#bauble shots

[baublekute]

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ⭑.ᐟ A SERENE CELEBRATION, MERRY CHRISTMAS

A younger Bakugou Katsuki had always been certain of his future. At 26, he’d be a man with it all: a nice house, a career as the undisputed Number One Hero, happily married, and maybe, just maybe, a little brat on the way. That was the dream his teenage self clung to—the vision he worked tirelessly to acheive.

At 26, Bakugou stood in the middle of your shared apartment, arms crossed and staring at the half-decorated Christmas tree with a deep scowl. Strings of golden lights glimmered around the tree’s branches, lengths of ribbons are accompanied by shimmering with faux flowers, and ornaments—carefully chosen by you—hung delicately in place.

The problem? The color scheme.

“What’s wrong with red and gold?”

“It’s boring,” Bakugou grumbled. “We do red and gold every year.”

“It’s classic!” you argued, turning to face him fully. “And it matches the rest of the apartment’s decor!”

He narrowed his eyes. He could not believe that he’s having this conversation with you right now.

“We could try something new for once. Like silver and blue.”

You gasped, clutching an ornament like he’d just insulted you personally—even cursed your entire bloodline and ancestors. “Silver and blue? Are you trying to make our tree look like a corporate lobby?”

“It’d look cooler than this,” he shot back, gesturing vaguely at the warm-toned ornaments. “This looks like something out of a cheesy holiday catalog.”

“And what’s wrong with cheesy?” you challenged.

Bakugou opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t actually have anything against cheesy—hell, he secretly loved how excited you got during the holidays. But arguing about it? That was part of the fun, if not a branch of his quality time as a love language.

“Whatever,” he muttered, grabbing a red bauble and hanging it perfectly on the tree. “You’re just scared to try something new.”

You laughed, walking over with another ornament to decorate with. “And you’re just scared because I’m right.”

As Bakugou worked to string the lights around the higher branches, you began unpacking the remaining ornaments from your storage box. You pulled out a small, slightly worn ornament in the shape of a star and held it up with a nostalgic smile.

“Do you remember this?”

He glanced down from the tree, frowning at the star in your hand. “Should I?”

No matter how much he tries to remember, he simply couldn’t recall what made this star so special that you had to ask him if he remembers it.

It’s a star, that’s for sure. A faded one at that.

You sighed, clearly unimpressed by his lack of sentimentality. “It’s the first ornament we bought together. Back when we were... what, eighteen?”

Bakugou paused. It had been a spur-of-the-moment purchase during a rare day off from hero training.

You had somehow convinced him to go with you to wander around a Christmas market, bickering over everything from what food stalls to visit to what decorations looked “cool.” You had insisted on the star, and Bakugou—reluctantly—agreed after a heated argument about which shape of star’s better.

“Are you having a flashback monologue right now?”

That brought out a scoff from him. “Fuck no. Just remembered how you were annoying as hell that day,” he muttered.

“And you were so stubborn, god. You kept saying it was pointless to buy an ornament because I didn’t even have a tree back in my dorm.”

“Yeah, and you said, ‘It's not about the tree; it's about the tradition.’ What kinda cheesy crap was that?”

“It's true, though!” you argued, accepting his hand to place the star gently on the tree’s highest branch. “And now, look. We still have it. And now we can buy all the Christmas trees we could ever want.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

As you continued decorating, the sound of your laughter and playful arguments filled the apartment, giving it a cozy home feel. By the time the tree was finished, Bakugou begrudgingly admitted to himself that it didn’t look half bad—even if it was the same colors as last year, though a decent fortune was spent for it to not be too repetitive.

It’s a good thing his work pays well (you split the cost of decorations equally; he just says that his work pays better even if yours is a lot higher than his).

You stepped back, admiring your work with a satisfied smile. “Perfect. Now, onto the Christmas Eve menu. I was thinking we could do something light this year—maybe roasted chicken and a salad?”

Bakugou groaned, collapsing onto the couch. “Salad? On Christmas Eve? No fucking way.”

“What’s wrong with salad?”

“Is your childhood a bland mess to have salad as one of the main foods? It’s boring,” he said, sticking his tongue out at you when you gave him a pointed look. “We should make something warm and filling.”

“Okay, but you’re helping.”

“Since when did I ever leave all the cookin’ to you?”

Now that he’s 26, standing in the modest yet cozy apartment he shares with you, he realizes that dreams don’t always come in the exact shape you imagine.

Sure, he doesn’t have the massive house he once envisioned, but this apartment—filled with laughter, memories, and the faint scent of your favorite candles—is more of a home than anything his younger self could have dreamed up. The framed photos of your milestones, the shelves of books, and even a few of his hero equipment with the tools scattered on his office—it’s all perfect in a way he didn’t know he needed.

And his career? Well, Dynamight isn’t the Number One Hero yet, but he’s close. Close enough that his younger self would sneer but grudgingly admit it’s not bad.

He’s built a solid name for himself, and he’s done it his way. His rank might not be where he wanted it to be at this age, but he’s learned something more valuable than being the best—he’s learned the importance of balance.

The last part of that dream? The wife? He looks toward the kitchen, where you’re humming some off-tune melody, beginning to prepare what Bakugou’s about to cook with for dinner. The sight of you, so comfortable and almost glowing in your shared space, makes his chest tighten.

He must have a heart problem by this point because it comes at him at the most unexpected times whenever he sees you.

No, he doesn’t have a wife yet. But he’s about to change that.

He’s been thinking about it for weeks now.

He’s got the ring—it’s hidden in the drawer under his socks, where he knows you won’t go snooping.

He knows you’ll say yes, but he would be damned if he didn’t admit that it made him a bit nervous. He knows because you look at him the same way he looks at you: like the world would become lighter and easier to conquer as long as you have the other.

But still, he waits.

Not because he’s unsure, but because he wants the timing to be perfect. Not rushed, not forced. He’s learned to be patient over the years.

“Kats, help with cutting the onions, please!”

“Yeah, yeah. Comin’!”

Soon, he’ll drop the question. He’s not in a rush. This is your life together, and it’s not perfect, but it is just right—chaotic, loud, and full of love. And when the time comes, he’ll make sure you know just how much you mean to him.

But you already know that, don’t you?

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Remus brings your daughter to your bedroom for morning cuddles and a chat ᡣ𐭩

“Come let’s go tell mummy hi,” you hear Remus right outside the door, no doubt he’s speaking to Carys as you finishing brushing your hair and tying it up.

You’d both woken up at the same time to get her, but Remus had insisted you get a few extra hours because having a baby that was currently getting a bit of growing pains was never fun.

So you’d slept in a little and then had a very hot shower and now here you were, in a pair of Christmas pyjamas with your hair tied back ready to get all the baby cuddles in the world.

Remus pushes open your bedroom door and you hear Carys’ hands slapping the wood floor before you see her.

“She’s getting so quick,” Remus coos as she comes into view, a wide smile on her face as you peek down at her.

“So quick, you’re like a shot of lightning Carys.”

You scoop her up and she giggles when you dump her on the bed and cover her face in kisses. Remus kisses the side of your head as he joins you both on the bed.

“What should we do today Carys?” You ask her, more than happy to listen to her gurgling in response.

“Mhm, we could go to the park. Maybe even to the Christmas market,” Remus nods along to her gurgling, her smile wide as he speaks.

Carys places a gummy, spit-filled kisses to your cheek before leaning over for Remus to collect her like a rag doll.

You laugh at her, “Daddy’s girl through and through huh, Carys?”

You can’t even be mad at her, he always looks especially cuddly in the morning. His sandy hair is a lot longer now, enough to tuck behind his ears a little and he’s got the softest smile ever on his face to accompany it.

Remus presses a kiss to your lips as you lay beside them, Carys smiling when you kiss her cheek right after.

“Hi baby,” he strokes her cheeks, she’s akin to a bunny in that way. All chubby cheeks that have two rogue dimples in them when she smiles big enough.

“Do you really want to go to the Christmas markets? We can check and see if they have any baubles for the tree and get you a little outfit to go to Uncle James’ Christmas party.”

She babbles something fierce and happy, her small hands reaching for Remus’ face trying to stroke his cheeks the way he does to her, but she hasn’t got the dexterity yet.

“Then we’ll go, but we’ve got to get breakfast sorted first, little miss.” he rubs his nose against her cheek and then peppers kisses all over her face making her giggle.

It’s the cutest thing ever.

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Unwanted Wingman | LN4

⋆☃︎⛸️✧˖°❅🕯️༘⋆𐙚 summary ━━━━━━━ At a Christmas party, Y/N is encouraged to confess her feelings to Ed, but Lando interrupts, admitting that he likes her.

⋆☃︎⛸️✧˖°❅🕯️༘⋆𐙚 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⋆☃︎⛸️✧˖°❅🕯️༘⋆𐙚 word count ━━━━━━━ 2.1k

London’s winter air carried the crisp chill of December, painting the streets with a blend of frosty mist and holiday cheer. Fairy lights twinkled from shop windows. Inside a warm and festively decorated flat in South Kensington, Y/N found herself amid the buzz of a Christmas party that swayed between cozy and chaotic. She had agreed to come last minute, swayed by the promise of mulled wine and a chance to see old friends.

The host, Max Fewtrell, had outdone himself. The room was decked out with garlands, a towering Christmas tree glittering with baubles, and enough food and drinks to cater a small army. It was packed with familiar faces, some she hadn't seen in years, and others who still graced her day-to-day life.

One of those faces was Lando Norris.

Lando, the golden boy of Formula 1, had a charisma that was impossible to ignore. He was dressed casually yet effortlessly stylish, his laughter echoing through the room as he animatedly told a story to a group of friends. Though he lived in Monaco now, his visits to the UK were frequent, as his close-knit circle and family remained rooted here.

Y/N and Lando weren’t strangers. In fact, they’d been part of the same extended friend group for years. He was the type to make everyone feel at ease, his boyish charm and wit drawing people to him like moths to a flame. They were friendly, but not close—at least, not in the way where they’d share secrets or seek each other out in a crowded room. Still, there was an undeniable comfort in his presence, like he was a part of the furniture in the tapestry of her life.

At that moment, though, Y/N wasn’t thinking about Lando. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, a glass of mulled wine in hand, talking to her best friend, Pietra.

“Okay, you have to tell him tonight,” Pietra whispered, her tone conspiratorial.

“Tell who what?” Y/N asked, feigning innocence but failing miserably.

Pietra rolled her eyes. “You know who. Ed. You’ve been crushing on him for months. You can’t keep staring at him from across the room like a lovesick teenager.”

Y/N groaned, her eyes darting to where Jamie stood near the Christmas tree, laughing at something another friend said. He looked annoyingly good in his navy jumper, the kind of effortlessly handsome that made her palms sweat.

“I can’t just tell him,” Y/N protested. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if he does, and then it gets weird?”

Pietra gave her a pointed look. “You’re overthinking it. Just talk to him. You’re both adults. It’s not that deep.”

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Lando had walked into the kitchen just in time to catch the tail end of their conversation. He wasn’t eavesdropping—at least, not intentionally—but the mention of Ed’s name caught his attention.

Ed? Y/N liked Ed?

Lando frowned, a pang of annoyance flashing through him. It wasn’t like he had a reason to feel that way. He and Y/N weren’t a thing. They weren’t even close friends. But the thought of her liking someone else, someone as boringly predictable as Ed, didn’t sit well with him.

Without thinking, Lando decided to intervene.

He sauntered up to the counter, his smile wide and mischievous. “What are we gossiping about, ladies?”

Y/N jumped slightly, her cheeks flushing. “Nothing. Just... stuff.”

“Stuff?” Lando teased, raising an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously vague.”

Pietra smirked, catching on to Lando’s nosiness. “Y/N was just saying she has a crush on someone at the party.”

“Pietra!” Y/N hissed, her face heating up.

Lando’s smile faltered for a split second before he quickly recovered. “A crush, huh? Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’m an expert in these matters.”

“An expert in what? Meddling?” Y/N shot back, trying to deflect.

“Helping,” Lando corrected, his grin returning. “And lucky for you, I happen to be an excellent wingman.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, skeptical. “I don’t need a wingman.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Lando said smoothly. “But imagine how much faster things could move along with my help.”

Before Y/N could protest further, Lando had already decided he was going to wingman her—whether she wanted him to or not.

Lando’s first attempt at “helping” came not long after. Ed had moved to the makeshift bar in the corner of the living room, and Y/N had finally gathered enough courage to approach him. She was halfway across the room when Lando intercepted her path.

“Hey, Y/N!” he said, stepping directly in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to sidestep him.

“Just checking in,” he said innocently. “You looked like you were on a mission.”

“I was,” she replied, trying not to sound annoyed. “I was going to talk to Ed.”

Lando’s eyes twinkled with mock concern. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, he’s... well, he’s kind of boring, isn’t he?”

Y/N blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about? Ed’s not boring.”

“I don’t know,” Lando said, shrugging. “He just doesn’t seem like your type.”

“And what exactly is my type?” she challenged, crossing her arms.

Lando opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, seemingly at a loss. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “But it’s definitely not him.”

Y/N sighed, brushing past him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Lando’s next attempt was less direct but no less effective. Y/N had finally managed to corner Ed near the dessert table, and they were chatting amiably about holiday plans when Lando swooped in.

“Ed!” Lando exclaimed, clapping him on the back. “How’s it going, mate?”

Ed smiled, though he looked slightly confused by Lando’s sudden enthusiasm. “Good, thanks. You?”

“Oh, you know, living the dream,” Lando said breezily. “Hey, did you know Y/N here is absolutely terrified of eggnog? Like, she won’t even go near it.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s not—”

“Is that true?” Jamie asked, amused.

“No!” Y/N said firmly, shooting Lando a glare. “He’s making that up.”

“Am I?” Lando said, feigning innocence. “Remember that time at Pietra’s party last year? You practically bolted when someone brought out a pitcher of eggnog.”

“That didn’t happen!” Y/N snapped, her cheeks burning.

Ed chuckled, clearly entertained by the exchange. “Well, I’ll make sure to keep any eggnog far away from you, just in case.''

Y/N groaned inwardly as Lando grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

By the end of the night, Y/N was frustrated beyond belief. Every time she’d tried to make progress with Ed, Lando had been there, either distracting her or derailing the conversation. It wasn’t until she caught him smirking after yet another failed attempt that it clicked.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” she said, cornering him in the hallway.

Lando looked at her, feigning confusion. “Doing what?”

“Sabotaging me,” she accused. “Every time I try to talk to Ed, you show up and ruin it.”

He held her gaze for a moment, his playful demeanor fading slightly. “Maybe I am,” he admitted finally.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you with him,” Lando said simply.

The admission hung in the air between them, heavy and unexpected.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, her voice quieter now.

Lando hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Because I don’t think he deserves you,” he said finally. “And maybe because I don’t want you with anyone else.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing she’d expected.

“That’s completely unfair,” she said softly, though her tone lacked conviction.

“Maybe,” Lando said, stepping closer. “But I mean it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the noise of the party fading into the background. Then, before she could overthink it, Y/N closed the distance between them, her lips brushing against his.

Lando froze, then quickly recovered, kissing her back with a mixture of surprise and relief.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N looked up at him, her cheeks flushed. “You’re still the worst wingman ever.”

Lando grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Maybe, but I’m the best at this.”

And for once, Y/N couldn’t argue with him.

The hallway suddenly felt quieter than it should have, given the lively party still going on in the next room. Lando leaned against the wall, his grin softening into something more thoughtful as he looked at Y/N. She crossed her arms, both as a way to steady herself and to process what had just happened.

“So, what happens now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tilted his head, his expression turning serious. “That depends. Are you going to keep pretending you like Ed, or are we going to talk about what’s actually going on here?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks still warm. “First of all, I wasn’t pretending to like Ed. He’s genuinely nice, and—”

“And completely not your type,” Lando interrupted, his smirk returning.

“Oh, so you’re the expert on my type now?” she shot back.

“Obviously,” he said, leaning a little closer. “Your type is witty, charming, and—oh—probably a racing driver who lives in Monaco.”

She scoffed, though she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist, apparently,” he quipped, gesturing between them.

“Lando...” Her tone shifted, her expression sobering. “Are you serious about what you said earlier? About not wanting me with anyone else?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if considering how much of himself he was willing to put out there. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded. “Yeah, I am. I didn’t realize it until tonight, but the thought of you with someone else—it just... didn’t feel right.”

Her heart skipped a beat, his honesty catching her off guard. “You’re not just saying that because of some weird possessive thing, are you? Because I’m not interested in being anyone’s... I don’t know, territory or whatever.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. I just... I’ve liked you for a while, I think. I didn’t realize it until I thought I might lose my chance.”

Y/N studied him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. She found none. Instead, she saw the same boyish charm she’d always known, but now layered with a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before.

“And what exactly are you proposing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m proposing,” he said, stepping closer, “that you give me a chance to prove I’m worth more than just being the worst wingman ever.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his earnestness, her heart softening despite her best efforts to remain skeptical. “You know, for someone who lives in Monaco, you’re making this pretty inconvenient for me.”

“Good thing I’m in the UK a lot, then,” he replied smoothly.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “That’s just typical of you,” she said with a playful eye roll.

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, his voice low.

“Debatable,” she countered, though the smile on her face gave her away.

“So, is that a yes?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

She pretended to think about it, drawing out the silence just long enough to make him sweat. Finally, she nodded. “It’s a yes. But if you sabotage me like that again, I’m out.”

Lando grinned, looking like he’d just won pole position. “Deal. No more sabotaging. Unless it’s for a really good reason.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but let him pull her into another kiss, the noise of the party melting away once more.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to a flurry of texts from Pietra.

Pietra: “OMG, what happened with Ed?? Did you tell him?!”

Pietra: “Wait, I saw you talking to Lando later. What was that about?”

Pietra: “Y/N, ANSWER ME. I NEED DETAILS.”

Y/N groaned, pulling the duvet over her head. The events of the previous night came rushing back, and she felt equal parts exhilarated and nervous.

Before she could respond to Pietra, her phone buzzed with another notification. This time, it was from Lando.

Lando: “Morning :) Just checking if you’re still cool with me being the worst wingman ever. Also, breakfast? My treat.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she typed back a quick reply.

Y/N: “You’re still the worst, but fine. Breakfast sounds good.”

Moments later, another message popped up.

Lando: “Great. Pick you up in an hour. Wear something warm. And no eggnog jokes, I promise.”

Shaking her head, Y/N climbed out of bed, a small smile playing on her lips. As much as she hadn’t seen it coming, there was something about Lando—something about them—that just felt... right.

For the first time in a long while, she felt excited about what might come next. And maybe, just maybe, being wing manned by the worst wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[ur-local-wizard]

A Lucky Christmas

A seemingly innocent and thoughtful gift turns out to have an unexpected surprise.

heheh more fluff! (Can you tell its my fav to write?), love triangle, lots of impulsivity, slight(?) drugging, mattheo and theo being absolutely whipped, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, theo nott x fem!reder

w/c: 1k

masterlist

a/n: so sorry this took forever to post! got sick and barely got time to sleep between puking sessions, much less write.... ANYWAY, shout out to @leona-hawthorne for proof reading for me!

Mattheo didn’t know how he got himself into this situation. He knew he and Y/n were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. He stayed at school simply to avoid his father, but she refused to give her reason why she decided to stay. The whole thing was weird, especially because she usually looked forward to going home and spending time with her family.��

A few days into break, Y/n wanted to help the house elves decorate the Great Hall, and somehow she and her irresistible smile got him to come with her. So imagine his surprise when Theo, of all people, walks into the hall, ready to help her out too. Mattheo didn’t even know that the Italian was staying as well. Did she ask him to help too?

This girl just has the two of them wrapped around her little finger, and she’s so oblivious to that fact that it’s almost infuriating. 

So now, the three are scurrying around the huge room, hanging tinsel and putting ornaments on the huge tree. Y/n is occupied with draping garland made of popcorn and cranberries across the evergreen’s branches, with the help of some house elves. Mattheo and Theo got stuck with the job of sorting through old ornaments, with the instructions to throw away any broken baubles they might find. However, a wooden one caught Mattheo’s eye. It was engraved with y/n’s favorite flower, and it was just the perfect gift to give to the girl. 

“Psst, Theo,��� the brunette hissed, looking around to make sure no one else was within ear shot. Theo turned around, an eyebrow raised. He hummed inquisitively. “You think we can give this to Y/n? She would like this, right?” Mattheo asked, passing the trinket. “You’re better at all the sentimental stuff than me.”

Theo inspected the ornament, nodding. “I think she would. Good find.” He nudged the brunette’s shoulder before waving a house elf over. 

The elf assured the two boys that they never use the ornament anyways, and so Theo shoved it in his pocket. “I’ll go put this in our dorm. We’re almost done here anyway, so you guys shouldn’t miss me much. If Y/n asks, just tell her that I’ll see her at dinner, yeah?” 

Mattheo noded, and the rest of the time spent decorating flew by. He ended up regretting his decision to help, solely because he didn’t get many chances to be with Y/n. He figured the elves must’ve loved torturing him.

By the time Mattheo got back to his dorm, Theo was pacing around. The Italian had the wooden trinket in his hand, holding it in a vice-like grip. 

“You good?” Mattheo asked him, to which Theo responded, “Yeah. Fine. Just jittery. Where's Y/n?”

The brunette gave him a questioning look, but responded nonetheless. “Don’t know for sure, but I would assume her dorm. She said she was tired when we left.” Theo nodded in response, and set the ornament he was holding down, quickly racing out of the shared space. He looked jittery and oddly excited, uncharacteristic of the Italian. 

However, Mattheo decided to shrug it off. He picked up the trinket, turning it over in his hands to examine it. This compulsive curiosity began to morph into a full-blown exploration, his mind focused on the girl this gift was meant for. Suddenly, an abrupt wave of confidence washed over him, making him feel unusually warm and tingly. 

He set the bauble down, eyes flitting toward the door. Maybe he would go and talk to Y/n too, just to have a little chat. Or better yet, he could admit how he feels. He’s had a thing for her for forever, his mind never failing to wander to more romantic places when in her presence. 

His feet moved on his own, carrying him through the castle and to her dorm; and before he knew it, his fist was knocking on her door. It swung open, and he was greeted by a fond smile spreading on her lips when she saw him. He stepped inside, and wasn’t surprised when he saw Theo standing in the room as well.

“Are you here for what I think you are?” Mattheo asked the other boy, to which Theo nodded. “Mhm. I just told her I love her.” 

The other boy’s bluntness surprised Mattheo a bit, since indelicate and direct comments were usually the brunette’s forte. It must just be an odd day. 

“Well,” Mattheo gently took Y/n’s hand, getting her attention, “I feel the same way about you that Theo does. I love you, darling. You’ve been such a bright light in my life.”

Her eyes went wide with surprise, and she went still. Mouth floundering a bit, the girl struggled to form a response. The boys noticed and chuckled, Theo reassuring her. “I'm not sure about Mattheo, but I know I’m not going to make you choose. I just want a chance.” 

Mattheo nodded in agreement. “God no, I wouldn’t dream of putting you through that stress.” Y/n relaxed a bit at that comment, but she was still a bit weary, due to their odd and overly impulsive behavior. 

“You guys are always a bit reckless, Mattheo especially.” She gives him a little nudge. “But what’s up with you two?” 

They both shrug. “Dunno. Just got you this present, which made me think about you a ton. I guess thinking about you so much made me want to tell you?” Theo guesses. “I felt the same way. Hey- did you get that weird rush when you held it too?” Mattheo queried, now invested. 

“Weird rush? What, was it laced with liquid luck?” Y/n asks with a laugh, albeit a slightly apprehensive one. Her comment earned shocked looks from the boys, quickly followed by laughter. 

“That’s it! I didn’t think much of the weird giddiness, though I should have,” Theo said between laughs.

“Nor of the sudden rush of confidence,” Mattheo agrees, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “We should get her a new gift, huh?” 

Theo nodded in agreement, and the group laughed about it for a while. The boys certainly didn’t hear the end of their accidental potion mishap for quite some time, Y/n teasing them about it relentlessly.

Thank you all for your patience while I've been sick! I'm not too happy with this, but I needed to get it out lollll <3

tag list: @ilovejamespottersomuch @mattyriddlesbitch @valenftcrush @sturniolover13 @paankhaleyaaar @thereeallink

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

[mochie85]

Laced Intentions

One-Shots Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: You try to seduce your new lover with lingerie that he can't resist. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 3.2K Warnings: SoftDom!Loki, jealous Loki, hand works, slight degradation, rough seggs, lots of thrusting, fluff, happy ending (as always). A/N: Thor, Steve, and Bucky make a brief appearance. This fic was inspired by a TikTok I saw by Delacruz Collections. Check out their store. Or their TikTok. GIF of the actual set after fic. Dividers: @firefly-graphics

You needed to hurry. Loki had texted you saying he would be home soon, and you had to finish getting all the little straps tightened and make sure that everything was secured. Tonight was going to be the night.

You and Loki had just started this relationship and have yet to do anything more than heavy petting and heated make-out sessions. You knew it was because he was cautious around you. He was scared that he didn’t know his own strength. He could get lost in the moment and unknowingly hurt you.

You told him that it was ok. You trusted him. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you purposely. Even so, you wouldn’t mind it being a little rough. Especially if he was the one commanding you and your body. But he wouldn’t relent.

You’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way his eyes devour every inch of your body. Licking his lips and rubbing his neck. You knew he ached for you. Just as much as you craved him.

He said so himself one night, as you straddled his lean frame and pushed him down on your bed. You had his hard dick in your hand, stroking him up and down, as you rubbed it against your needy clit. The pulsing veins on his hard cock kissing your wet lips, tantalizing your release. “…f-fuck…don’t stop, pet,” he panted. His eyes rolled back as his head sunk further into the pillow.  

“Baby…I need you inside me,” you whimpered as you continued to stroke him closer and closer to his release.

“Oh, gods! I want nothing more than to be inside you,” he said, his eyes closed from the exquisite torture you were giving him. He didn’t see you line yourself up over him. His leaking tip, red from need, eagerly crying to be inside you.

But Loki was quick. In an instant, he pinned you down on the bed before you could sink yourself onto his throbbing length. Both of your hands were suspended above your head in one of his strong grips. He continued to grind himself against you, making you cry out his name.

“Ah, ah, ah. Naughty little thing. I told you we can’t.”

“But you said-” he kissed you fiercely, making you forget the rest of your words as he expertly made you cum from his grinding alone.

You sighed at the memory.  Loki is such a passionate lover hiding underneath false notions of your fragility. You rolled your eyes at your many attempts to seduce him and convince him that you are not as fragile as he thinks you are. You can take whatever he wants to give you. And God did you wish he would give it all to you!

So when you first saw this lingerie masterpiece of sex and eroticism, you were left speechless. You clenched your thighs just imagining what Loki would do to you when he saw you in it. Green satin straps and ribbons were constructed and held together by gold hooks and clasps. The garter and cuffs were attached by a dainty gold chain, leading back to a central choker on your neck. Each strand was decorated with small baubles of crystal that sparkled under the light, connecting all the pieces to you. You only hoped that the links would survive his rough hands. It was rather pretty and you’d hate to see it broken.

You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror before you heard the latch of the front door. He was finally home! You put on your silk robe, leaving it untied so he can see a peek of what was underneath, and you walked out of your bedroom.

The clack of your heels echoed in the hallway, announcing your arrival. The first person you spotted was Loki. His eyes met yours and then traveled down your body in the most ravenous way possible. The beer he was about to put against his lips, forgotten. As were the words in his mouth. You stood at the threshold, surprised to see that Loki wasn’t alone. It was only now you registered the other voices and laughter you heard only seconds too late.

The room went quiet as you noted the other people in the kitchen. Steve, Bucky, and Thor, each with their own pizza box in front of them, had gone quiet. Watching you in shock. You were thankful you had put on your robe, at least, even though it was still open. Everyone could see what you were wearing underneath.

Oh fuck, you thought. Well, there’s no point hiding now. Smiling with fake bravado, you greeted Loki home. “Welcome home, handsome,” you said giving Loki a chaste kiss on his lips. “I didn’t know we were having company over. I’ll go change.” You smiled and turned to walk away.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Gentlemen,” you smiled and nodded.

“Bye Y/N.” The trio said in unison as you walked back into the bedroom to change.

Brief silence overtook the room as the men’s eyes darted between a stunned Loki and where you escaped to. “Listen, if you don’t go in there right now…” Steve pointed to your bedroom. “I will personally take Bucky’s arm off and beat you with it!” Steve threatened.

“Or, you know…I could go in there.” Bucky offered, earning a snarl from Loki’s lips.

“Leave! Now!” Loki ordered.

“Right. See ya tomorrow,” Steve said with a casual salute.

“Pfft! Knowing my brother, he will most likely take all night, and all day tomorrow too.” Thor laughed as he gathered his pizza box and a six-pack of beer.

Bucky just laughed, punching Loki in the shoulder. “Let’s go to Sam’s. That guy doesn’t have a sex life.” He said to the others.

Loki stood there, still trying to process what he saw, as each man clapped his shoulder in parting. The creak and latch of the front door closing brought Loki back to his present mind.

He stalked down the hallway, following the subtle hint of your perfume. He inhaled deeply, your scent driving him mad.

The first thing he saw when he opened the bedroom door was your robe, discarded on the bed. He followed your gentle humming into the closet where you stood looking through your sundresses. Loki quietly walked in, blocking your escape. He noted your skin, radiant and perfect, complimenting the shiny satin of the straps holding you together. Loki’s eyes followed the gold chain that dripped from your neck down to the garters and matching cuffs they hooked onto.

“That was quite a show parading into the room like that,” he said in your ear. His whispered breath tickled you, making you shiver.

“I didn’t know we would have company. Let me just pick a dress and I’ll join you shortly.”

“Will you continue to wear this underneath?” he teased, knowing full well that everyone had already left. His breath fanned the side of your face. His fingers ghosted over the ribbons, tracing them down your hips.

You craved his touch, patiently waiting for him to connect to your body. “Touch me, please” you prayed.

“Oh, and why should I give in to your requests, kitten? You’ve been awfully naughty.” His hands continued to eclipse your body. You could feel the heat from his palms traveling up and down, tracing the many straps and where they lead to. You closed your eyes at the sensation. The anticipation. Loki was a master at building you up.

“I…I didn’t know…this was only meant for you,” you whined.

“I think you did know,” Loki scoffed. “I think you wanted to make me jealous.” His voice got deeper. More dangerous. “So jealous that I would have to claim you. Is that what you want, darling? For me to claim you in front of the others? So desperate to have my cock inside you that you would parade yourself in this seductive little number so that I might take action. You should’ve seen the way Barnes was looking at you.”

“Loki, I-”

“Hands up.” He commanded and you obeyed quickly, holding on to the bar that hung all your clothes. Loki kicked your heels apart, spreading you open, and making you bend at the waist. He placed himself behind you.  His palm spanked you on your right side making you scream out and moan. It didn’t hurt. It never hurt with Loki.

“You were so brazen. Only I get to see you like this. Do you understand?” he charged as you heard the buckle of his belt loosen, the zipper of his pants being opened. He grabbed your hair gently and pulled you back to him.

“I was only trying to surprise you. I didn’t know they would be here!” you moaned as you fought hard not to bite your lip. His fingers finally caress the pulse point of your neck, trailing down to the valley of your breast. His hands got caught in the chains and you can hear the soft clink of them breaking in his grasp.

He cupped your sex, making you mewl to his touch. “This is mine, and mine alone!”

“Yours…” you sighed.

“Again!” he said dipping his agile fingers inside you.

“Yours…sir,” you said barely above a whisper. Loki closed his eyes, savoring your submission.

“Oh, you are sinful!” Loki said, his resolve breaking. “I try to be good. I try to protect you from me. But you seem hell-bent on breaking me don’t you, kitten?” His lips crashed into yours. He sucked on your lower lip as his fingers continued to work your clit.

You pushed back against him, feeling his hard erection against your back. “Please…Loki…sir.”

Loki grunted in defeat. He took a deep breath and looked straight into your eyes.  “If we do this, kitten, I can’t promise that I’ll be gentle. I’m scared I won’t be able to stop once I have you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can never hurt me, Loki.” You tried to shine your love through, showcasing how much trust you had for him.

He turned you to face him, capturing your lips in a strong but zealous kiss. He spoke in between teeth and tongue, your breath mingling with his, “If it gets too much, tell me.”

“It won’t be too much,” you tried to reassure him.

“You will tell me!” he growled, backing you out of the closet and into your bedroom.

“I’ll tell you. I promise,” you assured, looking deep into his ocean eyes.

“Good!” With that one word, he picked you up by your upper things and carried you towards the bed. You wrapped your legs around his waist as his fingers toyed with the garters gripping your thighs.

“This is beautiful, kitten,” he breathed. His cock struggling in between your pressed bodies. His teeth found purchase on the skin of your shoulder. “All wrapped up for me like a little present.” He threw you, almost carelessly, on the bed. You preened at how easily he was able to manhandle you. How effortlessly he was able to manipulate your body. You watched him take his shirt off, exposing the hard planes of his abs. The definition of his lean muscle guiding your eyes down to his exposed cock.

You felt the bed dip when he knelt in front of you. He pumped himself, once. Twice, before he teased your entrance with his stiff girth. “Loki, please. Don’t tease me.”

“Like the way you teased me with this?” he pinched the gusset of your thong and let it go, snapping the fabric on your overstimulated folds. It stung with painful pleasure as you cried out. He pushed the gusset to the side as he eased himself inside you. First, his massive tip, pulling it in and out. Teasing you relentlessly of what’s to come. Then, inch by inch, he sheathed himself inside you. Filling your walls.

Loki lost his sanity. To finally be inside you. Inside your warmth and your passion. To be surrounded by your scent and your moans, he couldn’t handle it and he was slowly going feral with each inch he fed your eager cunt. When he bottomed out, you cried as his pelvic bone rutted against your sensitive nub.

“You feel so good, pet. Better than I had ever imagined,” he said breathlessly as he started thrusting. His fingers curved around your supple thighs, bruising marks of purple and blue. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. Each gasp of air only fueled your desire for him even more. He felt so good.

So. Damn. Good.

With each stroke he would take his tip to your entrance, stretching you, and then push back inside. Loki filled you like no one has done before, and most likely never will.

“Awe, my poor darling-” thrust. “What’s the matter?” thrust. “Have I rendered you speechless?” thrust. “I thought this was what you wanted?” You nodded your head, whimpering like an untouched virgin.  He spread his thighs further apart on the bed, pushing your knees closer to your chest, to receive him deeper. He held your shoulders down, your body sinking into the silken mattress, keeping you immobile and unable to escape the onslaught of his hard cock.

“You’re going to be good for me, right kitten? You’re going to take all of me in.” He commanded, his voice barely above a whimper. Loki was going to lose it soon and he knew it. You felt so good around him. All it would take was a few more strong thrusts and he would scream out your name to the heavens.

With his new position over you, he started diving faster. More aggressive. He pushed himself further inside you. Down to his hilt, sheathing himself inside your heated folds. “Loki!” you yelled out. You grabbed hold of his arms, your nails digging into his skin leaving half-moon marks. You squeezed his cock tighter, and you were rewarded with the deepest, most beautiful, feral sound coming from his lips.

“Ah- fuck! That’s it pet, squeeze me. Gods, you feel so good. I might just have to leave myself inside you.   -heh- Would you like that, kitten?” thrust. “Want to be my cock warmer?” thrust. “Keep me cozy all night?” thrust.

You simply nodded your head. You knew Loki asked you a question, but you couldn’t make sense of anything right now besides the feel of his hard length stretching you open, over and over again.

“I asked you a question, darling,” he said grabbing your chin and squeezing your lips to pout. “I made you into a little cock-slut haven’t I?” thrust. “Can’t seem to think at all can you?” thrust.

“…Loki…” you called out with each slam of his hips.

“That’s all right. As long as it’s my name you’re calling out. My name that you’re begging for.” Loki looked down at you. Your skin was aglow from the beads of sweat and pleasure. Your hair was a crown above you tangled in a mess. And your lips had captured one of his fingers still holding onto your chin, sucking it down to the webbing of his hand.

With a pop, he took his finger out of your mouth and drew it down your neck, leaving a cold trail on your heated skin. “I’ll have use of those talents later, my dear.” Loki laid his weight on top of you, caging your head in between his arms. His sweet lips sucked hard on your salted skin leaving you crying out for more. Your hands were left clawing his back as he grunted and moaned into your ear.

“I…I…can’t…Loki…youfeel…m’soclose…” you were incoherent. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t talk. The only thing on your mind was his name. “…Loki…”

“Cum for me, kitten. Cum with me,” he growled in your ear. Your whole body tightened up. You dug your nails deep into his back and screamed your release as he slammed himself down on you hard. He grunted his pleasure in your ear, releasing a savage growl that shook your body beneath him. The euphoric wave wouldn’t stop. Loki remained still, but you could feel him throbbing inside you, coating your walls, sending you spiraling into delirious bliss.

He remained on top of you, unable and unwilling to move away from your exquisite sex. The first thing you felt after coming down from your high was Loki’s soft lips on your neck. You turned and captured them with your own, pulling his weight further down onto you.

“Are you all right, darling.” He whispered tentatively. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“Wh-what do you mean? I feel so good, baby. You feel so good!” you said smiling.

“Was I too rough? I must’ve been. I can see my marks all over your neck.” Loki lifted himself off you and he found your lingerie shredded and clawed to pieces around your sheets. “Oh, darling. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I was worried this would happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Loki started rambling.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You tried to quiet him down. “Loki, look at me! I’m not hurt. I feel wonderful.” You held his worried face in your hands and soothed his hair out of place. “Did you enjoy it?” you asked, and he nodded his head. He laid next to you, spooning you.

“Every second. Every thrust,” he said, burying his nose in your hair. “I just want to stay wrapped in your warmth forever. I don’t know why we waited so long.” You laughed at his admission. You lay there in his embrace, replaying the sinful moment in your head. Smiles on both your faces as you stole kisses from each other.

Until you remembered something. “Come on. The guys are probably sick of waiting for us,” you said trying to get out of bed.

“They left a while ago,” he finally confessed. Loki aggressively pulled you back onto the bed and into his arms. “I told them to leave as soon as you walked back in here to change,” he declared, straddling over you, pinning you back down on the bed.

“I’m afraid you’ve unleashed something in me, dear,” he said as he took one of your discarded ribbons and tied both your hands up with it. “Now, I did say that I was going to see to that mouth of yours, didn’t I?”

“Does Loki know you have a key to his apartment?” Bucky asked Thor.

“Of course he does. He’s my brother. He’s the one that gave me this key.” Thor said trying to act nonchalant.

“Come on guys. Grab the beer, and let’s go. I don’t want to miss the game.” Steve tried to hurry them. Thor opened the doors and all three men walked in looking for the forgotten twelve-pack that was left on the counter.

“Oh, Loki! Oh, fu-baby don’t stop. Don’t stop! Yes. Yes. YES!”

The three men paused hearing you scream from your bedroom. Steve blushed a strawberry red and walked right out the door.

“I just learned my lesson! Never come here uninvited.” Thor said shaking his head. He pocketed his key and followed Steve.

“Lucky bastard!” Bucky chuckled as he grabbed the beer and locked the door.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallows @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine

[lvnleah]

— first christmas together | leah williamson 🎄

find the twelve days of Christmas masterlist here!

Your apartment was far from perfect. The paint on the walls was uneven, evidence of your attempts to “save money” by doing it yourselves, and the living room was still half-empty, a mismatched collection of furniture scavenged from secondhand shops and Leah’s old apartment. But it was yours—and for the first time, it felt like home.

You’d spent the morning unpacking the last of the boxes, not out of any real sense of urgency, but because Leah had insisted you couldn’t decorate for Christmas until everything was in its place. She was still holding onto the illusion of order, even as you both knew it was a lost cause.

It was your and Leah’s first Christmas together in your own apartment. You’d been together for just over a year now and finally sold both of your apartments to move in together. The move-in day just happened to be two weeks before Christmas. 

By the time the tree arrived—a slightly too-tall one you’d bought from the lot down the road—it was already dark outside. Leah dragged it up the three flights of stairs with dramatic sighs and muttered complaints, though she refused to let you help. 

“You’ll scratch the walls,” she’d said as if you weren’t already living with a dozen scuffs from the move.

Now, the two of you were standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the tree like it might suddenly decorate itself. A single strand of fairy lights sat tangled in Leah’s hands, and the floor was littered with an odd collection of ornaments you’d hastily picked up from the bargain aisle.

“I told you we should’ve gotten a smaller tree,” she said, eyeing the way the top scraped against the low ceiling.

“And I told you I don’t do small Christmases,” you shot back, biting back a smile.

Leah rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She handed you the lights, stepping back to cross her arms over her chest as she watched you attempt to untangle them. “I’ll let you handle that since you’re so full of festive cheer.”

It took you the better part of an hour to get the lights on the tree. Leah was no help, of course, alternating between criticising your technique and distracting you with kisses whenever you got frustrated. By the time you were done, your arms were scratched from the branches, and Leah had somehow managed to sneak off to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine.

“Looks good,” she said when she returned, handing you a glass.

You raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t even looked at it.”

“I don’t need to. I trust you.” She wrapped her arm around your waist and placed a kiss on your cheek. 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you turned your attention to the box of ornaments. Most of them were cheap plastic, but a few stood out—family ones Leah had brought from her mum’s house. She picked up a delicate glass bauble, turning it over in her hands with a soft smile.

“This one’s one I made as a kid,” She laughed, holding the clay ornament in her hand. “It’s my handprint. I was like six, mum insisted I take it with me.”

“It’s cute,” you smiled, leaning into her side, “Maybe one day we’ll have a few more ones to join yours on the tree.”

She placed a kiss on your temple, “Can’t wait for that day.”

The two of you worked in comfortable silence, sipping wine and laughing whenever the tree swayed under the weight of too many decorations. By the time you were done, it was an eclectic masterpiece—half childhood nostalgia, half chaotic bargain-bin sparkle.

Leah stepped back, tilting her head as she admired your work. “Not bad,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“Not bad?” you repeated, feigning offence. “It’s perfect.”

She grinned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re right. It is.”

There was only one thing left to do—the star. Leah picked it up from the box, holding it up for you to see. It was homemade, a wonky creation of glitter and papier-mâché that must have been decades old.

“You made this, didn’t you?” you asked, unable to hide your amusement.

She nodded, her cheeks flushing faintly. “Year six art class. Mum’s kept it ever since.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, and you meant it.

Leah gave you a sceptical look but didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed the nearest chair and dragged it over to the tree. “Hold this steady,” she said, climbing up with the star in hand.

You stood behind her, your hands on the back of the chair as she carefully balanced on her tiptoes to place the star at the top of the tree. It leaned slightly to the left, but Leah didn’t seem to care.

“There,” she said, stepping down and turning to face you. “Now it’s perfect.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the room bathed in the soft glow of the fairy lights. Leah slipped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer as she rested her head against your shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, pretty girl,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Merry Christmas, Le.”

It wasn’t the most extravagant holiday you’d ever had—no fancy parties, no perfectly coordinated decorations. But as you stood there together, the scent of pine filling the air and the warmth of Leah’s embrace grounding you, you realised you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. This was your Christmas, and it was everything you needed.

[baublekute]

Upcoming poses for male big/fem @theviridianbunny! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[babydollmarauders]

TINSEL TIES — NICO HISCHIER

nico hischier x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which Nico finds a fun way to wait for the fire to die down

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, edging, light bondage, dominant Nico, praise, degradation, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), nipple play, fingering, p in v (unprotected). (3.9k words)

notes: welcome to day 1 of the 12 days of kinkmas! where i wrote most of these smuts in...not at all at christmas time! i’m so excited to share these holiday themed smuts with you all and i hope you enjoy!

an orange glow flickers over the living room, the soft tune of christmas music floating throughout the open space of the apartment.

my boyfriend and i stand in front of the christmas tree, meticulously draping ornaments from the prickly branches.

although it’s much too laborious to get a real tree amongst Nico’s schedule, he did agree to buy a fake one for the holidays. a beautiful faux tree that’s been sitting bare and untouched in our living room for far too long. but amidst his chaotic schedule, Nico and i have finally made the time to decorate it together on his night off.

“Neeks,” i speak gently, afraid to break the peaceful ambiance we’ve created in our home. “do you think the guys would come to a holiday party?”

the question is just the result of a fleeting thought; asked as i hang a silver bauble upon the tree, but a serene smile spreads across my boyfriend’s full lips, a glance of adoration shot my way.

“if they didn’t, i’d have them bag skating until they physically can’t get off the ice.” his response causes a soft huff of laughter to fall from my lips, shaking my head in amusement. “why? are you thinking of having a party?”

“no,” i drag out, joking sarcasm dripping from my words, “i was just curious.”

Nico levels me with a single raised brow, an unamused expression painting his face.

“yes, Neeks, i’m thinking of hosting a christmas party.” i tell him, gently hanging the next ornament as i speak, “i just feel like i don’t do enough. i mean, i’m the captain’s girlfriend; isn’t it kinda my job to host and fundraise and stuff?

“like, should i be making the team snacks or something? i don’t know how this works. is it like a soccer mom situation? should i be making protein shakes and sending apple slices with you to practices?”

my anxious ramble fades off as Nico’s hands come to rest upon my hips, pulling me towards him with an entertained smile.

“you don’t have to do any of that, süsse.” his forehead dips down, forehead pressing against mine, “although i wouldn’t mind some apple slices for myself.

“but if you would like to throw a christmas party, then we can do that.”

my arms wrap around, locking over the back of his neck and pulling him down until his lips meet mine. the kiss is sweet; soft and loving, as well as tasting faintly of store bought lofthouse cookies. when i pull back, his lips chase mine, eagerly trying not to let the moment fizzle, but i turn my eyes towards the tree, letting him lips land upon my cheek instead.

“i think it’s done.” i whisper, ignoring his aggravated groan at my rejection.

“we still have two more bags of ‘necessary’ decorations.” he reminds me, pointing over towards the armchair where a couple reusable grocery bags sit filled with various items that i had assured him we needed.

“okay, so i may have overbought.” my shoulders shrug lazily, my eyes rolling.

“you?” Nico questions sarcastically, gazing back down at me with an appalled look. “i bought them all. you just threw them in the cart.”

“and i obviously took my job very seriously, now we have extras for next year, if we decide to switch it up.”

my boyfriend untangles from my grasp, ducking under my arms to walk over to the bags of decor. he sticks his hand in, fishing out an unopened string of tinsel garland.

“what would we even use this for?” he huffs, glaring down at the sparkly red material in his hands.

“to put on the tree, obviously!”

Nico looks at me with a blank expression, his shoulders slumping as his eyes flicker from me to the tree and back.

“obviously.” his accent is thick and monotonous, obviously not charmed by my response. “but we didn’t use it at all.”

“well no, but we could find other uses for it!” i cheer, stalking over to try and pluck the tinsel from his grasp, but his grip on the package tightens. “like, maybe we could tie it somewhere in the apartment.”

his head snaps up from looking at the sparkly garland, eyes lighting up as he stares at me. “i think i have an idea.”

“yeah? what is it?” he throws the package on the coffee table, assuring me that we’ll use it later, before his eyes flit to the fireplace.

our fire is no longer what it once was when we started it around two hours ago. not yet dwindling but no longer blazing high and providing copious amount of heat.

“how long until the fire dies out?” i ask him, a small yawn pushing out of me. “maybe starting it so late wasn’t a good idea, i’m getting a bit tired; but we can’t leave it unattended.”

“if you’re that tired, i could watch it while you go to sleep.”

while i appreciate his kind sentiment, i shake my head, rather taking a seat on the couch instead.

“i don’t wanna sleep without you. besides, i can stay up. i’m not too tired.”

Nico sits beside me, pulling my thighs over his lap in one swift movement. one of his arms wraps around my waist, the other resting over my legs, his hand grasping at half my ass.

i lean forward, my chest pressing against his, and my neck cranes up, eyes gazing into his.

“kiss me.” i whisper, his head dipping down and his lips brushing lightly across mine.

“did you just tell me to kiss you?” he chuckles, pulling me forward to sit entirely in his lap.

“i did.” i confirm.

Nico leans forward, an arm wrapped around my waist to hold me to him as he grabs the package of tinsel from the coffee table.

as he leans back, he spins me around on his lap, my back towards his chest. i can hear the crinkle of plastic, furrowing my brows in confusion.

“what are you doing?” i laugh, attempting to peek over my shoulder.

“i told you i had an idea.”

“mhm,” i hum, “and what is it?”

“safe word?” my brows pull together again at his dismissal of my question.

“stoppen.” i recite the safe word, a german translation of ‘stop’ that he had taught me early in our relationship.

“good girl.”

his words spark a heat within me, blood rushing to my cheeks at his praise.

my arms are pulled behind my back, wrists held together with one of his own, before i feel the scratchy sensation of the tinsel being wrapped around them.

“Neeks,” my breathing picks up, chest rising and falling in quick succession as i feel him tie a knot in the garland.

i wiggle my hands, making sure the restraint isn’t too tight, and when i don’t complain, Nico pushes me up to stand on my feet. his hands spin my hips, my feet shuffling as i turn to face him.

“so pretty, süsse.” i can feel my face redden under his gaze, his gentle compliment causing fire to spread under my skin.

“thank you, Neeks.” my words are murmured softly, spoken as his hands drag along my sides.

his touch slips below my tank top, calloused fingertips smoothing along my heated skin and drawing goosebumps to the top of my flesh. a shaky breath passes my lips, his fingers dragging down until he reaches the waistband of my corduroy skirt.

“we don’t need this.” he tsk’s, popping the plastic button through the hole and letting the skirt pool to the floor around my feet.

cold air hits my now bare skin, my panties dampening as Nico’s hands rub along the sides of my thighs. he pulls me forward until i’m straddling a single leg, my panty covered core sitting on his muscular, jean clad thigh.

my lips part, eyes falling hooded as his hands grip my hips, guiding them back and forth on top of him.

“Nico,” i shudder, letting out a yelp as he smacks a hand against my ass.

“is that what you call me?” he gruffs, dark, lust filled eyes boring into mine.

his hands move my hips faster, his thigh tensing underneath me.

“Captain.” i whimper, my head tipping back as he bounces his leg lightly. a wet patch grows on the fabric of his jeans making him chuckle as i get wetter, my clit grinding down against him.

“soaking my leg like a whore.” he shakes his head as though he disapproves, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “what am i gonna do with you?”

blood rushes through my ears, drowning out the christmas music as i stare at my lover. his eyes are dark, pupils blown and his gaze stern; his thick, prominent eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches me grind along his leg.

the well groomed stubble that accentuates his face scruffs against my cheek as he leans forward, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss.

i moan into his lips, his tongue slipping through and pushing against mine as his hands hasten the pace of my hips.

my strangled gasp breaks our kiss, the fabric of my panties rubbing against my clit making climax approach faster.

“Cap, i’m gonna-” a knot tangles in my stomach, pressure building as my legs begin to shake and my eyes roll back into my head.

my hips are forcibly stopped, my fast approaching orgasm quickly diminishing as Nico holds my hips still. a whine falls from my lips, my eyes flying open to gauge him as pleads are babbled off my tongue.

“please, no, why?” i cry, the corner of my boyfriend’s lips quirking up in a smirk.

“let’s test your memory,” he starts, eyes glaring into mine, “last week, do you remember what you did?”

i rack my brain, filing through everything i did last week before i finally settle on what he’s referencing. sunday, right before his game against the Oilers, i sent him a video i had taken that morning; my fingers buried deep in my pussy, my breath heavy and whimpering as i moaned his name.

we’ve yet to have the chance for an intimate moment since he got back on monday, between his practices, my work schedule, and his game last night, but i had hoped he had forgotten about his promise to punish me for my actions.

“no, Nico, please.” i whine, my hands pulling at the restraints. his hands slip up, sliding over my breasts and letting his thumbs circle my stiffened nipples.

“beg all you want, süsse, i stand by my promises.” his voice is stern and unwavering, his fingers hooking over the top of my tank top.

he yanks the fabric down, my breasts spilling over until the shirt is so far down that it’s held underneath completely underneath them.

“you don’t get to cum until that fire dies down.” my head snaps over to survey the fire, its flame slowly fizzling out. i’d estimate at least another forty-five minutes or so until it’s done for good.

my breath catches in my throat as he takes me by surprise, his lips attaching to my right nipple as his left hand rolls the other between his fingers.

a high pitched moan mingles with the sound of ‘White Christmas’, my arms struggling against the tinsel ties, yearning to bury my fingers into his hair. my spine arches, pushing my breasts further into his face.

i can feel his growing smirk against my skin, his fingers pinching and rolling the left bud as his tongue swirls around the right before sucking it into his mouth.

he hums, the vibrations traveling through my body, and i make a hollow attempt at grinding my hips against his leg, only succeeding in reminding him to wrap his free hand around me, holding my hips still.

“Captain, please.” i plead, my tone high and nasal as i beg, but he just hums again, this time in disagreement.

his lips release my nipple, kissing his way over to the left before repeating the process, now pinching and prodding at the right in a torturous game of teasing.

he slowly begins to rock my hips back and forth, dragging my pulsing clit along his strained thigh as an extra stimulation.

my body shakes, overwhelmed with pleasure as my head falls back, vision going fuzzy as broken sounds fall from my lips.

i can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences, but my brain is urging for me to beg to cum, hoping he’ll show mercy on me. my requests come out babbled and stuttered, not nearly what i had hoped, and Nico chuckles against my skin.

my toes curl as the familiar tightening pressure builds backs up within my stomach, my abdomen clenching as my legs begin to shake. and when Nico doesn’t pull away, i begin to believe that he’s giving me compassion, but as quick as the thought enters my mind, its expelled out.

just as i reach the precipice of my release, my walls tightening around nothing, his lips are pulled away, his hand dropping from my nipple and his arms wrapping tightly around to halt my grinding movements.

frustrated tears pool in my eyes, a silent sob wracking my chest and expelling past my lips in puffs of air. looking back into my boyfriends eyes, his expression is cocky and unforgiving, a smirk resting on his lips.

“awww,” he coos, swiftly turning and dropping me on the couch cushions beside him. “you’re being a good girl now, aren’t you? desperate to cum.”

i nod my head eagerly, shifting around underneath his gaze as i lay uncomfortably atop of my tied back arms.

“wanna cum so bad!” i whimper, my eyes fleeting over to asses the once great fire. it’s next to nothing now, and when i look back at Nico, i can tell he’s displeased by the sight.

“alright, i’ll let you cum.” a weight is lifted off my chest, a sigh of relief huffing past my smiling lips.

i eye my boyfriend eagerly as his fingers tug at the waistband of my panties, pulling them down and dropping them to the floor. he sheds himself of his t-shirt, his tight upper body on full display for me to enjoy as he hooks one of my weakened legs over the back of the couch.

bowing down between my legs, i can feel his hot breath fan over my dripping core, squirming in need as he gets closer and closer to where i so desperately crave his touch. his eyes meet mine, holding contact as he blows cool air directly onto my puffy clit, and chuckling as my hips jerk up towards him.

his arms wrap around my upper thighs, hands sprawling across my lower hips to hold me down as he licks one long stripe through my core.

“captain!”

my head falls back into the cushions as i cry out his name, wishing i could thread my fingers in his hair and push him deeper to where i want him.

he dips down again, tongue circling my clit before sliding back down towards my pussy. his tongue prods into me, flicking once before he really dives in. my back arches from the cushions, breathy moans coaxed out as he begins eating me like a man starved.

his nose nudges against my clit, his fingers sliding up to hold my thighs in a bruising grip as he slurps at my wetness, spreading it around as lubrication.

“cap!” i scream as his lips enclose around my swollen clit, rolling it through his lips a few times before flicking his tongue against it. one leg hooks over his shoulder, pushing him forward as i’m finally able to grind my hips against his face.

relinquishing his duty of holding me still, he plunges two fingers inside of me, curling them up to hit the velvety spot that makes me scream out in pleasure. pumping them in and out, he scissors the appendages, stretching my entrance in a pleasurably painful sensation.

with his fingers keeping me full, his mouth focuses on my clit, repetitively sucking and licking. my eyes roll back in my head, my vision dancing with stars as i feel my orgasm build up for what i believe is the last time.

a third finger pushes its way inside of me, the burning sensation of fullness making my legs shake around him as my breath catches in my throat. my pussy tightens around his fingers, effectively making him aware that i’m close whilst i can no longer speak.

but just when i’m about to cum, my orgasm is cruelly ripped away once more, his fingers pulling out and leaving empty as his mouth is detached from my clit, nothing but cold air hitting against it now.

“no!” i yell, voice gravely and sore as tears flood from my eyes. i open them again to find Nico sitting up on his knees, staring down at me with a dangerous an mocking smirk.

“you didn’t really think i was gonna let you cum, did you, süsse?” he teases, his lips frowning in a faux pout. “oh, you did. the fire wasn’t done yet, sweets.”

my head snaps over towards the fire for the last time, and through the blurry vision of my tears, i can see the final dying embers of the fire, nothing but a faintly orange glow of the logs now.

my chest heaves as i look back at my boyfriend, my face dropped in a pout as salty tears trail down into my hair.

“that was mean, Nico!” i sob, looking anywhere but his eyes.

his cocky expression drops, a look of genuine concern etching across his face as he comes to hover above me.

“oh, baby,” he coos, littering short kisses on both of my cheeks before pressing a long one to my lips. “it’s okay, you can cum now.”

i sniffle, peering up at him through wet lashes, “really this time?”

“yeah, really. but, you know, if it ever becomes too much, you can use your safe word.” i nod along to his words.

“i know, but it wasn’t anything that was too much.” i confess, “it was just mean. you told me i could! and then you didn’t let me!”

“are your arms okay?” he wonders, and i crinkle my nose.

“they’re fine, but this position is uncomfortable.” he nods, backing away and helping me sit up before i whine, “can you just fuck me now?”

a hearty laugh leaves his lips at my switch up, leaning forward to pull me in for a kiss.

“you wanna cum on my cock like a good girl, süsse?” he mutters, pulling back to watch me hastily nod.

his hands grip my hips, flipping me over to lay on my stomach before pulling my hips up so my ass is up in the air.

i wait impatiently, eyes set on the last of the dying embers of the fire as i listen to him unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants down and letting them drop to the floor with a thud.

the couch cushions dip down as he kneels on them behind me, one hand gripping my hip as he uses the other to give a few tugs to his cock.

my hips jerk as he slides his cock through my folds, lubricating himself in my wetness. tapping the tip of his cock against my clit, i let out a breathy whine, pushing my pussy back towards him.

“greedy little slut.” he tsk’s, prodding my entrance with his tip and watching as my walls attempt to suck him in whilst i moan.

he repeats the movement a few more times, teasing me one last time before he finally pushes into me in one swift movement. a squeak passing my parted lips as his cock bottoms out inside of me, filling me up so well.

“oh, Nico!” i breathe out, my body lighting up as his hand smooths over my spine, before gripping my waist.

Nico groans, pulling out and then thrusting back in at a slow speed before gradually picking up the pace. my hands form fists, my nails digging into my palms as he controls my hips, slamming into me and pushing my hips forward before pulling them back against him.

the sound of our skin slapping together and his hard cock sliding in and out of my wet cunt mixes with breathy moans and deep grunts, as well as the christmas music that still floats through the apartment.

the tip of his cock hits the soft, spongey spot inside of me with each stroke, my eyes fluttering shut as i curse, screaming his name without any care of our neighbors hearing.

“this pretty pussy was made for me.” he gruffs, hands tightening around my hips as my walls clench around him, my breathing picking up as i wiggle my hips.

one of his hands slides around my front, his fingertip pressing against my clit and making me whimper as he fucks into me, rubbing the bundle of nerves in figure eights.

“Nico, please!” i beg, the all too familiar feeling of my impending orgasm looming over me as my stomach ties itself in knots.

my legs begin to shake, weakening, and i’m sure if Nico wasn’t holding me up, they would’ve given out.

“let go for me, sweets.” my walls clench at his words, attempting to keep him in the same position as my body seizes up, tensing as i finally reach my long awaited orgasm.

he continues to fuck me through my release, thrusts turning sloppy and hastened as he chases his own, until he finally shudders, his hips stilling as he cums, filling me up with his release.

Nico lets out a shaky sigh, giving us both a moment to let oxygen return to our brains before reaching up and untying the knot of tinsel garland around my wrists. pulling out of me with a hiss, he drops himself to the couch, watching as i sit up and shake out my half-asleep arms.

i slump against his side, pulling my tank top back up to cover my chest as i snuggle closer into his sweaty body.

“i think we’re going to have to clean the couch if you still wanna host a party.” he finally speaks, coaxing a bubble of laughter up from my throat.

“yeah, but i think a shower sounds nice first.” i sigh, pushing myself off the couch to stand up, but my legs feel like jelly underneath me, wobbling until Nico stands, grasping my hand in his.

“you’re right, let’s go.” he hums, helping me towards our bedroom and to our en-suite bathroom.

“who said you were joining me?” i tease, raising an eyebrow; but when he turns to look at me, a lust-driven and domineering look on his face, i shrug, “on second thought, a shower together would be nice.”

“mhm.” he simpers, turning around to turn the shower water on, and i stick my tongue out behind his back; accidentally leaving it out for too long.

he looks at me with eyebrows raised as i hurriedly pull my tongue back into my mouth, my body not nearly ready for another ‘punishment’ before he laughs.

“let’s get you cleaned up, süsse, you must be tired.”

[meetmypointlessaddiction]

December Fic Day 1 ~ Decorating

Here we go! First day of December and the first fic of my prompts challenge.

Summary: You and Logan decorate the Christmas tree

Warnings: none that I can think of

Pairing: pretty sure this is suitable for everyone (fem!reader/male!reader/gn!reader) but I am still new to writing anything other than fem!reader so any pointers are greatly appreciated.

Enjoy and please like and comment if you do. Something as simple as an emoji literally makes my day better so please don't hesitate to comment and obviously reblog to share my work.

December Masterlist

Christmas was your favourite season, Logan knew this. You didn’t even have to tell him, your incessant begging to decorate the cabin as soon as Halloween was over was enough to let him know. “Logan it is officially Christmas. You can’t tell me no anymore.” You declared as you walked out of your shared bedroom and into the kitchen where Logan was nursing a mug full of coffee, looking over the newspaper. He looked up at you, quirking that stupid eyebrow of his and smirking. 

“Far as I’m aware bub, Christmas is on the 25th, not the first.” You shot him a glare, pouring yourself a drink before sitting across from him at the kitchen table. “Besides, technically, the 12 days of Christmas don’t start until the 25th and run through to the 5th. In fact, in some countries, they don’t start until the 26th and finish on the-.” 

“And of course you’d know that you fucking fossil. Bet you were one of the three Kings visiting baby Jesus huh?” You snarked, huffing and taking a swig of coffee. “I’m just saying, I love Christmas and think that it’s only fair you let me decorate. I’ve waited until December, Lo. I’m already a month later than I usually would be.” 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. You can decorate the place.” He grumbled, sticking his head back in the paper, trying not to let on that he found your little outburst slightly entertaining. “Just nothin’ too over the top alright?” 

“Baby, you think I’m doing it alone? C’mon Lo, this is our first Christmas together, my first Christmas with a serious partner. You gonna let me miss out on all the cheesy traditions like decorating with my boyfriend?” You knew he was going to protest so you shot him your best pouty look, with big sad eyes and he groaned, shutting the newspaper and glaring at you. 

That’s how Logan found himself at a Christmas tree farm, walking hand in hand with you as you mumbled about finding the best Christmas tree and not settling for anything less than the perfect one. “What ‘bout this one, baby?” Logan pointed to a decently sized Christmas tree, plenty of branches to hang decorations on and enough space between the branches that tinsel should fit on nicely. 

“Umm… not quite Lo… keep looking though, yeah?” You gently declined him and he looked at you incredulously as you continued walking him through the rows and rows of Christmas trees. You had just gentle parented him… him! He just shook his head and caught up to you, grabbing your hand again and scowling as he kept his mouth shut, letting you keep pondering over what was the best Christmas tree to pick. 

Twenty minutes later, you found the perfect one, pointing it out to Logan and immediately demanding he stand in front of it and guard it while you went to tell one of the workers. He huffed and stood in front of the Christmas tree, arms crossed and looking as menacing as possible to deter anyone from trying to claim your Christmas tree. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours later, boxes of Christmas lights, baubles and tinsel had been brought in from Logan’s truck and he was now holding a Christmas tree, shuffling from left to right as you directed him on where to put it. “Little more left… no too far, go back a bit…” 

Eventually, he had put the tree in a place suited to your preferences and you grinned, hugging him tightly. “Ooh Lo the tree is gonna look so good! Are you excited to decorate?” Logan smiled at your eagerness and held you against him, kissing your temple. 

“That depends? Are you this much of a neat freak about the placement of baubles and tinsel too?” You just laughed and shook your head, standing in his arms for a little while longer, trying to warm up and just enjoying being with him.

“No, the decorations can be a little all over the place, gives the tree a bit of character, right?” Logan just chuckled and nodded, kissing your lips gently before stepping away. 

“Why don’t you get started on making sure the lights are untangled and working and I’ll go make us a hot drink, alright?” You nodded and he left you to it, heading into the kitchen and boiling some water to make you a hot cocoa and him a coffee.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Logan? I leave the room for five minutes and…” You couldn’t help but burst into laughter as you saw the man scowling and trying to fight off the tinsel. “Baby what happened?” Trying and failing to hold back my laughter as the man looks at me shocked and helpless. Tinsel was wound around his legs and bits were falling off, stuck in his hair and on his clothes. “Wha… how did you get yourself in this situation?” 

He just scowled at you and his eyes pleaded for you to help him. You eventually pulled yourself together and untangled the tinsel from his legs as he grumbled about “evil decorations” and how “even the tinsel was against him”. He let you deal with the tinsel as he opened the box of baubles and began sorting them into piles by colour as you had asked. 

The tree didn’t take too long to put up and then all that was left was the star to put on top. You picked it out of the box and Logan couldn’t help but laugh as you struggled to reach the top of the tree, almost falling into it twice as you stood on your tiptoes. “Lo… wanna do something really cheesy?” Logan grumbled but knew what you wanted him to do, putting his hands on your hips and lifting you so you could reach the top of the tree. “Alright, you can put me down now.” You said to him but instead of doing the normal thing and putting you down on the floor, he dropped you onto the couch, crawling in between your legs and laying himself on top of you, careful not to crush you. 

“No more decorating.” Logan grumbled, resting his head on your collarbone. “Stupid tree had your attention all day. Been neglectin’ me bub.” He teased, looking up at you with a smirk and you just rolled your eyes, flicking his forehead. 

“You had fun though, right? And it looks good?” Logan smiled and shrugged, pressing his lips to yours and laughing as you poked his side. “Logan! You had fun didn’t you?!” 

“I did baby. I had fun.”

Dividers: @coolcatsgraphics

I'm also on A03 :)

[putellasawfc]

gingerbread competition!

leah williamson x reader

-

christmas music sounded from the bluetooth speaker that had been set up across the room, the familiar jingle of all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey filling the apartment you shared with your girlfriend of four years with a contagious level of christmas joy. the days had finally began to get chillier, the nights getting darker earlier and that’s all it took for you to get into the christmas spirit, which is why you had a variety of seasonal based activities ready for leah and yourself to partake in during the three day weekend you both had.

originally, you had really planned for tonight to be the night that you unpacked all the christmas decorations that you had stored in the loft and begin decorating your house. but after a long day of filming for different youtube videos and tiktok’s with the other arsenal girls, neither of you could be bothered with lugging down the boxes and bin bags that were filled to the brim with tinsel, baubles, stockings and lights. so instead, you went with the second best option. decorating a gingerbread house instead!

leah had been very scrooge about it at first, whining and wittering on about how there’s no point because it never stays up, even calling the whole thing a scam at one point but you had just tutted, claiming she just didn’t know how to build them properly.

“i do know how to build them! they’re just all flimsy, stay up for about five seconds and that’s it!” she defended herself, her brows furrowed in frustration as you stifled a laugh at how much offence she had taken to your previous statement.

“alright, alright. i believe you.” you teased, continuing to empty the gingerbread house kits you had picked up the day before. “i bet i can make mine look better than yours though.”

you knew the leah williamson could never back down from a challenge, her competitive streak was too high.

she scoffed, leaning forward with her elbows on the wooden table. “yeah right. sorry baby, but you have no chance.”

“well i actually have full confidence in my gingerbread house decorating abilities, so.” you said, dragging out the ‘o’ as you spread the different icings and sprinkles amongst the table, between the two of you. “why don’t we put a bet on it?”

“what kind of bet?” she eyed you, and you thought about it for a moment.

“whoever wins gets to choose an ugly christmas sweater that the loser has to wear to the next event we go to?” you suggested, that being the first thing that came to mind.

the blonde thought about it for a second, her gaze falling to the items on the table before she pursed her lips and slowly nodded, her blue eyes finding you again as she held out a hand in your direction.

“you have a deal.”

you grinned, wrapping your hand around her own and giving her a firm handshake. “may the best woman win.”

now, here you were almost twenty minutes later trying your best to apply the white icing onto the roof of your house that had miraculously managed to stay up for longer than fourty-five seconds, after you had generously coated the sides in too much icing. you would never admit it out loud, but leah was definitely right about the whole thing being flimsy. you had almost given up at one point in frustration after the house caved in on itself a sixth time.

“maybe we should’ve decorated cupcakes instead.” you mumbled, licking off some of the icing that had smudged on your thumb.

“i hate to say i told you so .. but.” the lioness captain huffed, “i definitely told you so.”

“when have you ever not enjoyed saying that?” you shot back, taking a quick glance towards her own house that had yet to be built, the woman deciding it would be better to decorate the pieces first and then stick them together after.

“i have my moments.”

you shook your head in amusement, finally satisfied with the amount of white, red and green icing that coated the house to mimic snow and tinsel. you moved to pick up a small bag of sprinkles that had already been opened by leah earlier, looking into the bag with furrowed brows.

“could’ve saved some for me babe.” you frowned, not even a quarter of the bag was full anymore.

“oops, my bad.” her tone was anything but apologetic, an amused smirk sat on her face and you elbowed her gently.

“you sabotaged me? that’s a yellow card!”

“i didn’t sabotage you! i just had to make my house look good, you wouldn’t understand.” she sent a playful look of concern to your creation and you gasped in mock offence.

“you’re so mean! my little house looks great.” you pouted, “would’ve looked even better if someone hadn’t used all sprinkles but … it’s okay i can still win without them.”

she scoffed at that, before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, aside from the speaker that was still blasting out more christmas tunes as the night went on. you made do with the sprinkles you had left, carefully sticking them to the icing around your house, focusing on the outside of your roof to make it look like colourful christmas lights had been put up. you moved onto picking up different sweets, dotting them around the house wherever you thought looks best, just adding the finishing touches when a groan to the left of you caught your attention.

you raised a brow and looked over, not being able to help the smile that rose when you saw how much leah was struggling with putting the pieces together. she’d managed to get two to stick together, but then the other side would fall down, and then when she’d attempted to stick that side back together, another side would fall down, tangling her in a never ending cycle that was clearly annoying her with the way her brows touched and her jaw tensed.

“looks like your little sabotage was for nothing.” you chirped, revelling in the way it only made her more frustrated.

“shut up.”

you laughed, finally finishing the house before pushing it away slowly, relieved the whole ordeal was finally over. “ahhh, now i get to sit back and watch you struggle.”

“i’m breaking up with you.” she muttered under her breath, intense gaze not moving from her house.

“you’re not allowed.” you swiftly replied, leaning in closer to get a better look at the mess she was making. “maybe if you ask nicely, i could give you a hand.”

she didn’t reply at first, still attempting to finish the task herself, but when almost three minutes went by and she wasn’t getting any closer to completing it, she stomped her foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum and turned to you in annoyance.

“fine. help me.”

“uh, what was that?” you questioned, cupping your ear with your hand.

she rolled her eyes, throwing her head back in exasperation at your immaturity.

“please will you help me build my house?” she asked again, “before i throw it at a wall.”

you grinned, throwing an arm over your girlfriends shoulder and pulling her into your side, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before nodding. “i’d love to.”

it took a little bit of work, the pair of you bickering back and forth when leah had accused you of putting too much pressure on it and you accusing her of letting go too soon, but eventually, the both of you pulled your hands away cautiously, giving it a few seconds just to make sure before you gave eachother a double high five, pleased that it had finally stayed put.

pushing it back slowly as you had done to yours previously, you both sat back and admired your efforts on both houses.

“think it’s gonna be a pretty close one love.” leah said, pulling up her phone ready to snap a picture for her instagram story, where you had planned to put up a poll to see who’d win.

“hmm, maybe.” you hummed in agreement, “but i think my gumdrops on the roof might just help me win.”

she rolled her eyes once again, but this time with less irritation now that the hard part was done with. “yeah, yeah. if you say so.”

the defender took a quick snap, moving her phone to show you her screen when not even second later did leah’s house fall apart, one of the pieces even landing on the floor with a soft thud.

“you’re having a laugh.”

[wonderingpanda]

Glad I Found You

2012!Raph x Reader

Just thought I might throw something out there as a silly little Christmas thing before the season ends.

The lair was filled with excitement as everyone was piled in and moving around. April was wrapping gifts with Donnie.

“Okay! That’s three gifts done already. What do you think Donnie?”

Her jaw dropped in awe, Donnie had already formed a detailed stack of wrapped gifts. The paper positioned perfectly with neat ribbons and bows covering the whole thing.

“How did you do that!?” He shrugged and smirked.

“Anything can be accomplished with the correct calculations.”

Just as he spoke Mikey came running through and toppled the pile of gifts taking Donnie with them.

“Mikey!” He yelled after lifting a gift away from his face.

“Sorry dude!” Mikey called back. “Gotta get these decorations going!”

He ran over to the tree the turtles had set up near the tv area. Leo had explicitly stated that they couldn’t put it against the wall as he wanted every decoration to be seen.

“Mikey, have you got the rest of them?” Leo asked frantically. Mikey panted and sighed as he dropped the heavy box of ornaments to the floor.

“Every last one.” He groaned before dropping to the floor.

“Come on Mikey don’t give up now. We’re so close.”

Mikey raised his hand and slipped an ornament onto one of the branches best he could until Leo panicked started yelling.

“What are you doing!?”

“What!?” Mikey shot up and frowned. “You said to not give up I assumed you meant decorating the tree so I kept decorating the tree!”

“Yeah but.” Leo plucked the ornament off. “I already said that the golds, reds and silvers can’t touch. It needs to look well structured. Candy canes on the tips of the branches, baubles on the top and bottom (without any clashing colours) and special ornaments in the middle. This isn’t going to work if we don’t follow the formula.”

Mikey groaned and collapsed on the floor again.

“I can’t bro. Go on without me, it’s too hard.”

“Suit yourself.” Leo smiled and continued reaching for more decorations.”

Y/n smiled at the scene of the entire lair as she stepped inside. Mikey, given he was the only one unoccupied, was the first to notice her arrival.

“Hey, wassup dudette!”

“Hey Mikey!” She smiled and laughed. “How’s it going?”

“Ugh boring, Leo’s taking all the fun out of tree decorating! It’s not that deep bro.”

Rolling his eyes, Leo looked back and down at his younger brother.

“Uh yes it is, we’ve barely gotten a chance to celebrate Christmas over the last year or so, so I’m going to do whatever I can to make this one perfect.”

“Because that’s a healthy mentality to have.” Y/n smiled.

Leo frowned and sent her a glare which Y/n wuickly brushed off cheerfully.

“Hey Y/n, sorry I don’t expect you to know or anything but do you happen to know when Casey will be getting here?” April asked bashfully.

“Oooooh.” The three brothers all spoke in sync and immediately began laughing their heads off.”

“Oh shut up.” April rolled her eyes smiling.

“I’m not too sure.” Y/n replied, stifling a laugh herself, but I think he said his family thing ends around 4 so he should be here sometime after then.”

“Thanks. Sorry for asking I just wanted to to make sure he’ll be here so I can-“

“Give him your special gift?” Y/n giggled and sat down, leaning in next to her. The two made eye contact and started laughing together giddily.

“If you’re both done over there.” Donnie cut through with an amused look on his face. “I think there’s someone who wants to see you Y/n.” He spoke in a sing-song tone.

“Alright, where is he? I thought he’d be out here with the rest of you.”

“You all taking about Raph!?” Mikey called from across the room.” He’s been locked up in his room all day! Not sure why though.”

With a bright face, Y/n quickly stood up and began heading towards Raph’s room waving goodbye to everyone else.

“Knock knock.” She called from outside the door, not even bothering to wait for a reply before barging in.

“Ahh, Y/n! Jeez!” Raph panicked and turned around, fumbling with something in his hands.

“Oooh watcha got there?” She teased, walking closer.

“A gift.” He sighed rolling his eyes, looking down at the floor with red cheeks. He stuck his hand out presenting the wrapped present. “For you.”

Y/n’s eyes lit up as she held it in her hands.

“Can I open it now?” She asked curiously.

“What kind of a question is that? Yes, of course you can!”

She smiled and began to tear away at the paper. Soon she was able to view the gift fully, a red loom band bracelet. She gasped and slipped it on.

“Just cos, you know, we can’t always be together so I figured if you’re up top side during the day or something it can be like a little reminder of me or us or whatever. I don’t know.”

“Raph.” Y/n laughed tearfully. “How long did it take you to make?”

“I don’t know, the thing kept breaking and I had to follow these weird tutorials. I had to get Mikey’s help, Mikey! But it worked in the end I hope.”

Y/n pulled him tightly into a hug. Snuggling into him slightly.

“I love it. Ooh, before I forget!” She then began searching for her own gift which she had hidden somewhere on her. “Here!” She cheered, finally pulling out the slightly crumpled present. Raph carefully took it from her and began to open it delicately, soon noticing something shiny inside.

A thin, metal rectangle on a stand. It could rotate in a circle serving as almost fidget toy, or so he thought. As he kept spinning it, Y/n eventually placed her hand on his and looked him the eye.

“Read it.” She smiled. Raph glanced down and noticed that there was indeed writing on either side of the rectangle. He slowly read it out.

“There are over 6 million turtles in the world.” He flipped it over the the other side. “But out of all of them, I’m glad I found you.”

He held the gift silently for a second, Y/n was about to ask if he was ok till he looked up at her with teary eyes. He pulled Y/n into a tight hug which she gladly reciprocated.

“I’m glad I found you too.”

Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoyed. Have an awesome day/night wherever you are!✨

[fleet-off]

From a chat I had with lu @lu-sn months ago, an idea that’s been living in my head rent-free. ❤️

They’re packing up Vegas’s room at the minor family compound—Pete on the floor with the boxes, Vegas on the edge of the bed and a dozen ugly outbursts.

(It is pain and presence and all Pete’s patience in the face of Vegas’s uselessness; it is a fragile, defensive rawness and a loving, too, and all of it bound up in grief and grievance.)

The packing goes more tolerably than it has any right to. Porsche never pokes his head in. Pete follows Vegas’s terse directives unerringly, sees too much but asks few questions. Three boxes and four garbage bags are filled in short order.

And then Pete comes upon Vegas’s drawer of trophies.

Not spelling bee trophies, you understand; these are the tokens of theft and successful exploits.

So here is the ring Vegas wore to visit Tawan. A forgotten earring. A pair of briefs, abandoned by a nameless squirrel-faced little twink who dangled off Kinn’s arm and Vegas’s every honeyed word.

Gifts, too: a set of ornate golden cufflinks, an enormous and tacky wristwatch. A dozen expensive baubles Vegas never used but forever gripped tight.

Here is a collection of meticulously labeled disks—one bears the squirrel-faced twink’s name, not that he’s aware—and Vegas knows the moment Pete picks up the oldest and glimpses its significance, because the corners of his mouth tighten a fraction. He sets down the disk and lifts Tawan’s ring instead, inspecting the empty promises engraved on its inner edge.

“Drop it,” Vegas bites out.

And Pete nods, and drops the ring back in the drawer with precisely as much consideration as Tawan deserves, and they move forward.

Or so Vegas thinks, except the next item Pete produces is a second ring. Gold and jade, a gift from some big-mouthed triad boy with his tongue hung so loose he ultimately lost it. “A shame,” Vegas had told Kinn at the time, airily—“It was a talented tongue, wasn’t it?”

There are at least four rings in that drawer.

The physical evidence of everything Vegas won over Kinn once brought him a mangled satisfaction. Now it is as if Pete is raising his mutilations to the light. He clung to them—they are his, as very little has been—but they are not of him.

“What,” he says sharply, “you want it?”

Pete raises his eyebrows. “I don’t think it would fit me, if I did.”

“Don’t get fucking jealous.”

Pete tilts his head. Looks up at him, thoughtful. “You’ve been a lot of different things to different people,” he says. “Did they fit you?”

(And here is the truth: sometimes, they did. Sometimes it was the wind in his face and a motorcycle engine revving under him and a rush of pure simple abandon. Sometimes the success of the lie overtook him and he became it; sometimes he ached with fragile pride for his meager wins.)

(Some nights he lay in bed with the smothering heat of a body against his back and cold sweat on his bare skin, and only his fingers dirty from touching Kinn’s leftovers because there was nothing left inside him to hold the stain.)

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Vegas says. His voice comes out strange and hoarse. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Pete.”

Pete crawls over. He picks up Vegas’s hand where it lies limp on the bed.

Despite everything—Vegas’s chest catches, watching him slide the ring onto his finger. He loathes—loves—his lungs are shot, can’t drag in enough air.

The ring dangles off his finger. Triad kid assumed his size, thought him grander than he was.

It looks gaudier now than it did the one time he attempted to wear it. Maybe it’s the absence of the family ring.

The tat and trinkets were designed for tawdry shapes, molds into which Vegas contorted himself. He is no longer capable of the imitation.

(Pieces of him continue to wear those shapes, still and forever. This alien body is an inescapable thing.)

Vegas watches his own hand clench into a fist. The urge—to unmake, to smash himself open—this too is inescapable. Easier to extract what is genuine from the beaten pulp than from the shell.

Pete knows this too, but he bows his head against Vegas’s arm before Vegas can even try. His forehead is warm—his hair soft—underneath, his hands hold Vegas’s wrist like a precious thing. Clumsily, Vegas’s free hand finds Pete’s nape.

“Be the parts that fit,” Pete tells him. “Hold what you want to keep. The rest will fall away.”

Here on his finger, a part of Vegas forcibly made native; here in the stretched-taut tendons of his forearm, the rot that is all Vegas’s own. Pete is careful with the invasive patchwork of him, but the specific gentleness he offers Vegas’s putrid inborn mess is fury and comfort in equal measure.

He strokes Pete’s hair. Slowly lets his fist unclench.

The ring clatters to the floor, bounces somewhere under the bed. They do not retrieve it.

[onehundredelevven]

You received a Christmas Fic I !

Pre-Christmas with Sukuna.

word count: 1,010

cw: Just Sukuna being Sukuna, cringe ig, but sweet and fun nonetheless

note: this is kinda rushed, but I hope y'all like it !

December was in full swing, and your apartment was a whirlwind of holiday chaos. Boxes of decorations were scattered across the floor, half-empty rolls of wrapping paper had taken over the couch, and you were wearing an oversized sweater with a cartoonish reindeer on the front.

Sukuna, meanwhile, sat at the dining table, looking like he wanted to murder the nearest inflatable snowman.

“What exactly are you doing?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as you balanced precariously on a stool to hang a string of lights.

“What does it look like?” you replied, sticking your tongue out in concentration as you secured the lights. “I’m spreading holiday cheer, duh.”

“You mean you’re spreading a disaster,” he muttered, taking a sip from his coffee.

You turned to glare at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Grinch. Didn’t realize you were allergic to fun.”

“I’m not allergic to fun,” he said, leaning back in his chair with that trademark smirk. “I just don’t see the point of all this… nonsense.” He gestured vaguely at the mess you’d made of the apartment.

“Nonsense?” You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest like he’d just insulted your entire family lineage. “How dare you disrespect the sacred art of Christmas decorating!”

“It’s not sacred. It’s tacky,” he shot back, though his eyes lingered on the string of multicolored lights you’d managed to drape across the room.

“Oh, come on, Sukuna,” you said, hopping off the stool and plopping down beside him. “Don’t you feel the Christmas spirit? The magic? The joy?”

“I feel like I’m stuck in a Hallmark movie,” he deadpanned.

You gasped again. “You take that back!”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your theatrics. “What are you going to do? Throw tinsel at me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” you muttered, grabbing a nearby strand of tinsel threateningly.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth—almost like he was trying not to smile.

☆☆☆

It didn’t take long for your chaotic energy to rope him into the madness.

“Here, hold this,” you said, shoving a box of ornaments into his arms.

“No,” he said flatly, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

“Yes,” you insisted, grabbing his wrist and dragging him over to the tree. “You’re helping whether you like it or not.”

“Why would I waste my time hanging plastic baubles on a dying plant?”

“Because you love me,” you said sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him.

He snorted. “Debatable.”

“Wow.” You pouted, crossing your arms. “Fine. Be a Grinch. I’ll just do it all myself.”

You turned away dramatically, but before you could pick up an ornament, Sukuna grabbed your wrist.

“Give me that,” he said gruffly, taking the ornament from your hand.

You grinned triumphantly as he begrudgingly hung it on the tree.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” you said, nudging him with your elbow.

“Don’t push it,” he warned, though he didn’t pull away when you leaned against him.

☆☆☆

By the time you finished decorating, the living room looked like Christmas had exploded. The tree was covered in lights, ornaments, and a questionable amount of fake snow. You’d even managed to hang a wreath on the front door, though Sukuna had grumbled the entire time about how “pointless” it was.

“You know,” you said, collapsing onto the couch with a satisfied sigh, “I think this might be my best work yet.”

Sukuna stood with his arms crossed, surveying the room like a disgruntled art critic.

“It’s… less terrible than I expected,” he admitted reluctantly.

You gasped. “Was that a compliment? From the great Ryomen Sukuna himself?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, sitting down beside you.

☆☆☆

The evening took a quieter turn as you both settled in with mugs of hot chocolate (well, you had hot chocolate; Sukuna had spiked his with something stronger). The lights on the tree cast a warm glow over the room, and for once, Sukuna wasn’t scowling.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” you asked, nudging him with your shoulder.

“It’s tolerable,” he said, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“You’re such a softie,” you teased, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Watch it,” he warned, though he didn’t push you away.

For a moment, the chaos of the day melted away, leaving only the quiet hum of holiday music and the gentle crackle of a candle burning on the coffee table.

“Hey,” you said suddenly, sitting up and looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“What now?” he asked, already bracing himself for whatever ridiculous idea you’d come up with next.

You held up a sprig of mistletoe, grinning like a child who’d just pulled off a prank.

“Really?” he said, giving you a flat look.

“It’s tradition,” you said innocently, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

Sukuna sighed, setting his mug down on the table. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered before leaning in to kiss you.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, a rare moment of tenderness from someone as rough around the edges as Sukuna. When he pulled away, his usual smirk was back in place.

“Merry pre-Christmas, brat,” he said, ruffling your hair.

“Merry pre-Christmas, Grinch,” you replied, snuggling back into his side.

And for once, Sukuna didn’t complain.

[amethystarachnid]

Heeeeey, can you write Holiday Party Shenanigans with Loki please? 😘

MIDGARDIAN FEAST

⤷ LOKI LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: It's Loki's first Christmas ever and he can't help but be confused by this Midgardian feast, but for you he will do anything, happily so if it involves annoying your older brother, Tony Stark.

ᯓ★ TW(s): fluff

ᯓ★ Since the request didn't specify anything I made up a plot with the fem!reader, also this is kind of an AU?

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Snow blankets the streets of New York, twinkling under the lights of the Avengers Tower, which glimmers like a beacon of festivity against the wintry skyline. The smell of pine, gingerbread, and peppermint wafts through the air, weaving its way into the grand common room where garlands of holly and strings of multicolored lights deck every available surface.

This is Christmas, Midgard's most beloved holiday—a time of warmth, joy, and familial gatherings. It’s also Loki’s first Christmas, a fact he reminds you of at every turn.

“Explain again,” Loki says, leaning back on the plush couch with a puzzled expression, his sharp features illuminated by the glow of the enormous tree. “You chop down a perfectly good tree, drag it indoors, then dress it in gaudy trinkets and glowing baubles for... what reason?”

“It’s festive, Loki,” you say, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you arrange a row of candy canes on the lower branches. His emerald gaze follows your every move, curiosity mingling with amusement. “It makes people happy. And it looks pretty.”

Loki arches a skeptical brow, his lips quirking in that smug way of his. “Midgardians have peculiar ideas about aesthetics.”

“Not all of us,” comes the dry remark from behind you. Tony strolls into the room, a glass of eggnog in hand, and offers Loki a pointed look. “Just some of us—especially those of us who date homicidal maniacs.”

You turn sharply, glaring at your older brother. “Tony.”

“What?” He gestures toward Loki with his free hand. “You can’t honestly expect me to pretend this is normal. The guy tried to destroy New York. Twice.”

“Once,” Loki interjects smoothly, lifting a finger. “The second time was merely a minor enchantment spell gone awry. Hardly my fault your city’s infrastructure is so delicate.”

Tony glares. “Keep telling yourself that, Rudolph.”

Loki frowns. “Rudolph?”

You sigh, stepping between them. “Can we please get through Christmas without turning it into a family feud? Tony, stop antagonizing him. Loki, stop antagonizing Tony. You’re both acting like children.”

“I am acting like a child,” Tony replies smugly. “Because it’s Christmas, and Christmas is for children. You know who it’s not for? God-tier villains with delusions of grandeur.”

“Enough,” you snap, rubbing your temples. “Tony, why don’t you go... build a gingerbread house or something?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, then saunters off, muttering something about “frosting some cookies into oblivion.” Loki watches him go, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

“I’m beginning to enjoy his petty insults,” Loki says. “They lack creativity but possess a certain... charm.”

You groan, but your frustration melts when he tilts his head to study the ornaments you’ve been hanging. “Are all these symbols significant?” he asks, gesturing toward the red-and-gold baubles.

“Well, not exactly,” you explain, stepping closer. “Some are just for decoration. Others, like the candy canes, represent traditions or stories. That one—” You point to a tiny glass snowman. “—reminds me of when I was a kid. I used to build snowmen with Tony.”

Loki leans down slightly, his gaze flicking between the ornament and your face. “You’ve always enjoyed this holiday?”

“Always,” you admit, smiling softly. “It’s about family and togetherness, and... it’s magical, in its way.”

His eyes soften. “A Midgardian concept of magic. How quaint.”

“It’s different from Asgardian magic, sure,” you say, “but it’s still special. I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Enjoying it would require understanding it, darling,” Loki replies, his voice low, intimate. “Which I still do not.”

“Well,” you say, pulling him toward the couch, “then let’s start small. We’ll watch some Christmas movies. That’ll give you the basics.”

Loki allows himself to be dragged, though he arches a skeptical brow as you hand him a blanket to drape over his lap. “Is this another ritual? Wrapping oneself in fabric to fully appreciate these... films?”

“Yes,” you reply with mock seriousness, tucking yourself beside him and grabbing the remote. “It’s an essential part of the experience.”

As you scroll through a selection of classic Christmas movies, Loki leans closer. “And your brother,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear, “does he also find this... magical?”

You stifle a laugh. “Tony’s... not the biggest fan of Christmas. Or anything, really.”

“That much is evident,” Loki says with a smirk, leaning back and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I believe he’s grown rather fond of disliking me, though.”

“It’s not personal. Well, it is. But it’ll pass,” you assure him, resting your head against his chest. “He just doesn’t trust you yet. Give him time.”

Loki hums, his long fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. “I shall attempt to be... less antagonistic. For your sake.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He stiffens slightly, his pale skin flushing faintly, before his smirk returns.

“You’ll find I’m quite good at winning people over, darling,” he says confidently. “Even self-righteous metal men.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Hours later, the Avengers’ grand Christmas Eve dinner begins. The table is a dazzling display of roasted meats, savory sides, and sweets of every imaginable variety. Thor, already on his third tankard of spiced cider, slaps Loki on the back as they sit side by side.

“Brother!” Thor booms. “How fare you on this Midgardian holiday? Are you learning the ways of Yule?”

“Barely,” Loki replies dryly, reaching for a roll. “Your mortals have a puzzling number of traditions, most of which seem entirely arbitrary.”

“Arbitrary?” Steve interjects, his tone mildly offended. “Christmas traditions are rich in history and meaning.”

“Steve,” Natasha murmurs, “don’t engage.”

But Steve is already launching into an impromptu lecture about the origins of Christmas trees, which Loki listens to with the faintly bemused air of someone watching a particularly entertaining court jester. You nudge Loki under the table, shooting him a warning glance, and he quickly schools his expression into something resembling politeness.

Tony, sitting across from you, watches the interaction with thinly veiled skepticism. “So, Loki,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “what exactly are your plans here? Play nice for a few days, eat our food, then what? Back to world domination?”

Loki smirks, his gaze flicking to you. “I’m here for her,” he says simply. “The rest of you are incidental.”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes, clearly taken aback by Loki’s frankness. You sigh, reaching for your wine glass.

This is going to be a long night.

The dinner table hums with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of cutlery against china as the Avengers swap stories and rib each other in the easy way only close friends can. Loki, ever the outsider, sits beside you with an air of regal detachment, his sharp features casting faint shadows in the flickering candlelight. You’re relieved that he’s behaving himself so far—no biting remarks, no conjured illusions, no magical pranks.

Yet.

After dessert, when everyone begins to disperse into the cozy living room, Thor’s booming voice commands attention. “Now, my friends, I believe it is time for your famed Christmas festivities! Games and revelry, is it not?”

“Revelry sounds like my kind of night,” Clint mutters, popping a peppermint candy into his mouth.

Natasha smirks. “As long as it doesn’t involve karaoke. I draw the line there.”

“Games it is!” Thor declares, clapping his hands. “Loki, brother, you must partake in these Midgardian customs. Strength, wit, and cunning—you shall triumph!”

Loki leans back in his chair, lifting an eyebrow. “I was under the impression this holiday was meant to inspire camaraderie, not competition. But very well, let us proceed with your… diversions.”

Tony sidles up, his smile pure mischief. “Oh, this is going to be good. I can’t wait to see the God of Mischief fail at charades.”

You smack Tony lightly on the arm as everyone moves to gather in the living room. “Play nice.”

“This is me being nice,” Tony retorts, his grin widening.

The first game of the night is, of course, charades. Steve insists on explaining the rules for Loki’s benefit, though the process takes twice as long as it should due to Loki’s constant interruptions.

“So,” Loki drawls, lounging on the armrest of the couch as if he’s holding court, “the goal is to mime the word or phrase written on these slips of paper, and the others must guess it?”

“Exactly,” Steve says with a nod. “No talking, no sounds, no magic.”

Loki’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Ah, so we’re handicapping the cleverest participant. How democratic.”

Thor laughs heartily. “Do not fret, brother! You are quick of wit and nimble of limb. You shall excel!”

The game begins with Clint, who has everyone howling with laughter as he attempts to pantomime The Nutcracker by clumsily miming ballet moves. Then Natasha absolutely stumps the room with her eerily convincing impression of a reindeer. When it’s Loki’s turn, he strides to the center of the room with an air of unshakable confidence.

He picks a slip of paper, reads it, and smirks. “Child’s play.”

He lifts his arms dramatically, twirling in an exaggerated manner before freezing in an angular pose. You squint. Is he… trying to be a snowflake? A sugar plum fairy?

“Diva much?” Tony mutters.

Loki flicks a pointed finger toward Tony, who immediately begins sneezing uncontrollably.

“Loki!” you hiss.

“Oh, apologies,” Loki says innocently, snapping his fingers to end the spell. “Reflex.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony grumbles, blowing his nose.

By the end of the round, no one has guessed Loki’s clue (which turns out to be Christmas Star), and he takes the loss with an overly dramatic bow. “Your minds are duller than I anticipated,” he declares, earning groans and playful boos from the group.

The games continue with varying levels of success. Loki utterly dominates at trivia, much to Tony’s irritation, answering every question with an air of effortless superiority. When someone asks how he knows so much about Midgardian history, Loki waves a dismissive hand. “One must study one’s enemies.”

“Romantic,” Tony deadpans.

It’s during a spirited game of “Pin the Nose on Rudolph” that things truly go off the rails. Loki is blindfolded, spinning in circles at Natasha’s insistence. You’re about to give him a playful nudge in the right direction when he suddenly stops spinning, tilts his head, and smirks.

“Oh no,” you mutter.

With a flourish of his hand, the room fills with an illusionary blizzard. Snow swirls in glittering spirals around everyone, obscuring Loki’s location.

“Is this supposed to be happening?” Clint asks, swiping at the air.

“Loki, stop showing off!” you shout, though your voice is nearly drowned out by Thor’s booming laughter.

When the snow clears, Loki is standing triumphantly in front of the poster, the red nose perfectly placed on Rudolph. He removes the blindfold with a smug flourish, his expression daring anyone to challenge his success.

Tony glares. “That’s cheating.”

“Cheating?” Loki repeats, feigning shock. “I simply used my… resources. Is that not allowed?”

“You’re impossible,” Tony grumbles, crossing his arms.

“And you are easily bested,” Loki retorts with a wicked grin.

You tug Loki aside, fixing him with a stern look. “Behave, or no Christmas cookies for you.”

He blinks, visibly offended. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Loki huffs but refrains from further magical interventions for the rest of the night. Or so you think.

Later, as everyone gathers for a gift exchange, Thor stands at the center of the room, holding a sprig of mistletoe aloft. “Behold!” he declares. “The enchanted plant of Midgardian love!”

“Oh no,” you murmur, recognizing the gleam in Loki’s eyes.

Thor, oblivious to the mischief brewing, insists on explaining the tradition in great detail, much to the amusement of the team. “It is said that those who find themselves beneath this plant must share a kiss. A curious but delightful custom!”

Loki seizes the opportunity, conjuring a mistletoe wreath that floats directly above you and him. The others groan in mock protest as Loki pulls you closer with a dramatic flair.

“Really?” you ask, though you’re already laughing.

“It’s tradition,” he murmurs, his voice velvet-smooth. He leans down to brush his lips against yours, his hands resting lightly on your waist. The kiss is soft and warm, a brief reprieve from the chaos.

“Ugh, get a room,” Tony mutters.

Loki pulls back just enough to smirk at Tony. “Jealous, Stark?”

“I’m going to puke.”

By the end of the night, Loki is seated by the fire, a mug of mulled wine in hand. You curl up beside him, exhausted but happy. The others are scattered around the room, some dozing, some still quietly chatting. Even Tony seems more relaxed, though he still throws Loki the occasional side-eye.

“So,” you say softly, resting your head on Loki’s shoulder. “What do you think of Christmas?”

“It’s peculiar,” he admits, his voice low. “But… enjoyable. With you.”

Your heart melts a little at the sincerity in his tone. You smile, reaching for his hand. “Merry Christmas, Loki.”

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

From across the room, Tony groans dramatically. “I’m going to need so much therapy after this.”

Loki smirks but doesn’t rise to the bait. For once, you’re proud of him. He’s learning.

Sort of.

As the party begins to wind down, most of the Avengers head off to their rooms, leaving you and Loki chatting by the fire. Eventually, even you excuse yourself to get ready for bed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before retreating down the hall. Loki lingers in the now-quiet room, the warm glow of the Christmas tree casting long shadows across the walls.

Thor, who had also lingered behind, pours himself another tankard of cider and plops onto the couch with the kind of loud sigh that only Thor can produce.

“Ah, brother,” Thor says, his cheeks rosy from drink, “was tonight not delightful? Such joy, such merriment! Midgardians may be odd, but their Yuletide traditions are quite charming.”

Loki raises an eyebrow at Thor’s obvious enthusiasm. “If by ‘charming’ you mean overly sentimental, then yes, I suppose.”

Thor chuckles, unbothered by Loki’s disdain. He gestures toward the Christmas tree, where brightly wrapped packages sit neatly in a pile beneath the branches. “And tomorrow, we shall partake in the exchanging of gifts! Another peculiar yet endearing custom.”

Loki turns his head sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Gifts?”

“Yes!” Thor booms, oblivious to Loki’s alarm. “The mortals exchange tokens of affection to celebrate the season. It’s a tradition to give something meaningful—though I must admit, I find the concept of wrapping them in paper rather odd. Why hide such treasures?”

Loki stares at the colorful packages as if they’ve suddenly materialized out of thin air. “Those… those are the gifts?”

“Indeed,” Thor replies, taking a hearty sip of cider. “Did you not notice? Everyone brings something to give to their companions. I myself have crafted the most splendid carving for Lady Natasha—an intricate likeness of a hawk! She will be most pleased.”

Panic flashes across Loki’s face, though he quickly schools his features into his usual mask of indifference. “I see,” he says carefully. “And… is this gift-giving obligatory?”

Thor laughs again. “It is not a matter of obligation, brother. It is a gesture of love and gratitude. Surely you have prepared something for Lady Y/N?”

Loki’s stomach twists. The thought had not even occurred to him. Gifts, he realizes with mounting horror, are a cornerstone of this holiday, and he has nothing for you. Worse, you likely have something for him.

He rises abruptly from his seat, his long coat swishing behind him. “Excuse me.”

Thor blinks. “Where are you going?”

“To rectify an oversight,” Loki says curtly, striding from the room.

Thor calls after him, “But the hour grows late, brother! You must—”

The door slams shut before Thor can finish.

Loki paces in his chambers, his mind racing. He cannot simply conjure a gift out of thin air—not for you. You are not just anyone. You are his everything, the rare soul who saw past his facade and dared to love him. A trinket or bauble would not suffice. It must be something extraordinary. Something meaningful.

But what?

His gaze falls on a small chest on the corner of his desk, one of the few items he had brought with him from Asgard. Slowly, he approaches it, his fingers brushing over the intricate carvings on its surface. Inside are fragments of his past—pieces of his life before everything unraveled. Among them, an idea begins to form.

The next morning, the common room buzzes with excitement as the team gathers for the gift exchange. You sit cross-legged by the tree, a mug of hot cocoa warming your hands, your cheeks flushed from the heat of the fire. Loki enters the room with his usual composed demeanor, though you notice the faintest hint of nervousness in his eyes.

You don’t mention it, though. Loki and nerves are rarely seen in the same room, and you don’t want to spoil whatever is brewing in that brilliant mind of his.

Steve starts handing out gifts, his boyish enthusiasm contagious. Wrapping paper flies, laughter fills the air, and even Tony’s snark is muted by the holiday spirit. You’re halfway through unwrapping a set of beautifully crafted leather gloves from Natasha when Loki approaches you.

“Darling,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You look up, surprised to see him holding a small, neatly wrapped package in his hands. The paper shimmers faintly, as if enchanted, and you can’t help but smile.

“For me?” you ask, your voice soft.

Loki nods, his expression unreadable. “It seems I have been… educated in the ways of Midgardian tradition. I hope you find it acceptable.”

You take the package from him, your heart fluttering at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. “I didn’t think you’d— I mean, I wasn’t expecting—”

“I noticed,” he interrupts, his lips quirking into a small smirk. “But you deserve to be surprised.”

You chuckle, your fingers carefully peeling away the wrapping. Inside, nestled in a bed of dark velvet, is a delicate necklace. The pendant is a swirling, shimmering stone that seems to contain an entire galaxy within its depths.

Your breath catches. “Loki… it’s beautiful.”

“It is more than that,” he murmurs, crouching beside you. “It is a fragment of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. I carried it with me for centuries, a piece of home that I thought I would always keep. But now… my home is wherever you are.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I love it,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I love you.”

He holds you close, his hands resting gently on your back. “And I, you.”

When you pull back, you wipe at your eyes and reach for the small box you had tucked under the tree. “It’s not as grand as Yggdrasil, but… I got you something too.”

Loki accepts the box with an arched eyebrow, clearly intrigued. He removes the wrapping with the same precision he applies to everything, revealing a leather-bound journal embossed with intricate silver designs.

“I know you like to write,” you explain, suddenly feeling shy. “And I thought… maybe this could be a place for your thoughts. Or your plans. Or your poetry. Whatever you want.”

Loki runs his fingers over the cover, his expression softening in a way you rarely see. “It is perfect,” he says simply. “Thank you.”

He surprises you then, pulling you in for another kiss, this one deeper and filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. Around you, the room erupts into exaggerated groans and cheers.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Tony calls out. “Break it up. Some of us are trying to digest.”

Loki pulls back, smirking at Tony. “Jealousy does not suit you, Stark.”

“Neither does PDA,” Tony shoots back.

You laugh, leaning your head against Loki’s shoulder as the festivities continue. The day stretches into afternoon, filled with warmth, laughter, and the joy of being surrounded by those you love. And though Loki may have started the night unsure of Midgardian traditions, he ends it with a newfound appreciation for the magic of Christmas—and for the gift that is your love.

The days following Christmas are filled with a contented warmth that lingers in the air like the scent of pine and mulled cider. Snow blankets the Stark compound, and the Avengers have settled into a rare, peaceful lull. For you and Loki, it’s an idyllic time. For Tony, it’s borderline intolerable.

It starts innocently enough: a lingering kiss as Loki helps you into your coat before a walk in the snow. A cozy moment by the fire with your head on his shoulder and his hand tracing idle patterns on your back. But soon, your affection for each other becomes less subtle. Or, as Tony puts it, “a full-blown rom-com in my living room.”

One evening, as the Avengers gather for a movie night, the popcorn bowl makes its way around the room. You and Loki are curled up on the oversized armchair, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. Every so often, he leans down to murmur something in your ear, his voice low and teasing, his lips grazing the shell of your ear just enough to make you giggle.

Tony, sprawled on the couch with a soda in hand, finally has enough.

“Do you two mind?” he says, gesturing wildly with his drink. “Some of us are trying to watch the movie, not a live audition for The Notebook 2.”

Loki doesn’t even bother to glance in Tony’s direction. “You are free to avert your eyes, Stark.”

“Or your entire face,” you chime in, grinning.

The team laughs, though Tony’s scowl deepens. He jabs a finger at Loki. “Just so we’re clear, Lothario, I’ve got my eye on you.”

Loki finally turns, his expression one of exaggerated innocence. “Whatever for? I’m merely basking in the radiant company of your enchanting sister.”

Tony groans, burying his face in his hands. “Unbelievable. I’ve saved the world too many times for this.”

Natasha chuckles from her seat. “You should be used to public displays of affection by now, Tony. Didn’t you once make out with Pepper in the middle of a board meeting?”

“That was strategic,” Tony insists. “This is just… gratuitous.”

“Call it what you like,” Loki says smoothly, his fingers brushing along your arm. “I call it love.”

Thor claps a hand on Tony’s shoulder, nearly knocking him sideways. “Do not fret, Stark! Loki’s heart is true, and your sister has tamed even his sharpest edges. It is a union worth celebrating!”

Tony mutters something about regretting every decision that led to this moment.

Later that week, you and Loki are in the kitchen, attempting to bake cookies—a task that quickly devolves into a flour-filled mess. You’re laughing so hard at Loki’s utter confusion over measuring cups that you don’t notice Tony standing in the doorway until he clears his throat.

You turn, still grinning. “Hey, Tony. Want to join the fun?”

He eyes the chaos with a raised brow. “Fun is one word for it. Looks like a bakery exploded in here.”

Loki smirks, dusting flour off his hands. “Your sister has decided to teach me the fine art of Midgardian baking. It is… entertaining.”

“It’s also delicious,” you add, sneaking a bite of cookie dough.

Tony steps inside, crossing his arms. “Listen, Y/N, can I have a word? Alone.”

Loki raises an eyebrow but doesn’t protest as Tony steers you into the adjoining room. Once you’re out of earshot, Tony sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair.

“Look, kid,” he starts, “I know you’re happy, and that’s great. Really. But Loki? Are we sure about this?”

You fold your arms, leveling him with a pointed look. “Tony, we’ve been over this. I love him. He loves me. End of story.”

“Yeah, but love doesn’t erase the whole ‘tried to conquer the planet’ thing. Or the ‘stabbed Coulson’ thing. Or the—”

You cut him off. “He’s changed. You know that. And if you don’t, then maybe you haven’t been paying attention.”

Tony sighs again, clearly conflicted. “I just… I worry about you, okay? You’re my little sister. I want you to have the best, and Loki… well, he’s a wildcard.”

“Wildcards make life interesting,” you say, softening your tone. “And Loki makes me happy, Tony. Happier than I’ve ever been.”

Tony groans, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But if he screws up—if he so much as looks at you wrong—I’m sending him back to Asgard in pieces. Deal?”

“Deal,” you say with a grin. “But you’ll see—he’s the real deal.”

As if on cue, Loki appears in the doorway, holding a tray of somewhat misshapen cookies. “Am I interrupting?”

“Always,” Tony mutters.

You roll your eyes and take one of the cookies, pulling Loki into a quick kiss. “Perfect timing, actually.”

Tony makes a gagging noise and waves you off. “Great. Fantastic. I’ll just be in my workshop, away from… whatever this is.”

Loki watches him go with a smirk. “He’s quite protective of you.”

“He is,” you say, leaning into him. “But he’ll come around.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

You grin, popping the rest of the cookie into your mouth. “Then he’ll just have to deal with it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Over the following days, Tony’s annoyance continues to simmer, especially as you and Loki grow even more comfortable with your affection. The stolen kisses in the hallway, the way Loki tucks your hair behind your ear, the private jokes that make you both laugh uncontrollably—all of it grates on Tony’s nerves. But eventually, even he has to admit that Loki’s devotion to you is genuine.

One evening, as you and Loki sit together by the fire, Tony passes by, shaking his head. “You know,” he says, pausing in the doorway, “for an ancient god of mischief, you’re a lot sappier than I expected.”

Loki smirks, his arm tightening around your shoulders. “And yet, your sister seems to find it endearing.”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.”

As he walks away, you catch the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Progress, you think. Slow, grudging progress. But progress nonetheless.

I don't really know why I keep writing Thor and Loki talking like that, I guess I just can't get past this lol

[lvnleah]

— our house | lotte wubben-moy🎄

find the twelve days of Christmas masterlist here!

The scent of fresh pine filled the air, mingling with the faint warmth of cinnamon candles you had scattered around the house. Your new house—the one you and Lotte had only moved into a few months ago—felt cosy and full of promise, even if it was still half-unpacked.

It was Christmas Eve, and the two of you had decided to stay home for the holidays for the first time, away from family. You loved your families, of course, but this year felt special. This was your first Christmas as homeowners, and you wanted to start traditions of your own.

Lotte was crouched on the living room floor, wrestling with the tangled mess of fairy lights you’d pulled from a box in the attic. She muttered something under her breath, half in frustration and half in amusement, while you stood back, holding the tree steady and trying not to laugh.

“I told you to check the lights before we bought the tree,” you teased, grinning as she shot you a glare.

“They were fine last year!” she protested, “I thought they’d be alright!”

“That was last year,” you countered, stepping closer to help her untangle the knots. “Maybe we should just buy new ones next time.”

Lotte groaned, flopping back onto the carpet and letting the lights dangle from her hands. “This is a disaster.”

You sat down beside her, plucking the tangled wires from her grip. “It’s not a disaster,” you said gently. “It’s our first Christmas in our house. We’ll figure it out.”

“You’re too optimistic, you know that?”

“Someone has to be,” you shot back, giggling at her moody state as she lay on the floor. 

The two of you worked together, and after a lot of untangling—and some choice words from Lotte—the lights were finally wrapped around the tree. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

By the time you’d finished decorating, the room was glowing with soft golden light. Ornaments you’d collected over the years hung on the branches, each one telling a story. There was the bauble from your first trip abroad together, the tiny wooden football Lotte’s mum had given you, and even a hilariously lopsided clay ornament you’d made together during a failed crafting night last year.

Lotte stood back, her arm slipping around your waist as the two of you admired your work. “It’s not bad,” she said, her voice warm and teasing.

“Not bad?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. It’s pretty great,” she admitted, pulling you closer.

You tilted your head back to look at her, “First Christmas in our house,” you murmured.

She smiled, her hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “First of many.”

Later, after dinner and a lot of laughter over burning half the cookies you’d tried to bake, the two of you collapsed on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs and mugs of hot chocolate in hand.

Lotte rested her head against your shoulder, her long legs stretched out across the cushions. “You know,” she said, her voice soft, “this house didn’t feel like home until now.”

You turned to look at her, your heart skipping at the way she was gazing at you. “Because of the tree?”

“Because of you,” she said simply, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in the quiet warmth of the moment, the lights on the tree twinkling softly. It wasn’t a perfect Christmas, but it was yours—and it was everything you’d ever imagined.