine/half-giggle has his cock twitching, blood rushing south steadily.

He releases your skin with a wet pop, grazes his teeth over the darkening love bite, “Always driving me bloody fucking crazy.”

Your right hand reaches down between his strong legs, and you grasp him skilfully over his sweatpants, making him shudder as you give his rigid manhood a firm squeeze.

The windows have fogged up from the inside. The heater is now redundant as your bodies keep each other warm, skin on skin, no barrier in between. It’s getting hot, slick, and sticky.

Your lips are kiss-swollen, parted as breathy, hiccupped moans are torn from your throat while Kyle has worked you open with his long fingers, his mouth latched onto your left nipple; suckling, nibbling, flicking his tongue over your hardened bud.

After stripping down and draping a spare blanket, one you’d brought along as a matter of prudence, Kyle manhandled you onto your back on the, thankfully, spacious backseat. Now he’s keeping his hands braced next to your shoulders, his hips grinding languidly, dragging his thick cock through your wet, puffy folds with each roll.

“You’re so mean, Kyle,” you whine eventually, head tipping back with your eyes closed as you feel yourself getting impatient, “I want you inside.”

You like calling Kyle mean, because he is the least mean or selfish lover you’ve ever had. It’s the needy, breathy, and pathetic tone you say it in that has him crumble and fold at once.

He bites your nipple gently, making you shudder and gasp before he pulls back, gazing up at you with dark, half-lidded eyes, “Want?” He repeats mockingly, “Nah, baby, you know how to ask nicely. I taught you better than that.”

He reaches down between your bodies, grabs his thick shaft and nudges your silky folds apart with the weeping tip of his cock. Your thighs part wider and your lift your right leg to brace your foot on the driver's seat for purchase, keeping yourself open and presented nicely to him.

“Such a good girl for me, baby. Look at that pretty pussy,” Kyle mutters heatedly, teasing your swollen clit with his cockhead, “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“F-Fuck... Fuck me, please, sir.” You’re practically trembling beneath him, bucking your hips to try and make him slip his tip in, and Kyle’s chest rumbles appreciatively as you call him ‘sir’ again. It happens rarely, you’re the same rank on duty, after all, but whenever it slips your lips when you’re alone, it boosts his ego and makes him preen internally.

His cock twitches, oozing more precum, and the tightness in his balls almost becomes unbearable.

“Fuck – ah – alright, y-yeah.”

Kyle shifts on top of you and you push your hips up for him, chest heaving with deep, slow breaths as you look at him through hooded eyes, and you exhale a breath of relief that ends in a breathy moan when his tip finally nudges past your dripping hole, fluttering around him eagerly as he pushes in slowly, making sure your wetness coats his shaft nicely with each push and pull until he can bottom out, heavy balls resting against your crack as his hips are flush with yours.

“Feels good?” Kyle grunts out and you nod slowly, “Very good... oh god, so fucking good.”

He pulls out up to his tip and slowly sinks back in again, stretching your quivering walls repeatedly. That familiar blissful warmth starts pooling in your lower stomach, licking at your spine and spreading through your limbs, up to your chest, flushing your cheeks as he starts thrusting more shallowly. Your thighs are sticky with your slick. The sound of your bodies connecting fills the car and rocks it gently when Kyle picks up the pace.

You wrap one arm around his shoulder loosely, your free hand reaching over to dig into the back of the passenger seat while you keep your foot braced against the driver’s seat, so you’re not pushed off the backseat.

Kyle leans in to capture your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss; tongue licking into your mouth, flicking and sucking on yours obscenely as his thrusts become more powerful; pubic bone nudging against your pulsating clit with each grind.

“...’m close, baby,” Kyle utters, his muscles bunch and flex as his handsome face contorts in pleasure, and his hot breath mingles with yours, saliva keeping your lips connected.

The hand wrapped around his shoulder sneaks down between your legs and you start rubbing your clit in tune with his thrusts, tendons straining in your neck as your head tilts back again, back arching. Your velvety walls squeeze around his cock, squeezing him mercilessly as you rub yourself to completion.

“Kyle– ngh, Kyle–” Your eyes squeeze shut as the tension keeps coiling, his large hand grabs a handful of your ass cheek, nails digging into your skin and groping you tightly as he snaps his hips harsher, knowing you need his full length massaging your sopping cunt to make you cum.

The pitch in your moans as you cum, the way you cry out his name in pleasure and your inner walls convulsing and rippling around his cock, is enough to have Kyle lose all restraint with you. He tries to pull out, he really does, but his body goes weak on him, knees giving out beneath him on the backseat as his vision goes white and his head buries into your shoulder while his throbbing cock spills inside you with several long pumps.

“Fuck... fuck... ‘m sorry, didn’t–didn’t mean to,” he groans against your skin, but his hips keep rutting into you lazily, relishing in each hitch of your breath and shudder of your body beneath him as his cock begins to soften inside you slowly. “I’m so sorry,”

Releasing your grip on the passenger seat and pulling your hand back from between your legs, you wrap both arms around his neck again, hugging him closer with a soft, contented smile.

“...’s alright, honey,” you mumble hoarsely, exhaling a soft sigh against his neck as you nuzzle him, “Just consider it a very risky Christmas present.”

#call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #gaz #gaz x reader #cod gaz #cod mw2 #tf 141 #cod advent calendar 2024 #reader insert

107 notes · View notes