#before putting away the xmas lights

[lovelydulcecito]

Twinkle little star ⭐

Free OF | Tip ✨

[tthoroughfare]

happiest season // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: the gang's all back together for christmas! no matter how hectic life gets, you always make time for your end of year outing.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: modern!ellie x reader ft. jesse and dina

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw. ellie fucking sucks at ice skating

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 2.1k

this fic is a part two to this blurb! i loved writing the dynamic so much i had to continue it... there will be more coming trust. *dutch voice* i have a plan. also i don't even like xmas that much so i have no idea where this came from. just felt right. i hope you all enjoy, and have an amazing festive period with your loved ones <3

gift bag in hand, you wander into the restaurant. there’s cheesy christmas music drifting through the speakers, a tree in the corner, lights everywhere; you immediately spot jesse and dina, the latter waving at you as soon as you enter.

“hey!” she greets when you walk up, standing to put her arms around you. “how are you?”

“good, good,” you reply, one-handedly returning her embrace before leaning down to give jesse a quick hug. “you?”

“good. i mean, life is fucking killing me in general, but y’know.” she sits back down, watching as you place your belongings to the side and shuffle your chair in. “where’s ellie?”

you shrug. “no idea, i haven’t talked to her today. probably isn’t even on her way yet.”

“most likely,” jesse adds, smirking.

“has anyone texted her?” you ask, looking between the two of them.

the couple share a glance, wordlessly confirming before looking back at you.

“uh… no,” jesse states.

“dude.”

you pull your phone out, knowing all too well what ellie’s like. even if she knows she has to be somewhere, she’ll stay up way too late; and if no-one gets in touch with her in the morning, she won’t be up and ready for it.

selecting her contact and calling her, you press your phone to your ear. she surprisingly answers after two rings, clearly walking down the street, wind whipping past the microphone.

“hello?”

“just checking you’re awake.”

“uh, okay, sorry, i’m literally… like, ‘round the corner.”

“hurry up, ‘cause the manager says if all members of the party aren’t here in five minutes we’re getting kicked out,” you deadpan, casting a smirk at your friends.

“very funny.”

you automatically turn your head when you hear the door open, both through your phone and behind you. ellie bustles through it, phone between her ear and shoulder, waving with her free hand before ending the call. she heads over to the table, taking the empty seat beside you. dina looks on, giving her an exaggerated offended stare.

“uh, the fuck, do i not get a hug?”

ellie rolls her eyes with a small smile, gesturing her over. “come here.”

dina happily totters over, leaning over ellie’s chair and wrapping her arms around her shoulders from behind. ellie shifts her hand, giving her forearm a few pats before she pulls away.

“happy?”

“yup.” dina sits back down, budging her chair in before clapping her hands together lightly. “okay. gifts before or after food?”

ellie scoffs lightly at her impatience. “i literally just got here.”

“you want everyone to say before, 'cause you want yours now,” jesse comments fondly, leaning an elbow on the table.

“… correct. but i really don’t mind, whatever you guys wanna do.”

“i don’t mind. we can do it now,” you add.

dina’s eyes flit between each of you mischievously. “can we do it now?”

“let’s do it now,” you confirm with a chuckle, leaning forward and pointing your hand at dina. “you first — your idea.”

she grins, reaching to pick up her gift bag and holding it out to ellie. “i got you.”

ellie takes it from her, smirking lightly as she takes out the tissue paper on top. her expression changes when she sees the first item, eyebrows scrunching and letting out a drawn-out scoff. “bro, what the fuck?”

dina laughs knowingly.

“what is it?” jesse questions, chuckling lightly. she just holds it up in reply, pivoting it back and forth so you can all see, avoiding eye contact with you. it’s a hot pink bullet vibrator.

“y’know… ‘cause you’re gay and stuff,” dina jovially explains, holding her hands up in gesture. ellie just stares at her, blinking slowly and holding back a laugh. “ladies’ll love it.”

“what ladies?” jesse remarks quietly, earning himself a light-hearted tap from ellie’s shoe under the table.

“anyway…” ellie gingerly sets the box down on the table, digging back through the bag. “thank you for that, dina.”

the rest of the gifts are sweet; she’d gotten her a dinosaur mug, her favorite chips, and a band tee. she holds them up in turn for you all to look at, placing everything back in when she’s done and thanking dina.

dina nods in acknowledgement, smiling warmly. you all look at ellie expectantly, who settles into her chair holding a clueless expression on her face.

“it’s your turn,” jesse reminds her after a moment of silence.

“oh, shit, yeah.” she sits back up, picking up her gift bag from the floor and passing it over to you, dragging the action out in amplified suspense. you grin, taking it from her gently. “thank you.”

dipping your hand in, you take out the first item. it’s your favorite scent of candle, one you always had on in your room. you’d never mentioned anything about it to her, but ellie was like that. always quietly noticing.

there’s another, bigger item in there, too. you pull it out the wrong way, turning it around to get a look; it’s a framed painting of your favorite musician.

“oh my god, this is awesome!” you say, looking at ellie. “where did you get this?”

“uh, i didn’t…” she trails off softly, looking down at her hands for a moment. “i made it.”

your eyebrows raise, smile widening. “no fucking way. you painted this?”

there’s a small, coy smile on her face as she nods. “… you like it?”

“you serious? i love it, this is like the coolest thing ever.” you look back at the painting, studying the fine details; it looks like it took her a good while. “thank you so much.”

“wait, i wanna see!” dina chimes in, reaching over the table for it.

jesse leans in as you pass it over, peering over her shoulder. “woah… this is good, ellie. why the hell weren’t you my secret santa?”

ellie tuts playfully, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “you’d have gotten coal.”

the rest of the gift exchange goes ahead, temporarily halted by the waiter coming to take your orders. you got dina; dina got jesse. 

the secret santa was a silly tradition you’d upheld over the years. one that became more precious when you left high school, and you and ellie got into a different college as the other two. you still saw each other wherever possible, and had a group chat that was active daily; still, it was hard being away from your closest childhood friends. you found yourself missing just being able to text dina to come pick you up, getting drive-thru and talking shit in her car until the early hours.

every year when you were all home for christmas, you made a point of meeting up. while normally all busy with your own plans, no matter what, you’d always clear your schedule for at least one day.

after the meal, dina announces that she’s booked ice skating — to which ellie lets out a groan.

“why?” she complains, drawing the word out. “you know i’m horrible at it.”

“yeah, why do you think i made the reservation?” dina counters teasingly. ellie just gives her a look.

when you get down there, in the middle of lacing up your skates, ellie flops down next to you to put hers on and lets out a dramatic sigh.

you cast her a sideways glance, smirking fondly. “oh, shut up, it’ll be fun.”

“you don’t understand, i fucking suck.”

“get a penguin,” you respond, chuckling as you finish up, leaning back to wait for her.

she lets out a laugh. “no… embarrassing.”

“plenty of people have them.” you gesture out to the rink.

“yeah, they’re all ten and under.”

rolling your eyes, you train your gaze on dina already out there. she whizzes past fairly gracefully, dragging jesse along. “hold dina’s hand, she’s pretty good.”

“no, she goes too fast. i’d end up eating shit.”

“i think that’s gonna happen either way.”

she sighs lightly, pulling a dejected face as she finishes tying her laces. going to stand, you offer a hand to haul her up, keeping hold of it as you both dodder over to the edge of the rink.

you get on first, a little unsteady; you’re passable at skating, at best. ellie hesitantly places a first foot onto the ice, free hand clinging onto the side as she ungracefully enters fully. one of the skates almost goes out from under her and catapults her flying into the barrier; it nearly takes you out, too, sending you off balance.

failing to hold back from laughing at her, you give her hand a squeeze. “ellie, oh my god.”

“i fuckin’ told you!”

“look, you’ll be fine, just hold onto the side and i’ll, like… drag you.”

“real elegant.”

you raise an eyebrow, jutting your neck slightly forward in gesture. “rather fend for yourself?”

she pauses, sheepishly looking to the left, then back at you. “… no.”

“come on, then.”

it goes about how you expected, moving along at a snail’s pace, ellie practically white-knuckling the barrier. by the time you’ve gotten to the other side of the rink, dina and jesse have passed you twice; on the first, teasingly cackling at you, on the second, calling out, ‘losers’.

you pat ellie’s arm in jest, giggling at the exclamation. “don’t listen to them, they’re mean.”

not long after, you actually come up behind two people slower than you; a young boy and a grandma, trailing around the edge of the rink hand-in-hand. you deal with it for a few minutes, but the thought of being stuck behind them the whole time proves too irritating.

“we’re gonna pass these people,” you mutter to ellie, leaning in. “you’re gonna have to let go, and—“

she cuts you off, shaking her head vehemently. “no, no, no. dude, i can’t.”

“you gotta. literally just let go for like, two seconds, hold onto me while we go around. it’s chill.”

you were wrong — it was not, in fact, chill. essentially the second ellie lets go of the barrier, she panics and wobbles. that, in turn, makes her panic even more, and she completely loses her footing. calling out your name in comical distress, she goes down in a heap, automatically grasping onto the back of your jacket and bringing you down with her.

you crack up after the shock of hitting frigid, wet ice wears off. it seeps through your sleeves and jeans, goosebumps forming. “ellie, what the fuck?”

“i’m sorry,” she laughs along, sitting up and flicking the moisture off of her hands. “i’m so sorry.”

you manage to get over to the side and hoist yourself up. whilst you’re in the process of attempting to get ellie on her feet without being yanked back down, jesse and dina fly past again, cheering dramatically at the sight.

ellie turns to flip them off; the motion destabilizes her, and she topples and lands flat on her ass all over again.

later, when you’ve all hugged and parted ways, you’re in your childhood bedroom winding down when you receive a series of texts from her.

you head over to the corner of your room where you’d dropped your stuff on entry, taking your gifts out of the bag and rechecking. camouflaged against the interior, flat against the bottom, there’s a small envelope addressed to you.

opening it and taking out the folded paper, you can’t hold back from smiling. it’s a letter, decorated with silly stickers.

i just wanted to write you a letter to let you know how much i appreciate you :) i am very lucky to have you in my life and i always look forward to spending time with you even if we’re just hanging out in each other’s rooms and rotting. 

i kinda struggle with getting to know people (woah shock) and when i first moved i was so fucking worried i was gonna literally have no friends LOL. but right from the beginning you, jesse and dina made it so easy. don’t tell them this because i'll never hear the end of it, but it was mainly you. you were always going out of your way to talk to me and include me and stuff, and it meant a lot. and at risk of sounding super weird as soon as i saw you, i knew you were going to be an important person to me. 

back in school when we were applying to college, honestly i was scared that you were going to end up going somewhere different to me. like to the point i wouldn’t be able to sleep some nights because i’d just be up thinking about it. anyway, i’m so glad it all worked out. wouldn’t wanna do this shit with anyone else <3

love you always

ellie

heading back over to your bed to grab your phone, you text her again, letter sitting at the side of you.

[toxicanonymity]

it's hard (stepdad one shot)

3k words, stepdad!joel x f!reader

“Can I tell ya somethin'?” He whispers. “What?” You ask. He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember. 

SUMMARY: You're at their house xmas wk. WARNINGS: I8+ stepcest, angst, pining, fluff, possessive!joel, sneaking around, outercourse, unsafe p in v, mess of cum. reader can sit on him. Mood board is for mood. A/N: Title is an album by The Who.

It’s Christmas week, only a few days after your first time with Joel, and you’re staying at their house. You show up later than you said you would, and Joel has already asked where you are. The truth is, you're nervous. You’re not sure you want to have sex in their house, and you’re also not sure you can resist.  It’s too mortifying to think about getting caught. There are plenty of other places you can do it–your apartment, a motel, a car. You’re trying to be smart and slow down. 

When you show up, your mom’s car isn’t there. Joel is in the kitchen wearing his standard gray joggers, a tight white tee, and socks with coconuts on them. No shoes. He lights up when you walk in. "Hey," you mutter and he replies in kind as you close the door behind you. You survey the living room where there’s a pillow and blankets on the sofa, and you pity him for a moment.  

“Oh,” he goes over to the christmas tree and plugs in the multicolor lights. “Merry Christmas week.” You stand there with your bags, not really sure what you’re doing, or feeling. He approaches you cautiously. 

You look at each other for a few seconds until you're both comfortable that the other still feels the same way. 

“I'll take those,” Joel finally offers. As he takes the bag off your shoulder, he gives you a peck on the cheek. “Good to see you,” he mumbles. His shirt rides up as he slings the bag over his shoulder and you follow him upstairs. He glances back and teases, “Caught ya lookin’.”

Once you make it to your bedroom you ask, “where's mom?” 

“Grabbin’ dinner. Guess we’ll eat when she's back.”  He puts the bags down on your bed and steps toward you. You don’t step away. He gently pulls you into a hug. You inhale his scent as his arms wrap around you. 

The embrace lingers, and you can't ignore the warmth of his mostly-soft package pressing against you. 

You begin to whisper, “I don't think we should. . .”  trailing off when you realize you're not sure where to draw the line. Every second in his arms, you're less and less sure. 

“Okay,” Joel murmurs. He kisses you on the cheek–slower, more tender than his initial greeting. “Whatever you want,” he adds. He presses his lips into your cheek again, and they linger for a moment before he drags them away. 

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, then pull away, cheeks burning as his arms reluctantly loosen and his hands slide down, skimming your sides as you step back. 

“I'm gonna unpack,” you mutter, glancing at your luggage, cheeks warm. 

“Yeah,” Joel scratches one side of his beard. “Okay.” 

One day at a time. Have some self-control. You pull yourself away. 

He nods, looks down, and turns around to leave. His back is sooo broad.  You want to reach out and run your hand over his muscles, but you know you wouldn't stop there.

You lock the door behind him and hope it isn't too offensive. As soon as he’s out, you exhale. You lay down on your bed.  You open your nightstand drawer and your heart flutters at a box with a bow on it, and your name in his handwriting. Under it, there's a new pack of batteries. 

You wonder if he's about to jerk off, but you don't wait to find out. You close your eyes and imagine him coming back through the door, unable to resist.

—------------- 

Your Mom comes home with Thai food and the three of you sit down to dinner together. Your mom makes small talk while Joel makes a mess of the pad thai trying to serve himself. Noodles are dragging behind, tethering the pile on his plate to the main container.  Your mom bristles at this in her peripheral vision. 

“So,” your Mom puts on her best interested face and asks you,“Swipe right on anyone lately?” 

Joel scoffs silently. 

“Not many,” you answer. Every time she talks to you, your heart races like you’re about to walk into a trap. This is your own doing, and you know it. 

“How many guys are on there, anyway?”

“A lot.” 

“Can I see?”

It doesn’t even occur to you to say no. 

You open tinder and slide your phone over. “Just swipe left.” 

Joel’s chewing slows down as he stares at the dating app open on your phone. Your stomach drops.

You hadn’t used it at all this week. You would’ve deleted it if you thought about it, but you’re so used to ignoring the notifications. You look at Joel apologetically as your Mom keeps swiping left.

Joel’s nostrils flare, and his breaths become faster. He swallows and doesn’t take another bite. He taps his chopsticks on his plate. 

“Oh,” your Mom addresses you. “You know who’s single?” She looks up from your phone. Joel takes a deep breath and looks at her with his brow furrowed. 

“Harold, down the street.”

“What the hell would she want with Harold?” Joel snaps. 

Your mom chuckles. “What’s wrong with Harold?” 

Her phone rings. Joel puts his chopsticks down and clasps his hands behind his chair to stretch his back. As soon as your Mom stands up from the table, he leans forward and takes your phone. 

“What’s this about?” he asks flatly.  It’s still open to tinder. His jaw clenches. He looks into your messages. At least he can see you haven’t sent any. 

“I forgot I even had it,” you explain. 

He goes to the home screen. “Good, you won’t mind.” He holds down the app and presses uninstall.

“What else ya got?” he starts scrolling your apps.

He goes on instagram and opens a picture of you in a mildly low cut dress. He deletes it and opens another picture. His breathing is still agitated. 

“Hey,” you reach for your phone. “What the hell?” You take it from his hand. “Are you gonna act even crazier now?” 

His brow furrows and he stares at the table, then meets your eyes and swallows. “I dunno.” His face softens as he looks at you.

Then he gets pensive and asks, “What do you think of Harold?” 

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think about Harold at all.” You pocket your phone and get up from the table. 

“Wait, where ya goin’?”

“Meeting a friend for coffee.”

He’s rubbing his beard like he’s trying not to say anything, but he blurts out, “What friend?”

“Emma. . . Jesus.” 

On your way out of the neighborhood, you pass Harold’s house. It feels like every time you drive by in the daylight, he's struggling to bring some kind of delivery inside - Amazon boxes, or even donuts and iced coffee. Tonight he's sitting at his kitchen table alone, wrapping a present.

—--

When you’re at the cafe with Emma, Joel texts you, Sorry.

It’s ok, you reply. 

It's a struggle not to tell Emma what's going on, but you don't. You tell her you’re seeing someone but don't want to jinx it by saying too much.

When you get home, he’s in the kitchen casually leaning with his butt and hands against the counter.  “How ‘bout some egg nog?” 

“No thanks,” you tell him, but you linger. 

“We good?” he asks, quieter. You nod as you take off your jacket, then put it in the coat closet. 

When you turn around, he’s right in your space. His eyes are red and his hair is messier than earlier, giving you a rush of desire.

“Sorry,” he repeats and reaches for your head.

You don’t pull away.

He cradles the back of your head as he hugs you loosely. You let your hands lightly skim his hips, then wrap around him. It would be a harmless hug in a different family. Until he pulls his head back, then rubs his nose against yours. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, nostrils filling with his aftershave. Then a toilet flushes in the background, and you break apart. 

“I’m going to read,” you mumble. His fingertips skim your ass as you walk away. 

—------------- 

You’re lying in bed later, still reading, when Joel sends you a snapchat. The notification makes you tingle, but when you open it, it’s not him. It’s the TV downstairs with the title card of Krampus. You get out of bed and pad over to your mom's room. You crack the door open, and she's passed out. 

You go downstairs.

Joel is lying on his side on the sofa. You and he are wearing the same pajamas you got for Christmas last year. The Christmas tree casts the room in a dim, cozy light. 

He welcomes you under his arm. Just a little cuddling, you lie to yourself.

Without much hesitation, you settle in as a small spoon so you're both facing the tv. He runs his hand up and down your side before dangling his arm over your waist.  The bulge in his pants is barely grazing you, until you push your ass back and he inhales sharply, then cups your breast, using his forearm across your torso to bring you closer. His nose nudges your neck and you can feel him inhaling your scent. His warm package nudges your ass. It's the first time you've felt him soft, like really felt him. It's still quite a bulge.

He's not soft for long. Soon he’s lightly grinding against you, hard and getting harder as the movie quietly plays. His hand leaves your breast, skimming down your soft pajama top to its bottom hem. His fingers creep under the shirt and when they hit your bare skin, the shock of arousal has you thinking very stupid thoughts. Like, maybe you should ride him on this couch, come what may. You stop his hand from going any further up your shirt. 

His arm relaxes in defeat. 

You gently take his hand out from under your shirt and bring it near your breast, where it was. Instead, he covers your hand with his and interlaces his fingers. His thumb brushes yours at a slow rhythm, and the butterflies in your chest nearly make you forget what you're trying to resist until his cock twitches against you.

He takes his hand back only for a moment to adjust himself, then his hand returns to yours. His arm wraps tighter over you. Against your back, his chest expands with each breath. The rhythmic stroke of his thumb lulls you half-asleep. 

“Can I tell ya somethin?” He whispers. 

“What?” You ask. 

He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches back to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember. 

“I wanna do this every night,” he says. 

Your heart flutters. You turn on your side to face him. 

“I mean it,” his eyes are somber. He lays his hand on your side. He takes in a shaky breath. “I'm miserable without you.” 

“I'm right here.” 

He shakes his head. “I need all of you.” 

You look at each other for a few seconds in the light of the Christmas tree. There's not much to say. 

“Me too,” you whisper. His nose twitches and he shakes his head like you don't get it.

“What I’m tryin’ to say is. . .I’d ruin my life for you, if it wouldn't ruin yours, too.”

You read each other's eyes for a long moment.

“What life,” you whisper.

His eyes brighten. “That's how I feel.”  His gaze falls to your lips. “We’ll get a new one.” 

You want to kiss him, but don't want to end up naked. First you warn,  “I don't wanna take off any-”  

He cuts you off with his lips. They’re soft and needy. Then his hand runs down your side, over your ass, and his fingers dig into your flannel-clad thigh. You hike your knee up and wrap your leg around him. The hard shape in his pants presses right against your most sensitive place. “Mm,”  you moan softly into his mouth.

You’re throbbing for him. So turned on. His tongue slides against yours and he feeds on your mouth as he grinds against you. His dick is fat and hard and warm.

As you move against each other, pangs of pleasure dart to your nipples, your ass, your chest. He's so hard. Your body flutters on the edge of bliss but stays there. He grabs the plush of your ass, pulling you harder against him. You break the kiss with a gasp, and he latches onto your neck. 

With a push of his hips, he moans into your neck then whispers, “can't wait to be inside you again.” you throb and gush at the thought. He grinds against you a little harder, needier, but just as slow. “Fuck, you feel good.” He rolls over on his back, bringing you on top of him. Then he sits up and lifts your knees so your legs wrap around him and you hang onto his neck.

“God I wanna fuck you like this,” he whispers, holding you against him. His cock swells harder. You're throbbing madly. You card your fingers into his hair and he groans at your fingertips on his scalp. His strong arm holds you against him with his hips lifting under you. 

“Me too,” you whisper, your legs pulling yourself closer, harder. You groan softly. “Want you inside me—fuck, just like this.”

“Can ya feel it,” he asks, “ohhh–cause I still feel it–god–every time I close my eyes.” He moans as his stiff manhood twitches against you. Your clit pulses and you gasp. He covers your mouth with a kiss as you come. Everything else fades away. His lips break away with a shudder as he explodes against you through the soft flannel, pulsing hard. Your chest flutters at the feeling.

When you're both done, he lets you back onto the sofa, and resumes his position on his side. He pulls you back against him with a sigh. You're pleasantly surprised that you don't feel a bigger mess against your back.

“Shit,” he mutters after a minute.

“What?”

“‘s’not your problem.” 

“Say it.” You roll on your back to look at him.

His cheeks flush. “M’not empty.” 

Your heart skips a beat.

“Not your problem,” he repeats, but you’re already pulling down your waistband. Yeah, it’s. . .not a problem at all.

You turn on your side again, facing the tv. You reach back into his pants, and your breath hitches at the mess of cum enrobing his slowly softening dick.

“Do it,” you whisper, and tilt your hips for him.

He quickly notches his cum smeared dick at your entrance, no longer fully hard, but hard enough. He presses on your mound as he plunges into you, dividing your insides with a sigh. “Fuck,” he breathes. Your chest feels light as your body makes space for him. 

You close your eyes as he further stiffens, growing inside you, pressing against your walls. His hand slides up your top. He gropes your breast as he retreats, then bottoms out again. Within a few strokes, he’s as stiff as ever, and you’re as full as ever. 

He pauses, fully seated inside you, throbbing. He covers you both with a blanket. You're relieved there's another one beneath you. He breathes against your ear as his hand meanders under your top again. “Inside?” 

“Yeah,” You nod.  

“Where it should be,” he pants. He moans as he slowly fucks you.

“Want it all,” you beg, getting closer and closer with the tight drag of him within you.

He adjusts his position, sliding his arm under your neck so he can grope you with both hands, hugging you tight against him.

"'s'all I think about," he whispers. "Ungghhh---when I wake up---ohh--when I go to sleep."

He moans softly and his hands feel you greedily, "whenever you're ready."

“Fuck,” you whisper. He buries himself in you slow and deep. His breath is hot on your neck. You push back on him, swallowing every inch he’ll feed your drooling cunt. He buries his mouth and nose against your head. The Christmas lights are blurry in the corner of your eye.

“Feel so perfect,” he pants. He rubs your clit and you still his hand. He withdraws part way and pauses with his tip nudging just the right spot. He just barely rocks his hips, staying right there, rubbing over it, not letting up.

You gasp and tighten with tension, then sigh as you gush on him.

“Yeah,” he pants, presses your mound for leverage, and bottoms out as you choke his cock.

He sighs and begins to pulse with even more power than you remember. A huge burst of warmth, followed by a smaller twitch, another massive burst, a slow thrust. It keeps coming, and so do you. His breaths are heavy against you, his stomach flexing into your back as he empties his load. You're overflowing with cum. Your climax wanes, and he's still pulsing even once he's dry.

It finally stops, and he rests inside.

-

You catch your breath, and the smell of sex hangs so heavy in the air that dread bubbles in your chest. You pull yourself forward, letting his cock fall out.

“Shit,” you mutter at the mess between your legs. You pull your pants up. He squeezes your hip affectionately as you sit up.

He sits up on his elbow and tucks away his worn out cock. He takes a deep breath and searches your eyes.

You don't know what to say. You reach back to feel the blanket – soaked. “This is. . .we can’t do this again.”

He whispers your name, sits up and rests one hand on your back, one on your thigh. His chest is heaving like he's waking up from a nightmare. “What happened,” he whispers. “Talk to me.”

“Here. We can't do this here.”

He sighs and swallows. “Okay,” he whispers. “Sorry.”

“You know how to use the washer, right?”

“Yeah. I've got it. Of course.”

You take off your pajama bottoms.

“You okay ?” He asks.

You nod. You yearn to lay with him, but you’re also compelled to leave that room.

You read his face and the worry on it makes your heart hurt.

“It's okay,” you whisper, then kiss him good night. It's a long, soft kiss, and he doesn't want to let you go. “It’s okay, I promise,” you assure him.

You creep up the stairs pantsless. The air is cool on the cum between your thighs until more warmth trickles out.

You clean up in your bathroom and hear the washer turn on downstairs. You can't get his pitiful look out of your head. You send him a chat when you get back in bed: Good night ❤️.

Sweet dreams ❤️🤟, he replies.

—---

----

----

Thank you for reading!

PSA - The main story to stepdad is over, and I don't commit to another arc of them, but the AU is still open for one shots, asks, HCs, whatever I get inspired on. Basically I want it to be more casual without expectations.

There will be another post this month, because I already wrote the smut.

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @rainstorms-library @nervousmumbling

[princessbrunette]

All i can think about is rafe cameron buying you stupidly expensive lingerie sets for christmas😵‍💫 and then after breakfast he asks you to model them🤭

SANTA BABY ♡

gettin me in the festive spirit hehehe this made me wanna spend xmas with the cameron’s so bad :((

cw: christmas duh, family bonding time, i aged Wheezie down to be like 6 years old bc i think it would be cute idk LMAOOO , suggestive themes but nothing too crazy ❀

At his core, Rafe Cameron liked to think he was a family man. He’d often flip out, misbehave, and shit talk his family members it’s true, but Christmas was a time he liked to put it all behind him (Atleast until the new year starts, and he can start up his usual BS)

As you can imagine, Christmas at the Cameron’s was something extravagant. Humungous white christmas tree with silver decorations at the centre of the house, the outside of the house decked with lights that required enough power to start up 3 yachts, fake snow on the porch and Frank Sinatras Christmas album playing round the house at each corner. The years had only softened Ward, and whilst he could be cruel, hard on Rafe and borderline forgetful of Wheezies existence — Christmas was where he shone brightest, just wanting to do right by his kids and now, you, his sons girlfriend.

Receiving presents from the family was a whole different ballgame to your usual Christmas at home, Ward having grinned ear to ear when he handed you the box with the Tiffany’s heart tag charm bracelet glittering under the Christmas lights of the early morning (Wheezie being Wheezie woke everyone up at 6AM sharp.) Rafe, who’d insisted you’d curled right up to his side on the couch wearing his robe resisted an eye roll, his dad always having to out do him, but you seemed elated and he felt his heart warm.

They went all out, Rose handing you a literal 90’s Blumarine runway piece she’d simply overheard you talking Rafes ear off about, the next 5 minutes spent by you and Sarah fawning over it. Sarah’s gift was next, a set of SKIMS dresses you’d been saving to your Pinterest which she couldn’t help but notice, and of course Wheezie proudly handing you a glittery macaroni necklace she’d crafted you at school, which you had no choice but to act like it was the best gift of all.

Come Rafe’s turn, he simply offered his family a smile and patted your side, turning his head to look at you. “I’ve got her presents in my room, figured I’d give it to you privately.” He teases, ignoring Sarah’s ‘Barf’ comment from her cross legged position on the floor beside her little sister.

The family dispersed for a little while, Sarah helping Wheezie set up her new toys on the carpet infront of the tree, Rose and Ward going to start up the food in the kitchen (Ward insists on cooking everything themselves instead of having the chefs do it, because it was tradition.) Before you could wander in there and offer your help, you were being pulled back gently by the arm into your fluffy robe clad boyfriend wearing a poorly masked excited smile. “What, you don’t want your present from me?”

He slides a box from under his bed when you get up to his room again, covered with thin pink gift paper to hide the logo. He sits on his chair, robe falling between his legs and bare knees exposed outwards. “C’mon, sit on santas lap.” He grins and you mirror him, skipping over, happy and spoiled and perching on his leg. He puts the box in your lap and you peel away the paper to see the Agent Provocateur logo with the iconic black ribbon. You widen your eyes at him as if to say ‘Okaaaay, good job’ before wedging your fingertips carefully beneath the cardboard lip and lifting it, seeing 5 sets before you that was perfectly accustomed to your taste.

You remember your trip to the city with Rafe, it was business of course — but you were happy to tag along and walk alongside him watching him handle things for you and his family. You’d spotted the fancy lingerie store, practically pressing yourself up against the glass of the window as you look inside rambling about how you had so many of the sets saved to your Pinterest, pointing out each with your finger smushed to the glass. Rafe nodded distractedly, phone pressed to his ear, leaning on his hip in his gridded shirt and khaki pants that fit too good, before gesturing to you with his thumb that the two of you needed to get moving again, or else you’d be late to the appointment with a buyer. You pout and peel yourself away from the store.

But that was like what, September? Did he go back and buy it all for you? Order it once he’d returned home with you? You’d know Rafe to hold a grudge, but didn’t know his memory served in a positive manner too. “Rafe…” You coo, plucking out the sets and holding them up to admire the intricate lace detailing, spotting matching garters and whatever else you’d mentioned laying in the box. The thought of him fumbling through your underwear drawer trying to figure out your bra size made you giggle, wrapping an arm around his neck in an appreciative squeeze.

“How’d you remember?” Your voice was high in awe, wanting to hold on to this sweet side of Rafe forever.

“Please, I pay attention sometimes y’know.” He smirks modestly, eyes on the box as he admires his work. “So you like it? Yeah?” His hands finding your hips and giving them a soft squeeze.

“Love it, Rafey.” It comes out muffled, because you’re busying yourself with pressing big wet kisses to his cheek, and then eventually his mouth. He pulls away a fraction, lips still brushing yours and eyes cracking open.

“Gonna try it all on for me though, right?” He drawls in that classic Rafe way that you can never say no to and you nod so vigorously you nearly headbutt him. He pats your butt with a pleased hum and pecks you once more. “Atta girl.”

[pedriache]

Moments 𖦹 Alexia Putellas !

summary. on your second christmas together, alexia can’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of love for you.

word count. 510+

disclaimers. fluff , wlw !!

bea speaks. merry xmas to those who celebrate!! if not, well just happy day! it’s actually xmas eve for me rn but i needed to post..

The snow was light in Barcelona, which you were grateful that there was even any—but the air had a wintery bite. Inside the warmth of your shared home, christmas lights sparkled throughout the room, casting soft glows of many colors over your faces and the walls. You sat beside Alexia, wrapping a few extra presents in a sea of colorful papers and ribbons.

Alexia had been quiet the whole night, her usual playful quips absent. You’d figured she was just tired and it’s not like you didn’t enjoy being in the silence with her, until it reached thirty minuted before midnight, and you could see her eyebrows pulling together the more she thought.

Finally putting the scissors aside, you nudge her knee. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

She glances up at you, her expression tender but distant. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am,” she answers softly.

Smiling at her, although her tone gave you slight pause, you tilt your head to the side questioningly. “Lucky how?”

“For you.” She murmured, her eyes flickering over your face.

“For this. For us.” She picked up a small ornament on the tub beside her, one that had your names written in sloppy glittered letters. It was pink, you’d picked it out last Christmas—a small memento to your first holiday spent together.

“I’d never thought i’d have peace like this in my life. I’d always been so focused on football—too focused. You know? Like I was afraid I’d get too in deep if I let someone in.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you nodded anyways. “And now?” You ask gently.

“Now I can’t imagine my life without you.” She admitted, her voice raw as she gave you a half-lipped smile. “I’m always afraid of losing this—you.”

Moving closer, your heart aching at her words, you take the ornament from her hands and set it aside. “Cariño, you’re not going to lose me,” You say as firmly as possible, cupping her face lightly. “I’m going to be around for every moment, every Christmas, and everything in between. I am not going anywhere.”

The blondes lips quirked into an actual smile then, her eyes glassy as she looked at you. “You have a way with words.”

“I do.” You grin, brushing a thumb over her cheek, “I’m here because I love you, every moment with you.. I cherish, even the quiet nights like tonight.”

Alexia leaned forward, resting her forehead against yours. “Seriously, how do you always know what to say?”

“Because I’m just as lucky as you are?” You quip, Pulling away to smirk at her.

With a small chuckle, Alexia wrapped her fingers around your wrists, tugging you closer to place her lips on yours.

The warmth of her lips spread across you, spreading through your chest like the lights from the tree. Pulling away ever so slightly, you whisper against her lips, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, mi amor.” She murmured right back, now only feeling warm and full of love for you.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future alexia posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @joaoflms @sakashq @h4vertzz @spidybaby

[acehazbin1]

‘Calla?’

Tw: use of y/n, mood swings, light assault.

Note: sorry guys if it's not very good, I've just had a crazy Xmas so far 😭

Chap 1 chapt 2

"I feel silly." The once maid spoke, as she stood in front of a mirror getting her measurements taken by a seamstress for custom stolas. When Caracalla agreed to court her, they couldn't have her fill her normal duties. She was rushed into the palace, a room set up and maids were given to her by a wave of Caracalla's hands.

She lived with the other maids before this, squeezed into a tiny room. It was quite a contrast to be pushed into a room that could have fit her childhood home into it.

"It's different but I'm sure you'll get a costumed soon, after all why go through all of that trouble if you were just going to complain." The seamstress was measuring her waist with tape when she muttered that. The woman stood there shocked at her mumble, "Pardon me?"

"Oh come now, dont play dumb with me girl." The other woman tutted, "Everyone knew he was getting desperate. How come a pretty maid talks to him while drunk one night and gets a ring?" The woman grabbed the hand that had the ring Caracalla had given to her, and the happier shined off the candles. "It wasn't- I dont mean-"

"What did you put into his drink that night? What alchemist are you working with?" The seamstress gripped out uncomfortably tight, and the woman gulped. "That's enough." A voice throughout the room filled the seamstress's eyes with terror. "Emperor Geta, a thousand apologies-"

"It is not me you should ask forgiveness instead of my brother's bride." Her death grip widened in a flash, and the woman sushfulled her way out of the room closing the massive doors behind her. A silence hung in the air before she managed to speak, "Your brother is courting me, I am yet his bride."

Geta's lips twisted into a smile, "Yes but I would have not likened to call you his suitor?"

"Why not?"


"Suitor is such a masculine word, I would not simply apply it towards my brother and..."

She sighed, Caracalla had yet to tell anyone her name. She's been referred to as bride, suitor, maid, courtship, and soon-to-be-wife but never her maid by the people in the palace. "Y/n, my Emperor."

"Y/n?" Geta looked away from her as he tried the name on his lips for the first time, "It is such a... peasant name is it not?" Her eyes widened not expecting that from Geta, he was always the more 'tamed' one to say the least. "Caracalla likes it."

"My brother named a female monkey Dundgus." Geta laughed, waving the thought Caracalla had opinions on such a low-class name. "It is rude to speak to your brother's suitor like that."

"Ah, it is questionable to explain how to interact with someone to an Emperor." Geta's voice laced with a threat something she picked up on. Even with this newfound power, well 'power' she could easily be killed by him and labelled as a spy. Something caught in her throat, "What is your intent with my brother?"

"To get to know him." It was a simple answer but held great substance for Geta, "Not marry him?"

"If I had a choice why would I marry a man I didn't know?"

"He is one of the emperors of the Roman Empire."

"Yet his tantrums I heard would destroy what Rome has forged." She shocked back but without missing a beat Geta stepped closer. “Yet you still wear his ring on your finger?”

“I already told you, Im not interested in power.”

There was another silence, Geta was going through her words. She had a knot in her stomach in case she said anything to upset the Emperor.

“The Senate doesn't think it’s a great idea for my brother to marry a maid.” Her eyes widened, she knew the senate still had great control over Rome even with the Emperors there. She didn't mind not marrying Caracalla so far, she just didn't like the thought of the aftermath. “You're lucky my brother never cared for their opinions.”

“What about your opinion?” She asked interested, Geta smirked a bit. “It would be too soon to tell if you were really after the wealth and power of the imperial family yet…”

“I feel if you can calm Caracalla, then I give you my blessing.” Geta looked at her and Y/n thought about his tantrums. Even Geta can’t calm down sometimes leading to cuts and bruises that she saw him applying makeup to.

“I-” “Brother, why are you in my lady's chambers?” A voice came from the door, Caracalla had his hand pushing on the door. He looked dishevelled, his hair was quite messy and his tunic was stained, just like he was when she first saw him.

“Ah, brother. You rudely didn't introduce me to your lady so I decided to myself.” Geta explained carefully, he didn't like the look in Caracalla's eyes. Envy was something that Caracalla felt nearly every day because of his brother but the look in his eyes was different.

“I was going to when I got to know her better.” in other words, he didn't know if she would leave him for his brother yet. Before Geta could answer, Y/n spoke up “My Emperor, I would like to request alone time with Caracalla.”

Geta looked at Y/n then Caracalla, before nodding and making his way out. Caracalla moved to the side to let him out closing the door behind Geta. She tried to go over towards her, “Caracalla, are you-”

Y/n tried to ask if he was okay since his appearance was rugged. “Is this your ploy to court me as a way to get to my brother?” Caracalla's voice was accusatory. She was shocked, she shook her head frantically. “No, no, never-”

“Why was he in your chamber then?” Caracalla stepped away from her, he couldn't make eye contact. “He came in I didn't ask him to, he saved me from a jealous maid.”

“Oh, and he's now your knight?” Caracalla shot back. She had to think quickly about how to get out of this, “Calla please don't.” she used a nickname. Caracalla stopped, she knew his moods could switch in a second so she tested it. “Calla?” His voice turned soft, and she nodded.

“Yes, calla I would never have eyes for anyone but you.” She reached her hand out to touch his cheek and he leaned into it. “Hm, if you did I have to puck out your eyes.” He smiled and she returned it nervously.

His hand wrapped around her waist pulling her closer and resting his chin on her shoulder. She brushed her fingers through his hair, as she thought about how quickly his mood changed. He adored her now but how could he feel in a week? A day? Then next hour?

Tags: @themoonofthesun-blog

[notroosterbradshaw]

Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)

about: Bradley's home just before the turn of midnight. After 15+ Christmases together, it's just sometimes lovely to reminisce about life before the babies wake and the madness ensues.

word count: 6k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

a/n: I haven't had a lot of time to put this together the way I would have liked, I will quietly edit after xmas to put some more time into this... hopefully. otherwise, please enjoy and have yourself a merry little something if you feel that way inclined x

masterlist.

It was so late. 

Bradley was so late.

A late arrival to base, mandatory debrief, it was a shitshow of delay after delay from his three-month deployment but coming home to see the house dark, he knew you’d given up and headed to bed. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself, quietly dropping his duffel bag at the front door but ears pricked up to hear Christmas music – Eagles, Please Come Home for Christmas – and he could swear, you singing gently with Don Henley. The sweetest sound even if you were the first to admit your voice was reminiscent of nails on a blackboard.

Untrue. It was like pure honey from the hive and he couldn’t get enough.

Chewing his lip in anticipation as he quietly unlaced his boots, he wandered into the dim living room, only lit by the glow of the fading white lights on the tree and carefully curated tea lights flickering on the fireplace. But he couldn’t interrupt the revelry as you danced gently around the tree you were trimming, one hand adjusting a decoration, the glass piano that once belonged to his old man, and a balloon of Pinot Noir in the other. He watched as you took a delicate sip, the floor around the tree littered with beautifully wrapped gifts and the stockings full of candies and odds and ends.

It really was a picture. You curated magic.

If he knew you, and he knew you so well, the tree would have been up on Thanksgiving evening and perfected every night until now, Christmas Eve. So beautiful in what little you wore, one of his many threadbare old Navy tees and maybe some undies underneath for modesty, or maybe not, he hoped. The reflection of the lights danced against your bare skin on display that had him swallow rough, and like most instances in your presence, hard. So hard. Three months without your touch, taste and sweet voice hard.

“Hi,” Bradley said finally, as you jolted slightly and looked in his direction, a smile growing on your face as he made his way to you, steadfast as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his forehead against yours. 

“Hi,” you said simply, even though you had a thousand things you wanted to tell him. “Merry Christmas, Bradley,” you said as he smiled softly at you, grasping your cheek in his calloused palm and searching your face intently – looking for anything that may have changed, confident in his recall he could never forget one feature on your divine face. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” you confided delicately. And honestly? Neither did he. 

He looked at his watch. “With moments to spare,” he said, amber eyes dancing mischievously. “God, I missed you,” he breathed, your delicate perfume grounding him, ridding away his sea legs. “May I?” he nodded towards the wine in your hand, and you gratefully passed it to him. “Like this,” he told you. “Glass for me?”

You made a face. “Like, six hours ago… maybe?” 

He grinned. “That good, huh?”

“I’m sorry, but you were so late.”

“So late,” he mocked, bobbing to put the glass on the coffee table.   

“And yet you still haven’t kissed me,” you mumbled.

He huffed a gentle laugh and did exactly what was expected of him. Three months away from your soft lips, and sparkling eyes as he pulled you closer to him with a firm hand on your lower back. Three months of fantasising what this moment would feel like even though it had happened dozens of times before. How slick your tongue was against his and it reminded him of the soft-spoken, even shy freshman he met in college in his sophomore year. The first time your eyes met in the dorm hall as you dragged your suitcases behind you, looking for room numbers and coming up short. So small in the ocean of chaos.

Bradley had no reason to go over and ask if he could help you. Leave the conversation with friends about, he reckoned, the Phillies… Countless students were struggling with the same problems, but you? Magnetic. No one else mattered, it was like no one else in the universe existed. And still… now? Aside from your beautiful daughters, maybe no one else did either.

That’s how Bradley Bradshaw’s kiss made you feel after all these years. The man who could have any woman he wanted, and those who still felt entitled to try and sway his attention on the infrequent nights out you shared. 

And just like the boy you fell in love with, his firm hands skimmed the fabric of the tee. You felt a warm palm against your hip and drift to your thigh and of course, his intended destination, against your bare ass – “Perfect,” he breathed against your lips.

You weren’t sure when he’d started dancing with you, his hips slowly guiding you to whatever song was in the background, now you weren’t so sure because all there was was him.

As he kissed and moved you, he whispered if his girls were asleep… that no one was about to wander in from their bedroom. And as much as he wanted to see his babies, his gorgeous girls, he needed their mother more and he would eagerly see them tomorrow morning.  

“Upstairs,” you told him, and he knew that meant homecoming was less raucous than it was when you were both a little young and dumber. No fucking on the couch or your back pressed up against the wall, your thigh in his calloused palm and his slacks dropped to his ankles the second he walked in. Those days were gone, greeting each other so much softer.

You weren’t entirely surprised when his hand smoothed from your side and drifted between your thighs to your delicate core. He tenderly pressed his soft lips into your pulse as his long, slender index finger tenderly skimmed the smooth skin of your pussy. “You feel good,” he breathed gently, so conscious of his voice raising and bringing the kids’ attention downstairs. “I want you. I’ve missed you, sweetheart,” he moved to your lips again and he kissed you the way he did when you first started seeing each other. The way his tongue flicked against your lip, tracing with an edge of demand as you gave in, willingly falling under his spell and kissing him back with the same ferocity.

His strong thigh pressed against your core, and you gasped against his lips, the rough material of his uniform making you heady as he tilted you that little further to almost ride him. 

“Not here,” you told him, guiding his pout to your mouth and leading him by the hand to your bedroom, the master bed, your sanctuary and sometimes the loneliest room in the world when Bradley was away. 

Bradley wasn’t surprised to see a few candles lit in the bedroom either. As you got older, your need for romance seemed to have crept through with the solitude that came along with a husband who served and two little girls who ran you off your feet every day. Bradley, a romantic at heart, unleashed some of the sweetest things that had ever happened to you. He was always big on flowers, and planning sweet dates but physical touch was his love language. 

He was a hand holder, he liked that you were the right height he could rest his lips against your temple and kiss you when close, skilled hands and massage. But it all meant so little in comparison to him holding you tightly in his arms. Something over the years you missed dearly when he was absent, you never felt safer than feeling his warm palm pressed into your lower back, the way his brawny arm would curl around your waist and tuck you into his side.

You were the other’s missing piece and so lucky to have met each other so early in life. 

“Too young to fall in love, too young to get married,” Bradley reiterated all the things you heard all those years ago. “Too young to start a family.”

“They may have been right about the last part.” At 23 and in over your head with a newborn and a husband dedicating his career to defending the country was one thing, it was one of the hardest things you’d ever thrown yourself into, leaving family to move where Bradley’s job required. The other military wives took you under their wing, (s)mothering where they could. And you were so proud of all of Bradley’s achievements, but it didn’t cure the sad nights of solitude once the kids went to bed, and you had time to think about how hard it all is to do alone. 

Bradley huffed a laugh into your ear. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t change anything now.” 

“They never thought we’d last,” you rolled your eyes like you did every time you two embarked on this quiet joke that was now at everyone else who didn’t believe expense.  

“Like I told you. From the moment I met you, it was forever,” he pulled you towards the bed, lightly tossing you towards the pillows with little effort on his behalf, you gave him a look as you adjusted against the soft pillows. “Was I wrong?”

“You’ve been very convincing,” you teased as he playfully rolled his eyes.

“In what way?” he played along.

“Well, you’re a wonderful father.”

He hummed, as he began on the buttons of his shirt. How were you supposed to continue when he was playing a strategic game of rendering his wife speechless? After 15 or so years, his body was more impressive now than the day you met him. It was almost criminal. 

When you met him, a gangly 21-year-old boy who was endeavouring to improve himself, prepare himself for the rigours of being a pilot for the navy. Gym, protein shakes, gym, school. It had been quite a development, watching Bradley grow into the man he is today.

…and you got to reap every single benefit. 

“Just a good dad? Shit…”

“An amazing father and from what I can gather, a pretty fantastic leader.” 

“Captain, Mrs Bradshaw,” he corrected. “But I’ll overlook it this time.” 

You rolled your eyes again, watching his nimble fingers get to the last button and push back the material to – disappointing. An undershirt. He tossed his shirt at you gently, his cologne wafting over your senses. “How many layers you got there, Captain Bradshaw?” 

Eyebrow raised; he kept your gaze as he stripped the second layer that kept you from his golden skin. “Better?”

You didn’t hide your shallow breath. Because yes, your man was only getting finer as he got older. The precision of his well-defined muscles glowing by candlelight, the smattering of freckles across his shoulders and broad chest, abs, abdominals, abs – they seemed to go on and your favourite, his Adonis belt. May as well have been named the Bradley Belt for all you cared, because his was spectacular. You reached the familiar logo of his boxer briefs and slender hips. The snail trail that led to the jackpot. “Better,” you confirmed as he moved to his belt, slacks and zip. “More,” you replied. “I’m practically naked here.”

Bradley’s lip quirked. “I think that tee you’re wearing is at least 10 years old.”

“Sue me, it smells like you when you’re away,” you sniped as he winked cheekily and stepped out of his dropped pants, approaching the bed. 

“I hope you’ve washed it after three months.”

Three months. But yes, you’d begrudgingly washed it. But it was still nice to be wrapped up in something that belonged to him when it wasn’t his arms to keep you safe. “Would have been better if you were here…”

“I know, sweetheart,” he sighed, making his way to the bed and crawling over to you, resting his cheek on your breast, tightening a grasp around your waist. “God, I missed you.”

Smoothing his curls, you tenderly kissed his temple. “No way as much as I did, Bradley.” 

“Were the girls good?” 

“They had their moments, but they’re nearly teenagers…”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to start fending dudes off at the door,” Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose, not wanting to believe his baby girls were growing so quickly. Violet was in Grade 7 and Olivia Grade 5. It was hard to miss so much of their lives and sometimes felt like lifetimes between his time at home. But he’d reconciled he would do more time on dry land this year, taking up a training facilitator role on base for new Top Gun recruits. You’d spoken about it for so long and now it looked like he was getting his opportunity to make Friday night basketball games, and swimming on Saturday mornings and whatever else was expected of him. 

“Not long now,” you had to agree but as much as you wanted to tell him everything he’d missed that couldn’t be fit into the couple of minutes you managed to get him every once in a while, you were so desperate for your husband, you didn’t want to play the polite game. “Bradley?”

He hummed again. 

“I want you.” 

Looking up at you, he ran his slick tongue over his top lip. “Well, ma’am, I guess I’d better get to work, huh?” his grin was wet, and he reached to kiss you, so tender and sweet but you knew it was laced with so much more as he rolled you beneath him, propping himself on an elbow and using his free palm to raise your thigh over his hip. His kisses were so good, and you knew you were a keening mess for him… when weren’t you?  

Gasping into his mouth as he lightly walked his fingers to your core, he was bold and spread your lips, taking your arousal, sticky and warm, he pressed your clit and started to rub, just so to relax you. You melted beneath him. After all these years, he knew exactly how to make you a bag of bones. He didn’t need to ask as he pressed his long index finger in, never once breaking the kiss, just increasing the intensity. 

Making out with Bradley while he fingered you. He was going old school. Those days before you slept with him, you’d be tangled together on your shitty single bed, grinding against the other. The first time he dared touch you, how he asked so sweetly if he could try and make you cum, to finger you. When you gave him a shaky yes in reply and opened your legs to him as he slid his long fingers under the waist of your tights, his soft eyes reassuring the panic that washed over you, kissing you tenderly and promising against your lips that he’d stop if you wanted him too. You told him you wanted to because he was Bradley and you’d never met anyone like him, you’d never felt the things he was making you feel. Maybe you had something to prove – to him, to you? You weren’t sure but as Bradley’s big hands slowly tugged your tights down your legs, carelessly discarding them and seeing those pretty pink undies soaked through with your excitement, he breathed, scared he’d cum before he’d touched you. He dared to sweep your undies to the side, your pretty pussy bare and glistening for him. 

He did that, he made you that wet, he thought proudly. He was so excited and popped the button on his jeans, needing to relieve some friction and moved to coax you under his arm, his nose nuzzling against yours. 

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable or if I need to stop,” he breathed, his gentle rasp calming you as you softly gripped his wrist. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d done this, but with Bradley, it was like you’d never been touched before. He ignited sparks in you that you’d never felt before, no one else’s fingers did this… not even your own. 

“You’re beautiful,” he told you as you pulled a pillow over your eyes, so shy, so bashful. He tossed away the pillow and kissed you, his hand tracing down the side of your body and index finger gathering your excitement to coat your labia and clit. He started slow and asked if you touched yourself or if you had toys. And yes, you had a vibrator that gave you a pretty good impression of what you liked but this was already wildly exceeding anything the vibe brought to the table. “Do you like this?” he was so considerate and when you hitched a breath and told him ‘faster’, the keenness to learn you clouded over and his façade darkened, turned on by you telling him what you liked and he slid another finger into you, trying not to blow his load as you started to cry out, his thumb passing on your thrumming clit and shamed, you held back how much you really wanted to come alive for him.

You knew you couldn’t bite back your moans of pleasure, and as he laughed into your skin, he reached and lifted your sweater and bra, dragging his mouth down to your pretty tits, lapping and licking and sucking as you started the shudder below him. You clawed at his wrist that was buried within you and grinding against you as he toyed with your tits more, kneading and sucking harder. He was gonna blow his load before you even touched him. 

“Oh, Bradley,” your voice was so sweet as you fucked into his hand, quivering and sensitive and wet and desperate as you came. Everything all at once. 

“You’re so sexy,” he crooned with his deep rasp. “I’ve never seen someone cum like this…” He kissed you deeply as you felt the last bursts of electricity flow through your body before flopping into the mattress and urgently pushing his fingers away, too sensitive. He smiled against your lips and told you it was okay, he loved seeing you lose control. 

After you’d cum, and you nervously asked him if you could give him a hand job to return the favour or whatever, he knew he was in love. Young and dumb and no one could tell him differently. How he got to his back and watched as you drag his jeans off and pull down his boxers, his cock so hard, weeping precum. “Tell me if I hurt you,” you mumbled, the most nervous you’d been. “Or if you don’t like it.” 

“You could never hurt me,” he hissed as you used both soft hands to wrap around his length. “That is so fuckin’ good, baby,” he managed, head sinking back into your fluffy pillows, imagining if he was to die tomorrow, he’d die happy. And as he wrapped his hand around yours, showing you the tempo he preferred, he almost came as your wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock without warning. “Oh, shit,” he hissed unprepared, trying not to fuck your face, his hips wild. He had never been so turned on. 

He’d dated and slept with a few girls, and had a few blowjobs but nothing, nothing felt like this, and he buried his big hands into your hair, massaging and encouraging you as best he could. He screeched a warning he was coming and to take your mouth away if you didn’t want to taste him. When you didn’t relinquish your sweet mouth on him, he came hard in the back of your throat and you swallowed the salty flavour of him down, he pulled you to him and kissed you deeply, telling you he thought he was in love and, silently, he hoped you were too. 

“That was the best head I ever had,” he peered up. “And you’ve never given a blow job before?” he was suspicious. You shook your head bashfully, but also excited he was so happy with your attempt, and you vowed you’d only get better if it brought out this reaction in him. “Feel free any time you wanna practice,” he almost laughed, falling back against the headrest of the bed.

A few hours later, as Bradley pounded into you, you’d be lying if you didn’t feel nostalgic, recalling the first time you had sex with him. It never felt like plain old missionary with him, he tucked you in close and you’d wrap your calves around his hamstrings, keeping him close as he whispered filth in your ear. 

You knew you’d bled, and you were begging not noticeably. You didn’t want that embarrassment, even if the towel caught it. Overall, it wasn’t a painful experience, Bradley had done everything to relax you, the slick of the lube reducing any real friction and he’d gone down on you before he’d even taken off his jeans. “You have the prettiest pussy, baby,” he told you as you shuddered beneath him and he continued fucking you with his fingers until you pushed his face away, so sensitive. “Okay, okay,” he cooed to you, trailing wet kisses up your naked body, exposed wholly to him. 

It had been a very fun few weeks, lots of kissing, touching, and making the other cum and sneaky sleepovers but when you told him you were ready to have sex – with him – your first – Bradley couldn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t believe you would be interested in him, you were so sweet, and kind, and pretty. So sexy and he hoped, all for him. He hadn’t met anyone who he felt so connected to. He worried he was trying too hard to force something that wasn’t there, but as he slowly pushed into you, gloved cock long and girthy, stretching you and you sighed into his ear to tell him how good it felt and that you thought you were falling in love with him, everything stopped.

His hips, lips and heart froze as he must have misheard words he was desperate to return but far too timid to do so. 

“Remember the days we’d be in bed all day and just fuck and laugh. Order takeout and fuck again?” Bradley said between the rolls of his hips. “I wanna be able to do that again,” he groaned in your ear as you fuckingthrobbed around him, so close as you clenched. “I’m gonna take you away in the New Year. You, me, the Maldives. Private villa and all that good lovin’ we deserve.”

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you giggled against him, excited for him and the prospect that you would spend some uninterrupted time together and you rose to meet his thrusts, spurring him on with your enthusiasm. He felt so good: strong, rough and as the head of his cock hit your G-spot, a step closer to orgasm – heaven, he wasn’t sure. He knew your body like it was his, and he brought his fingers between your bodies, brushing against your pained clit as your back arched and his tongue swirled around your nipple. He sucked on the delicate skin, as you began to quake and grunted low, your warm, slick pussy. “Yes, Bradley,” you encouraged. 

“Your pretty cunt was made for me,” he murmured in your ear and that was it, you felt the quakes start in your toes, the muscles in your tummy start to coil and your pussy started to throb around his cock, your entire body on fire with desire for your sexy husband. “Yes, baby,” Bradley kissed you deeply, trying to concentrate on his thrusts but it was impossible as he made you feel so goddamn good. He raised your thigh to get that little rougher and you moaned, the gush fell between you both and he grunted, not giving you a moment of respite, chasing his orgasm. You fell back, completely spent as he laughed darkly, his cock rocking into you again, wrapping his palm around your waist and pulling you back to him. “So close, don’t give up on me now, sweetheart. You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

“Too sensitive,” you whined to him. “Cum, Bradley,” you begged.

It was low and powerful, the feral groan that met your demands. His hips sped up, desperate for release. He couldn’t hold back anymore and as your nails pierced the tanned skin on his back, he came with a low groan and fucked more unruly thrusts into you before collapsing above you, kissing you wildly. He gasped, completely spent, still in you without intent to move. “Gonna need to burn the bed,” he uttered to you as you barely managed a reply. It was fucking like that you missed so desperately when he was away. 

“That was incredible,” you said, kissing some sweat on his brow away. “I love you.” 

He chuckled into your skin, pressing kisses into your pulse. “I love you, baby,” he was a dream, this man. “Good job, team,” he raised his palm for a limp high-five, both spent. 

“Roll the dice,” you reiterate to Bradley. “If we get pregnant, great. If we don’t…”

“It’s you and me and we are great with that,” Bradley answered with the faintest glint of hope in his shining honey eyes. Was this happening? Was Bradley about to get the family he’d been missing for so long?!

But in the back of the afterglow of lovemaking as husband and wife, you’d told him you’d go off birth control after your honeymoon if he wanted to try for a baby so soon. You didn’t want it to be immediate, you wanted to enjoy being married and the fun that came with it. And Bradley wholeheartedly agreed. 

Bradley was so determined to rise through the ranks, that you didn’t want to detract him any more than you might have but you were young and in love and when you found out you were pregnant with your first baby, a girl to be named Violet. The thing was, you were only hoping to be a newlywed once - marriage wasn't as big a thing for you as it was for Bradley so the drama of it all (even as intimate as it was for you was a one-time deal). And even babies. But even he admitted he wouldn't have the first idea of how to do it since his dad wasn't around when he was growing up and Maverick wasn't exactly a glowing example of fatherhood. 

He was a smitten young man. A beautiful wife, and a gorgeous little girl waiting at home for him while he served his country and continued slowly but surely through the ranks, getting a reputation as Rooster, slow into the fight.

Or Rooster, and the size of his cock, you’d joked quietly one evening. The way he seemed so scandalised and as the devil crept into his gold eyes, the grin behind his growing moustache was seen to be believed. Not many people knew that about the version of it, you shared, and when you’d learned he’d been adorned with it, whoever gave him the callsign would rue the day of the double entendre. One of life’s funny coincidences and Bradley wouldn’t wipe the devious smile off his face when you’d christened him with it.

When Violet was three, you found out Olivia was going to come into the world punching. Now both tweens and the baby-making days were well behind you both, you felt like you were starting to live your lives again, not bogged down with school runs, weeknight ballet, gymnastics, basketball, softball, soccer and whatever else they were desperate to try. Both athletic like their father, you felt like a taxi when Bradley was away, running the girls from one thing to the next, the sweet solace sometimes found when both girls were away from home at sleepovers and the like.

They were the nights you couldn’t wait to introduce to Bradley. A date night, Jesus, wine on the couch uninterrupted for a drop-off or pick up to what was for dinner or “Mama, I have an assignment due tomorrow and I haven’t started.”

Recalling when your period was late after about two cycles after going off birth control, you kind of hoped it was the drama of irregular periods and what it brought. It was why you went on the pill in the first place in your teens. 

But there was something different while you channel surfed and Bradley cooked in the kitchen. A strange cramping in your tummy. Not unbearable, but noticeable as you sat up, a little perplexed. It was too early for a period and you weren’t ovulating. Popping up, you joined Bradley in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his hips to kiss between his shoulder blades. He smiled, turning back for a quick peck before you quietly excused yourself to do a pregnancy test. And you weren’t entirely surprised when it revealed you were 1-2 weeks pregnant. And you weren’t entirely surprised when you showed him the positive pregnancy test after dinner that still certainly said PREGNANT in fat, bold letters.

“It tells you how many weeks?” Bradley was astonished. 

“Clever, huh?” you said quietly. Bradley watched you, he looked at the test, begging it wasn’t about to flash NOT PREGNANT and he’d read incorrectly – but he gazed back at you. Unreadable at best, erring on the side of too quiet. Reserved, he had trouble reading you sometimes, and this was one he'd need you to talk through. He needed to know exactly what was going on through your head. 

“You good?” he asked softly, grasping the test in his strong palm. It was so small, but it held his world in his grip. He put the test down to caress your jaw, forcing your gaze to him. “Baby…” his fingers light as they had sunk into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Sweetheart,” he called to you. 

“I think I am. It’s just… quick," you surrender, falling into his sound touch. And he was due to leave within weeks. You were 23, you had only just found the job of your dreams -

“It is quick,” Bradley agreed, kissing your hair. “Is it too quick?”

“Maybe…” you admitted as he pressed a kiss into your temple and wrapped his strong arms around you. He felt so warm and so protective as he held you without question, you really couldn’t imagine life without him right there. What if something happened on tour, what if - 

“If it’s too soon, that’s okay," he said softly. 

You looked up at him, trying to placate your growing fear. What if he never came home? “I just thought we’d have more time maybe.”

He bit back his smile and sighed. “Sweetheart, is this what you want? If you're not ready - if you have changed your mind - ”

“I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “That’s okay.”

Well, it wasn’t – it was a choice you’d actively made together. To make love, to make a baby. The liberty of changing your mind seemed so incredibly unfair to you and Bradley after you were both so sure this was what you wanted. “I think I just need some time,” you admitted, cutting him off. “Just to get used to it all happening.”

Bradley softened. He in no way felt like it was his place to speak. He could not hold you and whisper that whatever you decided was okay, and he would support you with anything you decided. 

“What if this is our only chance?” You asked quietly. “What if - ” You shut your mouth and the guilt of the situation started to overwhelm you, Bradley chose to remain mute. “Would you hate me?”

“No. Oh sweetheart,” he kissed your hair. “But I would never live with myself if I forced you to do something you weren’t ready for. Come,” he took your hands and led you to the bedroom. He helped you take off your clothes and change into your oversized nightie, his large palm lingering gently over your abdomen for just a second longer than he should have… his baby in your soft belly. 

He pulled back the duvet and patted your pillow. You snuck under the cold sheets and he climbed in after you, the scorching skin of his chest against your back. His fingertips traced your hip, slowly drawing his name on your skin. "If you don't want to do this, it's okay. But it's still something you'll need to consider..."

"I want this," you were able to say, but it was easier with him not boring his eyes into yours. He kissed your shoulder and nuzzled the nape of your neck. “I think…”

"I love you," he said so softly you almost didn't hear him. “I won't let you do this alone. Whatever you decide, I’m right there with you.” 

But with a belly of arms and legs and your sheepish husband standing before you a few months later, you screeched, "You're getting deployed?" you looked at Bradley, eyes wild, six months of baby belly all that separated you. His head fell back.

"I know."

"You know?" you mimicked sarcastically, spoiled for months of your husband home with flight and combat training simulations and he finds himself deployed as you enter your final trimester. "Bradley, you'll be away for the birth of your daughter." 

"I know..." he said a little meeker. He was sick about this conversation. Sick. 

"Did you not put in the leave paperwork?"

"Of course I did,” he did, he did. Didn’t he? Shit, he doubted himself for one second but in this instance knew beggars couldn’t be choosers and he had his leave approved, but he also had his orders and he was so close really getting into it.

His career was on such a sheer trajectory, his head was swimming with its force. 

“Is anyone going with you?”

"Payback, Phoenix," he confirmed softly. 

“Will you be home for Christmas?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he stepped towards you, his large palms sinking into the round belly under his grasp, tickling the stretching skin. You sighed and collapsed into his hold. 

“I’m just scared. The birth is one thing… but I can’t raise our baby on my own,” you said, the fear in your voice evident.

“And I’d never let you,” he whispered into your hair. 

"If you see one ounce of action, I swear, don't dare come home." 

He nodded. Dear God, he knew. 

“Come on, Mama, give it to me,” Bradley urged as he held your ribs, thumbs toying with your nipples, that delicate roll of your hips grinding down on him as the sun started to rise. Neither of you slept even though you were both exhausted, you wanted to ground yourselves together before the madness of the day commenced. Between lovemaking, different positions and so much mess, you just chatted quietly, catching the other up on what they missed, knowing full well you would be next to useless for the lunch Penny was putting on with Mav (you were flying out in a few days to spend New Year with your parents). “Look at you, as sexy as the day I met you,” he continued, chewing his lower lip – he was close but we wouldn’t cum until you did. “Pretty little thing.”

Bradley had leaned into the whole encouragement during sex – and you will credit him for bringing out a wilder side you never knew you had in you – his voice still made your stomach flip flop and how off, give him everything he deserved in your shared pleasure and more.

“Mama, is Daddy home?” you heard a screech from upstairs. Olivia. Daddy’s girl. “His bag is at the door!” A prompise Bradley had always made his girls was he would wake them even if it was the dead of night to reassure them he was home.

Last night… he did not.

Bradley’s eyes flicked open as you paused above him, knowing your girls were unlikely to burst in but also… Dad was home and maybe, just maybe they were likely to run in excitedly. He rolled you off him quickly and you landed with such a lack of grace that he snorted and he tossed his tee at you, hitting you square in the face. He scoffed another chuckle as he reached for his discarded boxer briefs and stood to height, still hard but if you knew him, visualising the worst of the worst to settle. “I’m home. I’ll be right out, just need to hit the bathroom, girls,” he carefully called back, starting for the door and snuck a look back at you. “You got five minutes; I know I can’t hold those two wildcats back from a tree with presents under it.”

You nodded with a grin as you pulled the shirt over your head and moved towards the en suite but not before changing direction and stopping him before he went to see his girls and pulling an old Lakers singlet over his – god, so many golden muscles. “Merry Christmas, Bradley,” you tenderly traced an ab or eight and he smiled, bending to kiss you. “Last night was so good. Been a while since we had a night like that.”

He chuckled lightly against your lips. Pride evident, he shrugged. “I miss the days we’d fuck for hours,” he sighed, low. “We’re going away, just you and me. Okay?”

“I can’t wait, handsome,” you told him as he kissed you again -

“Dad?” Violet now. 

“At ease, Captain,” you told him as he playfully did as instructed, kissed your forehead softly and let the reign of terror commence, greeting his darling girls after months apart with excited hugs, kisses and giggles.

“I missed my girls,” you heard Bradley rumble. And it was always the same, the way he’d swallow back the emotion of seeing how much he’d missed. “You two have to stop growing, okay?”

“Or you could stop traveling,” Olivia said, often quite vocal about how often her dad was away.

Hearing your name as you straightened in front of the mirror a few minutes later, brushing your mussed hair and impatient with the slight burn Bradley’s moustache caused on your upper lip (pussy and thighs but that was a tale for another day), you wrapped yourself in your light gown. You breathed and headed to the living room to start your Christmas morning, your girls perched in front of the tree, the lights still fading in and out after a night left on, and your husband safe and sound on the couch. He winked, the happiest man on the planet with his three girls, everything exactly where it belonged.

Even last night’s half-full wine glass.

[aemonds-favorite-rider]

Modern! HOTD men holiday headcanons.

Aegon Targaryen:

- 100% dresses as the Grinch at the family holiday dinner. He's also the type to go over the top about it, running in and snatching the tree and startling the kids, knocking Aemond over in the process (in character ofc), and running out of the house. Don't let him fool you he loves doing it for the kids and family

-He hates the cold thought. It never fails he'll try to convince you to ditch the cold weather for a more tropical destination. Whether you take it or not is up to you ofc. But don't be surprised if you stay and have to listen to him whine about his "cocks shriveled up inside him from how cold it is."

- insists on awkward xmas photos so he can send them to literally everyone he knows for a christmas card. i'm talking the matching sweaters as well of course.

- As much as he'll pretend he doesn't enjoy it, he loves holiday shopping. He'll help you pick presents, decor, outfits, whatever you need. And of course he's paying for all of it. Even the holiday dates. He loves spending them with you too.

-Puts a bow on the crotch of his pants for you on xmas morning with the cheekiest grin. Also owns mistletoe boxers and won't hesitate to wear them randomly around the house, insisting on the mistletoe tradition.

-Spoils the shit out of you. Every xmas it never fails that he has some extravagant gift for you. A car, a puppy, jewelry. After all the Targaryens are the richest family in the world practically.

- Insist on letting you decorate your shared home however you want, and he'll only mildly complain when you ask him to help you hang lights or put up a tree together (he likes the way you focus hard on decorating, it's beyond cute to him)

- Drunk sleds (ask him how many bones he's broke doing this). He never learns ever of course but as soon as someone even mentions snow fall enough to sled, he's busting out the whiskey and putting on layers. As much as he hates the cold ironically, he loves drunk sledding above all.

- Insistent on matching pjs. He also picks out xmas themed lingerie for you every year for christmas eve night.

-Hella xmas innuendos and dirty pick up lines. "Come sit on Santa's lap and tell him what you want for xmas"

"Have you been a good girl this xmas?"

"I have a present in my sack for you, shall i bring it down your chimney?"

the whole bit.

Aemond Targaryen:

- Somehow manages to get roped into dressing as Santa's elf at the holiday dinner, and once the company holiday party. He is never happy to do it and yet he always does it anyway.

- Super over competitive for the christmas cookie decorating. And no one wants to be on his team for any holiday games either. He's left the party early before after losing to Aegon once. He doesn't like to talk about it.

- Plans several holiday dates for you both. He's secretly a romantic ofc so he's taking you anywhere and everywhere. Taking you to light displays, tree farms, hot cocoa bars, carriage rides. So long as you allow him, and he's more than happy to spoil his sweet girl.

-Santa Baby is his favorite song...for obvious reasons. One time you gave him a xmas lap dance to that song so now it's like Pavlovian. Always whisking you away every time it comes on as he bends you over the coffee table in front of the tree.

-Makes sure you get whatever you want for xmas, himself despite hating the holiday rush of those around him. Grumbling about the whole thing to himself while he wraps your presents away from you. It's always worth it when you see whatever he gets you.

-Actually likes holiday movies. Even despite some of the cheesy ones. Always finding time to watch them with you. He'll never tell you that his favorite xmas movie is also Elf.

- May complain about matching xmas attire but the minute anyone says anything even remotely negative he's prepared to deck the halls.

- Has for sure pelted a million snowballs at Aegon once for mentioning how cheesy his pj pants were one xmas morning until Aegon surrendered. (because they both have a snowball fight every year. that's a head canon on itself)

-Secretly the best xmas present giver. You're always pleasantly surprised at how he managed to get the right thing every time. He takes pride in spending the year listening to every little comment about how you would like to get this or that or pick up that latest new book at the bookshop. He remembers it all and had it for you under the tree on xmas morning.

-Xmas cookie making with Aemond, usually ends up a with you being eaten out on the kitchen island, or with you bent over the counter while he fucks you hard from behind. Telling you what a good girl you've been for him all year. ingredients from baking are smeared everywhere...anyway.

Jacaerys Velayron:

- Always dresses as Rudolph for the holiday parties. Letting you paint his nose red as he excitedly talks about all the presents he picked out to pass out on the kids with Santa (Cregan), the elf (Aemond).

- Literally turns into Buddy the the Elf around the holidays. He loves the holidays and will do anything to make the most of each one and make it memorable.

-Starts decorating your place November 1st, laying out your xmas pjs to decorate in. He's got no shortage of Holiday spirit as you two go pick out your live tree (a fake tree is blasphemy to him). Watching all the gushy holiday movies with you (Last Christmas is his favorite btw)

- Insists on keeping your xmas presents a secret. He'll get super upset if something get spoiled so you do your best to stay out of the place he thinks is hidden.

-But he always has to call his mom for help or send them to her to be wrapped because he still doesn't know how.

- He loves to fuck you under the the glow of the tree lights at the end of most nights. He tells you you look like an angel the way you shine under them

-Loves to take you to any and all light displays. using it as an excuse to go on walks with you (weather permitting ofc). Gushing to you excitedly about how excited he is to see you open his presents he's gotten you. Talking about your day before conveniently stopping you both under mistletoe

- 100% A sentimental gift giver. He always manages to find the sweetest little gifts, it's his favorite part of xmas is trying to find the perfect gift because this will be the gift that he picks out himself he just wants you to like it (you always do)

-Has a tradition with you on who can build the better snowman, he takes it very seriously and totally drags his family into voting for who has the best one. Except he pouts when he loses.

- Hes actually good at ice skating (he's only injured himself one time with you) and he likes to take out out for cocoa after and tease you about how many times you fell

Cregan Stark:

-Always gets volunteered to be Santa at the function. He's a big guy, and he's willing to do it for the kids so why not? Always referring to you as his Mrs. Clause, Letting you color his hair gray with hairspray and what not. Even his stubble grows in the winter

-Obviously big into the winter. Always making sure you're staying warm and bundled up. Never lets you leave the house without a coat even.

-Obsessed with hot chocolate and cookies. Always making sure the house is fully stocked for you both as well. Making sure the fireplace is going as well.

-Is clueless when it comes to buying gifts. Allowing you to get whatever you want with and slapping his name on it. He's not got any shame in it either. Always joking he's yet to disappoint you in gift giving.

-Gains a little weight each holiday season because he's obsessed with cookies and sweet treats. Not to mention the way he devours Xmas ham or turkey.

- He's a pro at ice skating. So i firmly believe he loves ice skating dates. Whether this is at a rink or a very safe lake to skate on. And if you don't know it's a bonus, because then he can just teach you (and hold you at the same time) so it's like a win for everyone.

-His preferred way of keeping his head warm in the winter is your thighs. Spending evening curled up between your thighs, intimately or not. When he's eating you out after being out in the cold for too long. Insisting he's warming his face up the best way but burying his face in your cunt.

- Always makes sure your car is warmed up for you and have a warm drink before you go anywhere.

-Always chops down a real tree for your house. Insisting on carrying it inside the house and helping you decorate it. He gets very into it so long as you do also. Wearing matching pjs or sweaters while you do (on his insistence i might add)

Daemon Targaryen:

- Is quite literally the Grinch irl. He's not the biggest fan of the holidays at all actually. One year he got asked to be the Santa at the function and he ended up making a child cry. He was never asked to to it again, or dressing up of any form after that.

-Always grumbles at everything the whole season. From gift buying or giving, to attending any event. But not if it's you asking him. Then he's fine to go to some xmas tree lot on a Saturday morning with only mild complaining.

-Much prefers to be inside, but never turns down a chance at snowy warfare. Especially against his kids or nephews. Then he's not stopping until everyone's surrendered. It's a bigger deal than it needs to be always.

-Prefers to spend the cold nights in bed with you. Naked of course. His favorite is cuddling naked with you, while watching the snow just outside your window fall silently onto the ground.

-Has a holidays tradition of watching classic holidays with you of course. He'll wear the matching pjs but only when it's just you two (or children if you decide to have them) and drinking hot chocolate (his has a little liquor in it it never fails). But as bah humbug as he is he loves the joy on your face of it all.

-After awhile he begins to warm up to the holidays. As as much as the family makes fun of him saying that the Grinch's heart grew three sizes bigger after meeting you, he'll never outwardly admit it. Often randomly decorating the house with lights saying he saw them on sale or some bullshit.

- I think he would love taking you to the Nutcracker every year. There's just something about it to him. He makes a whole day of it, taking you to a luxury restaurant after shopping, and taking you to the ballet. idk.

- He makes the best xmas breakfast/ dinner i'm convinced. Cinnamon rolls, biscuits and gravy, bacon, whatever it is, he's putting his whole back into that morning meal and wears nothing but a proud smirk when you tell him how delicious it is.

-Pulls out no stops to spoil the fuck out of you. Handing you his black amex card and telling you to go crazy and buy whatever you want for xmas.

[guppybibi]

Pairing: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x fem!reader

Synopsis: It was love at first sight, but Kyle will be nothing more but someone's right-hand man. It's alright though, he'll have his heart learn how to stop loving you.

Content: not proofread, alcohol mentions, one-sided love, fast-paced,,,

Notes: This took a while to finish huhu, Kyle will probably be ooc since this is my 1st time writing a fic for him! Honestly I'm not too sure if it fits the theme 😔😔 i kept postponing this bcus i didnt wanna write smth sad during xmas

Love is Doomed Masterlist !

If bliss was a human, Kyle believed it would be you. You were just a pinch away from being perfect, God’s favorite creation, as Kyle would describe you. Everyone just snickered at the sight of a big, strong soldier like him, acting like a lovesick puppy who just got his aching heart stolen away and locked up in a dungeon.

He yearned for you more than anything and firmly believed that no one can know you like he does. No one at all can love you like he does.

The only problem was that you were after another, your world kept spinning even in Kyle’s absence. He never mentioned anything about it, fake chuckles coming out of him as you chirped about the so-called man of your dreams. It made his ears ring and practically bleed, eyes twitching as he nodded for what seemed to be the hundredth time today.

He had never been introduced to this mystery man before, it wasn't any of his business so he kept it to himself. Though he wasn't going to lie, curiosity has been bubbling up inside of him and threatens to spill as the days go by.

He shouldn't be jealous, he doesn't have the right to be.

But doesn't he have the right to be concerned when you hand him an invitation to your wedding? He thinks you're moving far too fast! Faster than he can reach, you're progressing too quickly, not allowing him to even catch his breath.

Everything slips through his fingers quicker than he could've ever imagined, the moment his hand touches the elegantly designed invitation, he's suddenly at the wedding itself.

He's losing you, the longer he lets his feelings linger the more you get farther away. And he can't do anything about it.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant states, glancing over to the crowd. Kyle swears he has never wanted to say the words ‘I object’ more than ever in his life.

Yet in that moment, no words came out of his mouth. He just stood there in silence as other guests clapped joyfully, proud of the huge step in life you took. As the two of you kissed, Kyle felt like he was going to puke right then and there, maybe even right on the red carpet walkway.

You two were going to be together forever, and that word didn't sit right on Kyle’s tongue.

It's been months since your wedding and it's also been months since Kyle has spoken to you. Your attempts of reaching out to him have been deemed useless, with him not even bothering to acknowledge your messages. You haven't found the time to personally meet him face to face either.

He's probably just on an important mission. You told yourself, not wanting to assume that something bad has happened to him.

Kyle's strong, whatever he's going through right now, he’ll make out of. He promised. And Kyle has always been a man of his word, you can always count on him.

Together forever, you promised, you and Kyle’s pinky fingers interlocking together. It's stupid that Kyle’s mind automatically assumed that you meant it romantically, it's not your fault. It's his fault that he fell in love, such a stupid man he is. You never saw him in that light.

“You’ve drank, haven't you?” Price asks, his arms crossed with a mildly displeased look on his face. As if he wasn't on his 2nd pint of beer right now. “You’re not normally this aloof.” It's not like Kyle was putting in much effort into hiding it, but he does wish that his captain didn't point it out so bluntly..

Price sighs when Kyle doesn't respond, he forgot; Kyle’s a quiet drunk. Oh unless Soap is here, then that's a completely different story. “You’ve been refusing every mission given to you, mate. Don't tell me it's about your best friend..”

Kyle shook his head, but the look in his eyes told the opposite. It was embarrassing to admit that a strong and courageous sergeant like him was down over something so ‘little’ like unrequited love.

Psh..he's better than that, right? He should be better than that.

“It's nothing, I’ll get over it.” Kyle waves it off dismissively, but Price was having none of it. “And you'll get over it when, mate? In 3-5 business years?” The sarcasm in his voice seeped into Kyle’s veins like venom, mainly because he knew that he was right.

He couldn't sulk forever, or else he’ll get left behind. The world would keep spinning no matter what he does, even if he had the strength of a thousand gods, the world still wouldn't stop.

All he prays is that maybe next time, Cupid will hit the both of you.

[tkaulitzlvr]

Hi! :3

I had an idea for a request

I thought of a tom x reader loosely based on "Hungover you"

like him and reader being best friends and somewhere along the line they spend a night together, but decide to forget it for the sake of their friendship (maybe they were a little drunk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who knows)

then many years later they're still friends but they realise that they really love each other

even if you don't write this i wanted to tell you i think your writing is amazing! don't feel pressured to make content, I'm sure all of your followers don't mind waiting for your fics because they are really amazing!

aa sorry for the long text! <3

IT’S YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: they say feelings change with time, but yours couldn’t have stayed closer to the same. it has been three years since you hooked up with tom, and despite your promise to forget about it for the sake of your friendship, you can’t ignore the way you feel anymore.

content: smut (kinda) & fluff

a/n: thankyou soo much!! i put a christmas twist on this because i realised i haven’t made an xmas fic yet i hope that’s okay! pls be patient w me bc apparently i should spend every hour of every day writing fics according to some people… just to be clear this is a hobby and nothing more. i don’t get paid for this LMAOO sometimes i don’t want to write and that’s okay - most people are really understanding so thank you for that, but on a more positive note merry christmas i hope u all have a happy holidays!!!💗

the faint smell of gingerbread teases my senses, mind beyond overstimulated with the incomprehensible blur of conversations around me - the amount of alcohol in my system clearly not helping. every inch of the living room is pasted with the not so subtle reminder of the festive season: warm lights casting their glow across the walls, garlands decorated with small red and green baubles, though the most obvious sign sits in the corner of the room. adorned with baubles in every colour possible, with tinsel (quite messily) stretched across its dark green branches, multi-coloured lights twinkling dimly around it, reminding me why i love this time of year so much.

the chaos of the annual christmas party that had become tradition over the years never became something that i had gotten used to, the dull buzz in my stomach (admittedly from the alcohol too) never going away as i watch my surroundings, friends laughing obnoxiously loudly whilst their hands tear away the intricately decorated paper, revealing their presents.

“and this one is for you.” tom says, snapping me out of my daze as he reaches underneath the tree from where he sits beside me, returning with a small box in his hands. he passes it over to me, a proud smile on his face as i study the wrapping. a red bow placed messily on top, the wrapping paper creased at the sides, the tape used to hold it in place hanging off.

“did you wrap this?” i stifle a laugh, remembering how terrible my best friend is at anything remotely technical, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“yeah, why?” he seems genuinely proud, and i decide to give him that sense of fulfilment, ignoring that a child probably could have done a better job.

“nothing, nothing. it’s great.” i return my eyes to the present, hands moving to tear away the paper. tom’s eyes remain glued onto me, excitedly awaiting my reaction. i open the box inside, revealing a gold necklace, a small locket in its centre. my mouth falls open, fingers carefully lifting the jewellery from its box, eyes studying it in awe before i turn my attention to tom.

“are you kidding me? it’s beautiful, oh my god!”

an even wider smile rests on his face at my reaction, his leg bobbing up and down nervously. he gestures to the locket as i turn my attention back to it, thumb clicking it open. tom and i. the picture in the centre shows tom and i, far younger, far more innocent than we are now. cheesy grins plastered on our faces, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders as we look into the camera, wrapped up in our huge winter coats - standard for the weather in germany.

“i don’t even know what to say i- thank you.” i smile, reaching over and wrapping my arms around his frame. he seems taken aback, though soon returns the gesture, his arms resting on my upper back, hand patting it slowly.

“you’re welcome. i hope you like it.” he offers me a warm smile as we pull away, soon turning his eyes toward the rest of the room, watching as bill unwraps his present from georg.

hours have passed, and even if i tried, i don’t think i could come close to counting the amount of drinks i’ve had. i am beyond tipsy, swaying my head to the cheesy christmas songs that play from the tv whilst attempting to sing the lyrics - failing miserably as my voice comes out slurred and inaudible.

“you sound terrible.” tom’s voice, just as slurred as my own, causes me to stop my singing, turning to face him as he sits beside me, finishing off the remainder of whatever drink he has in his glass.

“thanks.” i mumble, grabbing the glass from his hands and shoving the last few drops down my throat, no longer flinching at its bitter taste. the room seems to become emptier, friends either leaving or finding a bedroom upstairs to sleep in, the darkness from outside reminding me that it is probably the early hours of the morning.

“they’re no fun.” i roll my eyes, pointing to the final few people walking out of the room tiredly, leaving tom and i alone. he hums in agreement as i reach forward, grabbing the half-empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table and pouring it into my mouth, taking a few large swigs. the faint burning in the back of my throat quickly subsides, prompting me to drink some more.

“lets play a game.” tom says from beside me, a loud giggle leaving my mouth at his sudden request.

“a game? what are we twelve?” i laugh, shaking my head and taking another drink, swirling the liquid that is still in the bottle around. “what game?”

“i don’t know, truth or dare?” he shrugs his shoulders, clearly not thinking straight. though i am in no position to judge him, the two of us too intoxicated to be able to think rationally.

“there’s only two of us though. that’s gonna be pretty fucking boring, don’t you think?”

he doesn’t respond, only shrugging his shoulders once again, prompting me to give in. i sit cross legged opposite him, signalling for him to go first.

“truth or dare?”

“hmmm….truth.” i mumble drunkenly, laughing to myself as my body sways to the side a little, almost falling completely off of the couch and onto the hard wood floor. he pauses, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as he appears to think as deeply as his intoxicated state allows him to, his eyebrows raising as he finally thinks of an idea.

“have you ever had a crush on anyone at this party?” he asks, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands, chuckling quietly to himself.

“bill, like four years ago.” i shrug nonchalantly, taking another swig from the bottle. if i were even remotely sober, i would have come up with some completely unbelievable lie, though the alcohol gives me the sudden confidence to confess, this a secret which i had silently vowed to take to the grave - until now.

“my brother? are you kidding?” his laughter is much louder this time, the room filled with it as he clutches his chest, eyes squeezing shut. at one point, i swear i see tears fall down his cheeks, my hand reaching to swat his chest, the effort pathetic as the alcohol appears to take away every ounce of physical strength.

we continue the game for another thirty minutes, the questions becoming more senseless as time passes, the dares even more abnormal as i sit with my small mini skirt off of my body and on the ground somewhere, tom now shirtless. the sober versions of ourselves would be watching in pure shame, though in the moment, this is the funniest thing we have ever done, drunken laughter pouring from our lips at every word that we say.

“your turn.” tom begins. “truth or dare?”

“dare.”

i expect him to think deeply about what to do, about ways to humiliate me in the worst way possible, taking advantage of the fact that he is in control, possessing the ability to make me do whatever his heart desires. but not only is he much quicker this time, his mind seemingly made up the second i had uttered the four letter word, his reply is one that i could never had been prepared for. though my drunken state brushes it off, unable to question, let alone refuse his demand.

“i dare you…to kiss me.”

i giggle quietly at his statement, widening my eyes in forged surprise and tucking my hair behind my ears, tom’s lips curved into a soft smirk as i slowly shuffle toward him. my legs wrap around his waist, arms wrapping loosely around his neck as his own rest around my waist. our faces are inches apart, small chuckles still leaving our lips as i situate myself comfortably, losing my balance and falling forward, my body collapsing onto his chest.

“whoops.” i mumble, bursting into laughter as tom does the same, trying to pick me back up as his hands place themselves onto my shoulders, pushing me upward so that i sit on his lap once again. though once i regain my balance, the small smile that rests on tom’s lips soon disappears, the laughter replaced by a heavy silence, thick with unexpected tension. his hands rest more firmly on my waist now, face seeming to get closer and closer to my own, so close that his breath fans onto my face, lips ghosting just below my nose.

his eyes look into mine, darkened and filled with lust, almost questioning whether he should make the move. the alcohol is still in charge, still the thing that fuels both tom’s and my own decision making, but behind the drunkenness, i see the real tom, and somewhere amidst the blur of alcohol and lust, i can tell that he is fighting with himself. though after a few seconds, the decision is made, seemingly with little debate as he pushes his lips onto mine harshly, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. the kiss is sloppy, messy, irrational, everything that it should be, fuelled by alcohol and unforeseen desire. but whether it is the bottle of vodka i had just drank talking, or the genuine need that only grows as each second passes, it feels right.

and tom’s actions show that he feels the same way. from our clothes being impatiently pulled off of our bodies, lips tangled in a heated mess, to his dick being inside me, something within me tells me that this should be happening, even if our drunken state is the cause.

“fuck…you feel so good.” he groans from above me, maintaining a steady pace, his words still slurred. sweat lines his body, starting at his forehead, his dreads resting on his shoulders, trailing down to his torso. and as i watch him move in and out of me, i take a second to admire his body - his skin, biceps, the way each muscle flexes slightly when he thrusts into me, my mind wondering how it had taken me this long to realise how hot he is. sure, i had known that he was attractive, his overly obsessive fans made that clear enough, but it had taken him being totally naked on top of me to realise that they have been right this entire time, and god, i want nothing more than this moment to last forever.

“i’m getting close.” he mumbles from above me, his head moving to rest in the crook of my neck, placing rough kisses there as his tongue moves across the skin in place of his mouth. when his dick begins to twitch inside of me, i soon realise that it can’t last forever, that in a few minutes, or when the alcohol wares off, we will have to go back to normal, to act like he didn’t just fuck me - his best friend of over ten years.

his head returns from my shoulder, a loud groan escaping his lips as i feel him shoot his cum inside of me, his eyes squeezing shut, lips slightly parted as he curses under his breath. and it doesn’t take long for my own release to follow, the loud moan that sounds from the back of my throat muffled by tom’s lips as he presses them onto my own, mumbling a quick ‘shhh’ against me. he rides out our highs, pulling out after a minute and collapsing on top of me, tired and breathless. we lay in silence, tom occasionally pressing quick kisses onto my shoulder, our bodies completely spent.

despite how little we speak about it, that night stays clear in my memory, able to remember it like it was yesterday, even though today marks three years since we did something that should have changed our friendship forever. sure, it was awkward for a little while after, but after the mutual decision to put it behind us ‘for the sake of our friendship’, blaming it purely on the alcohol, we had moved on, maintaining our close bond that had existed since we were kids. it seemed to special to ruin, too important to destroy for the sake of the possibility of falling in love, knowing that it would be too risky to pursue something, the small yet very real chance that it wouldn’t work out holding the ability to ruin our friendship forever.

but god, i would be stupid to deny the way my heart tugs at its strings whenever i see him, whenever i hug him in a way that is strictly platonic, wondering if somewhere he feels the same way as i do.

“you okay?” a voice snaps me out of my train of thought, my head turning to its source as tom’s brown eyes look into my own, a small smile on his face. i quickly nod my head, turning away and focusing on gustav as he takes a present from under the tree, flashing me a smile once he realises that it is from me.

tom doesn’t give in though, his voice interrupting my own from beside me as i am in the process of listening to gustav, a smile on his face whilst he thanks me for his gift.

“you sure?” tom asks, his voice low and uncertain, expression bordering confused when i forge a smile, reassuring him that i am fine, knowing that i am far from it, the reminder that three years ago things were so different still acting as a raw wound, despite how easily tom had seemed to get over it.

“no you’re not. come on.” he takes my hand, guiding me out of the room as i turn around, hoping that nobody had noticed, sighing in relief when i realise that they are all immersed in their own conversations. tom guides me into the kitchen, moving me so that my body is against the counter, his own in front of me, stopping me from leaving.

“what are you doing? the party is out there, bill was about to open the gift i got for him.” i furrow my eyebrows, attempting to leave the kitchen, though tom’s hand is quick to place itself on my wrist gently, pulling me back to rest against the counter.

“i can tell when you’re not okay. something is bothering you. what’s wrong?” his voice is much more serious this time, no longer holding that playful tone that it had before.

i sigh, breaking eye contact and staring at the ground, fingers reaching to play with the material of my christmas sweater, trying anything to distract myself from the tears that begin to pool at my waterline. i know that i can’t escape from this now, becoming aware that even if i attempt to lie, tom will see right through it.

“come on, you can talk to me you know? i’m your best friend-”

“that’s the fucking problem.” i mumble, silently cursing myself the second the words leave my mouth, praying that they were quiet enough for tom to not understand them. though when his eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side, i quickly realise that he got every word. his mouth opens to speak, only for a few seconds as he closes it again, mind working faster than it ever has before, working to think of a response.

“what do you mean?” he asks eventually, my eyes meeting his own. his gaze softens when he registers the tears that fall down my cheeks. he reaches forward, his arms trying to wrap around my frame and pull me into a hug, though i refuse his embrace, not able to handle the emotional torture of another hug, knowing that it will never mean anything more than means of comfort, rather than an act of affection out of love. his eyebrows furrow in confusion when i push him away gently, his tongue moving outward to swipe against his lip ring, fingers adjusting the bandana that adorns his jet black braids - the one thing that is different about him since that day.

“why do you act like nothing happened?” i ask, my voice low and weak, eyes finally finding the courage to meet his own. he stays silent, knowing exactly what i am talking about without even mentioning it directly. because no matter how much we act like it never happened, i know that both of us will never be able to forget it, even if he acts like he has. i take his silence as i sign to continue, taking the opportunity to get this off of my chest. “you act like that night never happened, and it fucking infuriates me. you speak to me, you look at me, you hug me, but it’s not the same anymore. you can try and act like you don’t remember it, but i fucking can’t. i can’t sit back anymore and act normal around you knowing that we did it. and then you stand here and call me your fucking friend. it kills me that you don’t even care, that it means nothing at all to you-”

he cuts me off, though not with his voice. not with a quick remark, not with a reminder that we are just friends, that we can never be anything more; but with his lips, pressing them to my own. they are soft, just as i had remembered them, the coldness of his lip ring just as addictive as it had been the first time. and though it only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away, it still ignites that spark within me that had been lifeless since we had promised to forget about what had happened. his forehead rests against mine, hands pulling my body against his own as he wraps his arms around my waist.

“who said that i don’t care about what happened, hm?” his face remains inches away from mine, his hands reaching upward to wipe the tears that rest on my cheeks. he doesn’t pull back, instead pressing my body against his once again. “i think about it, all the time. and every single time, i think about what could have happened if we didn’t push it aside, if we actually acted on it. but then i remind myself that you didn’t want that, and i can’t lose you. so i just decided to not speak about it. but don’t think for a second that i forgot.”

i stay silent, unsure of what to say, trying to fathom what his confession truly means. is he saying that he feels the same way, or was the kiss out of pity, one to stop the tears that continue to fall?

“what are you saying?” i whisper, pursing my lips and looking at the floor, breaking eye contact once again. though it is only short lived, my eyes soon returning to look at his own as he lifts my face up, his hands now resting on either side of it.

“i’m saying that i don’t want to be just your best friend anymore. i don’t think my heart can handle that.”

my eyes widen, mouth opening to speak, finding myself at a loss for words as no sound escapes. once again, tom’s actions seem to speak louder than any words would have been able to, his arms scooping me up as he kisses me once again. it is gentler this time, lacking the lust behind that it had the first time we had kissed. it holds much more meaning behind it than just drunken desire. this time, it carries the silent promise of every single thing that i have ever wanted since that night - love.

“you know…i wasn’t totally shitfaced when i asked you to kiss me that night.” he says once he pulls away, a playful smile now tugging on his lips. i shake my head, pulling him by his shirt and kissing him once again. he smiles into the kiss, quickly reciprocating as he moves his lips against my own.

“oh my god.”

i quickly push tom away, his lips pink and swollen as he turns around, my eyes widening once i see bill standing in the doorway of the kitchen with some empty plates in either hand. his mouth is wide open, body standing completely still in shock.

“i’ll just…leave these here.” he quickly says, rushing toward the sink and practically throwing the plates in there, shooting me a quick glance before leaving.

i look upward at tom, who seems to be unfazed by the situation, his thumb reaching upward to swipe at the lipgloss that had stained his lips. he meets my gaze, shrugging his shoulders and wrapping his arm around me, pulling my body to rest against his own, our chests together.

“at least we don’t have to figure out a way to tell everybody else. bill would have told them all by now.”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[kissingghouls]

Last Xmas / First Xmas (aka part two) (part one is here ♥) Mary Goore x f!Reader

Summary: It's your first x-mas with (soft) Mary // from an anon prompt - "I get so sappy when I'm with you." (Part Two takes place after the other More Goore stories ♥ or on its own. choose your own adventure!)

tags: just kissin' & mentions of zombies/zombie attacks

The radiator hisses quietly as fog clouds the living room windows. Mary’s sitting on the floor of your apartment wearing a pair of boxers, a ratty old t-shirt, and a determined look. A festive pair of socks decorated with snowmen cover their feet as they tap out a rhythm playing only in their head. In front of them is a sea of carnage, a mess of bright paper and ribbons smattered across the hardwood. Their hands are covered in bits of tape and there’s a glittery bow stuck to a shock of their black hair, but Mary’s focused. They’ve refused your help a few times already, so you retreated to the safety of the sofa to supervise and drink cocoa.

A zombie show plays on the television with handfuls of students meeting a grisly demise next to a completely pathetic excuse for a miniature Christmas tree. The kind of pathetic that looped right back to being the cutest tree you’ve ever seen. It’s a sad, old, thrifted thing that’s barely more than a handful of pipe cleaners, but Mary covered it in construction paper bats and ghosts before wrapping enough lights around it to power a small city. The finishing touch was a corpse-painted Santa lovingly crafted by your very own death metal boyfriend.

It’s funny how it all just fits. A weird little slice of domestic bliss that probably looked like a horror movie to anyone else. The whole apartment smells of sugar and vanilla thanks to the fresh batch of cookies cooling in the kitchen—cookies Mary insisted on baking from scratch while following a family recipe he’d copied in his own handwriting. Doodles of demons line the margins and you wonder if maybe he’d let you frame it someday.

Tomorrow you’ll spend the day bouncing between your families, doing your best impressions of responsible adults. But tonight it’s just the two of you and the teenage zombies eating their way through the upperclassmen. There are vague plans forming in the Chaos group chat, talk about heading to bar later along with arguments both for and against. Mary opts out for both of you without looking up, prompting a flood of lewd emojis.

“You’re being awfully quiet, darlin,” he notes, still completely focused on his task. There’s only two presents left in his to-wrap pile, a couple of carefully selected items for the boys at Chaos House. It was another task in which Mary put an incredible amount of thought. Watching him pick items for his friends made you that combination of nervous-excited about the neatly wrapped gifts bearing your name.

“Just watching you,” you admit fondly. Their hair is clean and fluffy, falling over their eyes a bit as that stupid bow wobbles with their movements. They’re so cute you can’t stand it, barely containing your urge to tackle them to the floor and kiss them until it all becomes too much. But you stay in your spot, legs pressed together to ignore your growing need so they can finish up.

“Wha? Why? Being a creep? Little Christmas creep.”

“No, it’s just…I guess I never thought you’d be this into the holidays?”

He shrugs, still facing away from you. “Maybe it’s more about where I am and who I’m with than a frankincense and baby Jesus kind of party.”

“Sooo…it’s not Christmas you like, it’s me.”

“Duh,” he laughs and spins around to look you dead in the eye. “I love you,” he replies in a serious tone he doesn’t often use in situations like this. He abandons the box in front of him, half-wrapped with all of those neat creases left in the paper and climbs onto the sofa next to you. “Darlin, I want this Christmas to be better than the last one we spent together.”

“We weren’t together at Christmas last year—”

“No, but do you remember that stupid party Chaos House had a while back? The one where everyone was running around in those stupid ass Christmas sweaters?”

Your eyebrows knit together as you try to think back. There’s a vague, blurry memory attached to feelings of unease. Mary is there too for reasons you can’t quite place, but there’s different feelings attached to a memory of  looking up at his face in the dark. “Yeah, I don’t, um—I don’t really remember a lot about that one.”

“Not much to remember,” he says with a shrug. “It wasn’t exactly one of their best. But you—I remember you had these little sparkly things in your hair that night and you just…” he trails off and smiles to himself for a second. “You were so cute, you know? And after I saw you I couldn’t stop thinking about how you were supposed to take all those little things out of your hair on your own. Because I knew—like, he just fucking left you there. And I—I wanted to—I wanted things to be different. I wanted things to be so much better for you by actual Christmas. And when you and that dickhead broke up for real I knew you would find someone who would help you take the sparkles out of your hair when you were drunk.”

“Mary—“

“I know. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and cringes. “I get so sappy when I’m around you. Go on, call me Marshmallow Goore.”

You lean in and press your lips to theirs. It’s a reprieve Mary welcomes, hands immediately twisting in your hair as the kiss deepens to express feelings neither of you have found the words for. None of the whispered I love yous seem to match the intensity of what you’ve felt for them since before that first kiss and Mary’s better with words than you anyways.

“I’m so glad it’s you,” you manage between labored breaths, hoping it offers even a fraction of what you mean to say.

He pulls away, trying to hide a slight blush and a shy smile. “Darlin, I—" He shakes his head and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“I mean, I’m not drunk and you’re the one with glitter in your hair, but it’s all the same right?”

“I have glitter in my hair?”

You smile. “Yeah, like a lot.”

“Aw fuck,” he groans and swipes a hand through his hair. “I’m glad it’s you too, you know. There’s not many people in this world—no, you’re the only one I would learn to drive for.”

“Mary, that’s not a promise you have to make me.”

“I know, but that’s the beauty of it, darlin. I already did it.”

“Hang on, are you telling me—“

“Mary Goore, licensed driver.”

“…How?”

“There was a lot of yelling. Why do you think the Chaos House gifts are so nice?”

“You are so—“

“That’s not your gift, by the way. I got you something way better, but that’s for later. I could use a break from all the paper though. You wanna help me draw spooky occult shit on the cookies?” he asks with a wide grin. “I got that gel frosting that looks like blood.”

“Mary Goore, I’m so in love with you it’s stupid.”

“Well, sweetheart I dunno what to tell you. I’ve been stupid over you for years,” he replies with that crooked grin you love so much. He pulls you into his lap and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Merry Christmas, darlin.”

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Home for Christmas

Written for @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six -Ber Month Fanworks Challenge, thank you so much for organizing this, Lex! Prompt: Haunted House.

Also on Ao3.

"How is the turkey?"

Eddie peeked inside the oven and frowned at what was soon to be come their dinner. "I'm sure it's not feeling great," he said slowly, and then dodged a kitchen towel thrown at him. "Hey, I don't know what you want me to say. You can't ask me things like that! You know I don't cook!"

Steve rolled his eyes. He had that expression he'd perfected over the years, the one saying I'm suffering from all the stupidity in the world. Eddie loved it. "I thought you knew colors. We all learned them in the kindergarten, right? Is the turkey less pale now? More golden?"

Squatting in front of the oven again, Eddie did his best to assess the state of the unfortunate bird. It didn't have feathers anymore, which counted as good enough in the Munson household. "Look, Steve, I'm really trying, and I can tell you the thing is darker than before. Looks crunchier. But gold...how are you even able to tell? The light in the oven is yellow."

In a few quick steps, Steve was next to him and nudged him away from the oven. Of course, the turkey was still pale. "Out of all people in the world, I had to fall for a clown," he sighed.

Sneaking behind him, Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve's middle, smooth, perfect. "You love me," he whispered in his ear.

Steve didn't need to answer that, but he decided to do so anyways.

--

"Do we have potatoes?"

"Not sure. Things keep moving around here. Who knows where she put them."

One desparate and thorough search later, Eddie and Steve were standing in the kitchen, empty handed. "OK, unless she buried them in the backyard, I'm pretty sure we're potato-less," said Eddie, rubbing his eyes. "Do you want me to start digging?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah. I think...let me try. Sometimes it feels like she knows we want to contact her, so...uh. Hey, El?" He involuntarily looked upwards, as if she resided somewhere in heaven. Even if he knew it wasn't true. "Could you...uh. I know this is a really bad time and all, but we really need some potatoes.  Would you by any chance-"

He didn't even need to finish speaking. The cupboard doors flung themselves open, and in the place that they'd checked at least twice, there was a bag of potatoes. On it was a bright sticky note with a wobbly handwriting that said Sorry, forgot. Merry Xmas!! and the world's most crooked smiley face.

"Thank you, the same to you!" smiled Steve. "Do I...uh. Can I ask how is everything? I know you don't-"

He was interrupted again. Another set of cupboard doors moved, but this time it just swung from side to side, as if it was a head, shaking in a silent "no".

"I thought so. Thanks, El."

--

They pinned the sticky notes next to the other ones, on the fridge. Steve absentmindedly stroked his fingers over the tiny drawing, lost in thought, or maybe a memory. But then he remembered Eddie, the Christmas dinner they were making, and he turned away from the fridge. What was it that Robin once said? What I can't change, I have to let go. Or something like that.

The turkey was taking forever, but neither of them minded. There was no rush, everything else was ready, and so Steve decided to whip some egg whites to prepare Eddie's favorite meringues for when the oven would eventually be free. From time to time, a small amount of sugar would get dropped into the bowl, even before he could tell Eddie he needed his help. "I appreciate it," he muttered, "but don't you have better things to do?"

In the flour spilled from their earlier baking, an invisible finger drew a sly smiley face, and then - NO.

"That's okay then."

--

The tree was ready. Well, almost. Eddie was running around the house, looking for the last, most vital piece. He was one hundred percent sure he had seen it somewhere. Maybe in their room? No? What about the storage room? In the washing machine? His short term memory wasn't great, but this was a bit too much even for him.

There were still sounds of whisking coming from the kitchen, but that had to stop eventually. And Eddie didn't want to put more on Steve's plate.

He glanced at the familiar looking electrical tablet thingy that they used what seemed ages ago to communicate from the Upside Down. Had that always been there? He decided not to worry about it. Steve worried enough for the both of them. "Uh...hey, El?" he asked, glancing around the room. "Wasn't there a star for the top of the tree somewhere? Did you...did you maybe hide it?"

A moment of hesitation, and then - YES.

Eddie curled a strand of his hair around his finger. "Okay...but, why? Can we have it back?"

Another moment, then another message. NOT YET.

Eddie wanted to repeat himself, ask why, because El wasn't malicious, so there was obviously something else. But before he could speak up, the lights revealed another word. VISITOR.

--

Normally, Eddie would leap down the stairs, superhero landing style, but now he was walking down slowly, lost in thought. "Hey, Steve. Please don't freak out, but. Uh. Apparetly we're gonna have a visitor. Or something."

Steve's face grew pale. "Do we know who?"

Eddie shook his head. He didn't want to think about it too much, and he didn't like putting another worried frown on Steve's pretty face. "Nope, but hey, now we know what we need to do, right? A third plate!  I bet they're hungry. And the turney smells so good. You'd better guard it, Steve, or I'll bite into it right as it comes out of the oven!"

Just like magic, Steve's frown disappeared. He grabbed a kitchen towel and slapped Eddie's outstretched hand. "No, you absolute goblin! It's for the Christmas table. And you'll burn your mouth!"

Eddie fake gasped, hand clasped over his mouth. "He knows goblins! I have spoiled the pure, formerly incorruptible paragon of jockery, Steve Harrington! He's a Dungeons and Dragons nerd now, oh what a joyful days, what an achievement-"

"I'll give you a nerd-"

This time, the kitchen towel slapped Eddie's ass, and he lunged to the side, cackling. "There's no changing that now, Steve! I have ruined you for everyone else!"

And wasn't that the truth?

They had just finished preparing the third plate when their doorbell rang. Hearts wildly beating in their chests, they opened it. And there she was, with the same scowl, same snark, in her light blue jacket and jeans.

Max was wringing her fingers, looking anywhere but at them. "I think..." she said in a unusually quiet voice, "I think I got lost for a while. It's that stupid fog. Sorry it took me so long to get here."

As she got pulled into a tight and "absolutely non-consensual hug, Steven, what are you doing?!", and Steve just muttered "I don't see you letting go of me either, Mayfield!", Eddie closed the door behind them, just as he too got pulled into the same hug.

When they finally let go of each other and looked towards the table, the star was there, gleaming in the light.

Max kept walking around, exploring, touching the table, the plates, even the turkey with awe. "How the hell did this happen? I have so many questions-"

The cabinet doors did their usual no-no routine.

Eddie laughed. "It seems our hostess thinks that Christmas should come before your questions. Let's finish the tree, and then-food! And then maybe we can fit some of your questions into our inevitable food coma. Did you know that Steve cooks? I mean, really cooks. Deliciously. Stylishly. And he's hot when he's doing it."

She gave him a deer-in-headlights look. "He's what?"

Steve clicked his tongue and ushered them into the living room, grabbing the star on his way. "I knew you two together would be insufferable."

The star was placed on top of the tree. The dinner was delicious and question-free, except for one - "how the hell did this," Max said, pointing her fork at the two of them, "happen? When did this happen?"

Steve squeezed Eddie's hand. "It happened...after. And how...do you really, really want the details, Mayfield?"

She immediately dropped her gaze to her turkey. "Ew. No. Thanks, no." But even over Eddie's cackling, Steve could make out her next words: "But good for you two, I guess."

After the dinner, Max wished them good night and retreated into her new room. Eddie wanted to note that he was pretty sure the door wasn't there before, that he'd never seen it, but Steve shook his head. "Gift horses and all that," he smiled at Eddie and pulled him into their own bedroom. He hoped, for Max's sake, that the magical walls were soundproof too.

--

They unwrapped the presents together, with hot cocoa and quiet carols playing in the background. There was one for Max too, because Christmas miracles were a thing now, even if Steve and Eddie knew it hadn't been there before.

When Max tore the wrapping paper off and saw the Wonder Woman comics inside, she may have cried a bit. But Steve and Eddie won't confirm nor deny that, because they value their lives.

Clutching it to her chest as if it was the holiest of books, Max turned her eyes upwards, just as Steve had done, and mouthed a quiet "thank you."

The cabinet door waved at her. "It was nothing", it seemed to say.

--

They talked afterwards. Not too much, not about everything, but enough to understand.

"It started with me," said Steve, clutching his mug. "I...well. You know what happened. I mean, not the details, but...it was two demogorgons for me. And I mean, it was fine, I figured it would end that way eventually, but...then I heard her. El. She told me-"

"You're not going," whispered Max. "She told me the same. After the Creel House."

Steve nodded. "Yeah. And then I found myself here. It was beautiful, but...I was alone. And I think she knew I couldn't handle that, because the next thing I knew, Eddie was at the door."

The other man scratched his head, wincing. "It was wild. One minute I'm demobat feast, it's going dark and all that. I can't remember much, but then I see a light, which, wow. Great, I think, I made it to heaven. But then I see the light is coming from an open door and it's none other than Steve Harrington greeting me. I thought the pearly gates were supposed to be different, but hey, I'm not complaining. And that's it. We've been here for a while. Nowhere to go. No one to fight."

"I mean, we tried, at first," laughed Steve. "Broke a window. Tried to climb up through the chimney. Couldn't get anywhere past the backyard. We thought it was all a trick. But then El started leaving us notes. This is her work. Her way of saving her world, that's what she said. She must have been trying to guide you here ever since."

Max's fingers were restless on her mug. She was tapping it, almost spilling the hot liquid. "So you're telling me that when there's other people-"

"Yes."

"And we can't do anything. Anything to prevent it."

Eddie shook his head. "Nope. We can't prevent it. We were talking about it a lot, you know. We wanted to help, but in the end, the best we can do is give El what she wants us to have. A future. I don't know what she did, if she just," he wiggled his long fingers, "did some magic and created a piece of reality for us, if we're in another dimension, if this is our personal afterlife or something, but I won't waste my second chance wondering."

"The one thing we can do," continued Steve and, despite her glare, put his hand on Max's shoulder, "is to be here for the others when they arrive. With a warm bed and a good meal."

Max dropped her head and blinked. There were more ripples in her cocoa mug, even if her hands were still. "Then you'd better teach me how to cook, Steve," she muttered.

--

There would be more, of course. Some older, some younger. Some beaming like the sun itself, some crying. A lot of them would do both.

One day in the future, Eddie would barely be able to speak through his sobbing when Wayne appeared on the doorstep. Moments after that, a small collection of very strange mugs would find their way into their kitchen.Another day, Steve would greet Hopper, with his beard now fully grey. They wouldn't talk much, but Steve would see the pride in his eyes when Hopper learned what his daughter did for all of them. "I knew she couldn't just let you guys go," he'd mutter and pour himself another cup of coffee.

The house would remain warm and loving, with the number of rooms still growing. Everyone would have a place there.

Finally, the hostess would come home one day, her hair long again and hopefully grey, with crow feet from a fulfilled and happy life. She would knock on the door, unsure what she'd find, but she wouldn't need to wonder for long, because there would be many voices saying the same thing: "Welcome home, El."

And then...who knows?

[thebettybook]

Slices of Leona’s Life, Christmas edition 🎄✨

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆

Characters: Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader. Leona and gn!reader are in an established romantic relationship.

Warning: None, an all-fluff story, enjoy!

Border credits: Kaomoji borders from “Emoji Combos” website

Special note: Merry Xmas to those who celebrate :D 🎄✨ I also used Lady and the Tramp (1955) references in this fic

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆

🎄 With plans to celebrate Christmas with Leona’s brother Farena, sister-in-law Safiya, and nephew Cheka, you and Leona decided to have your Christmas celebration early on Christmas Eve.

🎄 Last year, the two of you celebrated Christmas together at Ramshackle with a cozy dinner. This year, you wanted to go out to the Sage Island village square and soak up all the Christmas fun.

🎄 The first thing you and Leona did was watch a new movie that was all the rage on social media; a movie about a guy and a chocolate factory.

🎄 After buying your tickets and a bucket of piping-hot buttery popcorn, you and Leona walked all the way up to the back of the theater (you both agreed the back had the best seats). The movie theater was pretty packed with a lot of families sitting in the front. Leona was glad he didn’t have to sit next to any kids that were screaming or crying at the front.

🎄 The movie itself wasn’t too bad, and Leona couldn’t help but snort out loud at the thought of Cheka running around in a chocolate factory. Leona nuzzled his cheek against the side of your head as he watched the movie with you.

🎄 He’d occasionally bring his hand into the popcorn bucket, either to get popcorn for himself or to give some to you.

🎄 After the movie ended, you and Leona threw away the now-empty bucket of popcorn as the two of you walked out of the theater. The two of you talked about the characters, the plot, and your individual thoughts on the movie. The frosty air greeted you both, and your and Leona’s eyes adjusted to the bright gold, red, and green string lights around the village square after spending about two hours in a dark movie theater.

🎄 “Come with me, and you’ll be,” you put your hands behind your back as you cheekily sang at Leona. “In a world of pure imagination.”

🎄 You offered your mittened hand to his mittened hand (the two of you wore matching green mittens), and despite him letting out a “pfft,” Leona took your mittened hand and raised it to his lips so he could press a kiss on it.

🎄 “You sang it better than the guy in the movie,” Leona joked, to which you responded with a cackle.

🎄 To no one’s surprise, all the restaurants and cafes in the Sage Island village square were packed for Christmas Eve. With barely-there Internet service on both of your phones due to the chilly weather and the fact that so many people were using the village square’s public WiFi all at once, you both couldn’t check MagiGoogle for any nearby restaurants.

🎄 Before the two of you were about to give up and leave the village square to find a restaurant somewhere else (Leona said the Mostro Lounge was the absolute last resort), the scent of tomatoes and ground beef caught Leona’s attention. “Oi, I smell something good,” Leona nodded his head to the direction of a nearby alleyway. “Wanna check it out?”

🎄 You nodded, letting him lead you. With Leona’s hand in yours, the two of you briskly walked past the dim alleyway (which thankfully only had stray cats and dogs scrounging through trash cans for dinner).

🎄 The two of you were greeted by an Italian restaurant at the back of the village square. The restaurant looked as if it had been there for generations, with its vintage red-and-ivory awning and a worn sign that read “Tony’s Restaurant.”

🎄 With the large window in the front of the restaurant, the two of you could see a couple of tables and booths occupied by families, couples, and those who wanted to celebrate the holidays on their own. The inside of the restaurant casted a cozy and warm golden glow out into where you and Leona stood.

🎄 The brass bell under the sign rang as you and Leona stepped into the restaurant and were greeted by the warmth of the restaurant and the idle chatter of the customers. Leona adjusted the scarf around his neck as a waiter, a portly middle-aged man with a black mustache and a friendly smile, greeted the two of you and showed you to an available booth near the back.

🎄 “Welcome to Tony’s! We’ve been around for 68 years, and the dish we’ve always been known for is our spaghetti!” The waiter presented you and Leona with tall menus while pouring water into two cups from a glass bottle.

🎄 “Is that what you smelled earlier?” You cocked your head to the side.

🎄 “Yeah,” Leona nodded, eyeing the menu before turning to the waiter. “What other than the spaghetti would you recommend we get?”

🎄 “If our spaghetti led you to our restaurant, then I highly recommend that!” The waiter took out a worn notepad and a pen from his apron pocket. “We also have gnocchi, risotto, bistecca alla Fiorentina—er, Florentine steak—…”

🎄 “Steak? That’s right up your alley, Leona,” you smiled at your partner before going over the menu’s options one more time. “Mm, I’ll have the spaghetti, please.”

🎄 “Coming right up,” the waiter wrote your order down before turning to Leona. “And for you, sir?”

🎄 “La bistecca alla Fiorentina,” Leona answered smoothly with a small grin at you, handing his menu and yours to the waiter. “Per favore.”

🎄 You knew that Leona knew how to speak a ton of languages as a prince, but he never ceased to amaze you when he spoke in an another language. “Show off,” you teased, grinning back at him with your cheek rested against your palm. The waiter left to bring your orders to the kitchen, though not before smiling at how cute you and Leona were together.

🎄 “Non so di che cosa stia parlando,” Leona raised his eyebrows dramatically in faux innocence.

🎄 As the two of you waited for your orders, one of the workers sat down in front of a wooden piano in the corner of the restaurant and began playing a lively medley. Soon, another worker joined in with an accordion, and a few other workers joined in singing while speed-walking around the restaurant to serve the customers. The music brightened up the lively restaurant even more than one could think possible, like a star placed on top of a Christmas tree adorned with colorful ornaments and string lights.

🎄 Leona rested his chin on top of his hands as he watched you bob your head to the tune. A soft smile grew on his face when he saw the way your eyes lit up at the music. His eyes then caught a flash of red and green above the two of you on the ceiling. Mistletoe. You loved corny stuff like that, and before Leona could tell you about the mistletoe, the waiter came back to the table with your and Leona’s dishes.

🎄 “Mmm,” you took in the plate of spaghetti before you, with its juicy (meat/vegetarian) meatballs and tomato sauce atop the spaghetti pasta. Even Leona was impressed by his Florentine steak, which was seasoned generously with sea salt and freshly cracked pepper.

🎄 Before you could dig in, your eyes caught the mistletoe above you and Leona. “Oh!” you exclaimed in surprise, making Leona laugh.

🎄 “Would ya look at that,” Leona leaned back against his seat, his arms crossed against his torso as he smirked at you, acting as if he didn’t see the mistletoe first. “So what do you wanna do first, kiss or eat?”

🎄 “Hm,” you flicked your eyes down to your spaghetti before an idea dawned on you. “Oh! You know that thing where two people eat a strand of spaghetti at either end and meet in the middle to kiss?”

🎄 “People do that?” Leona’s eyebrows now shot up in genuine surprise.

🎄 “Yeah, it’s kinda like the Pocky Game,” you lifted a strand of spaghetti with your fork. “I’m down to try it if you are.”

🎄 The restaurant started getting more busy, and no one cared whether you and Leona would do something as bizarre as eat the same strand of spaghetti on opposite ends. “Let’s see who gets to the center first,” Leona placed one opposite end of the spaghetti strand in his mouth.

🎄 When you did the same with the other end, the two of you began biting the spaghetti strand and inching towards each other. It wasn’t long before Leona’s hands found their way to either side of your face as he gently pressed his lips onto yours.

🎄 You sighed against his lips, enjoying the warmth of his lips on yours for a few minutes before the both of you gently pulled back from each other. The two of you shared a soft smile before starting dinner. Unbeknownst to the two of you, your waiter watched on as he stood to the side of the piano.

🎄 “And that’s why our spaghetti is our star dish,” the waiter smiled fondly while talking to the worker who was playing the piano. The worker playing the piano smiled back, switching from a lively song to a softer one called “Bella Notte.”

🎄 “The food at Tony’s was so good, we need to go there again someday,” you hummed as you and Leona walked back into the Sage Island village square an hour later. “Like for Valentine’s Day or something.”

🎄 While shops began to close and people began to leave the square, the string lights around the square continued to shine well into the night. The clusters of stars in the pitch-black winter sky mirrored the brightness of string lights as the stars shined down onto Twisted Wonderland.

🎄 “Yeah,” Leona buried his nose into his scarf to keep his nose warm as the two of you idly walked around hand-in-hand.

🎄 The two of you then stopped in front of a big Christmas tree in the center of the village square. The tree was decorated with every kind of handcrafted and makeshift ornament possible from the Sage Island villagers and visitors as well as crimson ribbons and golden string lights.

🎄 You took out your phone to take a selfie with Leona as the two of you stood in front of the tree, the various lights around you and Leona dancing on your faces. While your eyes were fixed on your phone camera, Leona’s eyes were fixed on your face.

🎄 He took in your smile—a smile that rivaled the bright star atop the Christmas tree the two of you stood in front of. To Leona, your smile was a gift he treasured seeing everyday.

🎄 Before you could snap a picture, Leona turned to lean down slightly and kiss your cheek.

🎄 “Merry Christmas, my love,” he murmured.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆

Important:

🍓 I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓 All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook (excluding posts I reblog that aren’t my own posts and unless I state otherwise). Do not modify, claim, repost, or translate my work onto this platform and any other platform.

🍓 Reblogs are appreciated :). Want more Leona content? Check out my masterlist

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆

[lipglossanon]

Merry Xmas Everybody

shape shifter/wendigo!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, monsterfucking or I guess I should say monster sucking 😜, cock worship, dirty talk, condescending comments, light collaring

title from Merry Xmas Everybody by Slade

You’ve both returned from spending the day out at the local Christmas village, checking out the quaint little shops and stalls. It’s dark out now, and cold, leading Leon to snuggle up to you on the couch as if he’s not the equivalent to a blazing furnace.   

“Seriously, I’m gonna melt here,” you grouch at him, trying to pry him away from nuzzling into your neck, “just scoot over a smidge.”

“Uh uh,” he mouths against your skin, sharp teeth scraping softly creating chill bumps, “it’s cold. And besides that, I’m comfy.”

Huffing, you try one last time to push him away, but his arms quickly wrap around your waist, claws coming out to prick you through your sweater. 

“Stay still,” he rumbles, voice dipping into that low octave that has slick pooling in your panties. 

Pinning you to his side, he goes back to nuzzling and nipping at your neck. His claws dig into your skin enough to make you hiss but that only causes him to groan and gently bite your throat. 

“Been wanting to fuck you all day,” he whines, “but you said we had to wait til we got home.”

You laugh, “Leon, I wasn’t going to fuck you in a side alley in below freezing weather.”

“So that means in the summer—“

You snort out another laugh and he lifts his head up, horns shifting outward from his hair, squinting those catlike eyes at you. 

“Think it’s a joke, huh?” he smirks at you before grabbing your hand and pressing it down on the bulge in his jeans. 

Your lips part in a breathy sigh, eyes drooping as arousal floods your veins. He grinds your palm down harder and you feel as his cocks twitch against the fabric. 

“Maybe you should put your mouth to better use instead of running it,” he purrs temptingly into your ear, “make it up to me for having to wait all day.” 

Nodding, your mouth floods with saliva as you shuffle down onto your knees between his spread thighs. You’ve thought about sucking Leon off ever since you met him, but the opportunity hasn’t presented itself as he’s always so gung-ho to stuff your pussy with both dicks every chance he gets. 

“Such a pretty mate,” he grins, sharp teeth flashing down at you as he pulls his jeans and underwear to his thighs, leaking cocks freed for your greedy eyes and mouth. 

Placing your hands on his thighs, you lean forward and lick at the closest one, smearing precum all over your lips like some shiny new gloss. 

“Gonna take your time? Fuck, that’s so hot,” Leon groans spreading his legs as far as possible, “want help?”

You shake your head, “No, c’n do it.”

He chuckles meanly, “Oh, I’m sure you can.”

Whining, you part your lips and suck at the head of one cock before pulling away to do the same to the other. As you suckle the second head into your mouth, the first one kicks and drags a glob of precum across your cheek making your eyes flutter with a moan. 

“Like getting messy don’t you?” he mocks, “don’t worry, you’ll get that facial you’re looking for.”

Moaning even louder, you suck his cock further into your mouth. As you suck one, your hands come up to stroke and massage the other dick before you swap again. You try to fit both heads into your mouth, but since they’re too big, you can only drool and lick across their dripping slits, lapping up all the precum he’s leaking.

“My pretty, pretty mate,” he croons, cat eyes gleaming as his tail slips down to curl around your neck. 

Keening high in your throat, you sloppily suck one cock into your mouth while wrapping your fingers around the other, jerking him off slowly. His soft tail tightens like a collar around your neck. 

“Come on, show me how good you can be,” he purrs, sharp teeth grinning at you, making your skin prickle with want.    

Mewling, you let yourself get even messier, drooling and licking all over each cock, dragging your mouth up and down both thick lengths as you kiss and suck the blood hot skin. Both tips weep precum steadily, kicking and throbbing against your lips and chin, smearing a sticky mess across your cheeks. 

He chuckles and grabs the cock not stuffed in your mouth to smack across your hollowed out cheek, “You seem to really like this.”

You hum in agreement and pull off with a wet pop to let him feed the other cock into your mouth with a groan. 

“Suck me off,” he growls out, tenor low and strange making your nipples ache, “and while I’m creaming that wet little throat I’ll be covering your pretty face with a nice thick load.”

Moaning unabashedly, you eagerly bob your head faster, working your lips and tongue all down his dripping length until the tip kisses the back of your throat. With a soft gag, you pull off to catch your breath, only to quickly repeat yourself, being more mindful of your limit. 

His big hand easily wraps around his other big dick, allowing him to jerk off in tandem with your messy blowjob. With a rumbling snarl, he snaps his hips up once.. twice.. and spills deep into your throat as he coats your face with his thick, sticky cum. 

You have to pull off with a cough, cum dripping all down your chin as you try to swallow what you can. More of his sticky cum spurts from each tip to coat your lips and chin. He snakes his hands underneath your arms and pulls you up into his lap. 

“Oh, now this I like,” he coos sweetly, “my little mate showing everyone who owns her.”

With a shiver, you grind down against his leg, “Leon, please.”

“Okay, okay,” he clicks his tongue and you catch a hint of animal skull around his eyes before he smiles at you, “let’s get you cleaned up and then I wanna eat you out til you squirt all over my face. Return the favor.”

He winks at you and with a laugh picks you up bridal style to carry you to the master en-suite bathroom. 

[carnivorousyandeere]

👀 Aspen in a virgin killer sweater and high thighs getting tied up using Christmas light and then ridden until she's an absolute mess

Yessss, that’s so cute… having Aspen tied up would be a perfect time to sit on her face, or suck her off too… you could tease her for hours…

Aspen’s Xmas Surprise

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: smutty, restraints, teasing, overstimulation, crying

Info: gender-neutral reader, dom reader

Aspen squirms uselessly next to the Christmas tree, muttering to herself.

“Shoot, shoot shoot…”

All she’d wanted to do was give you a nice surprise, let you come home to all the Christmas decorations already set up. But she’d only got some of the lights strung up around the tree, before her antlers got caught in a tangle of lights… in trying to get them off, she’d only managed to tangle the lights around her hands, too.

Aspen closes her eyes and sighs. The twinkling lights still shine through her eyelids, mocking her. Aspen’s about to start trying to untangle herself once more, when the sound of the front door unlocking makes her freeze like a deer in headlights. She shifts her legs and tries to curl up a little to hide herself, regretting her choice to wear the short, backless sweater dress you’d gotten her.

“Aspen~!” You sing, arms full of bags, “you home?”

Aspen squeezes her eyes shut tighter and prays that if she doesn’t say anything, you’ll leave the room without seeing her and she’ll have another chance to get unstuck. Of course, she’s not so lucky— the bags rustle, fall on the couch. You giggle, and then— a click.

Aspen’s eyes fly open. “H-hey! Don’t be taking pictures like that!”

You only laugh again, squatting down next to her. “Sorry, sweetie~! You just look so cute like this.”

You pause thoughtfully. Aspen pouts, eyeing the phone in your hand. “Can you please untie me now…?”

“Hmmm… No, I don’t think so. Not yet.”

Aspen’s heart skips a beat as you straddle her hips. You take another picture, giggling again at her flustered expression. She tries to turn her head, embarrassed by the neediness you must see on her face, but her bound antlers hold her in place.

“Ah ah ah… don’t move so much, baby girl. You don’t want to knock over the tree you spent so much time putting up, now do you?”

Aspen gulps, swallowing a whine at the pet name and the pressure of your body atop hers. You cup her face in your hands, silently asking for a kiss. Her cheeks are burning hot under your touch. Aspen shuts her eyes as you lean in, lips parted and breath shallowly fanning over yours. You press a soft kiss to her lips— gingerbread lip balm, how cute— and pull away, watching her through lidded eyes as she strains upward to follow you. Your fingers slide down her cheek, to her neck, feeling her pulse.

“Your heart’s beating so fast, baby… tell me what you want.”

“You, always you, anything for you—“ the words begin to slip out before Aspen can think them through, but you only smile and cut her off with another kiss.

Aspen’s head is buzzing by the time you pull away. You can feel her hardness growing against you, and Aspen whines softly every time you shift your weight. You move back a little bit to slide your hands up her thighs, then further, dragging her dress up. Her abs twitch under your touch as you uncover her lacy panties, the tip of her dick peeking from the waist band.

“Oh, baby…” you purr. Aspen’s breath catches as your thumb runs under the waistband, tracing dangerously close to her cock. “These are so pretty… haven’t seen them before.”

“G-got them for you…”

“Awww, a Christmas present for me?” You trace the lace with your fingers. “You wouldn’t mind if I… opened it early, would you~?”

Aspen gulps and agrees with a nod, shaking the tree and dislodging part of the string of lights from its branches.

“Hehe, okay… just try to stay still for me, okay?”

She can’t, not when she has to watch you open yourself up on your fingers, can’t touch you. Her fingers clench and unclench, her thighs twitch beneath you.

Aspen’s eyes roll back and she arches up against you as you hover over her and guide her inside of you. She’s just so big, you have to pause every few seconds just to breathe and make yourself relax. Your thighs tremble with the strain. You can barely hear her whispered pleas for more over your own blood rushing. Aspen’s breath hitches, then spills over into a hiccuping whine as you finally settle all the way down, resting your head on her chest. Her hips jerk once, then twice, and you gasp at her warmth spilling inside you.

“M’sorry, sorry…” Aspen hiccups again, tears beading her lashes.

“Mm, you’re okay baby…” you grind your hips against hers. “You’ve got one more in you, don’t you? One more for me?”

Aspen nods tearfully. Anything for you.

[bleach-your-panties]

Sincember Event❄️❄️

Rating: Fluff/Suggestive🍥🍭

“Kenny~♡!”

Draken immediately rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face and set his mechanics magazine down on the coffee table in front of him.

“Yes, shorty?”

He looked at your attire with a dark eyebrow quirked. “What in the hell are you wearing?”

You just grinned and did a 360° spin to showcase your festive holiday onesie. A sparkly, sequin-covered Santa hat covers your hair, complete with actual blinking Christmas lights.

“Are you ready to put up the Christmas decorations?!”

He looked up at the ceiling as if thinking about it and ran his tongue over the platinum top-row grill.

“No, but you are, so that means that I’m ready by default.” 

“Right you are! Now c’mon!”

—-

“Y/N…why is this shit all tangled up?” 

His dark eyes darted from the lights on your hat to the tangled mess that you’d set in front of him.

With hands planted firmly on your wide hips, you just glared at him. 

“Well, they have just been sitting in the garage inside a random box since last Christmas.”

Ken looked at you standing across the living room with a pile of boxes labeled ‘xmas deco’ sitting at your feet.

“Don’t get smart.”

“Sorry Kenny~but please untangle them so I can hang them up? You know you’re so good with your hands…”

You strutted over to the couch and stood behind it before your hands planted on his strong shoulders.

“Hmm, is that right?” Draken grinned at you from his side profile almost making you melt into a puddle of goo right there.

—-

“Move the ladder just a little to the left, Ken. Right there is good!” 

You squealed as your much taller boyfriend situated the ladder underneath the archway in the living room where you were going to string the lights up.

“Go ahead. I'm holding it.” 

You hesitated a bit and looked away from him, a sudden wave of embarrassment washing over you. Ken caught onto your change in demeanor quickly. 

“What’s the matter?”

“If I go up the ladder with you holding it like that my butt will be in your face.”

It almost hurt for him not to roll his eyes.

“Girl, I grew up in a brothel. You think I’m worried about some ass in my face? Just put the shit up.” 

He shook the ladder a bit as if to say ‘get your ass up there’

After you got over yourself, you climbed up the ladder and began stringing the lights up.

Just as you were climbing down, Draken scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.

“Ken!” 

SMACK. 

Your butt cheek wobbled from the force he'd put into that smack.

“Hush. You can finish this tomorrow. How about you come and tell me again how good I am with my hands, huh?” 

----

ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ🫶🏽