#adjust and once you're running a bead that's it you're running it you're in there i have to remember everything but with oxyacetylene it

[vraska-theunseen]

auauaugh i can't even imagine how im going to get through sophomore year 😭 i don't even know how i'm going to get through this semester i always feel like i'm scrambling. even though i can tell im making way better progress compared to last semester like i'm learning things quicker im getting more done i have experience to build on instead of doing 10 fitups of shitty t joints im doing 3 or 4 and that's because (even if my teacher has to come in my booth to show me how to do it) with each bead slowly i remember how i've welded before and understand how i'm supposed to do it but that's still so much time im still behind compared to where my teacher said we should be and i don't understand how everyone else is understanding and doing everything faster than i am 😭

[hans-wh0re]

You could never resist the tempting opportunity to tease and taunt Chan with your insatiable lust whenever possible. Even something as simple as going for an impromptu nature drive together had your perverted mind racing with naughty ideas.

"Hey babe,m gonna pull off up here," Chan murmured in that deep baritone that never failed to make your thighs clench. He nodded toward a secluded fork in the deserted country road you'd been winding through, tucked away under a dreamy canopy of budding trees.

You bit your lip to suppress a smirk as Chan slowly steered his sleek black Jeep off the main path and rumbled over the grassy embankment into a small clearing framed by twisted oaks and wildflowers waving lazily in the breeze. This looked like the perfect private little hideaway for all sorts of indecent shenanigans.

As soon as he killed the engine, Chan swiveled in the driver's seat to fix you with a sultry gaze, the corner of his plump mouth kicked up in a sexy half-smirk. He knew that mischievous glint in your eyes all too well - you were already plotting some sort of erotic surprise.

"So what naughty thoughts are running through that dirty little head of yours, princess?" He rasped in a gravelly tone, large hand drifting across the center console to palm your bare thigh with a possessive squeeze. "You've been squirming around and giving me fuck-me eyes ever since we hit the road."

A shameless giggle bubbled up in your chest at Chan's playfully blunt assessment. You always did get unbelievably riled up whenever he pulled out his dominant bedroom voice. Feigning innocence, you parted your legs wider in a bold invitation while batting your lashes coyly.

"Who, me? I don't know what you're talking about…unless you were the one picturing me on my knees choking on your big dick in the woods like a filthy little slut?"

Chan's eyes flashed warningly at your brazenly dirty mouth, an almost feral growl rumbling up from his chest. In one smooth movement, he unclicked his seatbelt and lunged across the center divide to capture your lips in a rough, messy kiss.

"Such a bad girl, trying to rile me up," he groaned against your mouth between bruising smashes of his full lips. His tongue plunged past your parted lips greedily, chasing the sweet taste of you as his broad palms roamed over your body with shameless gropes. "You know how quickly you can get me riled up and ready to rail you into next week."

Whimpering into the deliciously filthy liplock, you rutted your hips up to grind your dewy slit against the rapidly forming bulge in Chan's jeans. His thick cock throbbed and strained against the unforgiving denim, leaving a tempting damp patch for you to press into.

"Mmm, feels like someone's excited to play too," you purred sultrily once he finally released your mouth with a final nip at your plump lower lip.

Chan let out a low chuckle that bordered on a growl, shifting backwards to blatantly palm and adjust his confined erection through the front of his pants. "Can't say I mind you teasing me like a needy little cockslut. In fact, I'd love to see those pretty lips wrapped around my dick, slobbering all over it right here in the front seat."

Your mouth practically watered at the tantalizing visual of bracing yourself in the cramped footwell and bobbing up and down on Chan's delicious length, his strong fingers tangled in your hair to guide your rhythm. With a needy whine, you immediately scrambled between his spread thighs to fumble with his belt buckle and zipper.

"Anything to make you happy, daddy," you purred, nuzzling your cheek against the impressive hard line straining against the front of his boxer briefs. The heady musk of Chan's arousal made your head swim and your cunt gush fresh dampness to soak the flimsy cotton.

With a theatrical swirl of your tongue, you mouthed a torturously slow trail along the shaft outlined beneath the soft fabric, savoring the taste of his salty precum already beading at the tip. Chan released a guttural moan, his hips twitching upwards instinctively to chase the hot suction of your lips. By the time you finally tugged his length free, his cock sprang out flushed, engorged, and glistening at the swollen head - undeniably aching to be buried in your velvety heat.

"Shit, look how fucking thick and pretty it is," you practically purred, wrapping one hand around the girthy base to stroke him from root to tip with teasing kitten licks following your snug fist. "Not sure I deserve such a nice treat…."

Hooking one toned leg over your shoulder for leverage, Chan carded his fingers through your hair to tilt your face upwards under his potent smoldering gaze. "Why don't you put that smart little mouth to good use and suck daddy dry then, hmm?"

Your tongue slipped out to drag a fat, messy stripe through the pearly beads of precum gathered on his cockhead, circling the engorged crown with torturous slow laps. When Chan's dick jerked heavily in your grip, you giggled and latched your lips around the tip in a tight suction to tongue at the sensitive bundle until he was thrashing beneath you.

"Fuckkk that's it, take it all down like a good girl," He groaned, head rolling back on the headrest as you slowly sank your jaw further to stretch your puffy lips around his considerable girth.

With a hand still fisted around the base, you eagerly worked the rest of his impressive length past your lips, swirling your tongue indecently and hollowing your cheeks to draw him deeper into your throat with filthy, gagging noises. Chan cursed vehemently, hips pumping off the seat to meet each sloppy down-bob of your head as the blunt head prodded into your convulsing throat.

"Such a cockslut for me, choking yourself sloppy and stupid on my dick…" Chan slurred through gritted teeth, one hand twisting in your hair to set a brutal cadence of forcefully skull-fucking your stretched mouth.

The sting of tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, coupled with the sharp burn of being deliciously impaled on his throbbing length. But the grotesque sound of your noisily suctioning mouth, your saliva-slickened chin, and Chan's punishingly deep shoves into your gullet made your cunt throb with unbridled arousal. You keened around his cock with pleasure, practically humping the console in search of much-needed friction between your neglected legs.

With a guttural snarl, Chan hilted himself fully in the convulsing wet heat of your throat until your nose brushed coarse curls and your lashes fluttered with lack of air. The fat, leaking crown stretched your poor lips obscenely wide, pearly drool and stringy saliva dripping down your chin to soak your tits.

"F-Fuck, gonna fill your tight little throat with so much cum," Chan rumbled through gritted teeth, harsh grunts punching out in time with the debauched bobbing motion of fucking your sloppy face. "Going to drench you in a hot, thick load right down your throat like the cumdump slut you are…"

At his lewd words, you whined out a pathetic plea around the thick cock spearing your gullet. The prospect of being so thoroughly defiled and used as nothing but a jizz receptacle had your core gushing fresh arousal. Your muffled whimpers and gags only seemed to spur Chan on to jackhammer his hips upwards in sharper, more erratic thrusts. Every withdrawal left a fat trail of spittle and precum painting your chin before the fat cockhead stretched your lips wide yet again.

Out of nowhere, Chan delivered a stinging slap across your cheek, leaving a crimson handprint blooming along your face as more tears sprang up. But the harsh sting only made you moan deliriously around his member, angling your neck to take the next fierce thrust deeper, harder, sloppier. You were absolutely transcendent on the degradation, serving as his fuckdoll to relentlessly throat and use like a cockwarmer.

"I'm cumming, I'm fuckin' c-cummin'…" Chan growled out a final warning in a wrecked, guttural tone.

The first hot, viscous ropes of his seed erupted out into the back of your gullet before you could react, thick cream painting the insides of your throat and dribbling back out around your poor abused lips in a filthy mess. Your body shook with the desperate urge to swallow down each spurt of cum, only for Chan to sink his nails into the crown of your scalp to still your movements and pump his hips. More and more of his spend coated your tonsils, gushing down your sputtering windpipe and draining back out around your spit-slick oral cavity…

By the time Chan's pulsing cock started delivering its final weak spurts of seed down your raw throat, every inch of your pretty face was a sloppy mess of drool, tears, and thick globs of his potent release. Jets of cum continued to dribble from the plump, distended shape of your overstuffed lips even as he dragged his softening length from your mouth with a final groan.

Chan didn't give you more than a moment to gasp frantically for air before he was hauling you up into a bruising, possessive kiss. You keened against his mouth, allowing him to chase the musky taste of his own spend flicking over both your tongues in a nasty, unrestrained makeout. The erotic flavor made your head swim, pussy throbbing with need to be similarly painted with his seed.

"I want every drop cleaned up, baby girl," Chan husked in a low rumble against your spit-slick lips when you finally parted for air. The promise in his smoky gaze was undeniable - he planned to use and defile every part of your body until you were a slutty, trembling mess well into the night.

With needy whimpers tumbling from your puffy lips, you obediently scooped up the pearly strands and globs of potent cream smeared across your jaw, chin, and down your heaving chest with petite fingertips. You held Chan's heated stare as you unabashedly lapped the tangy puddles of cum from your skin, swirling your tongue around each digit with obscene slurping noises to polish them clean.

"Good girl…such a nasty little cumwhore for me," he groaned approvingly, thick cock already twitching back to engorged interest from watching your erotic show. "Get it nice and slick for round two now."

Chan spread his muscled thighs obscenely wider, nearly sprawled in the driver's seat while his slick, heavy prick lay gleaming and exposed against his defined lower abdomen. He was putting himself on unabashed display, shamelessly baiting you to make a sloppy mess of his gorgeous body next, and who are you to not fall for his bait…

[zweiginator]

omg patrick with stanford cheerleader reader pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls i’m begging

like you're used to basketball and football players at stanford. they're cocky and hypermasculine and spoiled beyond belief. get whatever they want whenever they want. and the school is trying something new out: they want more fans at the smaller athletic events.

swimming, lacross, water polo--tennis.

so your coach tells you there's a tennis match you have to go to. just once a week during the season. which is fine, since it barely overlaps with your normal schedule.

you have assumptions about boys' tennis. you think they'll be scrawny and nerdy, nepotism kids who needed a way to weasle into a prestigious school like stanford.

you arrive to the match an hour early; you see the team practicing drills. they're confused as the stanford cheerleading bus pulls up.

picking your bag up, you make your way to the bottom of the stands. you bend over to tie your shoes, and hear a distinct groan from behind you.

but when you turn back to face the court, it wasn't what you thought. the groan came as a dark-haired tennis player smacked the ball, his shirt riding up to reveal toned abs, and pulsing veins in his wrist, exacerbated by the may heat.

he isn't scrawny, or nerdy, and he certainly isn't a bad athlete. you watch him intently, how he smacks the ball, his shoes squeaking as he moves up and down the court. he's strong and self-assured and a little cocky.

you see it as he notices you're watching him. raises his eyebrows at you as he squirts water into his mouth and stretches his shoulders with his racket.

he takes his shirt off too. tanned skin peppered with dark chest hair that goes down, down, down--extends underneath his little red stanford shorts.

patrick notices your get up too. your short, perfectly pressed skirt with those tiny shorts underneath. your cute, tight tank top with stanford stretched across your tits. you look so smooth. like you smell like vanilla frosting and warm linen. and better yet, you look tight.

when the match begins, it doesn't feel like patrick is playing against an opponent. it feels like he's performing for you. pushing his chest out and flexing his legs. looking over at you when he hits a good serve, wins a set, a match.

he likes how you pretend like you don't care that he stares at you. and he likes how you let your little skirt ride up for him. he dabs the sweat off his chest and forehead with a cloth.

your eyes follow a lone bead of sweat that drips down the valley of his chest, towards his belly button. and you notice he's hard. he adjusts himself before the next set.

and you eye fucking each other moves back and forth, a volley. a fun game of watching patrick's breath visibly hitch as you run your pom up your leg, as your skirt flips up when you jump.

when the matches are over, patrick finds you in the stands. he hikes his leg up on the bench next to you and leans forward. you look up at him with a feigned innocence that he sees right through. but your eyes are big and pretty, so he doesn't mind the little white lie. he'll catch you on it later.

and he does. he sits across from you and talks and talks and talks until everyone has left. bounces you on his cock under the bleachers away from the security cameras, your skirt flipped up, tank top pulled down. it's messy and hot and desperate and he has to use his t-shirt as a cum rag.

for the rest of the season, your little routine persists--until patrick's teammate catches patrick fucking your throat in the locker room.

[risingoftime]

AGAINST ALL ODDS | CORIOLANUS SNOW X PLINTH!READER | CHAPTER THREE

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TW - descriptions of death (Sejanus) & hanging/strangulation, night terrors.

Sejanus' trembling body materialized before you upon the wooden platform amidst the grim presence of the hanging tree. His once robust body now appeared frail and bruised, bearing the unmistakable marks of beatings, and starvation seemed to have drained the vitality from his once vibrant frame. He stood, a testament to the hellish spectacle the Capitolites had subjected him to be. Sejanus struggled to hold back tears; his voice desperately cried your name, yet no sound would escape his arid lips. An invisible force rooted you to the spot, rendering your limbs motionless despite your earnest efforts to break free from this immobilizing grip to reach Sejanus. 

The peacekeepers marched steadily past you, and a chilling lull descended, punctuated by the haunting sight of Sejanus standing at the precipice of his fate. They tightened and adjusted the noose around his vulnerable neck with methodical precision. Fear etched deep into his widened eyes, the anticipation of what awaited him palpable. The weight of the moment bore down upon you, beads of sweat tracing a trail along the nape of your neck as a surge of nausea threatened to release. The harsh finality of the situation washed over your being.

Sejanus resignedly mouthed a sorrowful apology, his wordless cry cutting through the heavy air. And then, an irreversible shift transpired with breathtaking swiftness. The ground beneath him gave way, dissolving into oblivion, the sickening sound of his neck snapping searing into your consciousness, an unshakeable echo of his death.

Your eyes snapped open to see Tigris pinning your arms onto the mattress. Blinking against the dim sunlight, you managed to stammer, "Tigris? Why are you in my room?" your voice came out hoarse.

The worry in her eyes was unmistakable. She loosened her hold on you slowly until she let go of your arms completely, her hands slightly trembling.

"Your screams... I heard them from downstairs," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was bringing your dress in, and I feared...I was scared something terrible had happened to you." She paused, swallowing hard. "Then, I found you... sleeping, but your body thrashing in the sheets as if you were trying to escape something. Are you okay? Has this happened before?"

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the sunlight peering in from your window. It made Tigris's blonde hair look like a halo on her head. However, her gaze didn't waver from you, the anxiety written plainly on her face, promising not to leave until she was sure you were safe. Seeing Tigris in this state made you sad. You didn't mean to let anyone else see you like this. 

"Just a nightmare, that's all. It used to happen every night since-" Cutting yourself off, It was difficult to say his name, not after what you had just seen. "I only get like this when I'm stressed." Tigris still didn't appear convinced by your response. Your nightgown stuck to your skin from the sheen of sweat on your body. You couldn't imagine how horrible you looked and felt in front of Tigris. Suddenly, painfully aware of yourself, you pulled the sheets above you as an act of modesty. 

"Where's Ma?" you asked. 

"She stepped out to run last-minute errands for the event tonight. She called me to help you get ready and, well, you know the rest." You half-expected Tigris to leave, respecting your privacy. But she pressed on. "I used to have dreams like yours when my parents died during the rebellion. It took me a while to cope with their death. I still struggle sometimes. You can talk to me, you know? You're my family too now." 

With a comforting pat on your thigh, Tigris rose from the bed. "I'll give you some space to freshen up. Meet me downstairs whenever you're ready." Her words stayed with you as the bedroom door closed with a faint thud, plunging you back into reality.

Today is your birthday, the day of your wedding shower— another reminder of your upcoming marriage to Coriolanus. The date was impending faster than you had hoped, and there was no sign of it stopping. Young marriages weren't uncommon in Panem post-war, but you had naively hoped for more time before earning the title of someone's wife. More time, much like you had wished for Sejanus. His life was taken from him at eighteen, the same age you were now. That's when it struck you: Sejanus won't see you off to get married, nor would he be there to watch over your kids and be the fun uncle you know he would be. 

You silently wept in bed, overcome by grief. This day was meant to be filled with happiness; it was anything else but that. You felt shame, aggressively wiping away the tears that poured from your eyes like a waterfall. You knew wallowing in bed would solve nothing. Yet, facing the world with red, swollen eyes filled you with dread. It would be an unspoken confession of your struggles, a silent admission of your turmoil. And you couldn’t have that. Ma would need you to keep it together. She’s already lost one of her children. 

Mustering your remaining energy, you got ready and adorned yourself with makeup before descending the stairs to join Tigris. In front of you, an awe-inspiring dark crimson red dress adorned a mannequin. The tulle gown exuded a celestial aura like the night sky had woven into every stitch. Handcrafted with meticulous attention to detail, shimmering pearls embellished the fabric, creating a mesmerizing constellation effect. The dress's form-fitting bodice gracefully accentuated the mannequin's curves before cascading outwards from the waist. Its sheer beauty left you speechless, your mouth agape in disbelief.

Turning to Tigris, you asked, "Did you make this?" Tigris smiled widely and nodded. 

"I hope that you like it. The pearls are handsewn and thoroughly placed to sparkle with your every move." Tigris says. "Come and hurry and put it on! I can't wait to see it on my muse." Tigris didn't show any distress cues from earlier or fawn over your every move. She offered a place of comfort as you stripped down to your undergarments and stepped into the gown. It fit like a glove, which was impressive, considering Tigris hadn't taken your measurements. Her eye for detail is astounding. The corset of the dress pushed your breasts up, giving the impression that you had more cleavage and a smaller waist.  As you gazed at your reflection, a gasp escaped your lips in awe of the masterpiece Tigris had created. "If I were to die in this dress, I would die a happy woman," you whispered. The sight of you was truly intoxicating, and in this dress, you felt a sense of confidence and accomplishment immersed around you. The person who stood before the mirror embodied a timeless beauty. You could envision yourself as someone suitable to be seen on the arm of Coriolanus Snow, the young man rumoured to be the next ruler of the Capitol. Without another thought, you brought Tigris into a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She held you closer with her warm embrace. An excited shriek pulled you apart to find Ma with Coriolanus. 

"Oh gosh! My beautiful baby girl is all grown up."

Coriolanus exhaled in surprise at your appearance. His eyes trailed from your face down to the heels that you wore. It was one of the rare times that Coriolanus was genuinely speechless. Tigris cleared her throat, “So… what do you think?” Coriolanus finally pulled himself out of his entrapped daze and faked a cough to hide his lust-filled expression. But it was too late. You have already seen it.

"You look beautiful." Coriolanus wore a suit in a similar shade to your dress. Tigris must've tailored his outfit to cater to yours. “Tigris, You've outdone yourself,” he said.  From the outside eye, you were well suited for each other and made a good-looking couple. It would be easy to fall into the fantasy you have been presented with. Yet it didn’t change that it was all a fallacy; Coriolanus had only agreed to marry you for the money. It was damn easy to forget all of this when Coriolanus flashed you his dazzling smile and wrapped his arm around yours to escort you out of the penthouse to your wedding shower and birthday party.

Coriolanus whispered to your ear, “And before I forget, Happy Birthday.”

𓇢𓆸

The event was hosted in an extravagant lounge. There were rows and rows of velvet red sectionals and opulent jade banquettes. The lighting around the room was soft and illuminated the lush plants and countless influential figures of Panem that filled the space. Your name and Coriolanus’s were etched on a banner for all guests to view. Your parents had invited almost everyone that you’ve known. The Dolittle family socialized with Dr. Volumnia Gaul over a glass of champagne. While Eris Dankworth and her family kept to themselves, overseeing and judging the festivities that took place. Some of the University and Academy professors were in attendance as well. President Ravinstill could be seen at the far corner, seated at a private table with his wife. He was the man who'd granted our departure from the Districts when your father sided with the President by providing munitions to the Capitol. The President wore his prewar military uniform like a badge of honour. The gall of it all made you feel unsettled. 

You observed Coriolanus closely, gripped by his ability to captivate everyone around him with his calm demeanour and impeccable manners. Whenever he engaged in conversation, his eyes would light up as if each person he spoke to had just said the wittiest remark he had ever heard. It was awe-inspiring to witness. A part of you was taken aback. This side of him was rarely revealed in your presence. The Coriolanus you grew to know had disappeared. This one was fun-loving and easygoing. It was a version of him that made you reconsider if he was all bad, like you initially thought. 

"Must I say Coriolanus, you've snagged yourself quite the catch? Miss Plinth appears to be Sejanus's better half." Dr. Volumnia Gaul smiled much too widely after her comment. She had a sneaky habit of appearing when she was least anticipated. It made whatever she had to say sound ingenuine and cunning. Your spine stiffened at the mention of Sejanus from his former professor. Coriolanus rubbed small circles on your lower back, a meek attempt to distract you. He returned Dr. Gaul's smile. Before you could devise your retort, Coriolanus replied, "Thank you, it'll be an honour to call her my wife." He looked upon you with a glint in his eye, something that you hadn't noticed before, admiration or possession? It was hard to decipher. His gaze travelled down to your exposed breasts, and the desire on Coriolanus's face made you feel feverish. Undeniably, a new side of Coriolanus was in front of you. 

"Fate is a funny thing, isn't it Coriolanus? The Plinth family lost a son, to soon gain another." She smirked as if she knew something you didn't, "I'm curious to see how this union will be fair in the future. Best wishes to the both of you." And with that, she departed to refill her glass of champagne. Coriolanus kept his hand around your waist. His hold on you was unshakeable, and his face turned straight. 

"Are you alright? What was that all about?" You asked. 

"Nothing, Dr. Gaul is quite peculiar in how she expresses herself." His glare didn't wander from her figure as she walked through the crowd of guests. 

"So I've heard, Sejanus would talk about her briefly after class and in his letters." 

"Letters?" Coriolanus faced you incredulously. The thought of Sejanus sending his younger sister letters during his time in District 12 hadn't crossed his mind. 

Suddenly, the lights were cut, and the crowd gasped in shock. In the distance, you could see Ma and your father holding a cake with eighteen lit candles making their way to the booth you sat at. Everyone erupted in song, singing You Happy Birthday and began to gather around. 

"Make a wish, Honey," Ma said. Your father flagged down the hired photographers with box-like cameras that appeared chunky and heavy to the eye. Flashing lights surrounded you as they fired shots at your every move until the last candle was blown out. You could see Romulus standing beside his brother with a big grin. The similarities were uncanny. He shook a blue velour box and mouthed, "I got you a present." Eris Dankworth stood not too far behind them and watched the moment unravel. 

“How about a kiss from the soon-to-be newlyweds?” Eris yelled out with a sickening sneer on her lips. She couldn’t help herself. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” she began the chant amongst the guests. Anyone would think she did it all in good faith and fun. But you knew. It was a reminder of the conversation that took place in front of the Academy. 

With all eyes on you, there was little option but to comply. It would be odd not to. 

“Well, Mr. Snow,” you shyly peeked up through your wispy lashes, and Coriolanus stood tall, towering over you with his height. "Let's give them a run for their money." He softly nestled your face in his hands, his touch both consoling and electrifying. You sensed a slight tremor in his hands from anticipation. As his plush lips met yours, the kiss began tentatively, as if you were exploring unknown territory. Coriolanus pulled you in closer, pressing your bodies together until there was no space between you. Not knowing where to place your arms, you instinctively wrapped them around his neck, cultivating deeper access and connection. An unfamiliar warmth spread throughout your body, igniting a desire you hadn't experienced before. Nerves fluttered in your stomach. This was your first kiss. Your first kiss is with Coriolanus Snow, and damn was it a good kiss. It was unclear who moved away first, but looking at your Ma, you could see her with clutched pearls. 

Coriolanus chuckled silently beside you, "Wow, I didn't think you had it in you, Miss Plinth. You're just full of surprises." Your elbow connected with his ribs, although this didn't stop him from laughing. Amid your embarrassment that your parents had seen you practically make out with your fiancee, you excused yourself to go to the powder room. If you found Eris alone, you would surely give her a piece of your mind. You were navigating through the crowd with mindless “thank you’s,” and the half-assed hugs were beginning to get on your last nerve. You just needed a quiet moment to yourself. Someone followed behind and caught your hand as you freed yourself through the exit doors to the restrooms. 

“Hey, I’ve been trying to get you alone all evening. It's like chasing a rabbit in a hay field,” Romulus said, slightly panting like he’d just run a marathon. He appeared strikingly handsome in his tailored midnight blue suit, a perfect complement to his dark hair and captivating features.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s unbefitting of a lady to be seen alone with a man who isn’t to be her husband, especially with the wedding date around the corner,” you said.

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re letting Dankworth get to you,” Romulus wrinkled his nose when he uttered her name as if he smelled something horrid. “Besides, I like you better when you're defiant. It keeps things interesting in this dull place.”  

You rolled your eyes at his statement. Of course, he did. That was before. When you could afford to do whatever you pleased and live your day as your own. "What do you want, Rome?" you asked. He didn't track you down to chat. 

"Geez, did that kiss get your panties in a twist too?" Romulus snickered. You shoved him and snorted at his mortifying question. Romulus always knew how to make you laugh. 

"Oh God, please shut up! What was I supposed to do?" 

"I don't know, give the guy a peck, maybe?" Romulus's smile widened at your reaction, and he rummaged through his pocket to pull out the blue velour jewelry box from earlier. "Besides, if you didn't run out of there so quickly, I wouldn't be able to give this to you." He placed the present in your hands gently, like a delicate flower. 

"Rome, you didn't have to get me a gift-" 

"I know, but I wanted to. Open it." He nodded towards the box, motioning you to untie the bow that was wrapped around it. 

Inside held a beautiful gold locket necklace that looked like it had cost a fortune. Intricate swirl patterns were engraved into the locket, with hearts nestled beside each other. When you opened it, your favourite picture of you and Sejanus was inside. Romulus had taken the photo of the two of you that day in the sun. You wore a childlike grin in the photograph while Sejanus slung his arm over your shoulder, sporting a crooked smile. His pure essence is captured eternally, frozen in time just for you. This was the Sejanus that you remembered. Your eyes welled up with tears, and your throat became tight, making expressing your overwhelming gratitude to Romulus nearly impossible.

Romulus knew this and seemed prepared. He offered you his handkerchief. "Would you like me to help you put it on?" he asked. You nodded, as words still escaped you while you dabbed the corner of your eyes, careful not to smudge your makeup. Romulus lifted the necklace, and it glinted in the light. Turning your back, he clasped the locket around your neck, which lay flat between your collarbones. A piece of Sejanus will always be near. 

"I think this is one of the best gifts I've ever received." you sniffled. 

"Even better than the horse your father bought you as a kid?" Of course, Romulus would try to crack a joke. 

"Even better." You took Romulus into your arms, holding him close and snugly, "thank you, Rome."

"Romulus, we need to stop meeting like this!" Coriolanus exclaimed with no humour behind the mirth in his voice. Peering over Romulus's shoulder, you could see him close the doors to the lounge behind him.

"Meeting like what?" Romulus asked. 

"With you, all over my fiancee." Coriolanus scowled at Romulus, tracking his every move with his glare. 

"He wasn't-" 

"I wasn't all over her, Coriolanus, don't be dramatic. I was merely giving her a birthday gift, and I didn't know that was a crime." Romulus raised both his hands in mockery as if he would be arrested. Your heartbeat began to pick up in pace. Little did Romulus know the severity of consequences that might lay ahead of him for taunting Coriolanus, even more so now that Coriolanus had seen Romulus holding you in his arms not too long after kissing him.

Coriolanus hid his malicious intent almost too well, "I know a couple of people who would beg to differ." There was a hidden meaning behind his choice of words. "I simply just came out to let my fiancee know that her parents are looking for her to make a toast before the guests begin to leave." Coriolanus turned to face you, making direct contact with the heart-shaped locket that embellished your chest. It made you feel naked under his scrutiny. 

"Yes, I'll be right there to join you soon. I want to say goodbye to Romulus. He was just leaving." 

Romulus caught on quickly about what you were hinting at and agreed, "Yes, I was. The only reason I came was to drop off her gift." He gestured towards the box in your hands and smirked. 

"Safe travels," Coriolanus muttered under his breath and turned to enter the lounge, but not before calling over his shoulder, "Please be quick. I'd hate to keep your parents waiting." 

When Coriolanus was out of sight, you hit Romulus upside his head. "Idiot! Why do you keep trying to get a rise out of him?" Romulus knew better. Coriolanus was not the type to engage in direct conflict. He would skillfully maneuver himself like a serpent, slithering to strike his opponents from behind when they least expect it. 

"You can't possibly believe that he'll make good on his threat." As suspected, Romulus didn't take it seriously when you told him about what Coriolanus said to you if he were to touch you. It would help if you had been wiser and not caught up in the moment. Getting caught up with Rome was a stupid mistake. 

"I don't know. But I'd rather not find out now. All I can do is hope that Coriolanus was bluffing." 

“The idea of you marrying him doesn't sit right with me. What do you even like about Coriolanus anyways?” Romulus sounded frustrated and perplexed, his hazel eyes filled with concern. 

Like was a strong word. You tolerated Coriolanus when needed. Still, the only things that you observed of him were from afar and through your brother until now.  

Sejanus was quite the optimist when he was ready. Coriolanus had always shown indifference towards us, the Plinths. He did not agree with my classmates' taunting but did not wholly disagree. Remaining neutral meant nothing to you, especially if said boy was Sejanus’s friend. What type of friend was he? An opportunist? Yes, for sure. But Coriolanus did not show much proof of friendship other than the tattered photograph he kept of them during the games and the letters Sejanus had written about Coriolanus to you. If you hadn't known any better, you would've called it a naive school crush that Sejanus had. Pa always chose to pay no heed to what displeased him, and Sejanus publicly grieving his childhood first love, Marcus, was undoubtedly one of them. 

Yet, you couldn't deny the chemistry you shared during the kiss. There was the possibility of growing to be fond of Coriolanus. This was likely at a different rate than your relationship was going. 

"I don't have to like Coriolanus," you sighed. 

"Well, you at least have to if you're going to spend the rest of your life with him," Romulus argued. 

"Rome, please, I don’t want to talk about this, not on my birthday." Your head began to pound from the onset of stress that returned to your body. One night, that's all you wanted. Romulus could see the tension rise within you and apologized. 

“I’m sorry; I didn't intend to damper the mood. Enjoy the rest of your night, and we’ll talk tomorrow.” Romulus surprised you by planting a small kiss on your forehead and departing shortly after. To see him leave so soon left a pit in your stomach. It was an unpleasant feeling. The more pressing concern was still present: would Romulus survive the wrath of Coriolanus?

𓇢𓆸

That question kept you up at night. The rest of the party was a success, although Coriolanus was in quite a sour mood for the rest of the event until we were escorted home. He'd returned to his usual self, only uttering a sentence in your direction if needed. After finding you in Romulus's arms, you partially expected him to be more brash towards you. It unsettled you when he was silent. 

Ringing from your landline telephone alarmed you. The only person likely to call you this late would be Romulus. There had to be something wrong. 

"Hello?" 

"You're awake." The voice sounded surprised that you had answered the phone.

"Coriolanus, why are you calling so late?" 

"Come let me in. I'm coming to your door." His words lightly slurred together.

"Corio-" you raised your voice in protest, but the line dropped. The flippant guy hung up on you. 

You rushed down the stairs in your silk robe as quietly as possible until you heard knocking at your front door. When you opened the door, revealing a dishevelled Coriolanus, his blazer was discarded and still in the dress shirt he wore to the wedding shower with a few extra buttons loose. "Shut up, will you! You're going to wake up my parents. Hurry and come in." He stumbled past you to sprawl out on the couch, faintly smelling of white liquor. Thank God the Avoxes weren't live-in help. 

"Have you been drinking?" you asked. 

Coriolanus pinched his thumb and pointer finger close together in response to your question. 

"Be honest, would marrying me be that bad?" Coriolanus's tone was soft and gentle. He looked tense and a bit unsure of himself. Even in this state, he looked handsome; it bothered you that Coriolanus didn't even seem aware of it. 

"I don't know," you answered honestly. "I can't imagine sharing a life with someone I don't love, regardless of their last name. I always thought I would fall in love with someone like Ma and my father. They grew up on the same street and started dating in their early teens. And I would raise a family and grow old enough to tell my grandkids stories of how I had loved and lost and met my greatest love of all, their grandfather." It was a small dream that wouldn't come true in this lifetime. 

"I can love you," Coriolanus retorted.

"You're drunk." You sat in front of him on the carpet. 

"So? I know I can love you better than Romulus. That guy couldn't wait to get his dirty little hands on you, and of all things, he got you a locket in the shape of a heart on the day of our wedding shower. I should strangle him with my bare hands, and I would do it again to any man who dares to lay a finger on you and what's mine." Coriolanus stumbled through his sentences, and if it weren’t for the last comment, you would've thought it was cute.

"Not this again. Are you jealous of Romulus? He's a friend, and it was a thoughtful gift, hardly romantic." 

"He's one of your only friends, and he makes you smile. You don't even laugh when you're around me. I should be the one that you want to lean on. I'm the one who will be your husband, not him." Coriolanus ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

"You sound like a child. I'll get you a glass of water," getting up from the floor to walk to the kitchen, Coriolanus took your hand in his to stop you. 

"Wait, don't leave. Let me prove it to you: I want to take you on a date." 

That earned laughter from you; it burst out of you and was hard to contain. “That’s hilarious coming from you, Snow.” But Coriolanus didn’t laugh, and his face became sober.  

Coriolanus expressed his sincerest intentions, “I’m serious. It’s still your birthday weekend. I’ll take you out to properly celebrate. I know tonight wasn’t ideal.”

You raised your eyebrows, still skeptical of him, questioning, “Why? So you could handle your vendetta?”

Unfazed by your disbelief, Coriolanus grinned, "No, it would be for you." His words lingered in the air. You were baffled and intrigued.

The room was momentarily silent, giving you time to process his response. You couldn't help but wonder what he meant by it. Was there a deeper meaning behind his words? Although you searched for clarity, you were eager for Coriolanus to continue, hoping his inebriated self would go into more detail. Yet, his face turned paler than usual, and his blue eyes met yours with focus. 

“I’ll take that glass of water now. I think I might be sick.”

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[throneofsapphics]

Hi I saw you were open for drabbles and I hate this idea of like reader gets sick or need to take medicine for whatever reason but wont take it because it tastes bad. So I was thinking either maybe Azriel, Fenrys or if you don't like the two you can do a poly couple having to like force feed the reader because she wont listen to them?

Its okay if you don't like the idea though.

easy decisions

Azriel x Reader

Summary: you’re sick and refusing medication, Azriel takes matters into his own hands. 

Warnings: illness, forced medicating 

A/N: thank you for the request! I’ve think i’ve written this idea before, idk why but I love it 

“Mother save me,” Azriel muttered, crossing his arms. A small mountain of pillows and blankets surrounded you, a fire still roaring in the corner of your room. You’d been ill for days. At first, Madja said you’d likely get better with good rest and food - but it had progressed to the point where intervention was necessary. 

Yesterday, you’d taken it willingly - today was proving a bit more difficult. Unlucky for him, you were the most stubborn person he’d ever met. Lucky for you, even if you didn’t think that, he refused to compromise when it came to your health. 

“I suffered through it once,” you hissed, “that was plenty.” 

“And Madja said to take it once a day.” 

Mouth clamped shut, you shook your head and slid down in the bed. Adjusting the comforters around you, you turned your back to him. 

In. one, two, three. Out. one, two, three. 

“It’ll be over quickly,” he sat next to you, running his hand over your shoulder, the other folded around the glass vial. 

“The taste will stay in my mouth for days.” 

“You’re being a bit dramatic,” he murmured, and you snapped your head towards him, eyes narrowed. 

“You take it then.” 

“I’m not sick,” he fixed you with a look, “and I have.” 

The same stubborn expression. He loved you, he really did, but right now you were making it difficult. 

“You're not going to convince me.”  

“I already have hot chocolate for you,” Azriel tried a bribe this time. 

A shake of your head. He’d give it one last try. 

“Don’t make me force you,” he said - a half plea, half warning. 

Eyes rolled, “you won’t.” 

Another breath, in and out. “One more chance.” 

You studied him for a moment, and a bead of hope flared in his chest - extinguished when you turned your head back, tucking the blankets up with you. 

Azriel didn’t like doing this, but you were forcing his hand. Either you take the damn tonic, or he has to watch you grow more ill. It’s an easy choice for him. Moving quickly, he placed the bottle on the nightstand, gently gripping under your arms, tugging you up to sit. You yelped, thrashing in his grip, but he was already straddling your hips.

A shadow floated the bottle over, he snatched it and flicked the cork off, sending it flying somewhere across the room.

“Take. It,” his jaw clenched, normally endless patience at its limits. 

Hands tried to shove at his chest, but shadows wrapped around your wrists, pinning them at your sides. Your jaw remained clamped shut, and he wondered if you were doing this just to spite him, or if it really was because you hated it. Either way, he wouldn’t feel too bad over it. 

His hand wrapped around your jaw, scarred fingers rough against your smooth skin, and he squeezed - just enough for your lips to part, and to tip the contents of the vial down your throat, before he squeezed your jaw shut. Your entire face scrunched, but your throat never moved. 

“Swallow,” his voice was firm. 

A shake of your head - as much as you could move it. Now he knew you were being stubborn on principle. He tossed the vial aside, letting it clatter over the carpet, and pinched your nose between his thumb and forefinger

A promise of vengeance gleamed in your eyes. He’d like to see you try. A few seconds passed, your face growing red, but the desire for air took over, and your throat bobbed. After taking a few seconds to make sure you actually swallowed all of it, he carefully removed his hands. 

You sputtered, sucking air in and out of your lungs. Shadows still held your arms down as he ran his fingers through your hair, one thumb brushing away the drops on your lip, before pushing back into your mouth. You glared, but your tongue swirled, cleaning the last few bits. 

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He couldn’t help the small barb - especially as he saw the spark in your eyes, the fire he loved so much. 

A healthy dose of self-preservation had him sliding off the bed before completely freeing you, ignoring the litany of curses you spit at him to retreat to the tray placed on the dresser. It was risky, giving you his back, but the illness had you weak enough you couldn’t do much to him. 

Approaching you like someone might a feral kitten, he extended his peace offering. The mug of warm molten chocolate, exactly as you like it. You huffed and rolled your eyes, but took it from him, trying to fight the small smile. 

Azriel sat a few feet down - out of your reach, and moved the blankets enough to reach under, running his thumb in circles on the inside of your knee. “I hate seeing you sick.” 

Clenching the mug with both hands, your eyes softened, “I know.” 

“Will I have to do this again tomorrow?” 

A small hum, neither a yes or no. For fucks sake. 

[sturnsiolos0]

More-Matt Sturniolo

(this one goes right into the smut i didn't rlly feel like writing a whole thing😭)

He closes the distance between you both, leaning down to brush his mouth to yours, and you eagerly respond, tongue darting past his parted lips before he quickly takes control, stumbling forwards to press you against the wall.

The kiss soon gives way to something hotter, something primal, and his hands are soon slipping past your clothes to seek out your skin. Your touch is just as hungry, grappling with his shirt and yanking it off him, before moving on to fumble with the button and zipper of his pants. Teeth nip at swollen lips and Matt's mouth strays to latch itself to your jaw, meanwhile you successfully manage to  get past the confines of Matt's clothing, one hand maintaining its grip on the rich material of his waistband whilst the other dips in to graze his cock, already half-hard and hot against your palm.

Matt hisses at the contact, hips jerking forward on instinct, and you gasp, liquid heat forming within you at the thoughts of what you wanted Matt to do to you, of what you wanted to do to him. Drawing back, you respond to his whine with a chaste kiss to his flushed cheek before licking your palm, fighting the urge to break the heavy eye-contact that he had pulled away to bestow upon you, and you watch the protest die in his eyes as he watches your tongue trail a wet streak over your digits.

Your hand returns once again, and you grasp his cock firmly, now throbbing and firm. A hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back as Matt returns his attention to your lips, and your hand finds a languid pace, fingers tracing the pulsing vein and thumb teasing the smooth head of his cock with each upwards stroke. He grunts into your mouth, the hand half-way up your shirt gravitating towards your breasts as your chest heaves, and he roughly yanks at your bra to free them, deft fingers immediately seeking out your nipple to pinch and toy with the sensitive flesh until it pebbled at his touch.

Pre-cum beads at his tip, your fingers catching the fluid and smearing it over his cock before you pause. Matt's hips thrust of their own accord, seeking out your touch. Lust weighs heavily on his features; his kiss-bruised lips are parted as he pants for breath, cheeks stained crimson and pupils threatening to swallow the silver ring of iris.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice gritty with arousal as he watches you.

Slowly, eyes still on Matt's, you slide down the wall, until the soles of your shoes are flat against the wall and your knees are digging in to the unforgiving floor, spread wide enough that you can feel the coolness of the ground through your soaked panties. Matt adjusts his stance as he stares down at you, one hand still tangled in your hair as the other braces against the wall, and you tug his clothing down just enough for his flushed cock to spring forth. Palms resting flat against his clothed thighs, you lean forward and tentatively run the tip of your tongue along the underside of his length, from base to tip, and he lets out a fevered moan, biting his lip in restraint.

"Do you want more?" You murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He nods breathlessly in reply as you begin wrapping your lips around his leaking tip, you lightly bob your head a few times, to which he quietly grunts; you're salivating at his cock weighing on your tongue, and you tell yourself to relax, desperate for more of him. You can feel his thighs tremble, the muscles tense beneath your palms as he fights against the urge to thrust, and so you dig your nails into his legs until his eyes snap open to meet yours. You manage a nod, fingers twisting in the fabric to tug him closer as you convey your intentions silently; it only takes him a moment before his fingers are flexing in your hair and his other hand is peeling away from the wall to cradle your jaw, fingers splaying against the side of your throat.

He starts gently, almost hesitantly, a subtle twitch of his hips that pushes his cock a fraction of an inch deeper into your mouth. Again, you tug encouragingly, tongue laving at the white-hot flesh in temptation. Matt thrusts again, the velvety head brushing against the back of your throat, and something within him snaps; he sets a rapid pace, hips snapping vigorously as he fucks your face. Saliva dribbles from your mouth and your pussy drools; your grip on his trousers is quick to adjust, one hand wrapping around the back of his thigh as the other slips past your pants and panties to find your clit, and you can only whine and moan desperately as Matt's cock buries itself in your throat.

Matt's face is caught up in an expression of combined focus and sheer pleasure, teeth gritted as he fights against the urge to close his eyes; he's far too intent on watching you melt into complete debauchery, your chest heaving and hand disappearing down your pants as an expression of someone who has been thoroughly fucked into bliss works its way onto your features. A needy whine leaves you, the vibrations sending a tremor up his spine, and his thumb strokes your cheek encouragingly, fingertips pressing into the back of your neck as he feels his climax draw near.

It's sudden, unexpected. Matt's hips stutter to a halt, the hand in your hair tightening its grip to the point of pain, but before you can complain, searing ribbons of cum are spilling down your throat. He tries to pull away, the tang coating your tongue and smearing against your lips as the last few drops spatter your flushed cheek, and you can only swallow what remains in your mouth. He runs a finger over your sticky cheek, and before he can pull away, your tongue darts out to run along the slender digit.

[bradshawsbaby]

What Christmas Means to Me, My Love

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Summary: You're determined to make your first married Christmas the best one yet. But when you start to overextend yourself, Bob steps in to remind you what's most important.

Word Count: 10.6k

Author's Note: Whew! The relief I feel that I was able to get this story completed before Christmas Eve! This is my contribution to @lewmagoo's A Lew Magoo Christmas challenge! It was inspired by the Stevie Wonder song, "What Christmas Means To Me." I hope you all enjoy!

(Special shoutout and thanks to @luminousnotmatter and @ryebecca for listening to me ramble when I was having a total meltdown about writing this story. I'm very thankful for you both!)

Warnings: References to being stressed during the holidays and a few brief innuendos, but it's mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

From the time he was a young boy, Bob Floyd had been cognizant of one very fascinating phenomenon—his bed never felt so comfortable or so warm as when his alarm clock was blaring in his ear, giving him a rather forceful reminder that it was time to get up and start the day. After he met you, that troubling phenomenon seemed to increase tenfold. As responsible as he was and as much as he prided himself on getting to work early each day, Bob would be lying if he said there weren’t times when he felt like chucking his alarm clock across the room and playing sick just so he could stay tucked away in bed all day, cocooned under the blankets and wrapped around your sweet warmth.

This morning, as his alarm started roaring at 7:00 on the dot, Bob let out a small grunt of protest, blindly reaching out from beneath the comforter to pound a resentful fist on the top of his alarm clock. Once it was silent, he rolled over in the bed the two of you had been sharing as husband and wife for nearly six months now and reached an arm out, fully expecting to wrap it around your soft, pajama-clad body. When he was met with emptiness instead, Bob blinked his eyes open in confusion and sat up slowly, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his vision as he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and slipped them onto his nose, albeit a bit crookedly.

“Sweetheart?” Bob called out, frowning when he was met with nothing but the early morning stillness of your quaint little home.

Immediately, he flung the covers back and climbed out of bed, padding towards the bathroom to see if maybe you were in the shower and couldn’t hear him calling you over the sound of the running water. That theory was quickly disproven, however, when he found the bathroom door hanging open, lights off and no sounds of a shower in progress. But as he flicked on the lights, Bob discovered that you must have been in there not too long ago, for the mirror above the sink was still beaded with condensation and the bathmat had the imprint of damp footprints.

“Honey?” Bob called again, thinking maybe you’d stepped outside to enjoy your morning coffee on the front porch. Although why you’d be up this early—and showered already, too—on one of your days off from work was beyond him.

Walking into the kitchen, Bob immediately spotted a piece of festive note paper resting on the countertop. He recognized it instantly, the cream colored paper outlined with a ring of cheerful poinsettias. You’d been ecstatic when you’d found it at the dollar store a few weeks ago—"You never know when something like this will come in handy during the holidays, honey," were your exact words. But what stood out even more was your delicate handwriting etched across the paper in dark ink. Picking up the note, Bob adjusted his glasses and read the message you’d quickly penned on your way out the door.

Good morning, honey! I decided to head out early to try to hit some of the stores before they get too crazy. There’s a lot that I still need to pick up, so I’ll probably be gone most of the day. Also, Lorraine and I are going to run over to check out the venue for our staff holiday party and finalize the menu. Speaking of which, I also need to finalize the menu for OUR party, plus Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Text me if there’s anything you want me to get! Hopefully I won’t be home too late. I love you!!!

P.S. I almost forgot—I packed some lunch for you and left it in the fridge! And there’s a pot of coffee ready to brew. Have a great day!!!

He sighed softly as he set your note back down on the counter, running a hand through his honey brown hair, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as he silently lamented your early departure. He could hear your voice in his head as he read your words, chuckling to himself as he pictured you quickly gulping down a cup of coffee—in your favorite Christmas mug, no doubt—and shoving a piece of half-burnt toast in your mouth before running out the door.

You absolutely lived for this time of year, and all the hecticness that the season entailed.

Bob had known, almost from the very start of your relationship, how much you adored Christmas. It was one of the things, in fact, that had made it so easy for him to fall in love with you. Seeing the way you lit up like a firefly when a Christmas song came on the radio or when your favorite coffee shop started offering peppermint-flavored drinks made Bob’s heart melt in absolute love and devotion. He had never known anyone as whimsical or as full of genuine Christmas spirit as you. And your joy was infectious—Bob had never loved the holiday season so much as he did once he started celebrating it with you.

Waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, Bob couldn’t help but grin as he glanced around the kitchen at all the decorations you’d been putting up since Thanksgiving. They gave your home a warm, cozy feeling that had nothing to do with aesthetics and everything to do with the loving care with which you’d hung them.

To Bob, every day was Christmas so long as he got to spend it with you.

Which was why he sighed again as he poured a splash of cream into his coffee mug, brows furrowing above his glasses as he considered how little he’d seen you these past couple weeks.

With both of you working full-time jobs, it made sense that you couldn’t possibly spend every waking moment together. But Bob looked forward more than anything to your routine of dinner in the early evening and then hours spent lounging in each other’s arms, talking about your days or listening to music or watching a movie together. It was a habit you had gotten into even before you were married, and it was made all the sweeter by the fact that your lives were now entwined so intrinsically.

These past few weeks, however, that routine had been seriously upended by all the hustle and bustle of the holidays. Bob knew you took this time of year seriously—and he really did love how happy it made you—but it seemed like this year more than ever, your schedule was jam-packed and filled nearly to bursting.

On top of the usual shopping that needed to get done—you bought gifts for everyone, even down to your mail carrier and the barista who made your favorite coffee—there were preparations for not one, not two, but three separate parties you had volunteered to host. First up was your staff holiday party. Your colleagues knew that no one loved Christmas more than you, and so they had unanimously nominated you to spearhead the planning, which you’d graciously agreed to, with some help from your co-worker, Lorraine. Then was the party for the Daggers and their families that you had convinced Bob it would be fun to host a few days before Christmas Eve. All of your friends couldn’t stop buzzing about it, and you were going to great lengths to make sure it was perfect. As if all that wasn’t enough, you were also going to be hosting both of your families for the holidays this year, parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, and all.

“It’s our first Christmas as Mr. and Mrs. Floyd,” you’d told him one night, when he’d asked if you were really okay with all of the planning that would be involved. “I want it to be special.” Your smile when you said it warmed him from the inside out. As introverted as he could be, he’d gladly host twenty parties so long as it made you happy.

The reality, however, was that you were swamped. Every day after work, you were either running around to stores or scouring the internet for the best cyber deals or researching recipes that you wanted to try for Christmas dinner. One night, Bob had even found you making an alphabetized list of holiday games you could play at the parties.

“Are you sure you’re really okay?” Bob asked at one point, when he caught you yawning over your dinner. “I know I’ve been busy with work, but I can help more. Just tell me what you need.”

“I’m fine, silly,” you giggled, waving off his concern with a hand. “I just want everyone to have a good time.”

“They will,” he told you, resting his large, calloused hand over yours. He looked intently into your eyes, sincerity shining in the blue depths of his. “They’ll have a good time no matter what. You don’t have to make yourself sick over planning.”

You had just smiled at him and given him a kiss, but clearly you hadn’t heeded his words because now you were even using your day off to run errands, waking up even earlier than your naval aviator husband to do so.

Rinsing his empty mug out in the sink, Bob frowned as he thought of how tired you’d seemed these past few days. Your joy and your sweetness never diminished, but he could tell just from looking in your eyes how exhausted you were getting. You were overextending yourself, and he was terrified you were going to burn out before Christmas even arrived. Not being able to fully enjoy your favorite time of year would devastate you, and nothing would hurt Bob more than that.

You needed to take a day for yourself, Bob decided as he let the warm water flow over him in a quick shower. No shopping, no planning, no organizing—just a day where you actually got to enjoy all your favorite things about this season.

That idea remained buzzing around in his head as he drove to work, hanging on the periphery of his consciousness even as he spent hours flying test runs with Phoenix and the rest of the Daggers. On his lunch break, he enthusiastically hunkered down in the rec room to research some of the plans that were percolating in his mind. And by the time he drove home that evening, he was wearing a smile bright enough to rival any of the Christmas lights twinkling in your neighborhood.

The fact that you still weren’t home when Bob unlocked the front door and carefully placed his work boots on the shoe rack only further solidified his plan. As if you could somehow read his mind, his phone buzzed suddenly with an incoming text.

Are you home? I’m so sorry I’m not back yet! I’m on my way now. I picked up some dinner from that BBQ place that you like 😋

Bob’s heart squeezed with affection as he read your words. You’d been up for nearly twelve hours at this point, and you were no doubt exhausted, but you were still always putting others ahead of yourself. He typed out a quick response as he walked into the living room to turn on the lights on the Christmas tree.

Yum! Thank you, sweetheart. Can’t wait for you to get home ♥️

About twenty minutes later, just as Bob was stepping out of your bedroom after changing into a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt from his time at the Naval Academy, he heard your key jiggling in the lock and hurried to meet you.

“Oh!” you gasped in surprise when your husband swung open the door before you could finish turning your key. “Hiya, honey,” you beamed, holding up the bag of take-out food you’d picked up especially for him on your drive home.

“Man, I tell you, these delivery people keep getting cuter and cuter,” Bob teased, drawing you close and taking the food out of your hands as he dropped a kiss on your lips.

“Mmm,” you giggled against his mouth, kissing him back as you felt some of the tension you’d been carrying in your shoulders slowly dissipate. “Maybe this delivery girl can join you for dinner tonight,” you winked playfully, smiling when you felt Bob’s fingers lace through yours.

“I was counting on it,” he chuckled, tugging on your hand as he turned into the house.

“Oh, just give me a couple minutes, honey,” you exclaimed, suddenly remembering you’d left your car idling in the driveway, the backseat and trunk filled to the brim with your purchases of the day. “I just want to get everything out of the car.”

“Sweetheart, it can wait,” Bob insisted, glancing longingly between you and his dinner. “Your food’s going to get cold. I’ll help you unload the car after we eat.”

You bit your lip in hesitation, but finally relented when you saw the puppy dog expression on your husband’s face. “Okay, fine, let me just go turn the car off.”

A few minutes later, you and Bob were seated side by side at your small kitchen table, your legs pressing together and your fingers brushing against one another as you nibbled on wings and scarfed down some chili mac and cheese.

“How was your day?” you asked curiously, glancing up as you took a sip of water and wiped your fingers on a napkin.

You always asked that question so sincerely, even after all this time. It made him feel so seen and loved. Smiling, he rested his hand over yours and squeezed your fingers gently.

“It was good,” he said lightly, not yet ready to divulge the plans he’d been formulating all day. “You know, same old, same old. How about yours?”

“It was great!” you chirped, beaming brightly.

Bob smiled and nodded as you told him about the gifts you’d picked up for all the nieces and nephews, the menu you and Lorraine had decided on for your staff holiday party, the grab bags gifts you’d snagged for the Dagger party, the new gingerbread recipe you’d just heard about, and a whole host of other things.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” you murmured sheepishly after you realized you’d hardly stopped for a moment to take a breath.

“It’s okay, I love it when you ramble,” Bob grinned, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Mmm, I love it even more when you taste like barbeque,” he laughed, nudging your nose with his own.

Laughing, you wrapped your arms around his strong shoulders and kissed him tenderly. Pulling back, you rested your forehead against his with a contented sigh and gazed into his eyes. “Want to go find a movie to watch while I do the dishes?” you suggested.

Bob pulled back slightly to more fully look at you, though he kept his large hands wrapped loosely around your waist. “As much as I love the sound of that plan, I think we should call it an early night tonight, honey,” he said softly, reaching up to lightly brush your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You look exhausted.”

You pouted slightly, but couldn’t stifle the yawn that suddenly came upon you, which made the both of you laugh. “I guess you’re right,” you admitted ruefully, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment.

“How about you get started on the dishes and I’ll unload everything from the car? Then we’ll head to bed, alright?” Bob asked, hyper aware of the drawn look around your eyes.

“Deal,” you nodded, giving him one more kiss as you jumped up to clear the table.

Thirty minutes later, the two of you were cuddled up under the covers, the warm glow from the little battery-operated lantern you kept near the window casting a cozy feel over the room.

“Do you have any plans for Saturday?” Bob asked softly, running his fingers up and down your arm gently as you lay in his embrace. Saturday was the one day that the both of you had off, and he intended to make the most of it this weekend.

You let out a soft sigh, snuggling up further against his chest. “There are a few new recipes I wanted to try for dinner on Christmas Eve and Christmas, so I figured maybe I should test them out ahead of time, just in case they end up being a disaster. Saturday seems as good a day as any to do that. Want to be my taste tester?” you grinned, eyes crinkling as you smiled over at him.

“Uh-uh,” Bob shook his head, a slightly mischievous smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him. “Why not? You’ve got other plans?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, his blue eyes twinkling, which you could see even in the dark of your bedroom. “I’m going to have a very full day.”

“Doing what?” you huffed jokingly, arching an eyebrow as you rolled onto your side, gazing at him curiously.

“You’ll find out,” Bob grinned, not letting the cat out of the bag just yet. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” you asked, clearly taken aback as your eyes widened once again. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he chuckled, leaning over to give you a quick kiss.

“Bob!” you exclaimed, nudging him lightly with your foot.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he grinned, rolling over and closing his eyes. He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as he heard you huffing softly beside him, clearly desperate to know what he was planning. Within minutes, however, he heard the sound of your breathing soften and deepen, your eyes closing in a deep slumber.

Turning back over, Bob watched you sleep peacefully and felt his heart clench inside his chest. You were going above and beyond this Christmas, and it was clearly taking its toll, whether you wanted to admit it or not. He was glad to see you sleeping so comfortably after such a long day.

You were striving so hard to make this Christmas magical for everyone else. This weekend, Bob was going to make it magical for you and remind you what this season was really all about.

Nobody deserved it more than you.

Saturday morning dawned bright and crisp, just as Bob had been anticipating. He’d been checking the forecast every day to make sure that nothing was going to interfere with his plans for today. The weather was better than he could have hoped for—the sun was shining bright, hardly a cloud in the sky, but the air had a nice winter chill as the temperature hovered somewhere between the high fifties and low sixties.

That was one of the only things you ever lamented about moving to San Diego—it was harder to make it feel like Christmas when it was still warm enough to wear shorts and go to the beach. But today’s weather, while certainly not cold by any stretch of the imagination, would at least give you an opportunity to wear one of those new sweaters you’d bought for yourself.

Grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning, Bob quietly tiptoed into your bedroom, where he was delighted to see that you were still fast asleep, buried so deeply under the covers that only the top of your head was poking out. Swallowing back a laugh, he sidled over to your side of the bed and carefully placed the treats he’d set out early to procure on your nightstand.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured softly, gingerly taking a seat on the edge of the bed to avoid crushing you. You stirred slightly, but didn’t open your eyes, so he bent down to drop a kiss on the crown of your head, still the only part of your body exposed to the mid-morning light. “Honey, wake up,” he tried again, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

Letting out a soft hum in response, you slowly pushed the covers back and ran a hand down your face before opening your eyes halfway, peeking up at your husband through hooded lids.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bob chuckled, ducking his head to peck your lips tenderly.

“Mmm, good morning,” you replied, your voice still heavy with sleep as you stretched with a satisfied little groan. You were so distracted by the extremely pleasant view of your handsome husband hovering above you that it took you a moment to realize how much light was filtering in through the windows, and to catch a glimpse of the time on your alarm clock. Gasping, you bolted upright, looking at Bob with wide eyes. “Is that really the time? I thought I set an alarm!”

It was nearly 9:45am. You couldn’t remember the last time you had slept in that late. Between work and all the other things you were usually running around doing, even on your days off, your internal alarm hardly ever let you sleep that long. Not to mention the fact that you normally had an alarm set. You could have sworn you had set it last night.

Bob had the grace to look a bit sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck, gazing at you with those big blue eyes behind the frames of his adorably gawky glasses. “You did,” he began slowly, glancing guiltily at your alarm clock and then back at you. “I shut it off.”

“Bob!” you exclaimed in astonishment, uncertain what would have possessed him to do that, especially when he knew how busy you were lately. “Why would you do that?”

“You needed the extra sleep, honey,” he said in a voice so sweet and filled with concern that you couldn’t even dream of staying mad at him. Reaching out, he took one of your hands between both of his, gently rolling the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “You’ve been running yourself ragged these past couple weeks. I wanted you to get some real rest.”

You bit your lip, averting your gaze as you silently thought about how busy you’d been lately and how exhausted you’d been feeling. You’d had three cups of coffee at work yesterday just to make it through the day.

“I guess you’re right,” you conceded, your lips curving upward in a rueful smile. “I do feel a little bit better already. Thank you, honey,” you told him, leaning forward to give him a kiss of appreciation. That was when your eyes landed on the cup of coffee and the small red-and-white striped bag on your nightstand. “Is that for me?” you gasped in delight, looking back at your husband eagerly.

“Mhm,” Bob chuckled at your open excitement, reaching for the cup and the bag and placing them in your hands.

Your very favorite coffee shop in all of San Diego, which also happened to be the spot where you and Bob went on your second date, was a tiny little hole-in-the-wall place not far from where you worked. From the outside, it didn’t seem like much to behold, but it was one of the city’s best kept secrets. Their coffee was brewed to perfection and their baked goods were a sweettooth’s dream. But what you loved most of all was the way they went all out for the holidays. The entire cafe was decked out in garland and bows and twinkling lights, Christmas music pumped through the speakers all day long, and their menu reflected everyone’s seasonal favorites.

At this time of year, your go-to order was a large peppermint mocha with extra whipped cream and a gingerbread scone that you swore you wanted to be your last meal on this earth. Bob had gotten to the cafe just in time that morning to get a scone fresh out of the oven.

“Oh my gosh, it’s still warm,” you sighed happily, the spiced molasses melting on your tongue as soon as you popped it into your mouth. You closed your eyes in bliss, washing it down with a sip of the peppermint mocha. “Thank you, honey. This is such a sweet surprise.”

“The first of many, I hope,” Bob smiled, resting a hand on your thigh as you enjoyed your breakfast in bed. “I have lots planned for you today, Mrs. Floyd.”

“You do?” you asked, raising an eyebrow over the rim of your coffee cup.

He nodded, his smile only growing wider. “Don’t you remember what I said the other night? We’ve got a lot to do today. So as soon as you’re done enjoying your breakfast, you better hop in the shower. We don’t want to be late,” he told you, his gorgeous baby blues sparkling as he rose from the bed and started towards the door.

“Wait!” you cried,  jumping out of bed with your coffee and scone still firmly in hand. “What are we doing?” you called after him, chasing behind him in bare feet. “Bobby!”

“You’ll find out,” he laughed, turning around and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Just wear something comfortable,” was all the information he gave you.

You sighed in a purposely dramatic fashion, shooting him a playful glance. You knew from the look on his face that he wasn’t going to tell you anything else, so there was no use in trying to get the information out of him. Instead, you quickly gulped down the rest of your coffee and finished off your scone—still trying to savor every bite—before tearing off your pajamas and jumping into the shower.

An hour later, you were ready to go, dressed in a cute pair of jeans and a new red and white sweater you’d just recently purchased. The weather today finally gave you an opportunity to wear it.

“Is this alright?” you asked Bob as you stepped into the living room, holding your arms out at your sides. It was hard to know what to wear when you had no idea what you were doing.

“It’s perfect,” Bob nodded, smiling as he rose from the couch and took in your appearance. “Just like you,” he added, winking as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I could say the same thing to you,” you giggled, resting your hands on his broad chest. He was wearing a dark green crew neck sweater and dark jeans that fit his long figure exquisitely. “Now are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

Bob just shook his head, laughing out loud when you released a groan of exasperation. “Patience, my sweet wife,” he teased, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the front door. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

You really hadn’t been sure what to anticipate when you climbed into the car with Bob. As many guesses as you tried to make to figure out what his plans were, your husband’s expression was impenetrable. He didn’t give anything away, no matter what you said.

What you hadn’t been expecting was to pull into the parking lot of Petco Park.

As soon as Bob put the car in park, you glanced over at him curiously, trying to figure out what you were doing here. Your husband wasn’t a big baseball fan. And even if he was, it was the middle of December.

“I’m guessing we’re not here for a Padres game?” you ventured with a playful smile, glancing around the crowded parking lot.

Your husband laughed, shaking his head. “Not exactly. Come on,” he told you, climbing out of the car and hurrying around to the passenger side to open your door.

Slipping your hand into his, you followed his lead as he guided you through the milling crowd towards the entrance to the baseball stadium. He seemed almost giddy as the two of you got closer and closer to the park, glancing down at you every few seconds as if to check that you were still with him. You had no idea what was awaiting you, but his excitement was infectious and you found yourself buzzing with anticipation.

You weren’t disappointed.

As soon as Bob handed over your tickets to the attendant, you were swept up in the crowd of people surging towards Gallagher Square, where you were met with a breathtaking display of Christmas beauty.

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, coming to a halt as you stared, wide-eyed and in awe of the beautiful market that surrounded you.

“Do you like it?” Bob asked, a thread of nervousness in his voice as he looked at you, watching the way you were silently taking everything in.

Turning to face him, your face split into a huge grin and you threw your arms around him, peppering his cheek with kisses. “I love it! It’s so wonderful!”

It was as close to a German Christmas market as you had ever come, with vendors of all kinds set up in little wooden booths ringing the perimeter of the square. There were shopkeepers selling a whole assortment of things, from hot chocolate and gingerbread cookies to homemade candy to personalized ornaments to fine wine and jewelry. Amidst all the different stalls were small stages where performances ranging from choirs to magic shows were taking place, not to mention the life-size snow globes and the giant sleigh where guests could take pictures. And at the center of it all was a ginormous Christmas tree that had to be at least thirty feet tall.

It was magical. It made you feel like you were a little girl again, attending your town’s local Christmas fair with your family.

“I didn’t even know this existed!” you exclaimed, still holding tightly to your husband as you continued to gaze around you.

“I didn’t either,” Bob admitted, unable to stop smiling at how happy you looked. “But Phoenix and Hangman told me they took the kids here last week and had a blast, so I knew I had to get you tickets.”

“Oh, thank you, honey! This is amazing!” you beamed, wrapping your arms around him to give him an enthusiastic kiss.

Bob chuckled and blushed slightly as he adjusted his glasses with one hand, his other hand resting on your hip. “Should we walk around?”

Nodding, you took his hand and practically hauled him across the square, bouncing from stall to stall and oohing and aahing over all the various trinkets and baubles.

“Oh, honey, look! We should get this,” you cooed, holding up a sweet ornament of a hand painted Christmas tree with a little banner draped across it that read Our First Christmas as Mr. and Mrs.

It didn’t matter that you had three other ornaments with similar messages already hanging on your Christmas tree at home. Bob gladly pulled out his wallet to buy it for you, his heart fluttering at the gorgeous smile that lit up your entire face when the vendor carefully wrapped it up and handed it to you.

“Thank you, Bobby. I can’t wait to put it on the tree when we get home,” you told him, carefully slipping the wrapped ornament into your purse.

“Anything for you, honey,” Bob murmured softly, kissing your forehead. “Alright, what’s our next stop?”

You and Bob continued to wander among the stalls for the next couple hours, stopping on occasion to take a photo or grab a snack—"This is sustenance," you grinned, holding up the little brown bag of freshly glazed almonds that you’d purchased for the two of you to munch on.

At one point, as you were admiring the work of a local artist, you heard the sound of the sweetest voices imaginable. Following the music, with Bob trailing closely behind, you walked a bit further up the path before stopping in front of a small choir made up of the most angelic looking children you had ever seen. The sign in front of the platform declared that they were students from a local school for children with special needs.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered, tears sparkling on your lashes as they sang the most beautiful version of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” you had ever heard. Resting your head on your husband’s shoulder, you let the music wash over you, smiling brightly as they transitioned from one song to another.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there exactly—was it for three songs or six?—but when the children finally stopped singing, you and Bob burst into thunderous applause, prompting nearby onlookers to join in.

The pride on the children’s faces melted your heart as they shyly waved to the crowd and began making their way off the platform.

A little girl with Down syndrome, who couldn’t have been older than six or seven, suddenly broke away from the others and grabbed her mother’s hand, dragging her towards where you and your husband stood.

“Thank you for coming!” she said brightly, offering an adorable little gap-tooth smile.

“Thank you for having us!” you replied brightly, squatting down so that you were on eye level with her. “You all sounded amazing!”

To your surprise, the little girl lunged forward to wrap her arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” her mother exclaimed, touching her daughter’s shoulder and trying to pull her back.

“It’s alright,” you smiled, patting the little girl’s back before she let go. “No need to apologize.”

“Thank you for staying to listen for so long,” the woman said, looking between you and Bob. “The kids worked really hard on their program for today, so it was nice to have such a captive audience.”

“We were happy to do it, really,” Bob told her, smiling down at the little girl as he rested a hand on your lower back. “Christmas music is my wife’s favorite,” he told her conspiratorially.

Her eyes widened in delighted surprise. “Mine, too!”

You all laughed happily at that.

“Well, I hope you have an amazing Christmas and that Santa brings you everything you’re hoping for this year,” you told her, grinning at the way she lit up at the mention of Santa.

“Santa! Santa!” she cheered.

“That’s right,” her mother nodded, brushing her daughter’s hair back over her shoulder. “We should get going soon if we want to go see Santa. What do you say to the nice people who watched you sing?”

“Thank you!” the little girl said sweetly, giving both you and Bob another quick hug around the legs. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” you and Bob replied in unison, waving to both mother and daughter as you went your separate ways, smiling from ear to ear.

“You’re going to make an amazing mother one day,” Bob told you softly, the unadulterated adoration in his eyes warming you up from the inside out.

You just smiled dreamily in response, very much looking forward to the day when you would get to see Bob Floyd become a father.

“Well I think that was a very successful trip to the Christmas Market,” your husband said a few minutes later after you circled back to the center of the square.

“I had so much fun, honey. Thank you for thinking of this,” you told him, touched by the effort he’d made to bring you here and make it such a lovely afternoon.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bob smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He glanced down at his watch and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, but we better get going if we want to stay on schedule. Still have a lot to do.”

“Wait…what?” you questioned, startled. “There’s more?”

“I said I had a lot planned, didn’t I?” That mischievous twinkle had returned to his eyes. “You didn’t think this was it, did you?”

“Bob Floyd, what do you have up your sleeve?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and looking up at him with a quirked brow, trying and failing to mask the smile tugging at your lips.

“You’ll see,” was all he said, taking your hand and leading you back to the car.

If you had been uncertain about what your husband’s plans were when you’d arrived at Petco Park, you were doubly unsure what he had in mind when he turned onto the bridge connecting San Diego to Coronado.

“Are you taking me with you to work?” you wondered with a laugh, looking out the window at the afternoon sun sparkling on the San Diego Bay. You often told Bob that you were jealous of the view he got to enjoy on his commute to and from North Island.

Bob laughed at your question, but simply shook his head in response, turning up the radio as Mariah Carey began belting “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

“Hmmm, saved by the Queen of Christmas,” you joked, nudging him playfully as he took a turn off the bridge.

“Now, honey, you know that you’re the Queen of Christmas,” Bob retorted, winking at you as he made a few more turns.

“True,” you giggled, singing along to the radio until Hotel Coronado appeared in your sights, in all its glorious grandeur. You glanced over at Bob curiously, but he didn’t say anything as he searched for a parking spot.

“The suspense is killing me, Bobby,” you lamented, clinging onto his arm once he finally did manage to park the car. “What are we doing now?”

Turning to face you, Bob was struck once again by just how deeply he loved you. There was no one else he’d drag himself all over San Diego for on his day off from work.

“We’re going ice skating,” he explained, chuckling at the shocked expression on your face.

“You mean…Skating by the Sea?!” you gasped excitedly, practically bouncing up and down in your seat. “Bobby, you got tickets?”

“Sure did,” he nodded, pulling them out of his pocket to show you.

“Oh my gosh, how?” you breathed, reaching out to touch them as if you were afraid they would disappear.

“Mav knows a guy,” Bob chuckled, shaking his head affectionately as he thought of his boss and mentor.

As Hotel Coronado’s most popular winter attraction, it was nearly impossible to get tickets to Skating by the Sea during the Christmas season, but when Bob had mentioned it at work, Maverick had promised that he would be able to procure him a couple tickets. How he managed it, Bob didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know either. All that mattered was that you were looking at him right now like he had hung the moon and the stars, and there was no better reward than that.

“Ready to go?” Bob asked, holding out his hand to you.

“Ready!” you cheered, placing your hand in his and holding on tight.

It had been quite some time since you had actually been ice skating, and you were a bit rusty, especially in comparison to your midwestern husband, who had grown up ice skating on frozen ponds every winter. Still, despite your wobbly knees, you were determined to enjoy every moment of this experience.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Bob murmured encouragingly, holding tightly to your hands as he guided you onto the ice, sticking close to the wall in case you needed extra support.

“If you had told me we were coming, I could have brushed up on my skills ahead of time,” you teased, glancing down at your white rental skates as you carefully slid one foot in front of the other.

“And ruin the surprise and the look on your face when I told you what we were doing? Never,” he grinned, gently squeezing your hands as you slowly started to become more confident and steady on your feet. “You’ve got it, honey. Try looking up at me. I won’t let go,” he promised.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze from your feet up to your husband’s midsection, and then finally up to his face, that face that you adored more than anything else on this earth.

“There you go, you’ve got it. You’re doing such a good job,” Bob praised you, his confidence unshaken as he moved backwards across the ice. It was incredibly attractive how sure of himself he was out here.

“I think I’ve got it now. Want to try letting go?” you asked with a grin, feeling a little nervous but willing to give it a shot.

Smiling proudly, Bob nodded and slowly released his grip on your hands, letting you glide independently for a few seconds. You moved forward tentatively, your hands still out at your sides so that you could grab onto him—or the wall—if needed.

“That’s it, honey! Look at you go!” your husband cheered, making you laugh as you carefully made your way over to the opposite wall, which afforded you breathtaking views of the beach and the ocean beyond.

Seconds later, Bob skated up beside you, resting with you against the wall and enjoying the same view. “Pretty beautiful, huh?” he asked, gazing down at you.

“Insanely beautiful,” you agreed, resting your hand over his and squeezing gently. “I’m so glad we’re here.”

“Me, too,” Bob nodded, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “But it doesn’t matter what we’re doing. I’m just so glad to be with you.”

“Honey,” you breathed out, touched by the sweetness of his words. They actually made you well up a little bit.

“I mean it, sweetheart. It’s not the things we do that make days like this special. It’s getting to do them with you. That’s all I really wanted. I’ve missed you these past few weeks,” he confessed.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Bob was quiet for a moment, just holding you close and resting his cheek atop your head.

“I love you so much, you know,” you told him, lifting your head to press a kiss to his jaw.

“I know,” he nodded, his mouth turning up in a tender smile. “I love you, too. More than anything.”

After a couple moments of comfortable silence, you took his hand and started to push away from the wall. “Come on, let’s go show everybody what an amazing skater you are,” you laughed, nearly toppling over in your eagerness. Thankfully, Bob had some of the quickest reflexes you’d ever seen and was there to catch you.

He was always there to catch you.

You and your husband spent the next hour twirling around on the ice, you trying your best not to fall and Bob trying his best to keep you from falling. By the time your legs were starting to ache in protest, the sun was just beginning to set over the beach, the sky exploding in hues of orange, pink, and red.

“Isn’t that the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen?” you whispered in awe, resting your cheek against your husband’s strong chest and soaking in the moment.

“A close second to you,” Bob replied, chuckling at the adorable way you got all flustered at his compliment. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get those skates off you.”

Stepping off the rink, Bob carefully guided you to a nearby bench and sat you down before squatting in front of you to untie your laces.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” you asked softly, reaching out to lightly caress his flushed cheek as he ministered to you.

“I ask myself the same thing every day when I get to wake up beside you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your knee before pulling your skates off. He then rose and plopped down beside you on the bench, pulling off his own skates with ease.

After you returned your rental skates and collected your things, Bob stopped you on the pathway near the beach and looked down at you.

“I hope you’ve worked up an appetite after all this,” he told you, a knowing smile on his face. “Because we’ve got one more stop.”

“We do? Oh, Bobby! This day has already been so special. I can’t imagine how it could get any better,” you declared, wondering what more he could possibly have in store.

“Wait and see,” Bob winked, taking your hand as you began strolling off hotel property and towards where you had parked “Oh, and I’ve got a little something in the car for you to change into.”

The last thing on earth you had been expecting when your husband handed you a small duffel bag out of the trunk of the car was to open it up and find the beautiful red dress you’d worn last Christmas—the one Bob hadn’t been able to stop gushing about or get you out of fast enough after Christmas dinner—and your favorite pair of high heels, plus the diamond studs and pendant he’d gifted you last year, the ones you only wore on very special occasions.

And yet, there you were, sitting beside your husband in the passenger seat of his car in your holiday finest, flying along the open road towards some unknown destination.

You weren’t the only one who had changed after your ice skating escapades. Bob had packed a second duffel, it seemed, for when you had returned from getting changed, he was waiting for you, no longer clad in his crew neck and jeans, but in a pair of black slacks and a dinner jacket, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

“For you,” he said with a wide smile, handing you a small bouquet of red and white roses—another surprise he’d been hiding in that trunk of his.

You held the sweet-smelling flowers close to your nose now as Bob made a few turns, heading in a direction that was not totally familiar to you.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” you whispered softly, a hint of emotion catching in your voice as you rested the beautiful bouquet in your lap. You couldn’t wait to put it in one of your Christmas vases when you got home and proudly display it on the coffee table in the living room.

Bob glanced over at you as he came to a red light, his blue eyes brimming with adoration as he soaked in how happy and content you looked. “You deserve it,” he told you, reaching out to rest a hand on your thigh, his fingers lightly stroking the inside of your knee. “You deserve all this and so much more. And I’m so lucky to be the man who gets to give it to you—or try anyway,” he added with a sheepish laugh.

Before the light could turn green, you leaned over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. “You succeed,” you murmured against his lips. “Every time. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

“I love you,” he smiled, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb before returning both hands to the wheel, ignoring the disgruntled driver who was honking behind him.

You giggled as you settled back in your seat with a happy sigh. “I love you, too, honey.” You paused for a moment or two, then tacked on, “Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“Nice try,” Bob laughed, shooting you a sideways glance. “I haven’t spoiled any of my surprises today. You think I’m going to start now?”

“Oh, fine,” you replied, heaving a dramatic sigh and then grinning. “I can’t wait to find out what it is though.”

“I have a feeling you’re really going to love it,” he said, his smile warmer than the San Diego sun as he tapped his hands excitedly on the steering wheel, his own anticipation building.

“I know I will,” you nodded, lifting the bouquet of roses to your nose once more and taking a delicate sniff. “I love anything so long as I’m doing it with you.”

A few minutes later, Bob made a final turn that led the two of you up a winding, gorgeously manicured road. Leaning forward, you gazed out the window eagerly, trying to place exactly where you were. At that exact moment, a large sign came into view that read FAIRMONT GRAND DEL MAR.

Gasping in delight, you practically had your nose smushed against the glass as your husband drove past stunning gardens and twinkling fountains, all decked out with the most darling, demure decorations you had ever seen.

Fairmont Grand Del Mar was one of the most luxurious and glamorous hotels in all of Southern California, and while it was basically right in your own backyard, you had never stepped foot on its grounds before.

You suddenly found yourself very grateful that your jeans and sweater were safely tucked away in a duffel bag. Thank goodness your brilliant husband thought of everything.

“Oh my goodness, Bobby!” you squealed, covering your mouth to try to control the delighted laughter that was bubbling up inside you. But it was no use. “It’s so beautiful here!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Bob hummed in agreement, taking in the view as he slowed his pace along the property’s winding pathways. “A beautiful girl in a beautiful place. Sounds about right to me,” he added, eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

You just smiled at that, a pleasant warmth rushing to your cheeks as you tried to take in as much of the views as you could. As if the hotel grounds weren’t breathtaking enough on their own, they’d clearly gone to great lengths to turn the property into a winter wonderland for the holidays and they had more than succeeded. You loved every inch of it.

Moments later, after Bob had helped you out of the car and handed his keys off to a valet parker, he wrapped an arm around your waist and led you into the lobby of what seemed to be one of the hotel’s restaurants. It was elegantly designed, with Persian rugs and cream-colored marble walls, scrolled detailing on the ceiling, and a roaring fireplace to give the room a cozy, inviting atmosphere. It was decorated for the season with class—golden candelabras, dark red poinsettias, aromatic garland wrapped in red ribbons and bows, giant wreaths practically the size of you hanging on the walls.

It felt like a little Christmas paradise.

You were thankful for Bob’s strong hand on your back, guiding you along as you tripped over your own two feet, gazing around the room in unabashed awe.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he whispered in your ear as you approached the host stand. “I’ll make sure to take lots of pictures of you in that gorgeous dress with this perfect Christmas backdrop,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I want you in the pictures, too,” you whispered back, grinning as you squeezed his hand where it was resting on your hip. “Too bad we didn’t think to come here for our Christmas card photo,” you added, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Next year,” Bob winked. He managed to tear his gaze away from you only when the two of you finally got to the stand and the hostess looked at you expectantly.

“Good evening,” she said in a voice that was calm, cool, and cultured. “Do you have a reservation with us tonight?”

“Yes,” Bob told her, squeezing your hip softly as he spoke. “Dinner for two. It should be under Floyd.”

The hostess checked her computer screen and smiled. “Ah, yes. We’re pleased to welcome you tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Floyd. Please, follow me,” she said, leading you through a small maze of elegantly set tables, bedecked with what appeared to be antique tablecloths, romantic candles, and subtle hints of holly and garland.

The three of you finally came to a stop at a cozy table right near a window which overlooked the gardens, a twinkling Christmas tree right in your line of vision.

“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess told you as the two of you got settled in your seats. “We hope you very much enjoy our special Christmas menu here at Fairmont Grand Del Mar,” she added with a gracious smile before turning to head back to her post.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a soft smile, maintaining every ounce of decorum you could possibly muster until the woman was out of earshot. Then you let out a delighted squeal, the same sound you used to make when opening your presents on Christmas morning as a little girl. “Bobby! This is incredible! How did you manage this?” you demanded, gaping at him in amazement. Then you giggled. “Wait, let me guess. Mav knows another guy?”

“Actually this time, it was Payback who knew a guy,” Bob laughed, reaching across the table to take your hand in his, brushing his thumb across your soft skin. “His cousin works concierge at the hotel, so he managed to pull a few strings.”

“Amazing,” you grinned, squeezing his hand lovingly. “Don’t let me forget to thank Mav and Reuben when I see them at the party.”

“Just Mav and Reuben?” he teased, pretending to be wounded.

You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice as you told him, “Well I’m going to give you a proper thank you tonight.” Your eyes sparkled in tandem with the diamond pendant hanging around your neck.

Bob’s cheeks turned bright pink as he caught your meaning, and he reached up to tug lightly at the collar of his shirt, clearing his throat.

Winking, you leaned back with a smile. Your husband was saved from having to come up with a reply by the sudden appearance of your waiter, an older, dignified man named Antonio, who greeted you both warmly as he shared some drink recommendations.

Despite the fact that Bob hardly ever drank, he ordered the two of you a bottle of champagne that came highly recommended, which Antonio happily delivered along with a bucket of ice.

“To you, sweetheart,” Bob toasted, lifting the flute that your waiter had filled just a moment earlier. “This time of year wouldn’t be half as special if it wasn’t for you.”

“No, to you,” you smiled, raising your own champagne flute to mirror your husband’s. “Today was beyond words, and none of it would have been possible without you.”

“To us then,” he grinned, compromising as he tipped his glass towards you.

“To us,” you nodded in agreement, lightly clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. “Mmm, that’s delicious,” you murmured appreciatively, licking a drop of the champagne off your lip.

“Mhm,” Bob hummed, looking almost surprised. “I mean, not that I have much to compare to, but I’d say this is the best champagne I’ve ever had.”

“Better than at our wedding?” you joked.

“I stand corrected. This is the second best champagne I’ve ever had,” he chuckled.

You and Bob relaxed into smooth and easy conversation. Both your mothers would have scolded you for resting your elbows on the table, especially in such a fancy restaurant, but neither of you cared as you leaned in closer to one another, whispering over the candlelight as the twinkling lights outside the window illuminated your lovestruck faces. Faintly, in the distance, you could hear the soft sounds of classic Christmas tunes being played on a piano. It was the most perfect evening you could have imagined.

The food was some of the best you’d ever tasted. After much debate, you finally settled on the filet mignon with a bearnaise sauce, roasted vegetables, and what had to be the world’s creamiest mashed potatoes, while Bob selected the pork medallions with roasted garlic fingerling potatoes and a brussel sprout salad. Although really it was hard to say who had ordered what considering the way you kept picking food off each other’s plates.

By the time the sour-cherry cheesecake trifle that the two of you had ordered for the grand finale came out, you felt like you were going to burst right out of your pretty red dress. But like you always said, there was always room for dessert.

“You want to know the craziest thing?” you asked, looking up at Bob as you set your fork down on the plate resting between you and your husband. When he nodded at you, you went on, “I just realized that I didn’t think about any of my holiday planning at all today—the shopping, my work party, the parties we’re hosting, none of it. It didn’t cross my mind at all even though it’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few weeks. Isn’t that funny?”

Bob set his fork down as well and gazed at you from across the table, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile. “Good,” he said, reaching out to take your hand in his once more, gently playing with your wedding band. “That was my mission, and it sounds like it was a success. I wanted today to be a day where you just got to have fun and enjoy this time of year. I know how much it means to you, and I also know that it’ll be over in the blink of an eye, so we have to make the most of it while we can.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you felt the corners of your eyes pricking with happy tears. Your husband was truly the most thoughtful, selfless, caring man you had ever known. You would never know what you had ever done to get so lucky as to find him.

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, mimicking his actions and lightly rolling his wedding band underneath your finger as you reached for his other hand. You were quiet for a moment, then thought of his words from earlier, the words that had been niggling the back of your mind on and off since you’d left the ice skating rink. “What you said before,” you began slowly, chewing on your bottom lip, “about missing me these past few weeks. Have I really been that busy? I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Bob gasped, squeezing your hands tightly in his own. “I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty. I’ve just been worried about you, that’s all. You’re always so happy this time of year, and I know how much it means to you, so I hate to see you running yourself ragged like you have been. I guess I was starting to be afraid that you were going to burn yourself out before Christmas even got here.”

Your heart constricted at the genuine concern in his voice, at the way he was always looking out for you, even when you weren’t paying careful enough attention.

“And I have missed you,” he added softly, lifting one of your hands to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to it.

“I’ve missed you, too, honey,” you whispered, your throat clogging with emotion as you thought of the many nights you’d come home later than usual after running to the stores after work, too tired to curl up on the couch and watch a movie with your husband or just get to enjoy his company. “And you’re right—I have been running myself ragged. I can feel it. I’ve been so tired, and I feel like I don’t even have the time to enjoy all my favorite traditions.” You sighed softly, shaking your head. “I just—I just wanted everything to be perfect this year, you know?”

“It always is perfect,” Bob murmured encouragingly, gently stroking the inside of your wrist with his calloused fingertips, his movements slow and soothing.

“I know, but with it being our first married Christmas, I guess I just wanted it to be really perfect. I got it into my head that we needed to start all these new traditions and that I had to keep on top of everything at all times to make sure that it happened, but now I’m realizing that in the process of all that, I lost sight of what’s most important about celebrating our first Christmas as husband and wife—you,” you admitted, reaching up to lovingly cup his cheek in your hand.

He smiled softly at your words, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to the inside of your palm. “Sweetheart, the good news is that we have a whole lifetime of making traditions together. So long as it’s you and me, then that’s all I need,” he promised you.

You nodded, a couple stray tears spilling down your cheeks, which you wiped away with a sheepish little laugh. “You’re right. Today was a pretty good start to some Floyd Christmas traditions, I think,” you told him with a grin.

Bob reached out to thumb away the tears sparkling like diamonds on your skin. “I agree,” he smiled. “But the truth is, I don’t care what we’re doing. We could go ice skating on the beach or watch a movie on the couch. We could have a five-star dinner at the Fairmont Grand Del Mar or eat take-out on the kitchen floor.” He glanced around for a moment, just to check if anyone had heard him, his blue eyes laughing as he turned back to you. “I just want to do it with you. That’s what Christmas really means to me, sweetheart. All the other stuff, that’s icing on the cake.”

“I love you so much,” you whispered, leaning across the table and capturing his mouth with your own, the taste of sour cherries and champagne still clinging to his lips.

His fingers tangled in your hair as he cradled the back of your head and kissed you back until you were both sitting breathless in your chairs.

“You’re the love of my life,” he told you. “No matter how many traditions come and go, that’s one thing that will never change.”

As soon as you and Bob got home that night, exhausted in the best way after a perfect day together, you both ran to change into the Christmas pajamas you’d worn last Christmas Eve, then curled up on the couch with steaming mugs of hot cocoa to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas.

“Tired?” Bob asked softly as the Peanuts crew sang “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” while the credits rolled.

“Mmm, a little,” you nodded, lifting your head from where it had been resting on his shoulder.

“Ready to head to bed?” he yawned, pushing the blanket back and rising from the couch before turning to hold his hands out to you.

“Mhm,” you murmured, slipping your hands into your husband’s and allowing him to pull you to your feet. “But not to go to sleep just yet,” you added pointedly.

At your husband’s raised brows, you giggled softly.

“I still have to properly thank you for today,” you reminded him with a playful wink.

You had never seen him move so fast.

That Christmas turned out to be one of the best you’d ever celebrated. Your work party went off without a hitch, the Daggers were already talking about how they needed to make a party at the Floyds’ an annual Christmas tradition, and your families loved getting to spend the holidays together as one huge unit. Every gift you’d purchased was well received and every meal you cooked was touted as the best anyone had ever eaten.

But that wasn’t what made it so special.

As you had been reminded this year, Christmas was about so much more than the planning and the presents and the parties. Those things were nice, sure, but they weren’t what made this time of year so magical.

What made this Christmas so perfect was the handsome man with blue eyes and a wide smile waiting for you beneath the mistletoe.

He was the only gift you needed, today and every day for the rest of your life.

[multifandomslxt]

NCT 127 AND PLACES THEY WOULD FUCK YOU

(just so yk this is dirty asf and inspired by my moot @neoculturecollectives)

Taeyong

On a High rise balcony

I said what I said

He likes to show off his pretty things

and that is exactly what you are

OMGGGGGG

If someone happened to see you both...

"Be a good girl and show them just how much you love my cock"

HE WOULD WANT YOU TO BE LOUD

And the toys he would use???

pleaseeeeeeeeee

the vibrator that he's been fucking into you for the past 3 minutes???

and you better not cum bitch

NOT WITHOUT HIS MF PERMISSION

Makes you spread your legs wide so

"Everyone can look but they will never be able to touch"

MAKES YOU SQUIRT OVER THE RAILING!!!

a stranger probably thought it was raining or something

Johnny

The dark VIP section of a very much alive nightclub.

Let's get one thing straight

YOU WILL BE ON HIS LAP!

He wouldn't try to be discreet

If you're gonna ride him

Ride him properly babe

or else he’ll take matters into his own hands

and bend you over the table and fuck you

And yk we've discussed this

He's 100% fucking a baby into you

When he cums

he's cumming hard

so hard that it actually starts to run out of you

uses his tip to push it back into you

then slaps his tip on your clit and laughs as you tremble

ALSO

YOU WILL BE GIVING HIM A BLOWJOB!!!!

as I said earlier

he will not be discreet

"The men over there a touching themselves so go ahead and give them a show sugar plum"

Yuta

In the dressing room at one of his concerts specifically 5 minutes before he has to go on

It may seem like a short time

because it is

but It's Yuta Nakamoto we're talking about

He's making it work

Fuck a condom (Ya'll better wear protection and don't play with me)

He's going in rawwwwww

I'm sorry but

no foreplay

he ain't got the time for that

the most you'll get is a slap on both your tits

and him roughly palming you

then he forces himself inside of you

one word

BEAST

THIS AIN'T ABOUT YOU!

understand that this is one of the rare times

where he doesn't care if you cum or not

once he's done

HE'S DONE!

"This pussy is mine so I'll use it how I please."

Doyoung

IN A CHURCH!!!!!!

Everyone say thank you ANDYYYY

@neoculturecollectives this is because of you (yall go look at her blog rn and you'll see what I'm talking about)

IM SO SORRY BUT...

Doyoung would fuck you in the bathroom while the sermon is going on 😭😭

He would also fuck you at the back of the bus on the way to the annual church picnic

DARE I SAYYYY

RIigth after bible study toooo

And this ain't no regular fuck

THIS IS THE P0RNST4R TYPE OF FUCKINGGGG

spit would be everywhereeee

leaving the bathroom with a white stain on your brand-new church dress...girrrlllllll

The smirk he would give you knowing he did that

and he'll do it again

The same fingers he uses to skip the pages of the Bible

are the same fingers that were inside of you a couple of minutes ago

Made you squirt all over the bathroom mirror

"We'll ask for forgiveness after but right now, this will be our dirty little secret okay?"

Jaehyun

In a crowded elevator

Jaehyun has class and etiquette I swear.

But when your ass is rubbing against his cock in a crowded elevator

He's...tempted

doesn't matter what type of bottoms you're wearing

he's finding a way to fuck you lmaooo

slow and steady because unlike Johnny

he'd try to be discreet

pretends to adjust himself but in reality

he's just trying to thrust a bit deeper without making it obvious

he cums messily babessss

his hips would start to buck

beads of sweat would be all over his forehead

would let out a low groan.

even when you get to your floor he's staying on until everybody leaves

fucks you while looking into the elevator camera

I SAID WHAT I SAID.

"Such a dirty and classless slut you are"

Jungwoo

On a hiking trail when it's most active

like animals

yall are fucking in the nearby bushes

He uses a condom

he's a good boy

but he's also fucking you on the bark of a tree

so...

don't worry though

I promise he makes it worthwhile

Loves to use his fingers

when he sees someone coming

he'll use one hand to cover your mouth

and the other to finger the daylights outta you babeeeeee

USES HIS LEG TO MAKE SURE BOTH OF YOURS STAY OPEN

note: he doesn't care if you came 100 times

you are doing that shit again

also

DOGGY STYLE!!!!

like actual animals

"Just one more time. Come on baby show me how far you can go."

Mark

In the practice room while he's on a 10-minute break

First of all

Baby is frustrated as hell

and also in a rush

Trust me when I say

HE'S PUTTING THOSE BIG ASS MIRRORS TO USE!!

oh hell yessssssss

yall got ten minutes

and he turns you into a damn gymnast

There is a s3x position called

"Seashell"

OH YESSSS

and you better look in that damn mirror

omgggg

makes you watch through the mirror

as his cock slowly sinks into you

in reverse cowgirl position

in less than ten minutes

he makes you squirt all over the mirror

and cums in your panties and tells you to put them back on.

"Don't you fucking dare take your eyes off that mirror"

"Even if my cum is dripping down your legs don't take those panties off "

Haechan

In a supply closet LITERALLY ANYWHERE

A classic hookup place

but when I say ANYWHERE

I mean it could be a Walmart, a school

a church

An office

bitch it doesn't matter

as long as a supply closet is there

he's ready

ALWAYS does it raw (Again, please be smart yall use protection)

Even when he's not in a rush

he fucks like he is

rough

and extremely harsh with his words😭😭

Gets carried away sometimes

and overstimulates you

yall started out standing

but he will fuck you to YOUR KNEES!

don't play with him

Makes sure you're okay when he's finished

and he's ALWAYS the first to walk out of that closet

with a smirk on his face and your panties hanging out of his picket

No, he wouldn't try to be discreet.

"Such a need whore. Practically begging for my cock"

"Aw, are you crying because it's too much? Stupid Slut"

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 26: Scorch

Ignore that it's no longer October, I got busy. As a treat, have some ANGST for my being late

Word count: 880

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

You can hardly see in front of you, you can hardly breathe. Every gasping inhale merely sends you into a coughing fit. 

Your hands search blindly to guide you, give you any indication of where you are and what's going on. You're scared, terrified even.

You don't like fire, you don't like fire, you don't like fire-

You sit up in bed, breathing heavy. 

You touch a hand to your chest, patting once to ensure that yes, you're alive and whole. No broken parts or-

You pause, then shake your head, a weird though that you elect to ignore as your heartrate slows down again. 

Your hand fumbles on the nightstand for the glass of water you'd left there, you don't dare to allow yourself the opportunity to look at the time. 

You gulp down the drink as you contemplate how many times now you've woken up like this, from that same dream. 

It's been, months. You can't even recall when it started. You know it wasn't immediately after the fire that burned down the Plex. No, sometime after that. 

You still can't wrap your head around why you're having these dreams though. You weren't at work that night, nor have you ever been in a fire yourself in any shape or form. 

And yet, these dreams, they're so, vivid. You can feel the heat of the flames, you can taste the ash on your tongue. The crackling of the fire as it licks at your feet. How it burns. 

Scorches.

There's never an escape, you've tried. You always start in the same location, the middle of the Daycare. And no matter what direction you run, no matter what falling debris you dodge, it's always the same. You wake up before you can make it out, before you can break free. 

If you could talk to someone about all this, you would. But you don't even know how to go about trying to explain this to a therapist. It was, in the grand scheme of things, beyond confusing. 

Part of you wonders if it isn't guilt. Guilt for not being there, for not saving them. 

You should have been there. You would have been there, if not for, that. 

"Sunshine~ You have to hold still!"

You giggle, "I'm trying it's just that, the string tickles!"

"Well, you're simply going to have to get used to it because you're never ever taking this off," Sun huffs.

"Okay, okay."

After a few more adjustments, he ties the end of the bracelet off, snipping off the extra string.

"There! All done! What do you think?" He leans in closer, "You like it right? Right?"

You shoo him away, laughing, "You know I do! I like anything you make for me, silly."

He holds his head up with pride, hands on hips.

You take the moment to actually look at the friendship bracelet, he'd been insistent that you couldn't take any sneak peaks or the likes until after he was finished. 

The beads are on a red string, with various little celestial-themed charms. There's something spelled out in the middle of it all, and you read it closely, heart falling as you do.

'Love Always' With a heart on either side of the words.

The Attendant picks up on your silence, "Is everything alright, Starshine?"

"I, you don't," You start to slowly shake your head, eyes glued to the bracelet and yet desperate to look anywhere else, "You don't mean that."

Sun laughs, but there's a nervous edge to it, "Of course I do! Why, why wouldn't I?"

"No, no you don't," You get up suddenly, panicked and frantic.

You need to get out of here. You need to leave. This is too much. There's no way that he could possibly, that either of them would even consider you-

You jump when Sun's hand touches your shoulder, now standing as well.

He tilts his head slightly, "Do you think that we," His tone grows weaker, just a smidge, "Don't care?"

You stare up at him for a moment, heart pounding in your chest. But, you're a coward, and you can't face this. Can't face the idea that they don't love you the way you love them. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

"I have to go," You turn away, starting to move to the doors. 

A hand on your wrist, "Wait!"

You pause, but you can't make yourself look back to him. 

"Please. Don't go."

You bite your cheek, pulling away, voice a mere whisper, "I'm sorry."

You're out of water, but you're not anymore tired than you were when you first woke up. 

You are, however, filled with more regret. Regret for what could have been, regret for what was. 

Maybe it is guilt that's the cause for all this. The scorch the fire left on you as punishment for your inaction, for your fear. 

You set the glass back on the bedside table, laying back down again and cuddling a spare pillow. 

As you bring the bedding closer to you, your eyes catch sight of the bracelet, a haunting reminder that will probably stay with you until the end of your days. 

You close your eyes as the tears break loose, choking back a sob.

You owed them this much, at least.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Yikesss, that's tough, ain't it? Well, bummer for you i guess! Anywho, other promptobers are here, thanks for reading!

[footballffbarbiex]

hi, if ur taking short blurb requests i would love one of ur amazing smutty joey g ones, maybe some steamy shower sex? ty

smut immediately after the cut.

Half of your torso remains pressed against the shower wall as your fingers run over Joey's short hair. Your shoulders ache from the way you hold your body awkwardly at an angle - with your hips jutting forward, one knee over his shoulder and the other leg trembling dangerously to the point of collapse.

The hot shower steam only adds to the already lightheadedness that you feel caused by the merciless lapping of your boyfriend's tongue against your clit. He kneels before you, eyes closed as he works your body into a frenzy. If his knees ache from the textured floor, he doesn't show any discomfort as he adjusts himself and forces his face closer to you.

One hand rests on your hip / thigh area of the leg that drapes over his back, while the other hand uses two fingers to hold your folds open, leaving you as exposed to him as much as possible. His biceps seem to bulge from the way they're being casually used and you feel your pussy clench because of it. God you hate how much the man turns you on.

His tongue drags down your slit, nose rubbing against your swollen bead instead now as his tongue works at your sodden hole, ensuring that he teases the outer area of you as much as the inside as he pushes himself within you to tongue fuck you unless you're a whimpering mess.

When you get a moment of clear vision, you look down between your bodies, watching as he continues to eat you out. Jutting back into view whenever he rocks himself back and forth, his fully hard cock comes back into sight and you almost, almost, want to sink to your own knees and take it into your mouth.

"Baby, please -" your words catch in your throat and the grin that spreads over his lips does not go unnoticed.

"S'not fair." you hiss as he blows a light, cool stream of air over your exposed pussy before his mouth covers your clit once more.

[sunny6677]

Photography.

Summary:

In the late month of September, Y/N L/N decides to move back to a town they visited once in the past—with their old friend Radford helping them out with certain difficulties.

However, at midnight a few days later—Y/N decides to go out late at night without realizing how late it is, with the sole intention of using a camera they're particularly sentimental about. But they end up running into some rather spooky company—who end up being the cause of the many faces they end up meeting.

PROLOGUE, PT 2: Unpacking Memories.

————

"Geez, dude—sorry about that. I didn't even notice that thing when I walked in."

Radford gave me a soft frown, looking on at me while he bent down right next to the side of my legs. I had my leg positioned upright—my shoe now completely off. Feeling the warm fabric of the bandage he had in his hands slowly wrap more and more around my toe, I nearly breathed out a sigh of relief—even if it didn't get rid of the stinging pain that was in my toe quite yet.

"..mmmh.. no—it's fine." I grumbled, furrowing my brows as the searing pain in my toe didn't seem to fade. "It's not like I really saw it either."

"..are you—sure you wanna unpack everything right now? I can just go ahead and do it for you if you want."

"N—No. No. I can—I can still unpack things just fine. May be a bit hard to walk though." I found myself mumbling in return. Once he lifted his hand away from my foot, I leaned over to grab my shoe, and bending my arms back, I slipped the show on.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Radford raise a brow, and then quickly furrow his own. His lips curling into a frown, he huffed. "..you're kinda stubborn, man."

Feeling mild irritation, I only rolled my eyes while grumbling quietly, "No, I'm not. If anything, you're more stubborn than me."

Huffing again, I finally bent down on my knees, letting my eyes drift over to the several boxes before us. "Anyway.. weren't we supposed to start with the decorations?"

Radford blinked. "Huh?" He then lifted his head, as if it were jolting back. "Oh—yeah! Forgot about that. Uh—here��"

Letting his arms shoot foward, he practically dragged the small box with decorations inside in front of me. From beside me, I heard him shift and move in before adjusting his position and crossing his legs.

Dragging the box closer an inch—he wore a slightly silly smile on his face. A smile that made my own lips began to curl upwards. Rolling my eyes gently, I chuckled.

"Geez.. how'd you forget? It's only been like a few minutes."

"Hey—y'know me!" Radford grinned, his lips slightly quivering from awkwardness. "Not like I can really remember to unpack stuff when you just got your toe stabbed by a nail."

"You asked me if I was sure I wanted to unpacked literally a few seconds ago. What do you mean you can't really remember?"

"Mmh.."

Seeing how he began to pout, I couldn't help but feel a heavy feeling begin to appear in my chest.

"..err.. sorry. I didn't—mean to hurt you, if.. that's what I did."

"What? No! No." Radford shook his head. "You didn't. I just—don't really like being joked about.. like that. Anyway—why don't we focus on cleaning?"

Shooting his arms foward again, he let his hands slowly slip beneath the flaps of the box, and with a swift motion, the flaps quickly came open.

When the flaps came open—I felt an oddly familiar, warm sensation wash over my face. It was.. most likely the dust or something, or just the scent from my old house. But the scent that began to flow through my nostrils right then was so familiar and strong that it felt.. almost as if I were back at my old house.

The sensation was so strong in fact I almost squinted for a moment. But once I had gotten over the sensation, I let my eyes flicker inside. I already knew what was going to be in there, so it.. wasn't as if I really needed to be surprised at anything that was in there at all.

Inside, there were simply several sheets of tiny napkins I usually had for my dining room. Long, strings of beaded lights that were curled up and burying whatever must have been beneath. Seemingly.. seemingly a few photo frames.

As my eyes lingered over the golden frame of what was beneath the beaded lights string, Radford spoke from beside me.

"Alright—lets start with these!"

Radford smiled. His hand shuffled inside of the box, and from out of the box, he slowly slipped his arm out—holding the pastel napkins that were inside in his grasp.

He blinked a few times, squinting. "Why do you have napkins inside of a decoration box?" He asked, shifting his gaze over to me.

"..err.. I dunno. I like making my place look fancy when guests come over."

"..is—" Radford snickered a little, holding up one of them. Seeing it, my expression faltered. "—this supposed to look fancy?"

It was a napkin I.. hadn't used for the dinning table unless I was really certain that whoever was over wouldn't mind me using it. I sort of just bought it a long time ago because I thought it looked funny—but it had text on it that simply read:

"If you're having a great time, stay as long as you like! If you're not having a great time, get the hell out."

A warm flush began to form on my cheeks, and I forced out a quiet laugh. "Heheh.. I.. thought—I thought that.. would have been funny. Heheh.."

"Heh—" Radford giggled from beside me, "Don't get embarrassed over it, man. I buy things I think look funny all the time!"

"..mmh.. yeah. At least it never backfires on you though.."

"..what?"

"Nothing. Uh.. hey—" I lifted my own hands, digging them into the box and pulling out the upper part of the beaded light.

"Why don't we take out these lights? I'll probably just end up putting them around the place later so you're not stuck here decorating my house for me."

"Eheh—I wouldn't mind that!" Grinned Radford. "It's still been a long time since I've seen you."

"Yeah, but it's not like you owe me decorations just because we haven't seen eachother in a while. I wouldn't wanna keep you here forever."

"So? Just cuz I don't owe you anything doesn't mean I don't wanna at least have a reason to talk to you."

"Well.. true. Wa—Wait, why would you need a reason to talk to me? Can't you just tell me if you wanna talk?"

"..yeah, but—mm.. nevermind. That stuffs too complicated."

"..okayy.."

I slowly said, a little unsure of what that meant. Still, I guess being socially awkward was just something everyone had to deal with every once and a while. Maybe even someone like Radford had to deal with it.

Grasping the cord in my hand, I began to slowly slip it out onto the wooden ground—hearing it click and thud onto the surface of the wood as I did so. Radford watched as I did this, slightly smiling to himself before looking back inside of the box. He then blinked a few times, chuckling softly to himself.

"..what? What is it?"

He flashed a quick grin at me, and then shuffled his hand inside for a moment, before pulling out a sticker. A white sticker with a burger with eyes and hands on it. One that I.. still recognized in fact.

Radford smiled, "Dude—you kept that sticker from the one dining place we went to?"

"..uh.." I trailed off, looking at the sticker. "..yeah. I.. I did. Heh."

"Aw, man—this is sick! Haha.." Radford lightly laughed. "We should go there again sometime!"

"Uh—maybe. Might depend on if whatever job I get will give me enough free time to."

"Heheh—don't worryyy! Not like your job won't give you breaks or anything. We can just go when we're both free!"

He looked down at the sticker, his smile weakening.

"..it.. really has been a while since you were here, hasn't it?"

"..yeah. I.. guess it has."

..there was a pause. Then Radford looked up. "You still remember when we first saw eachother?"

"..yeah. That—that was when you first got your movie theater job, I think. Heh.. you looked a lot less taller back then."

"..mmh.."

"Ah—sorry. It—it was fun though! Getting to meet you. Getting to hang out with you a little bit after even if I was only there for a bit."

...

"..that was such a long time ago. It.. feels like such a long time ago. Even if it was only a few years. That.. that was when.."

Noticing my expression, he appeared to realize what I must have been about to say, and a soft look flared in his eyes.

"Uh—hey—why don't we.. not talk about that right now, okay?" He laughed—or at least forced himself to. His voice became slightly more gentle. "I.. I still know that.. moving here must have been hard. You know, with.. everything that went down last time."

"But.." He set a hand on my shoulder, causing me to look up. "You're here now. You have a chance to make stuff better for yourself! Not really any point in being stuck thinking about things that already happened, right?"

"..that's.. true."

I let myself look down at my lap, and I let out a sigh. "..sorry. It's.. hard to think of the last time without thinking of.. y'know.."

"Don't worry. I know. I.. really know how that feels, actually. Just try not to think about it, okay? If anything, I know it's better not to let yourself get all caught up over it."

"..mmh.. well.. okay. Let's keep.. taking stuff out, I guess."

[watatsumiis]

Patching You Up series (Capitano Edition)

(looks at all the other series I want/need to write more for)

(looks away)

(starts writing a new one)

Content: Capitano helps out a mildly injured reader! Gender neutral, injury is scraped knees and hands from tripping over. Light mentions of wounds, blood, etc. Reader is described as physically smaller than Capitano simply because he's a bear of a man. Reader and Capitano have an established relationship (can be read as platonic, romantic or anything in between!)

Capitano warned you, he really did. He'd informed you that the ground outside was slippery, that you should be careful and not run, but you simply couldn't help yourself upon spotting something that piqued your interest a few paces off the path.

Now, here you are, reeling as you recover from the shock of having slipped over. The pain hasn't quite begun to set in just yet, but you can see the rough scrapes and mud on your arms and legs already, and your clothing is wet from half-melted snow mush.

Capitano sighs - it's less of an annoyed sigh, and more of a pitying one. He's too kind to remind you that he told you so, and instead just walks up behind you. "Are you alright?" His voice is deep and slow, and rasps out of his helmet like slivers of wood being carved off of a branch.

"I...I..." you trail off as the pain suddenly seems to hit you all at once and you sit back on your haunches, looking down at your hands, beading with bright red blood. "I fell." You tell him in a soft voice, as if he hadn't just seen you tumble over.

Capitano makes a soft tutting noise, walking around beside you and extending his arm out, tilting his head to the side in a silent question of whether you'd like his help or not.

You reach out for him, and he's there within moments, wrapping his big, broad arms around you as he helps you up. You choke back a noise of pain as you stand and your scraped knees ache in protest, the scraped sensation feeling as if it's burning you.

To your surprise, Capitano doesn't stop once you're steady on your feet. Instead, he scoops you up, holding you bridal-style up against his chest. You shy away slightly to prevent his hard plate armour from touching your wounds and cradle your hands close to your chest.

Capitano adjusts his grip on you until you're as comfortable as possible, then turns a slow circle, observing your surroundings. When he sets off once more, it is most certainly not in the direction that you came from.

"Where are we...?" You trail off, blinking slowly up at Capitano, though you can't make out any features through the pitch darkness under his mask.

"Hunters cabin." He explains simply, and you can feel his voice reverberating in his chest.

The steady pace he walks at is soothing and repetitive, giving you something to focus on other than the pain you're in. The snow crunches beneath Capitano's heavy feet in a rather satisfying way.

It doesn't take you long to arrive at the cabin - it seems like it was once indeed someone's hunting cabin, but had since been repurposed for the Fatui to use on field operations. The door is unlocked, and Capitano lets himself in, ducking down slightly to get through the door.

The cabin is quaint and cosy, though it seems like it's been a while since anyone stayed here. Capitano sets you down on a rickety wooden seat by the small, round dining table (haphazardly adorned with a dusty, checker-patterned cloth), lighting some lanterns with flickers of some kind of pyro-magic infused device as he scrounges around for what he's looking for.

There's not really much for you to do except watch him as he bustles about, surprisingly quiet for such a large, heavily armoured man. You can feel the pain in your hands and knees throbbing, but force yourself to keep up a brave face.

By the time Capitano returns, he has a few items in hand. You open your mouth to ask a question, but the man before you is already tending to your wounds before you can get the words out.

He's shockingly gentle and careful, attentive to detail despite his thick gloves. He cleans up your hands first, applying antiseptic and bandaging them with a sort of tenderness that you rarely recall having seen in him before.

Capitano kneels down in front of you, then looks up and waits silently for your affirmative nod before rolling up your trouser legs to patch up your grazed knees - the sideways tilt to his head is almost reminiscent of a sad puppy.

"There." He hums, once the last bandage is secured around your right knee. Though it still stings, it feels better knowing your injuries are clean, and there's something about the careful attentivess he displayed when looking after you that makes you feel warm inside.

"What are we gonna do now?" You ask him, dreading his answer a little.

Capitano straightens up to his full height (so tall his head almost brushes the roof of the rather little cabin), gaze lingering on your for a few moments before he looks around the cabin slowly.

"I..." He reaches up to brush back a tightly coiled lock of his pitch black hair. "Suppose it wouldn't hurt to... Stay a while." He concedes, gaze travelling over to the food rations sitting in the small kitchenette before finally landing on you once again.

You feel small and exposed sitting here while Capitano pins you with his invisible gaze, but the gradual slope of his shoulders tells you that he's relaxing, which isn't something you often see him do. "Stay there." He tells you, his voice a little softer than usual. "I'll go see if there's any firewood."

Please don't repost, copy, plagiarise or otherwise steal my writing!!

[ddejavvu]

hiii meii, so this is entirely self-indulgent but it’s my birthday today and I was thinking about maybe a little something with nanny!reader and dbf!hotch and him making reader’s birthday all special because her parents are out town or something like that, any birthday fluff you could think of would be absolutely amazing bdjxn

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

happy birthday my lovely monique!!! you deserve nothing but the best, I'm so glad you're taking the day off and indulging yourself!! i am wishing you the best birthday ever, and dbf!hotch is coming to smooch up on you >:))

(sfw blurb but reader is over 18)

Jack's holding your hand, but Aaron is holding your shoulder. The Hotchners guide you through the parking lot, and Aaron has one of his large, rough hands covering your eyes. You'd parked in an empty stretch of pavement, an unfamiliar location so that you weren't able to see anything to spoil whatever surprise they've planned for you. Jack says it's totally not a surprise birthday party, and Aaron says Jack needs to play the quiet game.

Your feet hit metal and you rear back slightly with a gasp.

"You're fine," Aaron murmurs, his hand tightening on your shoulder, "We're just going inside. It's the doorway."

"Okay," You breathe, lifting your foot up and over the divider. You hear a series of mechanic clicks, then Jack drops your hand to do something that sounds like opening a heavy door.

"Good job, buddy." Aaron congratulates his son, "Super strong."

Jack fits his small hand in yours once more, and Aaron leads you forward through the second doorway. It's colder, now, the air conditioning is working, and you think you're on thin carpet from the feeling of the floor beneath your shoes.

"Turn right," Aaron turns his hand on your shoulder, and twists your head with the other one. You follow his lead, hand tightening around Jack's as the little boy eagerly ushers you through whatever building you're in.

"Okay, now left," Aaron instructs you, "And- stop."

You drag a deep breath in through your nose, anticipation thrumming through your veins. It sounds like there's people in front of you, or one person at least, because Jack drops your hand and his footsteps lead to something that moves.

"Okay," A voice rings out, and it's deep but not Aaron's, "Three, two, one..."

""Surprise!"

Aaron's hand drops from your face, but not his hand from your shoulder. Light floods into your eyes and you squint slightly, but the sight that you're met with when they adjust makes them widen like happy flowers in the sunlight.

Aaron's entire team is there, faces scattered around a decorated conference room that you've mostly seen in pictures, or the occasional office drop-off. You recognize Dave, closest to Aaron, then Penelope, closest to Jack. She always runs out of her office to say hello to him when you drop him off, and she's met you a handful of times subsequently.

"Aaron," You breathe, seeing all of the smiling faces that love him, and by extension, you, "I- Thank you!"

You melt into his embrace, turning in his hold to throw your arms around his neck in a hug. He chuckles warm and deep in his chest, a sound that nearly makes tears bead at your eyes. He rubs soothing strokes over your back, squeezing you tight and kissing your forehead.

"Let's get introductions out of the way," He releases you from his grip so that you can turn, and you're met with a dark-haired woman smiling sweetly at you.

"I'm Emily," She shakes your hand, using it to pull you into a birthday hug, "Happy birthday!"

"Thank you," You gush, and when you see Spencer Reid on the next person's nametag, you send him a smile instead of initiating physical contact, something he greatly appreciates with the same sentiment as Emily.

"Derek," A taller man greets you, and you recognize his voice from the countdown, "Jack tells us a lot about you, y'know. Hotch too."

You try to ignore the pounding of your heart at his addition, ruffling Jack's hair instead of acknowledging it. The boy wraps himself around your leg, sitting on your foot and grinning up at you gleefully. He's already given you a hand-drawn birthday card, and it's the best present you'll receive, no doubt.

You make a show of lugging him across the room to meet a thin blonde, JJ, and to shake Dave's hand. He giggles all the way, face smushed into your calf, and Penelope pries him off to hug you properly.

"I hope you like the party," She gushes, eyes bright, "Hotch and I worked all day on the decorations, he was so picky!"

You can't imagine Aaron policing the pattern of streamers thrown around the room, or inflating the balloons sticking to the ceiling. It makes you laugh, and you don't see Aaron's smile grow in response.

"Thank you so much," You repeat, said to Penelope but aimed at the group, "This is- so special, this is the best birthday I've ever had."

"It hasn't even started yet," Dave gestures to the table, full of pizza and sweets, "Don't let the paper napkins fool you, I made those pizzas myself."

"We get it," JJ scoffs, "You're Italian. Penelope made the brownies, by the way. And Henry, my son, and Jack helped with the cookies. Spencer and Emily brought the donuts, and-"

"And I brought you," Aaron's voice is suddenly closer to your side than you'd thought, and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

"Thank you," You sound like a broken record but you don't care, eyes shining with emotion as you gaze appreciatively at him. If no one else was in the room, you're sure he would have kissed you, lips close and hearts closer. But he doesn't, he can't, so he squeezes your waist instead, murmuring a soft 'of course'.

"Let's eat," Emily prompts, pulling at a chair around the table. Everyone flocks to their own seats, but Aaron pulls your chair out for you, saving the one beside it for himself. No one notices the way his hand slips into yours beneath the table, no one but you, but it's better that way, and it stays there for the rest of the night.

[ghostaholics]

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒘𝒂𝒗𝒆 (𝒉𝒄)

PAIRING: Captain John Price x fem!Reader WARNING(S): [ 18+ ]; unprotected p-in-v sex; shower sex, unintentional temperature play A/N: I see your snowed-in cabin fics and instead raise you to 45˚C/100F+ scenarios with the desperate need to stay cool; inspired by the excessive weather where I live. Honestly idk what this is. Just sweaty Price brain rot.

❝ Always makin’ fun of my boonie hat – not much of a laugh now, is it? ❞

And without saying anything else, he plucks it off his head with one smooth motion before setting it on your own, a rush of heat floods your face at the idea that he's just sacrificed his most treasured protective outwear at your expense.

❝ Looks good, might be better on you than me. ❞

Having to reapply another fresh layer of sunscreen along the thick muscle of his neck, your hands kneading into the sweat-slick skin at his nape – even though you've already wiped at his neck so that it's dry but the sweltering heart keeps generating more beads of perspiration (drip, drip) in the same way the thought of you touching him spawns a fresh gush between your legs, all sticky and messy.

And what makes it even worse is the soft grunts he lets out as your fingertips work on their own accord, finding a knot in between his shoulders and easing the point of tension there with purposeful movements as he relaxes under you, but you start to falter because he's making noises that you really don't want to think too much about before his voice, pitched low and hoarse, startles you out of your thoughts—

❝ Keep at it, love. ❞

Then you're finally done; you tell him so, and you feel some reluctance as you're pulling away because a stupid part of you wants to know what other sounds you can coax out of him. So you adjust the shemagh over his neck back in place and swallow the lump in your throat.

❝ Thank you, ❞ he murmurs, and it's in the same fucking tone he used earlier that turns your breathing shallow and useless.

❝ Anytime. ❞

Then he turns around, eyes smoldering, irises bleeding blue and says—

❝ Don't say that if you're not looking for me to take you up on that offer. ❞

Price fetches some ice cubes. You're not sure where he gets them; you only know that he turns up with a container out of nowhere.

He cups your jaw, angles your head up to expose the column of your throat, cool mouth pressed against your heated flesh, slighty salty with sweat. It's almost overstimulating, the coldness of his lips and the rough scrape of his facial hair against your sensitive skin.

When it melts, he laps up the remaining liquid, flattening his tongue, leaves little nips here and there as he trails over your neck.

The shower in the safehouse is complete and utter shite, not cold enough, lukewarm at best, but it's running water so he can't complain too much about all of its faults as long as it washes away the sticky feeling of being drenched everywhere along his body.

He's peeling off his gear fast, every layer, shucking it off on his way to the bathroom

And while you're still transfixed on his retreating figure, he notices that you don't follow him so he comes back, drags you into the bathroom without saying another word.

He sits you on the counter, starts with sliding your jacket off your shoulder, unlacing your boots, pulling off your top, and once you finally snap out of it, you're helping him speed up the process.

He could fuck you like this, on the counter, or over it with the mirror in front of you. But he doesn't. Maybe later.

Another reason this shower's fucking terrible: it's a small space that can really only accommodate one person, but he'll make it work, god damn it, and he hoists you up, has your legs circling around his waist because space in this cramped stall is both a luxury and a curse.

You tell him to fuck you, not to waste time on foreplay because you've been waiting so long, and he knows, he's just as bad.

❝ I will after, I promise... I fuckin' promise I'll take my time then. ❞

He groans as he pushes into you, feeds you his cock. You're right; you're ready for him, cunt swallowing him whole as he fucks you against the shower tile.

❝ Just too easy, sweetheart. ❞

[whore-for-attention]

Could you do an Otis driftwood x reader, with smut, if that's ok with you, and any type of plot 😊

I got you I got you ps have a fantastic day …⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

General neutral reader

Otis also calls you some degrading names but in a loving way and owning you I guess??

You and Otis were at some random party in some dingy run down house, he left you in some random room to go watch some fight in the kitchen between two douchebags who were probably fighting for a idiotic reasons

You soon grow bored waiting for him to come back and decide to go on the phone otis recently gave you to show his trust in you. As you scroll through some app a random man walks up to you

He looked like your typical attendant at parties like these his hair was greasy he had what looked like to be a poor attempt at a beard and his breath reeked to booze

'You come here often" he said trying to start a conversation You gave him a small glance and then looked back at your phone continuing to scroll apparently he couldn't take the hint and continue to talk

He tells you his name is Jack you let out a sigh and tell him your name, having nothing better to do "y/n" the man smiles wide at finally getting a proper response out of you and decides to try and shoot his shot

"what's a pretty little thing like you doing all by yourself" he says with the best charming smile he could muster. You give the man another glance "I'm not I'm here with my boyfriend" you inform him "well if I was your boyfriend I wouldn't leave you here all by yourself"

"I mean what type of shit boyfriend would just leave here" he says moving is arm towards you. You look up at him as he touches your hip. you're about to say something but before you can a hand grabs the man's wrist

Jack turns to look at the person who had the gall to touch him only to be met with an extremely pissed off otis "the fuck man let go" Jack say trying to pull his arm away "what the hell you think your doing" otis asks the jack

"trying to get laid what it look like?" Jack spits out at otis as he rips his hand out of his grip. otis lets out a chuckle before punching jack in the throat. Jack's taken back for a second before he tries to hit otis back but before he can otis tackles into the ground and proceeds to punch him repeatedly

You step in and grab otis shoulder "can we please just go" otis finally turns his attention towards you and stands up and roughly grabs your wrist "don't start thinking you're not in trouble either" he says in a harsh tone

The ride back to the house was silent and long but when you arrive otis quickly stops the car and drags you out he walks to your guy's shared room. Once inside the room he pushes you on the bed

"what type of fucking slut are huh?" He says as he pulls your shorts down "I leave for just a second and you're trying to get some dick from a stranger" he roughly smacks your thigh you let out a yelp in surprise

He pulls you over his lap and smacks you ass hard. You let out a cry in response "your just some unfaithful bitch ain't you" he says as he lays another smack to your behind "you didn't even try to shut him down" he hits you a third time

"i-im sorry" you cry out otis hits you yet again"I'm sure you are" he mumbles. He hits you a few more times before taking you off his lap and putting you back on to the bed. He quickly climbs on top of you and takes off your shirt and fills you over

You can hear him rush to take off his pants. you feel the bead shift from behind you as he pulls down your underwear with no warning or preparation at all he shoves himself inside of you with a quick and hard thrust

You let out a scream as he stretches you out he doesn't give you much time to adjust as he begins to move at a quick and hard pace you feel him bend over you as he grabs you hair and gives a hard pull

"is this what you want you skank for him to fuck you like this" he says as he pulls your hair back again "n-no ah-h" you say between moans

Otis slaps your thigh as hard as he can "yeah right" otis says as he hits your thigh again "You're just a slut and you know it" you can't see him but you can tell he has a wicked smile on his face "you'd open your legs for anything that breaths" otis picks up his pace "think I should put you back in your place"

You can feel your orgasm building up as otis smacks your thigh and tugs your hair at the same time his pace is rough and fast and it hurts but you don't want it to stop it hurts too good

"a-ah close ah" you moan out otis then begins to slow his pace and you let out a confused moan "disobeying pets don't get to cum" otis says in a taunting away you let out a cry in frustration "way don't you be good and tell me what you did wrong" otis says as he pulls your hair

"well go on" you can tell his smirking just by the tone of his voice "I -I didn't shut him down" you feel another smack to your thigh "what else" you swallow a lump in your throat "i didn't obey" otis begin to rub your thigh on the spot he smacked "that's right"

Otis begins to pick his pace back up and leans over you. You feel a sharp pain in your shoulder as otis bites down on it. "Ah-a" you feel him lick the spot he just bit you feel yourself drawing close yet again "I'm gonna c-um" You hear otis breath pick up "well then let's do it together" he says you

You close your eyes as the feeling quickly washes over you and not long after you feel Otis release inside you and let go of your hair as you fall onto the mattress and try to collect your breath.

Otis pulls out and flips you over and lines himself up to your entrance yet again, You give him a look and he lets out a chuckle "what you didn't think we were done did you?" he said with a curl smirk

[future-dregs]

Kinktober Day 13 - Breath Play

Wincest ♡ Dom/sub elements ♡ Sounding ♡ Aftercare ♡ Word Count : 1,310

Written for @spnkinkevents

In and Out

"Now this is what you're gonna do, Sammy. You're gonna put your hands right here, in these straps, and you're not gonna let go. Cause if you let go, the game stops. Do you understand?"

Dean tips Sam's head up, eyes tracking carefully over his face.

"If you understand, nod."

Sam nods, slips his wrists into the leather straps, wrapping his fingers around the length of it and holding on.

Nothing is holding him in place but himself, and his desire to please, to do well, be good.

Dean smiles and pets his cheek.

"Good boy."

He runs his hand over Sam's chest, tangling his fingers into his hair and digging in, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, his quickening pulse beneath his fingertips.

He attaches clamps to Sam's nipples, wrapping the free ends of the chains around his forearms. The pressure is inconsistent, pulling only when Sam takes an especially deep breath.

"That looks real pretty on you Sam."

Sam smiles, tensing his arms to further show off. It wasnt a question, so he doesn't get to respond, but he appreciates the compliment all the same.

Dean drags his nails slowly down, and taps Sam's thighs.

"Spread."

Sam does immediately, long legs hanging over either side of the narrow motel bed.

Dean strokes his cock, running his thumb under the foreskin. Sam gasps. His toes curl and dig into the carpet, otherwise he doesn't move an inch, say a word.

"Good."

Dean continues to tease him, till his ragged sounds fills the room, mixing with the late night traffic humming through the wall.

"Don't breath."

Sam stops. Holds his breath. Doesn't let even a trickle leak in.

Dean watches him, stroking Sam's cock and counting.

He gets to thirty.

"Breathe."

Sam gasps, sucking in huge lungfulls air. The clamps pulling with every rising heave of his chest, chains jingling.

"Stop."

Sam does.

Dean retrieves a packet from his duffle, and a tube of lube.

"Breathe."

He opens the pack, pulling out a silver rod. The upper half is smooth, but there's four beads toward the bottom, starting small and gradually growing in size.

He coats the rod heavily in lube, squirting more over the head of Sam's dick.

"Stop."

He takes Sam's dick in hand, gently working the first bead into Sam's slit. Once he gets it inside, he waits, letting Sam adjust.

"Breathe."

He slides the rod in and out, pushing further in each time until the next two beads make their way inside.

"Next ones a big one. Stop."

Sam bites his lip. He wants to whine, or moan. To do something to express his pleasure. But that's not the rules, so he tightens his grip on the straps and pulls, but the resulting ache in his nipples just makes it worse.

His eyes are watering by the time Dean says-

"Breathe."

And Sam does. The end of every breath trailing into a whimper, a moan.

Dean strokes his balls, rubbing between them and the base of his dick.

Not much is able to make it's way out, but when he tugs gentle on the end of the rod, a little trickle of precome dribbles out.

He licks at it. "You're leaking, Sam."

He presses the rod further in, the last large bead just starting to breach, Sam's hole widening to accommodate it.

Sam's whimpers become more and more jagged and shaky. Dean let's him get go for a bit, get really worked up, before-

"Stop."

Right at the peak of his breath, chest at its highest rise, he makes Sam hold it.

He twists the rod, pulling, then plunging it back in again.

"Breathe."

He let's Sam settle more comfortably, instead of actively trying to hold still. Its difficult, and he knows it, but the tension makes him ever more lightheaded, makes the final rush of orgasmic pleasure that much more overwhelming.

"Stop."

Dean slides the rod back in, fully this time, the final large bead popping in.

Watches as Sam's eyes roll back in his head as he swallows the sound that nearly gets dragged out him.

To break the rules means no finish, no orgasm, no matter how far along they are.

Dean knows Sam will be able to do it, to make it to the end, and the reward he's so close to earning. But it's a strain, and he can see how much it's taking out of him to comply.

"You're gorgeous."

Sam's fingers go white around the dark leather. Dean smiles.

"Breathe, pretty boy, breathe. You're almost there."

He watches Sam for a minute, strokes the back of his knuckles across his face, down his neck.

"You okay?"

Sam nods.

"You sure?"

Sam tugs on the straps, arching his eyebrows for emphasis.

He hasn't let go, has he?

Dean smiles.

"Then stop breathing."

He pulls the rod to just before the bead would slip out of Sam's slit, then thrusts back. He continues, counting thrusts, counting seconds.

"-thirty five. Breathe."

His hand stills, thumb over the end, seating the rod deeply within Sam.

He let's Sam get a few good breaths in, keeping an eye on the glazed look coming over his features, before commanding once again-

"Stop."

He changes things up this time. Sam's dick is twitching, almost purple, and even when he's allowed to breathe, they're coming shallow and short.

It's about time to bring the scene to a close.

So instead of a constant thrust, he pulls halfway out and in, every count of five. Fucking deep, rather than fast.

He says -

"Breathe."

But this time, instead of seating the rod, letting it be still while Sam recovers, as Sam takes his first breath, Dean pulls the rod completely out, beads and all, so Sam's breath turns a wail as an orgasm gets dragged out of him, heavy spurts of cum following the rod out, falling on his thighs and chest and lower belly.

Dean strokes him, drawing every last pulse out of him while soothing his sobbing brother.

"Breathe, Sammy. Breathe. It's okay. Deep breathes. There we go."

He smooths Sam's hair, petting him gently. Sam leans into him, sweaty forehead pressed into his forearm.

"Did I do good?"

"Baby, you were excellent. You did so well. You did so well Sammy. You're always so good."

Sam sighs.

"Thank you."

Dean pulls his legs gently back onto the bed, rubbing them where the muscles quake from held tension.

"You can let go now, Sammy."

Sam gingerly loosens the grip is fingers have on the leather straps, nails leaving behind crescent marks to match dozens of others. He eases his arms down, groans.

Dean zeroes in on the sound, eyes and hands worried.

"Did I have you strung up too high? You should've said something, Sam!" Dean fusses, while massaging Sam's arms, gently rubbing feeling back into them.

Sam smiles and turns over, pillowing his head Dean's lap. "I'm fine, Dean. You always worry too much, stop it." He pokes at him. "Pet my head."

Dean laughs, bends to kiss his cheek.

"Y'wanna a lil scalp massage there, Sammy?"

"Mmm, yeah."

"You feel like talking?

Sam shakes his head. "Nope. Too cozy." He lifts Dean's hand and places it over his ear. " PET."

"Sure thing Sammy. Get comfortable."

Sam slides under the covers, arms around Dean's middle, head in his lap.

He's breathing Dean's thick scent, he's warm and worn out in the best way, and with Dean's hands gently combing through his hair untangling snares, nails dragging pleasantly over his scalp he starts to drift off to sleep.

Dean starts tracing every widening hearts on his shoulder, spreading onto his back, listening to Sam's breathing deepen and change.

"I love you, Sammy. Oh, I love you so much."

Sam smiles sleepily, nuzzles into him, tucking closer. His voice muffled by Dean's middle.

"Love you, too."

[Ao3 link]