#christmas leaf

[onebug]

[riaki]

knitted hearts | kento nanami x reader

pt.3 of christmas event! i wrote this for u genie ily 🤍 cw: established relationship, he (over)works at that financing company from before, two (2) petnames

the lights are still on.

that's the first thing kento immediately notices when he gets back; the office clocked him overtime, and so he's late. regrettably, again.

in the past, whenever that's happened, he'd have sent you a text beforehand and came home to a dark apartment; eaten something quick before getting into bed and slipping beneath the soft covers where your resting warmth melts away the stress of the day between his shoulders and his eyebrows.

tonight is different, it seems. the city buzzes with a quiet hum, light snowfall blanketing the roofs and muffling the sound. the holiday season is in full swing; normally, he wouldn't care to know. or remember. if not for the lame decorations around his workplace and the chocolate advent calendar you've been diligently (force) feeding him every night, he wouldn't've noticed at all.

he closes the door quietly behind him, careful not to make excess noise in case you're asleep as he slips his shoes off and hangs his jacket up. after all, you might've just been absentminded or tired, and forgot to switch the lights off. and you blame him for being lost to time.

it's quiet in the house; not dead silent, though. there's soft, ambient winter jazz flowing from somewhere in the house, and the faint sound of the fridge humming, paired with something that's baking in the oven. the scent of soft vanilla and orange settles gently over his shoulders, as if to welcome him home. his half finished coffee sits in a porcelain mug on the stained counter; you'd accidentally made too much for him, leaving you with a puddle of bitter caffeine that couldn't even be finished with your combined efforts. you'd promised him you would chug it over text, but clearly that didn't happen.

he's ready to go through the motions of a quiet night spent unwinding alone when he hears your voice— after endless hours of aching at a desk, clacking away on a mechanical keyboard in the dreariest environment imaginable, it soothes him like no vacation fantasy he's ever known.

"nami? is that you?" you called. your voice is coming from the shared bedroom; you sound tired, and kento can just imagine the sleepy look on your face. he's never been inclined to use the words 'cute' or 'pretty' to describe someone before, but if he had to choose, then he'd use them for you.

he walks down the length of the hallway, undoing his tie and gently tugging it off his neck as he reaches the threshold to your room. the air is warm and soft; it seems so much easier to breathe the closer you are. like the crushing weight of work he puts on his lungs dissipates into a cloud of melting frost.

"i'm home, sweetheart." he's surprised at how rough his own voice sounds; it's almost unfamiliar. he needs your rejuvenating touch; at least, that's what he decides the instant he sees you. you're sitting right in the middle of the mattress, something lumpy, tacky, red and green bundled up in your lap. with something between a sinking realization and a fluttering in his chest he recognizes it as the sweater you've been making for him. you're finishing it up, it seems, from the formerly-wide bundle of soft thread that's been reduced to a meek little crimson string on the white sheets.

it's one of your new interests. you seem to be taking up a lot of those, lately; kento feels as though it's his fault, for never having the time to take you out. yet you're always so patient despite his busy schedule, adjusting to portion out a chunk of time from your own just to accommodate for him. it's unfair, and so one night he vowed to do more for you over a glass of red wine and a fancy white table cloth, freshly cleaned and pressed. that was one of the rare times he'd been able to take you out like you really deserved. "and don't call me by my last name. you're allowed to use my given," he sighs, rather exasperated, but you both know there's only affection behind it.

you perk up, a bright look in your eyes that melts the last of the frost buried in his chest and beneath his eyes. he crosses the room to stand at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt a few to let himself breathe. and he doesn't miss the way your eyes linger, so he clears his throat, and you spring to action.

"i finished your sweater, ken. can you put it on?" you ask eagerly, and he's briefly reminded of a young boy with pink hair like raspberry chocolate and a golden retriever demeanor. a soft feeling pushes at the back of his heart, sending mushy gushiness through his veins at the sight.

you scoot close, holding it up for him to examine. in all honesty, it's not terrible; you get an A for effort, at the very least. the five reindeer look more like those urban folklore creatures, and the tree looks as though it could use seven more centuries under the sun-- but other than that, it's a perfect first try.

"i'd love to, darling, but i..." he doesn't get to finish, because you seem to wilt a little, and it already feels like that crushing burden over his diaphragm is back, but this time it's exceedingly and guiltily unpleasant, so he retracts his words.

"alright." he succumbs with a tired sigh, letting his eyes flutter shut and removing his glasses to rub the spot where the frame has been digging into his skin; normally you'd do it for him, but you're busy adjusting the fluffy pom poms (he didn't see those before) on the sweater's cuffs, so he does it himself.

he hears the tell tale shift of the soft bedding and he opens his eyes again, only to be met with a very expectant look on your face.

"put your hands up."

"...pardon?" a small amount of resistance to your antics is always present, at first. by now he knows you expect it. but this time, it may be much worse.

"you heard me! arms to the sky." he likes your laugh, a lot. it jingles like a gentle wind chime.

"i can put it on myself. i'm not a child," he says, a little cross, but you're undeterred. as per usual. not like he minds.

"please?"

kento doesn't particularly view himself as a man with a great many ambitious, or zealous ideals. still, he isn't a pushover and has a strong resolve. unfortunately for him (fortunately for you), when it comes to you, it doesn't take much for him to crumble. if you willed it, he'd get down at your feet.

with resignation, he kneels down on one leg, as if you're about to knight him. he waits patiently, holding his arms up, and he can practically feel your giddy smile.

soon enough, you're slipping it over his tangled blonde hair— with a little bit of effort and a lot of scratchy fabric. it's too big here and too tight there, hanging off his shoulders oddly and the sleeves are uneven. but it's cute, too-- in the way that a toddler's crayon doodles are endearing, so are your amateur efforts. what matters to him the most, is that you've handmade it for him.

nothing an industry company factory could achieve.

"so? how do you like it?" you prompt as you start to mess with the collar, pinching and pulling the fabric so that it suits his form appropriately. he doesn't ever remember you asking for his size, but you seem to know it anyway.

"it's warm," is his only input. he knows you'll complain— but it's fun to hear you whine.

you frown. "is that all?" there it is— a small, sweet little pout; the minute down tilt of your lips. your fingers dance over his collarbone as you pull the collar of his button up over the rim, and his breath hitches in his throat. kento wonders if you can feel his heartbeat or notice the way his adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

before you— or he— knows it, he's pulling you down to sit on the knee that's still propped up, catching you by the rest and meeting you halfway to press a gentle kiss to your lips. he's met with a muffled sound of surprise that quickly melts into a laugh; he can feel you smile against his lips and he wants to devour it.

"so i take it you like it?" you whispered as you lean in, hands leaving the unwieldy sweater to thread through his hair, messing it up to your heart's content after he slicked it to the side. you taste sweet, like chocolate and caramel-- he must've missed the advent sweet for today.

his only response is a small hum— you can feel the vibration, so you chuckle again and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling away breathless from the kiss to knock your forehead against his, gazing into his eyes. there's an undeniable well of warmth behind your gorgeous irises; if he had the time, he'd get himself lost in them.

"good, because i have socks on the backburner and you'll be getting a scarf next."

whenever the lights are off, kento knows you've gone to bed already, without him. but he thinks he could get used to scratchy, hand-knit clothing if it means they'll always be on and waiting for him after a long day of dreaming in front of a desk, all about your smile.

not proofread my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[misshoneyimhome]

What's up buttercups!

So, we’re kicking off Sexy Christmas a little early this year—because why not? 🎄✨

And what better way to jump-start the holiday vibes than with the generous helping of Willy-deliciousness? ❤️‍🔥 Buckle up for a mix of holiday cheer, tension, and a whole lot of heat. I hope you enjoy this festive treat!

Happy (early) holidays and happy reading babes!

➼｡ﾟ

Naughty Under the Tree - William Nylander

OC unwraps an unexpected gift from her hockey player love interest—him, wearing only a strategically placed ribbon, waiting for her under the Christmas tree.

Tropes & Warnings: 18+ smut, William Nylander x reader oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v)

Word count: 2.2K

The quiet hum of Christmas jazz filled the room as the golden glow of the tree lights reflected off your dark red silk pyjamas. The set—a matching button-up top and shorts—had been a spontaneous indulgence for the holidays. It hugged your curves just enough to feel elegant but comfortable, perfect for a cosy evening spent unwrapping gifts.

And yet, the most important gift was still missing: your boyfriend.

You glanced at the clock and sighed, swirling the last bit of wine in your glass. William had been acting strange all day, sneaking off with a mischievous grin that made you suspicious. Now, you were alone on the couch, the festive atmosphere of the room only accentuating the absence of his usual playful energy.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the message.

William: Be ready in 5. Trust me. Close your eyes when I say so.

Your brow furrowed, but your lips curled into a smile. What was he up to this time? You placed your glass on the coffee table and leaned back into the sofa cushions, deciding to play along.

Moments later, you heard the door open. The familiar creak of his footsteps mixed with the faint rustle of bags. “You’re back,” you called out, your voice laced with curiosity.

“Stay there,” he replied, his tone teasing. “And close your eyes. No peeking.”

You sighed dramatically but obeyed, shutting your eyes and crossing your arms. “This better not involve glitter or reindeer antlers,” you teased.

He chuckled, the sound growing closer. “Just trust me.”

You heard the soft shuffle of movement near the Christmas tree, followed by the faint clink of ornaments shifting. The seconds stretched, and your anticipation built until finally, his voice broke through the silence.

“Okay,” he said, a smile audible in his tone. “Open your eyes.”

You blinked your eyes open—and gasped.

William lay sprawled out beneath the Christmas tree, the twinkling lights casting golden highlights across his toned body. He was entirely bare except for a single large red ribbon tied around his hips, the bow sitting precariously low on his waist. His golden hair was slightly tousled, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he rested his head on one hand, looking like a gift-wrapped fantasy come to life.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his grin boyish yet impossibly alluring.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you fought back laughter and heat rising in your cheeks. “Oh my God,” you breathed, unsure whether to scold him or climb on top of him. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he said, gesturing to himself. “I’m your present. Unwrap me.”

You shook your head, your laughter finally spilling out. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me for it,” he countered, his grin softening as he propped himself up slightly. His voice dropped to a lower, more serious tone. “You’ve been stressed lately. I just wanted to give you something… more special.”

Your smile softened, your heart melting at his words. You moved closer to him, kneeling by the edge of the tree. “You’re already the best gift,” you said, your fingers reaching out to trace the ribbon resting on his waist.

His breath hitched slightly at your touch, and you noticed his grin shift into something more serious. “Good,” he murmured, “because I’m all yours tonight.”

Your hand lingered on his bare skin, and the playful tension between you thickened into something deeper. He reached up, brushing his fingers along your cheek, and the gesture made your heart flutter. Slowly, he sat up, his face mere inches from yours, and leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss.

The kiss started soft, tender, but quickly deepened as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as his lips moved against yours, igniting a fire in your chest. Without thinking, you climbed onto his lap, your silky pyjamas brushing against his bare skin. His hands roamed over your thighs, pushing the hem of your shorts up slightly as he groaned into the kiss.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire.

You smiled into the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair as you pressed your body closer to his, feeling his hardness slowly growing. The ribbon slipped loose from his waist, falling to the side as your hands explored the hard planes of his chest, savouring the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

Breaking the kiss for just a moment, William rose effortlessly, lifting you in his arms as he carried you to the sofa. He set you down gently, hovering over you as the tree lights bathed you both in a soft, romantic glow.

“You’re overdressed,” he teased, his voice a low murmur as his fingers toyed with the buttons on your pyjama top.

“Are you going to do something about it?” you challenged, your tone breathless yet playful, a hint of anticipation lacing your words.

William’s lips curved into a smirk, his blue eyes darkening with desire. “Gladly.”

He didn’t need further encouragement. His hands moved deftly, undoing each button with deliberate, torturous slowness, as though savouring every moment of unveiling you. His lips never left your skin, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jawline, down the curve of your neck, and across the delicate line of your collarbone. Each press of his lips sent tiny sparks dancing across your body, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

When he reached the last button, he paused, his fingers brushing over the open fabric of your top as the cool air whispered across your bare skin. A shiver coursed through you, though it had nothing to do with the temperature. The silky fabric slid off your shoulders with ease, pooling around your elbows. William’s gaze raked over you, his expression a mixture of awe and reverence.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as his hands traced the curves of your exposed body. His palms brushed over the soft swell of your breasts, down the curve of your waist, and along your hips, each touch igniting a fire that burned hotter with every second.

His lips followed his hands, trailing featherlight kisses across your collarbone, down the centre of your chest, and along the soft curves that rose and fell with each unsteady breath. The deliberate slowness of his movements was intoxicating, his attention making you feel like you were the centre of his universe.

His kisses deepened, growing more urgent as he slid the waistband of your pyjama shorts down your hips, revealing bright red lace beneath. He paused, his lips hovering above your exposed skin, his breath hot against your thighs as his hands roamed over your body.

“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he muttered, his voice low and filled with want.

Your hands found their way into his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you tugged him closer. “Good,” you whispered, your voice trembling but firm.

He smirked against your skin before his lips found yours again, fiery and consuming, his kiss a perfect blend of tenderness and raw passion. His hands slipped under the lace, his fingers brushing against your sensitive core, drawing a gasp from your lips. He teased you with light strokes, circling your clit with just the right pressure before slipping a finger inside you, his touch both gentle and confident.

“William,” you breathed his name, your voice a plea and a prayer all at once.

He watched your face as he worked his magic, adding another finger to stretch you gently, curling and pumping them in a rhythm that made your breath hitch with every movement. His thumb pressed against your clit, coaxing soft whimpers from you as your hips instinctively rocked against his hand.

“I could make you come just like this,” he whispered, his voice thick with pride and affection, his gaze locked on yours. “But not tonight. Tonight, I want to feel every part of you.”

Before you could respond, he shifted lower, his hands gripping your thighs as he knelt between them. He pressed his mouth against your core, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles that made you arch against him. His fingers continued their slow rhythm inside you, complementing the movements of his mouth in a way that left you utterly undone.

“William,” you gasped, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you as your body tightened with pleasure.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat through you. His mouth was relentless, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to push you closer and closer to the edge.

And when the climax hit, it was nothing but overwhelming, your body trembling as a wave of pure ecstasy washed over you. Your moans filled the room, your fingers tightening in his hair as he held you steady, his movements slowing as he guided you through the aftermath.

He rose to meet you, his lips brushing against yours, tasting like the very essence of you. William laid you back on the sofa, his body fitting perfectly against yours. The feel of his bare skin against yours was intoxicating, the warmth of him grounding you as the firelight cast flickering shadows across his face.

“I need you,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing as he positioned himself above you.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders as he aligned himself with you.

He entered you slowly, his movements deliberate and careful, savouring every second as he filled you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, the sensation almost overwhelming. The connection between you was more profound than words could capture—like two halves of the same whole finding their place.

William’s eyes locked with yours, his gaze intense and filled with emotion as he began to move, each thrust measured and unhurried. The way his body fit perfectly with yours was exquisite, his movements deliberate yet deeply passionate, a rhythm that felt both instinctive and consuming.

Each time he pushed deeper, his length stretched and massaged your inner walls in a way that had you trembling beneath him. The slight curve of his hips allowed him to hit spots that made you cry out softly, your fingers clawing at his back as waves of pleasure built inside you.

“You feel so good,” he murmured against your ear, his voice strained yet tender as he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck. His breath was hot, his words sending shivers down your spine as your bodies moved together, perfectly in sync.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, marking him as your moans grew louder, more desperate. His name fell from your lips like a mantra, each syllable a plea for more. Meanwhile, William’s control was slipping. His fists clenched the cushions on either side of you, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold himself back, wanting to draw out the moment. But the way your body responded to him—the way your walls clenched tightly around his cock, pulling him deeper—made it nearly impossible to resist.

“Fuck baby, I can’t hold it,” he groaned, his voice husky as his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a visible battle between holding on and giving in to the overwhelming pleasure.

The heat between you intensified, your breaths mingling as you pushed each other closer and closer to the edge. The friction, the closeness, the way every part of him seemed to align perfectly with you—it was all-consuming. Every thrust, every moan, every whispered word of encouragement sent you both spiralling higher, the world around you blurring until there was only him, only this.

And as he continued to push harder and faster, you cried out as your climax hit, your body arching against his as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your walls clenched tightly around him again, and the sensation pulled him into his own release. His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper just as his hips jerked, his own groan filling the room as he buried himself deep inside you, spilling into you as his body trembled with the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still locked together, trembling from the aftershocks. William lowered himself carefully, his weight warm and grounding as he pressed a series of soft kisses to your shoulder, then your collarbone, before finally burying his face in the crook of your neck.

His arms wrapped around you protectively, pulling you close as his breathing began to slow, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmured, “You’re amazing.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along the muscles of his back. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased softly, though your voice was still thick with affection.

He chuckled, the sound low and content as he shifted just enough to meet your eyes. His blue gaze was softer now, filled with something deeper than lust—a warmth and adoration that made your heart swell.

As the two of you lay tangled together on the sofa, the flickering light of the Christmas tree casting a warm glow over your bodies, you couldn’t help but feel like this was the perfect gift. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment except the man holding you as if you were his entire world.

[nylwnder]

[catnpc]

merry christmas! 🍃⛄️🎄

[tiger-balm]

What happens when you ask Easton Cowan and Fraser Minten to decorate a gingerbread house?

[eastoncowan]

max wishing bert a very hatty happy birthday

[flowerishness]

Merry Christmas

Today is Christmas Eve and it seems appropriate to end this seven day tour of our floral tea cup collection on a festive note. Merry Christmas to all you folks and I hope you have much happiness in the New Year. As for me, I'm going to go and make myself a nice cup of tea.

Cheers.

"A Cup of Christmas Tea" bone china, Waldman House Inc, Taiwan ROC, 1995

[em-ptynet]

😋 | cbj vs tor 12/23/23

[take-the-hidden-paths]

Hidden Paths 2025: Advance Prompts

Hello, small canon fans!

Your mod apparently has a memory like a sieve...however, with apologies for the lateness, I am delighted to share our set of advance prompts for the 2025 event (below the cut). Use these in any way that strikes your fancy!

What is Hidden Paths?

Hidden Paths is an event dedicated to the celebration of smaller Tolkien canons. For the purposes of this event, we define "smaller canons" as any Tolkien canon or text (including academic works and translations) that is not explicitly set in Middle-earth and is not based on The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or The Silmarillion and closely related histories.

Your friendly mod (Narya) will post prompts to tempt your muses - one set a few months in advance of the 'official' event dates, then two more sets during the event itself.

If you like the prompts, then use any or all of them to create and share a fanwork based on one or more small Tolkien canons. If they don't speak to you, please feel free to do your own thing – the prompts are there to spark creativity, not impede it!

Rules, FAQs and useful links can be found here.

We welcome fanworks based on past prompts - these can all be found here.

Our AO3 collection is here.

Thematic Prompt: Feasts and Festivals

Character Based Prompt: Elf-shot

Setting Based Prompt: Thundersnow

Text Prompt: “Even a traitor may mend. I have known one that did." – C. S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy

Visual Prompt:

[Image ID: The Hermann Hendrich painting, 'Will-o'-the-wisp and Snake.'  The painting shows a dark swamp at night. A glowing blue-green will-o'-the-wisp floats above still water. Below, a coiled snake partly rests in the water, its shiny scales reflecting the light. Dense trees and roots surround the scene, with faint mist in the background. /.End ID]

Audio Prompt: The Light Beneath the Eyelids - Toshio Masuda

Wildcard Prompt: I have a theory that Tolkien would have loved tabletop RPGs, so here, have a list of magical trinkets from Dungeons and Dragons.  Use dice or a random number generator to select one (or more!) to inspire/include in your fanwork.  Some are quite specific to the world(s) of Dungeons and Dragons, so ignore/adapt/re-roll as you see fit – although non-Tolkien canons are permitted as crossovers, so if you’re inspired to make a D&D crossover, please be my guest!

[padawansuggest]

Just because Obi-Wan is pregnant/sick/whatever your fetish is, doesn’t mean he has to give up caffeine, not all tea has caffeine in it. He could go herbal. He could go rooibos crazy and use the time without caffeine to find the perfect blend of tea to additives that he’ll love forever. He could have -*gags*- peppermint, he could have decaf black, he could have minimal caffeine white tea if he can have a small amount, he could have so much. Y’all ain’t know shit about tea and he doesn’t have to full stop his tea if he’s pregnant or sick or fuckin dying or whatever your fetish of the month is. You can make tea with cocoa, and I mean multiple types of that. You can also buy things like rose hips and orange peel shavings and vanilla pods and lemon shavings, ginger pieces, all this other shit. I think you could hand him some super high class caffeine free or low caffeine tea bases (loose leaf for his sensibilities obviously) and then a package of additives and he’ll just go crazy methodically trying new blends every time he wants tea and it’ll put some pep in his step to get to try lots of fancy things.

Is he super tired tho?? Yeah probably.

[timmurleyart]

Leaf pile dance. 🌾🧡💛❤️🥜🍁🍂

[queer-wizard]

More school slasher doodles + shading practice

[diisappear]

I hate red.

[weepingfoxfury]

Monday, Monday, Monday ...

Storm Bert has finally left the building ... phew!

Mind you, I sleep like a log through such things.

Back in childhood I used to sleepwalk. My best effort was one Christmas when all the relatives were staying at the house for the week. This meant me sleeping on a blow up mattress in the dining room. My cousin slept on the sofa. We nattered unto the wee hours before finally giving in to sleep.

All went well until I woke up disoriented during the night needing the loo.

I sat up, reached for my usual bedside lamp and promptly crashed into the sideboard. Not unusual to find a sideboard in a dining room ... but I'd started off sleeping alongside the sofa! Completely confused I started screaming ... this woke my cousin and she screamed ... all the screaming woke my Mum who rushed into the room putting the light on.

And what did she find?

Two very bleary eyed girls ... my cousin crying at this point ... me looking around wondering how on earth I'd managed to drag the blow up mattress and duvet over to the sideboard in my sleep ... and by then a whole household of people up and milling into the room wanting to know 'why is there so much noise? and 'what the hell has happened?'

?Who knows how it all came about? ... but I put it down to the wee willie winkie nightshirt my Grandmother had given me. After all ... embroidered on the front in large italic writing was the word 'Sleepwalker'. Just asking for trouble really ... ;-D

[cashweasel]

Fall is the season for park dates 🍁🍂🧡