#had to think about a couple of these for a hot minute

[nopaintjustpain]

It just… takes longer to bring him home, when Jon doesn’t catch it early.

He comes back from a walk through the hills to find the safehouse’s kitchenette glimmering with rime, a veil of mist curling around his ankles. He drops his coat in a pile by the door and rushes through to the little sitting area between the kitchenette and the parlor, finding Martin’s indistinct outline at the breakfast table with a stone-cold mug of tea in front of him.

Fuck. Poor Martin. How long had he been sitting there, slipping? He’s nearly all gone.

[Ficlet posted with permission and collaboration from OP. 🫶 Thanks bestie]

This is the worse it’s been since Jon pulled him out of the Lonely. A sickening frisson of fear rips down his spine at the thought that it wasn’t enough. That Jon’s effort, his love, his desperation to save the only good person he has left, will never be enough on its own to just keep him once and for all.

“Oh, Martin… my love,” he sighs. He approaches and, despite the radiating chill and the heavy, metallic scent of rain-soaked sea air, perches on his lover’s lap. The man’s thighs are cold and rigid. Like sitting on the icy headstone of a grave in winter, where the chill has seeped in deep through the pores and cracks of the rock.

Jon loops his arms around where he approximates Martin’s shoulders are amongst the indistinct, shifting mass of blur that is Martin. He makes a similar approximation in order to touch their foreheads together. He stares into his lover’s eyes and Knows him: the faint, hot buzz of his patron’s power coiling hatefully in the back of his skull and the nape of his neck. He’s been trying so hard not to use it. But this… this warrants an exception.

Martin’s outline solidifies just that little bit more, the longer Jon turns the Eye’s gaze upon him.

“Come on back to me, Martin,” he coaxes. There isn’t much there for him to kiss yet. So instead, Jon narrates the most minute details of his walk just now. The pale butterflies he saw. Couple of rabbits. Almost taking a wrong turn. Hiding behind a rock to avoid a pair of villagers on a walk of their own. The inane thoughts he had over breakfast. (Should he cut his hair? He trimmed it a bit since the wild tangle it’d been left in after he awoke from his coma, but there’s still a lot of length left. Too much? He’s not sure. He knows Martin likes to run his hands through it, though.)

And on that note, he spends a little longer than necessary lauding the skill and strength and gentle goodness of those hands, most importantly when they are playing with his hair and rubbing away the building throb of a stress headache. As Jon so often asks of them. He whispers gently,

“I could actually use a little of that tonight, now that I think about it. Haven’t been sleeping as well. You’ll oblige, won’t you?”

A soft, affirmative hum. Martin’s head turns just a fraction up and to the side as if to face Jon more fully, though that pale gaze is still fixed on some point in the middle distance. His shape is clear now. Just still so cold. Jon counts it a victory. Martin is, and always has been, a caretaker at heart. Jon’s noticed — much as he hates the implications — that Jon’s needing something is the most straightforward way to summon Martin back. Not for Martin. Not for himself. But because Jon needs him.

“Thank you, my love. You’re good to me,” he sighs sadly, and leans down to kiss the dew from those cold, cold lips, shivering as he does so. He’s never retained body heat well. Martin is the one who keeps their bed warm. He curses Peter Lukas’s dead name a million times more for daring to rob the world of that warmth, even temporarily. Without it, Jon’s fingertips grow numb. Still he doesn’t let go.

Lacking further topics to babble about, Jon lets himself go there. He might as well. Martin doesn’t hear him when he’s this far gone. Not the words, anyway. Just the tone of voice, the haze of distant ‘Jon-ness’, as Martin affectionately calls it, serving as a lighthouse on the shore. Martin will hardly notice if the light turns a little red from righteous bloodthirst.

“I hate what Lukas has done to us. What he’s still doing. Even dead, he’s found a way to screw with us. To hurt you. Makes me wish I had some link to the End so I could bring him back and kill him again.”

A long pause.

“…Sometimes I wish it had been bloodier. Uglier,” he admits aloud for the first time. “He died in the worst way possible, for him. Known. Seen. But I… even though I Know he died in agony, there’s just this… I keep remembering the mess Elias made of Leitner. The blood everywhere… He didn’t deserve that, least of all from Elias, but I hated that pathetic old man. Beating him to death must’ve been so satisfying. The way Peter Lukas died? It satisfied the Eye. But it didn’t satisfy me. I’d have liked to have had a knife in my hand. Would’ve liked the blood. Just for him, you understand. I wouldn’t ever want to feed the Hunt, or the Slaughter. But with him, it’s personal. I’ll never forgive what he did to you. And a year from now I’ll find his grave on the anniversary of his death so I can piss on it, just for good measure.”

A chuckle, faint and distant as wind over rocks on the moorland. But Martin’s eyes focus on Jon’s face, the hint of an amused smile toying with his lips, and hands slide up Jon’s back to rest across his shoulders. Cold as blocks of ice, but Martin’s not so rigid anymore and the chill doesn’t permeate so deep. His lap is more comfortable now.

“I like when you get a little… vicious. Is that wrong of me?”

“Probably,” Jon huffs as he shifts to get more comfortable on his perch, with the tone of voice that says he’s not particularly bothered by it, and perhaps even pleased to hear it.

He can’t help a shudder as Martin draws him closer for a frigid hug. Martin notices and draws back with a concerned flinch. His face is still oddly blank, eyes without light, but at least he’s present enough to take notice of things now.

“I’m sorry, are you cold?”

“When you’re not around? Always,” Jon whispers, and leans in to hug him anyway.

The warmth will come back.

It always does.

Sometimes Martin goes away for a while

He always comes back, but its easier when Jon speaks to him

[mandarinmoons]

Like a movie scene - Spencer Reid

18+

Summary: Upon watching a movie, Spencer's mind wanders and thinks about changing up the activities which he successfully courses you into

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! reader

Warnings: teasing, oral sex (fem! receiving)

Word count:  ~700

A movie was playing on the TV, the light from the screen emitting across the dark room casting a shadow over you and Spencer over the back of the wall.

What started out as an innocent romantic comedy had now turned into the complete opposite in the 45 minute span of it playing. The main characters were in bed, their hands roaming each other’s nude bodies in lust and admiration as they prepared to satisfy their partner in the most intimate way.

You were sitting on Spencer’s lap, his hands resting on your stomach and yours resting on top of his, your thumbs caressing over his knuckles as you focused on the film in front of you.

Spencer’s attention however had long been on something else. As soon as the scenes approached where the couple was undressing each other, his mind was filled with memories of all the times he and you had done the same. He could still remember how warm your body was in his hands the first time he had seen you completely bare, the way your skin glided against his as you moved to rest on him after your first time being intimate. The memories still had such a strong effect on him and with the mind he possessed, he knew that the thoughts would have him wrapped around your finger for eternity.

He snapped back into reality when he felt you shift in his lap and he realized that he had a bit of a problem in his pants. You kept shifting, trying to get more comfortable, but a moment later you halted your movements, Spencer sensed you could tell the issue he was having down there.

His hands tightened around your stomach, his thumbs caressing the soft flesh, while his lips made his way to your neck, beginning as soft kisses on the sensitive skin and not a moment later a soft moan left your lips as you could feel Spencer lightly sucking on your most sensitive area.

“What if we did that?”

Spencer’s murmurs against your neck made a shiver go down your spine. The way his hands caressed over your body and his hot breath teasing your senses, it was hard to say no. Your head leaned back involuntarily which gave Spencer more space to kiss down your neck, nearing your collarbone and peppering it with light kisses.

“Oh, fuck it.”

You pulled Spencer closer by his nape, your lips latching onto his in an instant. A gasp emitted from him from the force of your pull, but you could feel a smirk form on his lips as he rejoiced that managed to seduce you with his tactics.

Spencer managed to gently lay you on your back and slowly made his way on top of you, resting his weight on you gently so as to not crush you underneath him. Your hands went from resting on his cheeks to pulling at his hair as you two continued to kiss one another, each kiss more passionate than the last.

Soon enough, Spencer’s hand found his way to the waistband of your sweatpants, pulling them down in an agonisingly slow pace. Your panties stayed where they were and knowing Spencer it would take some time before he let you be free. 

His thumb caressed your heat through your underwear, the friction causing you to whine, wishing he would do more than just tease you.

“Spencer…”

“Patience, sweet girl.”

Hearing those words made your heart flutter more than it already did. As much as you hated being teased, you loved to see Spencer take his time with you as you knew he was going to take good care of you.

Slowly but surely his face moved down to be met with the now slick pooled undergarment. His nose lightly bumped the covered bundle of nerves, a gasp leaving your lips and your hands flew to his head again, pulling him close. It ended in Spencer’s lips brushing against your covered core, a chuckle falling from his lips as he took control of the situation, the vibration from his mouth driving you towards insanity.

His lips left the most gentle of kisses from your clothed clit to the place that needed the most attention. Finally, his finger nudged your underwear to the side and kitten licked the exposed skin, his mouth was cold compared to your heat.

“Stay patient angel, we’ve got all night.”

A/N: Please keep in mind that I do not accept NSFW requests! I will only write such content as I myself please.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[loserlvrss]

𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 s. hanbin ( 성한빈 )

synopsis | after your car breaks down in the middle of a winter storm, you have a bright idea on how to keep warm.

pairing : hanbin x fem!reader genre : oneshot, smut, established relationship, light argument, light comedy warnings : unprotected sex, language, pet names, slight exhibitionism, a little rough for a second, hair pulling word count : 1702

authors note : i love this man so bad

“You’re joking,” You spit out a pained laugh, “Babe, stop fucking around and just turn the car on.” 

The man in the driver’s seat emphasized pulling the key out, putting it back in, and turning it—only for the engine to try to turn over with all its might, and then off. 

“Babe…” You were in complete and utter disbelief. How could this happen? Of course, it had to be on a day when you needed to be somewhere: your parents house in 20 minutes, to be exact. “Are you kidding?” 

He deadpanned, “I really wish I was.” a disbelief smile cracking against his features as his hands gripped the wheel. 

“You hate my parents that much, huh?” 

“Do you even like them?” 

“Touché.” You huffed, falling back against the seat, arms crossing. You looked out the windshield that had started fogging because of your breaths (and conversation), watching as the snow danced through the air. It would’ve been beautiful, and you did think it was…about 5 minutes ago when the car was still moving, heat blasting. 

You sighed, coming to terms with what had happened, “I’ll call them. You call the tow place.”  

And you did, asking your dad if he’d come pick you up—he said no, and you would’ve laughed in his face if you knew he wasn’t actually being serious. He blamed it on the snow, saying your sister had taken the truck to get last minute preparations for the party, and that, evidently, a small car wouldn’t be of any help. 

After you hung up the phone with a frown, you listened to the way your boyfriend spoke to the towing place. He sounded so calm despite the situation possibly being dire. He explained how you were only a couple of minutes from the town your parents lived in and that they weren’t willing to come pick you two up. He even double-checked all of the questions the man was asking him: does it roll-over? Do the lights turn on? Is it smoking?

You didn’t know your boyfriend had that side to him. Of course, you knew Hanbin was mature, that’s why you liked him initially—besides his looks, you’ve got eyes after all—But him taking control over the situation was…hot on a below-freezing day. 

He hung up the phone, catching your gaze. You’d been staring, and he’d noticed. 

“What’s up?” 

“You’re kinda hot.” You blurted so nonchalantly. 

He laughed, “Thanks, I’d hope you think that way. I am your boyfriend.” 

Your head shook slowly, eyes still wide from the staring, “Lucky me.” 

He started to open the door after popping the hood of the car, which made you slightly jump back to reality at the sudden noise. “I’ve got to check something, you stay here though.” 

“Do you think the car will blow up?” You only-kind-of joked, “I hope so,” 

He gave you a knowing look, “Shut up and just stay here, babe. It’s not gonna blow up.” 

“Bummer.” Your eyebrows knit at the command, “Do you even know anything about cars besides how to drive one?” 

“Well, you were too busy staring, but he did tell me what to look for over the phone.” 

You replied in a duh-tone, “Well, excuse me,” A slight huff left his lips at your response, and you shivered, only now realizing that the door was slightly cracked, “God forbid I ask a simple question…and can you close the damn door or get out? If you haven’t noticed, it��s fucking snowing.” 

Hanbin looked outside and then to you, mocking the feeling of being shocked, “Oh my God, it is snowing! Thanks for telling me, captain fucking obvious.” 

“H-holy shit,“ You remarked, feeling anger at the situation, “Just get out, I don’t want to fight.” 

He hummed, almost like he was debating your proposition, “Yeah, because I don’t know if you were still mentally aware when he said this, but they’ve gotten a lot of calls tonight. It will be like an hour before they even get someone out to us. But let’s not fight. That would really dampen our holiday spirits, wouldn’t it?” 

Without a shred of thought, your hand came up and smacked against your forehead. Hanbin snorted loudly at the action, dissipating whatever resolve he had brewing for you. 

His hand reached out, taking yours off your face, “It’s okay, we’ll just go home after this and watch a movie. Maybe we even have some hot chocolate in the cabinet—I bought some a couple of weeks ago.” Your cheek found its way between your teeth, “I’ll be right back.” 

“Don’t freeze to death—That would really dampen my holiday cheer.” 

He didn’t freeze to death; he just slipped and fell comically on the way back, like one would on a banana peel in a stupid cartoon. A loud announcement of “fuck!” following. 

After making sure he got up, you burst out laughing, a scowl on his face. Though he started to giggle once back in whatever residual warmth the car had to offer. 

“Are you okay?” You asked as he shut the door beside him, noticing the wet patches on his jeans now as the snow melted. 

“Wet and cold.” 

You mumbled, cracking another joke, “I know what you can make wet,”

However, it must've not been that bad of an idea because now you couldn’t think about how awful you were feeling, your head clouded with the pleasure of your boyfriend under you. 

“Fuck, y/n,” He sighed, earning your fleeting attention. His voice trailed off into nearly a whisper, “You’re so perfect.” 

His hands gripped your hips painfully tight, sure to leave his prints in its wake. He pulled you chest to chest, hearts beating in unison through the fabric blocking you. 

You moaned, rocking in tandem with his small thrusts into you. 

“So much better than awkward small-talk with your parents. I’m glad this—fuck—car broke down.” You tried your best to laugh, “Did me a favor.” 

Though the thrusts were sloppy, all you could feel was the warmth and security he brought upon you. He held you close, caged onto him, and whispered sweet-nothings into the skin of your neck. He made you feel better despite the pleasure, your heart swelling with affection that only he could deserve. 

He said something along the lines of: I love you, and you were made for me, and so wet, so tight. 

Hanbin wasn’t even cold anymore, and he had long forgotten about the ache in his hip from falling. This was better. This was worth it. 

The feeling of you wrapped around him, the light kisses you kept pressing against the side of his face, the claw marks left in the wake of thrusts that hit just right inside you. 

It was all worth the inconvenience, in hindsight. 

You felt the bubbling sensation in your lower abdomen, pushing back against his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” You swore, staring down at his lidded eyes—the ones that were locked on you. His fingers dug into your hips, assisting your attempt at quickening the pace. 

He looked so unforgivingly good under the slight moonlight shining through the window. His lightly tanned skin glimmered with sweat, tattoo on full display as the collar of his shirt rode down. His hair was now tousled from the grip you’d had on it earlier, and he looked so utterly ruined. 

You almost felt shy over such a sight. 

You couldn’t possibly show up to your parents house anymore. 

As his hands guided you up and down his length, you dove in to kiss the exposed skin of his neck, overwhelmed and trying to get ahold of yourself. You were building up to your peak quickly with this newfound vigor. 

“Don’t hide from me,” He must’ve heard your inner monologue, “I wanna see you when you come, baby, that’s my favorite sight. You always look so pretty, falling apart because of me. I need to see it. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” 

You nodded into his neck, still sucking marks along the underside of his jaw. A weak moan escaped your lips and went directly into his ear, butterflies swarming inside him. 

The sudden movement made your stomach drop—in a good way—cunt clenching around him as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back upright. 

“Look at me,” His grip got tighter, forcing your mouth open to assist with the pull, “Don’t hide from me, y/n.” He warned again, low moans now tumbling out of your mouth. 

You weren’t usually quiet, but there was something about the sorta-kinda publicity of a car that made you feel self-conscious—though you’d not seen or heard a soul. And Hanbin evidently didn’t like that. 

He let go of your hair, letting you collapse just a bit into him, now doing most—if not all—the work. “I know you’re close, babe,” 

And he was so far from being wrong. 

His hand came off your hip and snaked between your bodies, rubbing circles along your clit. You squeaked, forcing your eyes to stay open with whatever willpower you had left and looking at him. Just as he desired. 

“C’mon,” His voice was low, intimately so, “Let go for me, baby.” 

Oh, you did, with or without his words of encouragement; your ears were ringing so loud you could barely comprehend. 

Your head felt fuzzy but clear enough to hear the groan he let out, nails now digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he came too. 

Hanbin finally let you fall into his shoulder again, chest rising and falling abnormally as you both let reality back in. He gently stroked your back as you kissed his cheek, a reminder you were still awake and aware. 

He liked the reassurance of your body, knowing that only he could make you feel the way you do. And vice versa. 

“Shit,” He slightly laughed as lights filled the car from behind. He saw it approaching through the rearview mirror; however, he didn’t process that it was the tow truck. 

You jolted up, squinting from the brightness. There was no way you were hiding now, but you had to do what you had to do to keep warm.  

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[verycoolusername1]

Under The Mistletoe

Summary: You're at the annual holiday party with the team, and you're found under the mistletoe with your hot co-worker

A/N: Did the summary eat or what? Cole is such a cutie pie... like actually just look at him

And a stranger things reference even tho I don't care much for the show anymore, very funny reference that some people might not get- long story short finn wolfhard(Mike) sees himself as a bad kisser

You debated whether or not to go to the holiday party hosted by the team or to just have a cozy night in. The latter seeming tempting at the moment.

You sighed as you shook your head. You promised your co-worker Emily you would be there and make it the best night ever(her words).

Your dress hugged you well in ways you only imagined, the emerald dress fitting you perfectly.

You finally left the warmth of your car and entered the surprisingly not as loud house. Full of habs, some wags, and others part of the team.

Emily immediately squealed when she saw you, leaving a conversation.

"Oh my god, you look amazing." She hugged you tightly.

You chuckled in her embrace. "Oh uh it's nothing, you know that."

"Nothing? I never get to see you all dolled up like this. If I were your man, I wouldn't be able to take my hands off you." Emily winked.

You scoff at Emily's words. "Okay, okay, I think I know what you mean."

"Maybe tonight Cole will finally realize his undying love for you." Emily whispered, causing you to glare at her.

"No need to say it out loud." You hissed.

"Oh look, he's right over there." Emily moved you where you saw Cole laughing at something, someone had said.

Cole, feeling eyes on him, found yours and sent a warm smile.

"Go get your man!" Emily hushed as she pushed you forward.

You smiled shyly at Cole. He took a couple of steps towards you, meeting in the middle.

"Wow..." Cole looked you up and down. "You look beautiful."

"Oh thanks, didn't wanna go all out." You explained with a shrug.

"Well you look nice, you always do!" Cole exclaimed. "You um look extra nice in emerald... suits you."

"Thank you. I never wore this dress before." You smiled.

Juraj whistles. "Y/n and Cole under the mistletoe!"

That made you perk up and look up and see that, in fact, you were under the mistletoe. You two have been talking for at least five minutes? Did he know this whole time?

Cole's face was tinted pink when his eyes met yours.

"We don't have to do anything, just a dumb tradition." You told him.

Cole chuckled. "Oh no, believe me, I want to."

You kissed his cheek softly. "Well there you go."

You begin to walk away when Cole grabbed your wrist and spun you into his chest.

"Didn't know you had moves, Caufield." You say, suprised.

Cole grinned at your words. "Just wanted a kiss from a pretty girl... properly this time. Can you blame me for being ambitious?"

You lean in, feeling confident. "Then kiss me, sweetheart, no one's stopping you."

That was all Cole needed for confirmation. He leaned in. His lips met yours in a soft and sweet kiss that grew more passionate as time went on.

"Oh cole cmon don't eat her now!" Emily called out, making everyone laugh.

Cole pulled away sheepishly. "Sorry."

"It's fine, don't worry about it." You shook your head. "Let's get away from this mistletoe, seems to bring nothing but attention."

Cole laughed and led you to the kitchen. "Yeah, at least now we can kiss in here."

"Oh hell no, don't you dare make a child in my kitchen." Nick looked at the two of you with a warning look.

Cole groans in frustration. "Damn it!"

[leighsartworks216]

Self-Destruction

Zayne x gn!Reader

Based on my actual teacher and when I used to sh when I got angry. Please please don't read if you think this could trigger you <333

Warnings: hurt/comfort, swearing, anger, implied/referenced self-harm, self-destructive behavior/tendencies, no real ending

Word Count: 731

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It takes every ounce of self-restraint you have left in your body not to slam the door shut behind you. It doesn't matter, in any case, because the second the door is closed, everything bursts out of you.

You toss your bag to the floor with an angry groan. Tears burn your eyes. You can feel your lungs shaking with the effort it takes to try breathing normally. It feels awful. You wish this feeling would just go away, but it doesn't. It burrows deeper and deeper into your body, tearing through muscle and bone. You wish you could claw it out. The best you can do is bury your face in your hands and will away the rising need to break something.

"Love?"

Fuck, of course Zayne's home right now. You forgot he was taking a half-day, working at the hospital in the morning and finishing the rest of his work from home.

"What happened?" he asks with that gentle sort of urgency. "Where's your painting?"

Ugh, that fucking painting! "I threw it away," you grit out.

His footsteps are too loud as he approaches you, quicker than his usual steps. He grabs your hands, urging them away from your face. "Why?"

You feel hysterical as the emotions pour out of you. He interlaces your fingers together, holding your hands hostage even as you try to gesture with them.

"Because my teacher fucking sucks! I worked so, so hard on this one! You saw! You know! I just- I put it on the easel to present it and she fucking tore it apart, Zayne! Every little fucking thing! I tried to, you know, explain the fucking thought process behind it, just like everyone else, and you know what she did?! She ignored every single word I said! She said she didn't like it, she didn't understand it, it doesn't make sense, so she just shut down every single explanation I had! She wouldn't listen to anything! It's just-" Zayne tugs gently on you. You give in easily, dropping your head to rest on his shoulder. "It's not fair."

He squeezes your hands. They're cold, and you don't know if it's because of his Evol or if you're just running that hot from your outburst. "She only did that to yours?"

You nod against him, curling your nails toward his skin, before easing them flat against the scars on the back of his hands. He rubs his thumb against the meat of yours in small, soothing circles. "She actually critiqued everyone else's. But everything she said about mine? That wasn't fucking constructive criticism, it was just her own grievances. And I don't know if it's just me-"

"Whether she has something against you or not, that does not excuse the blatant unprofessionalism and disrespect she showed you," he interjects. "If you would like, I can help you file a complaint against her."

"Yes, please," you agree immediately.

He huffs a slight laugh. "Let's calm down first, alright?"

He lets go of your hands to hold your wrists. He guides them to sit on his chest, over his heart and lungs. Each breath he takes pushes against them, raising and falling in slow, even breaths. By your ear, you can hear those same slow breaths. You follow along.

Inhale for four seconds.

Hold for two.

Exhale for four.

The pattern continues for a couple minutes, until the anger simmers down. If you really needed to, Zayne would let you stay there for hours. It was better than the alternative.

When you got really angry like this, when it feels like breaking something is the only way to get it out of you, you'd turn it back on yourself. Destroying your art supplies may sound like an instant soother, but you're all too cognizant of how expensive and important it all is. But skin can heal.

Zayne, for obvious reasons, immediately worked to find solutions to help. Namely, holding your hands to keep them off of your arms or legs, and putting himself into position to take the pain. Not that you ever were able to dig your nails into him, even at your most desperate. The guilt of hurting him was too strong to even consider it. So, this way, no one got hurt.

"Better?"

(After this, he would help you file the report and retrieve your painting from the trash <333)

---

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[lunarmoves]

this gingerbread home

pairing: DCA sun/moon x reader

mentions: gingerbread house shenanigans, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used!), holiday goodness, not beta'd lol, sfw, post fire at the plex, relationship up to interpretation tbh

a/n: merry christmas @freakdoodles !! tis i, your secret santa! hope you enjoy this little fic full of cozy vibes and a gingerbread house gone wrong :3 happy holidays!

word count: 3.3k+

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Your breath fogs against the window of your living room as you peer outside into the dark streets. Winter makes its presence known through the chill of the glass against your fingertips. Beyond it, snow falls gently to the ground to coat it in shimmering white. The deep blue shadows of the night dance across the layer of snow, chased away only slightly from the golden glow of a nearby streetlamp. 

You wiggle your toes through your fluffy socks, the warmth of your home seeping pleasantly into your skin. Faintly, you can smell cinnamon wafting through the air from the kitchen. You have half a mind to see what it’s coming from, but you are captivated by watching the tiny, crystalline snowflakes drift down from the sky. 

It’s a time before something moves somewhere behind you—reflected like a ghost in the window’s glass. You look over your shoulder just in time for a mug of something warm to take up the entirety of your vision. 

“For you, my dear!” Sun beams at you, gently nudging the mug against your cheek. The smell of cinnamon is stronger now, intertwined with something distinctly chocolatey. 

“Thanks, bud.” You give him a smile and reach up to grab the mug from his hand. It’s like cupping your palms around a small flame, warming your hands and sinking into your skin. You smile down at the small mountain of whipped cream topping the drink and hiding the rich, velvet brown of the hot chocolate. You take a sip—and immediately regret it. 

“Careful!” Sun warns with the hint of a snicker as he watches you stick your tongue out in dismay. The tip of it is a bright red. “It is still rather hot, I’m afraid.” 

“You couldn’t have said that beforehand?” You roll your eyes half-heartedly and instead scoop up a bit of the whipped cream with your tongue before reeling it back into your mouth. The whipped cream is cool as it melts sweetly in your mouth. Better, if minutely. 

“I would have thought it’d been obvious it was right off the stove,” he retorts with all the affection in the world, giving your shoulder a little squeeze. “I have sorely misjudged your eagerness, I think.” 

You sniff and go in for another, more cautious, sip. It’s worth the slight burn on your tongue, the chocolate deliciously coating it and causing something pleasantly hot to settle within the inside of your belly. You sigh happily and have to force yourself to take on a more mockingly somber tone as you mess with him. “And after all the time we have spent together…” 

Sun chuckles and wraps a lithe arm around your shoulders so he can gently pull you from your spot by the window. “And I thought I was the dramatic one! Enough of that, silly. I have everything set up and ready for us!” 

You grin, all sharp teeth and delight. “Oh, sweet!” Your gaze roves over to the living room as Sun starts to guide you there. Sitting atop the little coffee table in front of the television are the unpackaged materials of the gingerbread house kit you’d bought a couple of days ago at Sun’s insistence. Once he had seen it in the store, he’d been rather adamant about getting it for one reason or another. 

(“Come on, Sunshine!” he practically begs you as he holds the kit up in front of your face and wiggles it enticingly. “It’s the perfect activity to do together!” 

“Mmmh, I don’t know, Sun,” you say, pretending like you’re thinking it over. You’d been sold on the idea as soon as you’d seen him pick it up, but it’s still fun to tease him from time to time regardless. Not that you’ll ever admit that out loud. “It gets pretty messy and I know how you can get with messes…” 

“It’ll be fun either way!” he insists, tucking the kit under his sweater-covered arm so he can clasp his hands together and stare at you with wide, white eyes. “Just think about it: you, moon, and I making a little house together out of frosting and candy!” His voice takes on a bit of a dreamy, enchanted quality.

You hum, letting the seconds tick by as you put on a show of heavily deliberating it. You rub at your chin with your fingers. “Okay, fine,” you say with a smile, crossing your arms behind your head. “You’ve convinced me.” 

“Yippee!” he cheers and swiftly sets the kit into your shopping cart. His rays do a happy little spin that you find so utterly endearing combined with his eagerness. “You won’t regret it!”) 

Sun lets go of your shoulder once you both get close enough to the coffee table and you set your mug on a nearby coaster before plopping down onto the floor. Tucking yourself closer to the table, you regard the pieces of gingerbread and small packets of candy.

“Have you and Moon decided on how you want to divide the work?” you ask as you slide one of the candy packs closer so you can squint at the designs. This pack contains little green gummy Christmas trees coated in granulated sugar. Cute.

Sun lets out an “mmhm!” as he folds himself into place next to you—pretzeling his long limbs into fitting under the coffee table. His knee juts out slightly over your thigh, and you poke at it gently with a grin. It only makes him lean his leg’s weight further onto you—the checkered pattern of his red and black pajama pants contrasting against the deep blue of your own.

“We have come to the agreement that I would help with assembling the house and we would both get half of it to help you decorate!” he says proudly, splaying out one of his hands on his chest. The Christmas sweater you’d gotten for him hangs a little loosely from his skinny torso, but it’d been the closest size you could get for his disproportionate body.

“Moon doesn’t want to help with the, I dunno, ‘architecture’?” you wonder with a raised eyebrow, making small air quotes with your fingers. 

“Nnnnope!” Sun replies cheerfully. He reaches out to pull the materials closer to you both, his voice lowering into a not-so-quiet whisper as he leans down closer to your ear. “Between you and me, I think he’s just being lazy.” 

Knowing fully well that Moon is likely listening in on the conversation, you snort. “Yeah, that sounds just like him.” 

Sun only grins at the flatness of your tone and turns back to the table. “Alrighty! Enough stalling! This house isn’t going to build itself!” He grabs the gingerbread kit’s packaging and flips the box over to read the instructions on the back of it. “First we need to add icing along the edges of the walls…” 

The instructions seem simple enough. While you pipe icing in the designated places, Sun carefully sticks the pieces together and holds them in place for a few minutes so they don’t immediately fall apart. The smell of gingerbread overtakes the gentle hint of cinnamon from your drink. The bag of icing in your fingers is soft and pliable from Sun having defrosted it in warm water earlier. 

Once three of the four walls of the gingerbread house are standing, the instructions say to let them sit for fifteen minutes. Unfortunately for the gingerbread house, however, Sun is not that patient. 

“Bud, it’s barely been ten minutes,” you say in amusement as you watch Sun start applying icing to the last wall to attach it to the others. 

He waves a hand at you in dismissal, already pressing the last wall firmly to the edges of the previously erected ones. “It’s fine, Friend! Everything is still standing on its own, I do not think we need to wait that long.” 

The hint of impatience you can glean from his voice makes you huff out a small laugh. “I thought you liked to follow instructions?” 

“Yes, well.” His rays tick back and forth as he holds the walls together to let the icing settle properly. “In this instance we can take them more as a suggestion.” 

You think he just really wants to decorate the gingerbread house itself, considering that’s his forte. Rolling your eyes, you drawl, “Alright, if you say so.” Who are you to stop him? Hopefully the icing holds properly, though you can’t help but warily eye the skeleton of a house as you fiddle with the chain of one of your necklaces. 

With all the walls of the gingerbread house now assembled, it leaves the slanted roof to be carefully placed on top. You add the icing to the two pieces in the required locations, then lick off the extra that had gotten on your fingers (it’s sweet, almost overbearingly so) while Sun meticulously joins the pieces together to complete the bare-bones gingerbread house. 

“Okay!” he says as his hands hover just above the top of the roof, scrutinizing it to make sure the pieces don’t slide off. Miraculously, they hold. You’re a bit impressed. “How much icing is left?”

You show him the piping bag in your hands, and he contemplates it for a moment before nodding. 

“Perfect! Hand it over.” He opens a hand and makes a grabbing motion that causes you to chuckle to yourself. He’s got his game face on, determination lining all the intricate metal and silicon features of his faceplate. You set the bag atop his palm, and he closes his long fingers around it. “Now for the fun part!” 

You end up watching as he carefully squeezes a steady stream of icing from the bag to trace the outlines of the doors and windows on one side of the gingerbread house. It’s a bit captivating; he is exact with his application, the lines of icing neat and straight. He offers the bag to you at one point to see if you want to add icing along the roof, but you decline in favor of sipping at your still-warm drink and watching him. 

“Wow,” you say when he finishes with the icing. “It looks straight out of a stock photo.” 

He’s iced exactly half of the house right down the middle—even the front door only has half of it done. He really is sticking to the fifty-fifty arrangement with Moon. And honestly? He’s done a better job than you can ever hope to imagine. You would be envious, but well, he’s a robot. It makes sense. 

Sun looks proud of himself as he sets the icing down. “Of course! I am nothing but precise!” He reaches over to grab a pack of small candied leaves and pops it open. “And now, the decor~” 

You lend a hand and pop open a candy packet yourself—this one has tiny, multi-colored hard chocolates in the shape of Christmas lights. But after lazily sticking some of them into the icing Sun swirled along the edges of the roof and watching him fiddle with them afterwards—making them neater or swapping some out so the colors are in a better arrangement—you decide to let Sun take care of it all. You designate yourself to supplying him with the candy, finding amusement in his concentration as he makes a direct copy of the image displayed on the gingerbread house’s package. 

It’s almost scary how accurate it is, from the loops of icing on the roof to the gumdrops lining the windows. 

“Aaand done!” Sun exclaims as he wipes his hands of icing on a spare napkin and stands up. He observes the house from all angles and gives it a solid nod. 

“Looks great, buddy,” you compliment as you lean against the table. By now, your mug of hot chocolate is empty, and you secretly mourn the loss. 

“Now all Moon has to do is live up to my highly placed expectations,” Sun says brightly as he walks over to the light switch. He pauses, then adds sarcastically, “As I’m sure he will.” 

You grin, following his movement with your eyes. “Aw, don’t put him down when he’s not even here to defend himself.” 

Sun scoffs and places one hand over the switch, while the other knocks gently at his head. “I assure you, he is not even attempting to.” 

With a flick of his fingers, the lights go out. You avert your gaze as you listen to the shifting metal of his body. The living room is dark, but not overtly so. The lights from the small Christmas tree in the corner of the room are bright enough for you to see, but not so much that it will impede Moon, you think. 

Speak of the devil, you jump slightly when Moon plops himself down directly next to you and immediately leans into your space. 

“What a lovely gingerbread house,” he rasps out as his arm presses into your own, the bell of his nightcap brushing against your shoulder. You eye his expression—the mischief making itself known in the curve of his mouth and crinkle of his eyes. “Sure would be a shame if someone were to… mess it up.” 

“Moon,” you warn, shoving at him slightly so he can stop leaning all of his weight onto you. He relents with a snicker and rights himself properly. “Don’t you dare ruin Sun’s hard work.” 

“Wouldn’t think of it,” he drawls with a sharp grin, slouching forward as he grabs the icing bag from where Sun had left it atop the table. “One might say I would improve upon it, actually.” 

“Somehow I heavily doubt that,” you reply flatly and watch as he squeezes the piping bag in his hands. Some icing shoots out of the tip and lands haphazardly on Moon’s side of the gingerbread house. He doesn’t seem bothered by it. You have a feeling you know how this is going to end up. 

“Shh,” he says and spins the plate holding the gingerbread house around so he can better access its bare sections. Red eyes flick over it with no small amount of slyness. “Let Santa Moon work his magic, Starlight.” 

Five minutes into watching Moon apply icing to his half of the gingerbread house, you realize by “magic” he meant “utter chaos.” 

He doesn’t even bother to make his lines neat—in fact he seems to be actively going out of his way to be as sloppy as possible. Whereas Sun was careful not to make too much of a mess on the table, Moon does not care. Icing gets everywhere. Crumbs from the gingerbread litter the area around the plate. You watch as a small ball of candy rolls off the table and lands somewhere on the plush rug covering the floor. Sun’s going to have a conniption with this—may already be having one, actually.

You’re more amused than anything, especially when Moon finishes with the icing and starts slapping the candy everywhere on the gingerbread house. There is no rhyme or reason to it, just utter vibes, you think. He passes you a packet of the tiny Christmas lights candy, and you join in helping him to decorate his half—trying to salvage it at least a little bit. 

The resulting gingerbread house, at the end of it all, is something that makes you break out into peals of laughter. 

“Oh god.” You chuckle, wiping your fingers off on a napkin. “It looks awful.” 

And indeed, where one side of the gingerbread house is neat and perfect, the other looks like it came straight from an elementary schooler’s nightmare craft project. The juxtaposition makes you snicker to yourself.

Moon grins, his eyes flicking down to his hands to observe the icing covering his fingers. Somehow, he’s gotten a dollop on his faceplate. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” 

You snort and gesture at him to lean down. He obliges, the warm light from his optics gently caressing your face as you reach up to wipe away the icing near his static smile with your napkin. And when you pull away, his faceplate almost seems to chase after your fingers before he stops himself and instead watches you attempt to clean up the table. 

“Okay, fun’s over,” you say lightly as you eyeball all the crumbs. It may be a good idea to run your vacuum around the table as well, considering. “Help me clean thi—” 

But before you can finish your sentence, your eyes catch onto the gingerbread house—that tips precariously to one side as the roof pieces start to slide inevitably downwards. 

“Oh shit—!” Your hands dart forward in an attempt to catch the falling pieces. Icing gets re-smeared all over your hands. Candy gets displaced as your fingers fumble around them. You do your best to straighten the gingerbread house, grimacing all the while. Ah, you had a feeling this was going to happen.

Moon giggles as he watches your vain struggle to fix what he and Sun had worked so hard on (Sun moreso than Moon). You manage to get it standing properly again, but one of the walls has collapsed completely and the others look like they aren’t faring any better now that the icing is giving in. 

You sigh, feeling a wry smile tugging at your lips. “I knew we should’ve waited the full fifteen minutes.” Not that you think that would have made much of a difference. 

“Down it goes~” Moon croons, not even lifting a finger to lend some assistance. His eyes are upturned in delight as he sways slightly side to side. “How the mighty fall.” 

“Yeah.” You pull your hands away and watch, slowly, as the gingerbread house collapses into itself and lays on the plate in a sad heap. Moon is silent as he watches with you, though you can tell he wants to laugh. It makes you suppress your own chuckle. “You think there’s any salvaging that?” 

“No,” is Moon’s short response as he pokes at one of the gummy Christmas trees, then picks it up to mime eating it. You do a nose exhale when his eyes flick over to you to see if you’re watching. 

“Well, what does Sun think?” you ask, feeling your lips twitch at his antics.

“He is mourning.” 

“Pfft, sorry Sun.” You make a move to run your hand through your hair, but catch yourself when you see the icing coating your fingers. “Ah, that’s okay. It was fun while it lasted! We can do something else.” You turn to look at Moon, who meets your gaze with his own curious one. “Any suggestions?” 

There is a moment where Moon regards you, his head tilting to the side. Then, you watch as his pupils flick down to his icing-covered hands before looking back up at you. His smile stretches across his faceplate. 

Oh. You know that look. 

“Moon,” you warn as you scooch away from him. “No. Don’t even think about it!” 

“Think about what?” he asks slyly, starting to lean your way. 

“Abou— Moon!” 

You are too slow to dodge his swipe at your face—icing gets smeared from the corner of your mouth and up your cheek. Faintly, you can register its sweet taste. Your jaw drops open at the audacity of it all, and you scramble up to your feet to put more distance between you and him lest he repeat the action. He doesn’t follow you, only slowly stands in his spot as you shuffle backwards whilst giving him the stink eye. 

“Moon, I swear to god if you do that shit again,” you threaten him as you hold your hands out defensively in front of you, “I’ll—” 

“You’ll what?” Moon asks with a mischievous grin, already bending at the knees in a pose that you are all too familiar with. Uh oh. His eyes squint into ruby slivers. 

Your mouth closes, and you ponder your options for a few seconds before giving him a short nod. “Okay. Yeah. I’m gonna run now.” 

“Good,” is all he says before he abruptly lunges towards you. 

And as Moon chases you throughout your home, the poor remains of the gingerbread house are forgotten and replaced by the sound of your laughter and the gentle tinkle of his bells.

[power-rings]

Like the Sun (ShadAmy)

Here's my take on a little fluffy Christmas!

-

It was quite busy at the bakery like everyone expected with Christmas in a few days, everyone was buying last-minute gifts for their loved ones, or quick bites before they continued with their shopping spree. By early afternoon, it slowly started to slow down, and all of us were able to restock some of our items. Refilling cups, plates, bowls, and checking inventory for baked goods. Amy had time to clean up the lobby area, sweeping, and wiping down any tables. She wiped her brow, and then walked towards the back of the counter when the bell at the door rang as some people walked in. Her coworker greeted them first, at the register. Behind them, stood a familiar dark hedgehog. Amy’s ears pricked up. It was rare for Shadow to enter the bakery… especially alone. 

When their gaze met, Amy could have sworn after she smiled at him he actually returned the smile. It was ever so faint, but something about it made her heart flutter. She turned her attention back to her coworker who needed some assistance with fulfilling the new customer's order. They had asked for two dozen of their doughnuts, a dozen of their chocolate chip cookies, as well as two peppermint frappes that were a big hit with the holiday season. With the three of them, they were able to meet the customer's order and they left in glee of their sweet treats. 

Amy’s attention went back to Shadow, who apparently was sitting down at the farest table with a laptop and a hot coffee. As another couple stepped in, Amy’s coworker approached her. “Hey, Ames. You can take your break now. I almost forgot.” She smiled sheepishly. Instead of clocking out for break right away, Amy helped her with the new guests real quick. She grabbed a quick bite, and made herself a caramel frappe. 

Quietly, she approached Shadow’s table with the items in hand. “Hey.” She greeted him carefully. He barely looked up from his laptop, instead acknowledged her with a slight nod. “Want some company?” She glanced at the empty chair. He blinked before finally meeting her jade eyes. 

“Go ahead.” Amy smiled and dropped down in the chair across from the dark hedgehog. She sipped on her coffee, and gave a sigh of content.

“Work-related stuff?” She gestured towards his laptop. He just simply gave her a nod. She went quiet, and started eating her “lunch” and glancing at her phone for any new messages or updates from social media. 

Before she could get lost in the for-your-page TikTok videos; Shadow cleared his throat and then shut his laptop. “How’s work going?” He asked.

“Oh! Been very busy… “ she laughed nervously, “it’s going well though. I’m glad it’s been busy! I can’t stand slow days.” She took another sip of her frappe. “It’s weird seeing you here. Usually Rouge comes in and grabs somethin’.”

He gave a shrug, “I ran out of coffee at home.”

“Aww I thought you were just stopping by to see me.” Amy dramatically put a hand on her chest.

“Tch.”

“I did have a question though… since you’re here.” Amy tapped her chin, and smiled brightly at Shadow. “I’m having a Christmas party.. I wanted to see if you’d like to come.” It was nice to have his company during Thanksgiving last month, so she felt like it was appropriate to invite him to their Christmas gathering. 

“...When?” 

She giggled, “Christmas Eve, silly. Gonna try to stay up late watching Christmas movies altogether.. Eat way too much sugar.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Amy shrugged, she had figured Shadow wouldn’t say whether or not he was coming. “Sonic said it would have been a waste of time asking you.” She muttered.

“What…?”

“Oh… you heard that..” Amy smiled sheepishly at him, “yeah he thinks you wouldn’t enjoy it. I told him I’d invite you-”

“I’ll be there.”

Amy wasn’t quite sure if he just agreed to prove Sonic wrong, or what but at least he did agree to come. She smiled. “Wonderful! You don’t have to bring anything… so don’t worry about picking anything up!” Soon after some small talk, Amy went back to clock in and continue with the rest of her shift. Thankfully after such a busy day.. The cafe will be closed until after new years. She had last minute shopping to do, and some other errands to run. It was only a couple days until Christmas Eve and she had a lot to prepare for the holiday. 

--

Christmas Eve…

It snowed! It was a perfect way to start the day and the snow kept falling until mid-day covering the ground, it had snowed enough to almost go past her knees. Granted she wasn’t very tall… 

Her friends started piling in the cozy home. Shadow was the last one to show up, but Amy was quite relieved he had shown up nonetheless. For the next several hours, the evening was filled with her and her friends enjoying a pizza, cookies, brownies, and hot cocoa. Of course all the Christmas movies. From the classic films, to some of the newer films that they soon fell in love with. Several of her friends were scattered across the living room floor resting on cushions, inflatable mattresses, while some rested on the furniture in the room. After about 1AM, a lot of her friends had fallen asleep; including Shadow. 

It wasn’t until about 3:30AM when she fell asleep. 

There was a commotion in the kitchen that disturbed her from her sleep, nobody else stirred awake, but now she had to use the restroom. Quickly, she went to the spare bathroom down the hallway before making her way towards the kitchen. The light wasn’t on so she could only make out an outline of a familiar figure. She reached for the lightswitch. She could make out Shadow’s back standing near the sink. “Can’t sleep?”  She saw Shadow bristle slightly, and glance over his shoulder before quickly looking away. She heard him sniffle. Was he crying…?

She stepped closer, closing the distance between them. When she met his gaze, it was clear he had been crying. Without a word, she reached for a kleenex. “You… ok?”

He avoided her gaze, and just stared off into space. “Yes. I’m fine. Just…. A dream.”

She swallowed before she said the next few words, “was it about her?” They both knew who she was referring to. 

He shook his head, “It’s… ridiculous. I put this behind me.” Shadow wiped his face with a gloved hand. 

“Just because you put it behind you, doesn’t mean you’ll never not miss her or think about her.” Amy gave him a sympathetic smile.

“...Yeah.” Shadow cleared his throat, and backed away from the counter. “Don’t worry about me. Get some more rest, Rose.” There it was again. Her heart fluttered like it had again. Perhaps she should get it checked out? Before Shadow could protest, Amy closed the distance and embraced him. She felt his heart pound against her ear, and ever so slightly felt his arms wrap around her. Oh, there goes my heart again.. Sonic usually only makes me feel this way. He felt so… warm and safe? It felt like the embrace lasted for eternity until Shadow broke away. “What was that for?” 

“... S-sometimes you just need a hug. It seemed like you needed one tonight.” Amy’s cheeks burned. She wanted to believe the warmth in her cheeks was from embarrassment. “I… should get to bed.” Chaos, Shadow please stop staring at me like that. His eyes were piercing right through her, making her feel weak in her knees.

“G’night.” His voice was barely audible.

For the rest of that night, Amy could barely sleep. Why did she suddenly feel like this around Shadow? Sonic was her true love! Right? Sure, he hadn’t confessed … but that didn’t change her feelings for the blue hedgehog. She kept thinking how great it felt when Shadow returned the embrace just hours ago. The way his heart too pounded in his chest when they touched. Perhaps, it was silly of Amy to even hug him. But, she felt like he could’ve used it. She rolled over and looked at the clock, taking notice of how little sleep she was gonna get when she needed to get up around 7 in the morning to prepare. She buried her face into her pillow, and then finally drifted off to sleep.

Amy knew she had slept later than planned when everyone else was up and about. Some of her friends were already enjoying either some hot chocolate or a fresh cup of coffee. Nobody seemed to mind that Amy wasn’t rushing around in the kitchen to get everything ready. She knew it didn’t have to be perfect, but for Christmas she wanted everything to go smoothly. After brushing her teeth, and refreshing up a little bit Amy stepped into the kitchen and found Sonic, Cream, and Vanilla. Sonic was actually preparing everyone some pancakes this morning! Amy smiled at the group, and then started working on making eggs, bacon, sausage and biscuits with Vanilla. A big Christmas breakfast has become a new tradition and it was just as special as the rest of the traditions. Once everyone had finished breakfast they would return to the living room and begin opening presents. Throughout preparing breakfast Amy didn’t see Shadow anywhere. Perhaps he was sleeping still? She wasn’t sure. To her surprise, she was quite disappointed that he didn’t join didn’t and eat with them. 

After everyone was finished and started making their way to the livingroom after helping with the cleanup in the kitchen, Amy saw Shadow emerge from the hallway and make a cup of coffee. She was gonna greet him until Cream grabbed her by the hand, encouraging her to join them in the living room, as the youngest of her friends gathered near the Christmas tree. Everyone watched as Tails, Cream, and Charmy opened their gifts. Like usual, Santa brought them so many gifts.  Once they gathered their things to a corner, and out of the way Cream decided to hand out the gifts to everyone this year.

Amy watched as one by one her friends were handed gifts. Soon after, her pile of gifts started adding up. She was almost startled when Shadow took a seat not far from her. He had a plate in his hand with some pancakes, bacon and some fruit. “Where have you been hiding?” She teased quietly.

The dark hedgehog shrugged, but said nothing. He was handed a stocking, which confused him but he took it from the young rabbit. After he cleaned his plate, he saw that he had random goodies in it from chocolates, chewing gum, a handmade ornament and homemade cookies. Amy believed that Cream had worked on the ornaments that were given out in each stocking, and her mom made the cookies.

Amy received a gift from Sonic, she laughed that he had put it in a gift bag this year instead of wrapping her gift. Poor guy was not so talented in the wrapping department. She removed the tissue paper and found a beautiful green dress that she had fallen in love with at the mall. It had beautiful sequins in the fabric. Underneath the dress was a heated throw blanket, then a box of multiple different flavors of coffee that he remembered her loving. It was nothing over the top but she absolutely appreciated that Sonic put more thought into it this year! She put her things down and gave him a rib bruising hug. Sonic’s gift was really simple, Amy always tried to go to the souvenir shop knowing that he’d love it. Luckily, she found a lot throughout the year that she knew that Sonic didn’t have in his possession, she also gave him some funny socks that he may appreciate. She felt like she could’ve done more for him this year, but Sonic didn’t seem to care, he thanked her with an awkward arm hug and showed off his souvenirs to Tails who sat next to him.

After seeing how empty it looked underneath the tree, Amy just remembered she had forgotten to get her gift from the bedroom that she got together for Shadow. While everyone was showing off their gifts, Sonic was helping Cream unbox some of her items that she could not wait to assemble, and the others were talking amongst themselves, roaming the living room, enjoying more hot chocolate and talking about their year. Nobody noticed Amy slipping out to grab the gift. 

“I almost forgot, Shadow. Merry Christmas.” She returned to the living room with a big gift bag, and a small box in her hand. Once more her cheeks burned when his eyes met hers. She really hoped he didn’t notice, if he had… he didn’t say a word. He raised a brow when he saw the size of the bag, and then put his things down on the little table beside the sofa. He started with the smaller box, and then immediately got confused. “That’s for your Chao, silly!” Inside the box were random items from treats that many Chao’s enjoyed, and a cute little outfit that matched Shadow’s chao perfectly. It was some sort of cloak with a hood. Shadow gave a snort of amusement at the thought of his chao wearing it. (If it doesn’t eat it… first). Once he put that aside, he dug through the gift bag and discovered… gift cards to a motorcycle dealership, more sunglasses, last but not least found a leather jacket with red along the inside. It suited him quite nicely!

Amy smiled sheepishly, “I didn’t know exactly what you’d like… I asked Rouge for some advice-”

“Thanks.” He interrupted.

Wait, did she just see the Ultimate Lifeform smile ever so slightly? “Y-you’re welcome.” She felt her cheeks hurt slightly from smiling so wide at the dark hedgehog. When the living room finally settled down from all the commotion, Amy noticed that Rouge was looking at her skeptically. She mouthed “what?” at her, before bending down to collect the wrapping paper to dispose of. Rouge didn’t say anything, taking a sip of her cup of coffee then proceeded to carry on small talk with some others.

--

“Well, that was an interesting scene.” Rouge walked into the kitchen hours later, while Amy started going over some of her recipe cards before her. Amy bristled slightly, startled by her appearance. 

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Amy huffed.

Rouge just laughed. “You seem quite friendly towards Shadow as of late.” She leaned against the counter.

“That’s nothing new, I always try to be friendly towards-”

“By hugging him?”

“Hugging- what do you mean… ? I only did that once, and that was a mistake!” Chaos, where was that recipe card?! She continued to flip through her box of cards. “I always put it back in here -” Rouge glanced at her and then looked behind her to see a card with a recipe on it, and handed it to her. “Thank you!” She huffed and started gathering her ingredients hoping that Rouge would drop the subject and just let her get to baking. 

“It seemed pretty sincere last night…” Rouge coughed. “Honey, it’s not my business or anything. I just happened to walk in on it. Just curious is all.” 

“... He had a rough night… “ Amy gave a sigh after retrieving a mixing bowl, “everyone gives him a bad rap. He’s not so bad- well, you know how he is!” She had to constantly remind herself that Rouge, and Shadow were teammates and shared an apartment, of course Rouge knows a side of Shadow that no one else sees.

Rouge gave a shrug, “I’ll be honest he has changed a lot. I have seen it.” She then turned playfully to her, “he must have a soft spot for you to allow a hug though.” Amy quickly hid her face when she felt it burning. “Oh, I meant to ask. I’d like to make the punch this year.” 

“Rouge. We don’t need everyone to get drunk.”  Amy scoffed at her comment.

“Now that would make it interesting!” She winked, “don’t worry your pretty face, I’m not gonna put a lot of alcohol in it.”

“I don’t need to remind you that your definition of “too much” is totally different from mine.” Amy watched Rouge pull out some cases of alcohol that she brought, and then pull out some caffeinated drinks. She made a mental note that she’d avoid her punch this year.

The rest of the afternoon and mid-afternoon was filled with preparing the rest of the food for dinner this evening. While it was cooking, some of her friends hung out in the living room with a Christmas movie playing, and some playing board games at a table. The house was filled with laughter, and stories of past holiday celebrations. During this time of the year, Amy had forgotten all that was wrong in the world. It seemed like hours flew by when they gathered at the big kitchen table and devoured the delicious meal. Ham, turkey, mashed potatoes, baked mac and cheese was a hit this year, and tons of desserts. The punch that sat at the end of the table was half gone already, and it concerned her that one of her friends will end up wasted tonight. During the commotion at the table, Amy did notice that Shadow didn’t join them, but sat alone in the living room eating his own plate of food. She had wished he would have joined them at the table, but didn’t bug him. 

Once everyone had finished their meal, they helped Amy clear the table, and clean up some around the kitchen. When they rejoined the living room they played another movie. It was another tradition that they spent the night of Christmas watching movies, and staying up most of the night. The youngest of her friends - except for Tails, ended up crashing in one of the guest rooms just shortly after their meal. Amy happened to look up just now and see Shadow slip out of the door. Without interrupting the movie, Amy quietly followed him, grabbing her coat on the way out. The gust of cold wind stung her face. 

“Are you leaving already?” She called out to him, causing Shadow to turn towards her. His crimson eyes studying her. 

“Don’t worry about me; get back inside. It’s cold out.” He picked up the stick arm that belonged to the snowman that was built near the house, and placed it back on the side of the snowman.

“If it’s so cold, why are you out here?” There was a hint of humor in her tone. 

“I’m just getting fresh air, Rose.” He turned fully and started back toward the set of steps that led to the porch, and kicked at the snow that settled on the top of the stairs. 

“You call this fresh air?” Amy hugged her coat tighter against her body. She watched him step on the porch, his eyes locked on her again. She felt weak in her knees again. It’s just the cold, that’s all. She saw the corner of Shadow’s mouth twitch into a grin, before removing his jacket and handing it to her… offering warmth. “No, you need something to keep you-” Suddenly, her vision went dark when he tossed the jacket on her head.

Shadow crossed his arms, “I can handle the cold. If you get pneumonia, do not blame me.” Amy glared at him, as she finally wrapped the jacket on top of her own coat, hugging it tighter. “Did you allow Rouge to fix the punch…?” This caused Amy to laugh. 

“Hey, you can’t tell her no.”  She grinned back at him, “did you drink any?” Shadow shook his head no and then quietly walked to the door. He gestured to the door. “Yeah that’s enough “fresh air” for me.” Shadow narrowed his eyes at her, then took his leather jacket back from her. “Hot chocolate, yes? Or coffee?” Before entering, Shadow stomped the snow off his shoes. Amy started towards the kitchen, but Shadow stopped her. “...Huh?” Although his touch was only a second, it sent a shiver down her arm.

He searched his pockets, and pulled out a box, presenting it to her. “... Merry Christmas.” Amy quickly took it from his grasp, eager to see what he had gotten her. She beamed brightly, and opened the box. Inside was a gorgeous golden necklace with a sun on it. She awed at its beauty, and then read the paper inside the box:

“Sun and Moon

Like the Sun, 

You brighten my days and warm my life,

Like the Moon, 

You light my path in the darkest hours.

Thank you for always being by my side.” 

When she finished reading it, she felt tears stinging in her eyes before they escaped and filled her vision, she rubbed her eyes. “Chaos, Shadow. It’s gorgeous…y-you didn’t have to.” Had she just now noticed that he was wearing a moon shaped necklace? Or was he hiding it from her? She desperately wanted to hug him. Heck, she wanted to kiss him. Just on the cheek… of course! Yeah….

Shadow coughed awkwardly, “you’re welcome..”  He refused to look back at her, feeling uncomfortable now. “I need coffee.” Amy reached out for him, but he was too quick, and was already in the kitchen. As she stepped further into the house, she noticed that most of her friends had fallen asleep during the movie. She kicked her shoes off and tiptoed toward the restroom to use the mirror. She took the necklace out of the black box and tried to clasp it around her neck but struggled. 

She peeked her head out, spotting Shadow drinking some coffee. “Shads…~”  His ear twitched at her voice, “could you help me with the clasp?” She grinned sheepishly, “please?” Amy could tell that he was hesitant, but thankfully, he put his coffee down and joined her in the bathroom in front of the mirror to help her.

“Happy?”

Amy just beamed brightly after he fixed the necklace, it looked so good. How could she ever take this off? It felt so special… “Thank you!” Amy quickly pecked him on the cheek, and dashed off in a blushing mess.

--

Necklace mentioned was found here (I'd imagine that the one Shadow gave her had diamonds in it though)

[disappearinginq]

5, 7, 13, and 20 for fanfic asks?

5. Fic most proud of writing This is a toss up - because I am one of those people who likes their own stuff a lot. :-D But, one of the Big Three: Damnatio Memoriae from the Lucifer fandom, Running Up That Hill for Agenst of SHIELD, and Wrong Side of Heaven for Magnum 2018. Mostly for different reasons, but they all have the same vein of "I got mad at canon and I fixed it".

Lucifer was a roller coaster for me - I loved season 1, season 2 was okay, 3 made me want to throw something at the screen 90% of the time, season 4 WAS EPIC, and I gave up halfway through season 5 and never finished the series. Damnatio was written because I wanted much more involvement of the supernatural, not just a therapy/self discovery mixed in with crime of the week. Also, being raised adjacent to Catholicism, I was getting really irritated that they weren't even using the comic lore, and missing the basic fundamentals of the sources they were pulling from. This story had a lot of reader feedback, to the point of it being almost choose your own adventure. As it went on, I would ask readers to pick from two options that I had rolling around in my head, and it actually worked really well to keep the ball moving with my writing.

Running Up That Hill was again another one where I just got mad at canon, but because I don't like the narrative of "these people are exempt from moral standards while this person is Wrong No Matter What", and I probably would've let it slide except the issue I had was that the one that Wrong No Matter What had all of his life changing trauma as a child and then had it reinforced his entire adult life. Everyone else was an adult when Bad Things happened, and I don't like the hypocrisy of saying "get over it" to someone who legitimately doesn't have the toolset to do that.

Wrong Side I love because this actually was my first foray into something that had no supernatural elements to it whatsoever, and based firmly in reality, and a reality I knew pretty well. I wasn't a huge fan of how the TV show just glossed over the fact that these guys were POW's for a year and a half of a terrorist organization that tortures and kills people with such violence that they became a whole new subsect of terrorism. Like, no, these guys aren't just going to walk away without an issue. And the fact that they were sold out by someone who said to have loved them? AND THEY HAVE NO FALL OUT FROM THIS?! Get fucked, shitty narrative. Suicide in the veteran community is at a high not seen since post-WWII, and these fuckers have the audacity to suggest that you're just being a little bitch if you can't acclimate to civilian life.

7. Favorite ship to write Well, that's pretty easy - none. Romance is rarely done well, and I have never liked anyone enough to relate to the narrative of "Well, I'm throwing all of my friendships out the window because now I have a RomAnTic InTereSt" and it irritates me to no end. if anything, my favorite ship is between Captain Kirk and the Enterprise.

13. Latest fic written/last WIP? A fix it fic for Yellowstone that showcases the brothers Kayce and Jamie, and because I am on a western kick, research for a Magnificent Seven fic that will likely never see the light of day, but I still love the show and the characters, where Ezra (the gambler from Georgia) is a spy for the Union during the Civil War.

20. Hardest Character to write/get the characterization right for? The female characters written by men. And I realize that sounds really weird, but because I swear to god men don't understand being a woman, they're just shit at writing them, and they say/do the dumbest things because guys would do that shit, or, worse, the guys writing the character are using them as hyperboles for women they think did them wrong. And then because the writers don't understand them, I can't understand them, and they wind up being the people that in real life, I'd want to hit with my car. Beth Dutton is a great example of this - some of the things she says that I know are supposed to come off as "strong, powerful woman" make me physically recoil and hide my face with a pillow while watching because What the fuck nobody would ever say that and it's actually cringeworthy. Until women started getting involved in the writing process for Magnum and Lenkov was fired, I absolutely wanted to stab Higgins in 90% of her scenes. Post Lenkov - I actually found her really sweet sometimes, and actually relatable.

That being said, the other ones that I'm not good at because it is so far outside my sphere of comprehension are characters like Angie or Dani off of Will Trent and Prodigal Son. I love those characters, they are complex and unique and I love them, but I don't have relatable experience to them at all, and they are some of the hardest people I have tried to write (which is why I don't have fic in those fandoms even though I love them).

[deus-ex-mona]

the nghy sendoff scene is super cute!!

from hiyori’s confident smile and “just you wait! i’ll definitely report back with good news (about the track meet)!” and nagisa’s “yeah, i’m looking forward to it.”, showing his support and faith in her running abilities…

to their promise to keep in contact…

just… the contrast between nagisa’s slightly lonely look as he tells her “…keep in touch, ‘kay?” and hiyori’s bright smile as she agrees with a “yup! see ya!”…

and it seems like hiyori’s going to leave just like that, but t h e n

…she abruptly turns around to give nagisa an especially adorable angelic smile and wave and!!!!!!!!!

nghy are just so precious guys… they deserve all the happiness in the world…

live laugh love nghy!!!

[waitinqroom]

thinking about when i had a boyfriend but before he was my boyfriend and we were just talking i tried to tell him about how this one girl led me on really badly (i still have a buncha posts on here from fall 2021 about liking her, lol) as friends confiding in friends . but then after i told the story he tried to convince me that she didnt actually lead me on and i was just delusional

[deathsmallcaps]

God I used an eggplant emoji ONCE (I wasn’t even talking to someone, I was mimicking someone else’s behavior for comedic effect) and now it’s still on my ‘frequently used’ part of the emojis. I don’t even use emojis that often, I type emoticons and can’t be bothered to fix them if they autocorrect. I think this is unfair. Lol

I just know the wrong person is going to look over my my shoulder and lift their eyebrow and think, “[Deathsmallcaps] is texting about dicks?” NOOO

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe and sensitive!reader spending the holidays together

18+ mdni! 

c/w: fluff, her ovulating and being horny, smut: p-in-v, slight breeding kink, use of dad

wc: 1.5k

ugh i’ve missed this man

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Why is he doin’ that shit?”  

“Rafe, it’s a rom-com,” she reasons, practically glued to him on their couch with the way she keeps shifting closer and closer, almost unconsciously at this point.   

“Yeah, a shitty one. Why was it necessary to do a whole fuckin’ speech at the mall? He couldn’t jus’ I dunno, tell her how he felt?” he scoffs, clearly fed up with the entire film already. 

She can’t stop the bubbly laughter from escaping her when she looks over to his scowling face. “I mean, this is actually getting kinda weird…why’s everyone watching them?” 

“Yeah, ‘n why are they still on that fuckin’ stage?” he grumbles while the couple is now fully making out on the TV screen. 

“Please don’t ever do anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, was actually gonna ask, you, uh, you wanna go shoppin’ tomorrow?” 

“No!” she giggles before taking a sip of the hot chocolate she’d made for herself (because Rafe deliberately told her he didn’t want any) but the minute she’d sat down with the mug in hand, he’d wanted to try it, which ended up with him drinking nearly half of it.  

“Oh shit, forgot to give you this earlier, look what I got you today,” he suddenly murmurs. 

“Hm?” her eyes flit over to his face; momentarily distracted by his pretty features as he searches for something from the back pocket of his pants. Then, he’s pulling a golden necklace from a velvety box.    

“That looks really expensive,” she nervously mumbles, pausing the TV in order to concentrate on the heart-shaped locket he’s holding out to her.   

“You deserve the fuckin’ world, it was nothin’ alright? Can think of it as an early Christmas present if it makes you feel better,” he rolls his eyes, almost exasperated that she still can’t seem to comprehend the fact that he enjoys spending his money on her.    

“It’s so beautiful,” she croons as she inspects the piece of jewelry with careful fingertips, heart swelling in her chest at the sentiment— recalling how she’d mentioned something about thinking pendants like these were adorable maybe once.    

“Yeah? You like it?”    

“I love it. Wait, you had your initials carved into it too? That’s so cute, Ray, what the hell?” she feels her eyes grow watery because her boyfriend really is her favorite person in the whole wide world for a reason.    

“Yeah, know you’re into sappy shit like that, ‘n you can put m’picture inside too ‘n you’ll always have me with you or whatever the fuck.”    

“Shut up, you’re so sweet! I love you,” she exclaims before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck— climbing into his lap in the process while he murmurs into her hair how he apparently ‘loves her more’, which she thinks is not possible.    

“Let me put it on you?” he says before he’s swiping away some strands in order to clasp the locket around her neck. “Look so pretty with m’name on you.”

“Wait, you should have my name on you too,” she jokingly utters out next.  

“Been thinkin’ about gettin’ it tattooed actually,” he admits, completely serious, which makes her face scrunch up.  

“You’re not getting my name tattooed on you— you’re crazy,” she softly hits his chest. However, he can barely even feel it because she really doesn’t have a single violent bone in her body.   

“Yeah, crazy ‘bout you,” he grins, eliciting an airy giggle from her.    

Knowing she’s about to complain about him being weird again, he shuts her up with a press of his mouth against hers— a surprised noise leaving her when she’s momentarily taken aback by the sudden cushion of his lips. 

And it’s sloppy, the way they slot together like puzzle pieces when she opens up for him, but both of them prefer it that way. 

His kiss was meant to be something sweet but soon enough she’s rutting against him— whimpering into his mouth as if it’s been years since the last time they did this. And all too soon for her liking, he’s pulling away.

“Somethin’ you want?”  

“…no,” she lies through her teeth.    

“No? Jus’ uh, humpin’ me like a bitch in heat for no reason then, hm?” he raises his brows; eyes fixed on her frustrated features.    

“Ray...” she huffs out; a frown already forming on her spit-slicked lips.    

“Yeah?” he asks, giving her a soft peck as encouragement.    

“Want you…” she pants against his mouth.    

“But m’right here?” the furrow of his brows displays faux confusion.  

“You know what I mean,” she whines; shifting around in his lap some more.    

“M’afraid I don’t. If there’s somethin’ you want, you gonna have to tell me,” the edge of his mouth curls annoyingly when he decides to toy with her, always finding so much entertainment from her struggle.     

However, she merely grants him another whine.   

“Wha’s up with you today, hm? So fuckin’ needy, actin’ like you haven’t been fucked in a month when you were literally cryin’ on m’cock last night?” he murmurs while thumbing at her pouty bottom lip.   

“I don’t know…jus’ need you so bad,” her eyes begin to gloss over when he’s still not giving her what she so desperately craves.    

“Baby, there’s no need to cry, yeah?” he sticks his thumb past her lips; an attempt to placate her, even if he thinks she never looks prettier than with her eyes all wet and forlorn.   

“You’re ovulatin’ right now, aren’t ya?” his brain finally fits together the very telltale signs as he plucks his phone from the coffee table— opening the app that tracks her period cycle.  

“Think so, yeah,” she mumbles, mindlessly sucking on the digit resting on her tongue as she sniffles.  

It’s no surprise to either of them when his assumption proves to be right.    

“Think you need me to fuck a baby in you, s’that it? Wanna make me a real daddy?” he croons.    

“Mhm…want you,” her words are muffled around his thumb.    

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone but you carryin’ m’kids— think about knockin’ you up so fuckin’ often, you know?”    

“You do?”    

“Yeah, know you’d be such a good mom.”    

“You think? I think you’d be the best dad, sometimes wish you were my dad,” she rambles mindlessly, the conversation suddenly teetering on the edge of something else entirely.    

“Shit, such an angel face ‘n then there’s this rotten mind inside, huh?” he tuts in disapproval, appearing disgusted as if he doesn’t get even harder in response to her words— something raw,��primitive stirring in the pit of his stomach whenever she says things like that.    

“M’sorry dad,” she offers him an impish smile.  

“Someone’s in a mood today?” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes in a playful manner.    

“Can you take off your pants?” she complains while attempting to loosen his belt but with her mind buzzing like a honeybee it’s proving to be a rather demanding.   

“Can’t do anythin’ without dad’s help, can you? Go on, let’s see if you can take me out by yourself, yeah?” he rasps out, tone challenging.    

“No, need your help, daddy, I can’t—”  

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ pathetic,” he murmurs, somehow managing to turn something so patronizing into something affectionate as he swats away her helpless hands and yanks the belt open himself.    

“See? Not that fuckin’ hard, was it?” he mutters out as his thumb slips out of her mouth before he’s pulling himself out. And even if he’s not even fully hard yet, and she’s seen it more times than she can count, she’s still mesmerized by the sight— eyes rounding out while she simply stares as if she’s under some spell.    

“You’re so pretty,” she blinks at him, eyes moony.    

“Still not tired of seein’ it, huh?”   

She shakes her head.   

And since she’s not wearing any pants (as usual), he only has to tug the fabric of her underwear to the side in order to reveal her messy cunt.    

“Ray…” she whines when he merely smears the drippy head over her folds; thudding it against her clit to get her to whimper some more.  

“Hm? Want it inside? Wha’s the magic word?” he looks at her with something amused twinkling in his eyes.   

“Please. Dad, it hurts,” she sniffles, desperately trying to rub against him in an attempt to alleviate the ache.    

“Hurts? Think you bein’ a little dramatic, no?” he lets out a breathy chuckle, making her huff out in frustration.   

“M’not, Ray, please, need you so bad,” wet droplets stain her cheeks while she tries to uselessly blink them away.    

“Shh, s’okay. Dad’s bein’ mean again, isn’t he? M’sorry, baby, I’ll give you what you want, yeah?” his voice is a deep rumble before he’s finally tucking the tip into her weepy cunt, causing both of them to moan in tandem when she practically sucks him in— his fingerprints denting the skin of her thighs when he aids her movements to his liking.   

“Yeah? That what you wanted? Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, huh?” he grunts against her mouth; hips meeting hers halfway as he stuffs himself deeper.  

“Mm, I love you,” she whimpers— practically feeling him in her guts as his cock pokes at the spongy spot inside her while his big hands help situate her on top of him, and she thinks this might just be heaven on earth.

[nanaslutt]

roommates!gojo & geto jerking each other off while thinking abt their cute neighbor they both want soooo bad

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

“do it harder.” geto groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he laid back against satoru’s pillows. said man currently had his hand wrapped around his cock, albeit poorly. his hand was soft as fuck, but he was touching him like he had never touched a dick before. “jerk me off how you jerk yourself off.”

gojo snorted, his words breathy as he spoke, “what if i like it soft?” geto shook his head and curled his toes when gojo wrapped his hand around him tighter. “these walls are thin, i’ve heard you having sex and i know you don’t like it soft. those poor girls.”

gojo laughed, “they love it, i think she would love it too.” he said. geto licked his lips, starting to paint an image in his head. “what would you do to her?” he asked tentatively, his eyebrows furrowing together when gojo focused on his cock head like the bastard he was.

“mmm i think id start with fingering her.” gojo said. “i’ve seen her a couple times in the laundry room bend over in those tiny shorts—you know the ones. and her-“ he stopped talking to groan when geto stroked over a particularly sensitive vein. “they don’t cover much.”

geto nodded, seeing you bent over in his head. “you think she’s sensitive?” geto asked, cracking his eyes open to peek at gojo. his eyes were lidded and focused on the hand around his cock. geto tried not to shy away when he felt his pre cum drip into his hand. he’d never jerked anyone off before—besides himself.

“oh yeah,” gojo responded, biting his plush lip. for some reason it made geto’s mouth water. “i think… fuck, i think i could make her squirt with just my fingers.” gojo’s face was getting flushed now. it made geto want to tease him. “yeah?” he asked, squeezing his hand tighter around his shaft and relishing in his reaction when he sucked in a breath through his teeth and arched his back. “would you make her squirt all over our couch?”

gojo moaned at his filthy words and nodded, his head tipping back against the headboard. “yeah.” geto nodded, looking at his roommate even though his eyes were closed. “what would you do if i walked in when you were making her cum?” he asked, paying attention to the head of his cock.

“i-id let you suck my fingers clean.” he groaned, making geto’s balls throb at the visual. “god, she’d probably get so hot… trying to press her thighs together watching me suck your fingers.” gojo nodded, his mouth falling open in a small O.

“would you want her pussy or her ass?” geto asked, his breath coming more quickly. “ass, i know it’s so tight and warm. god. would you want her at the same time?” geto nodded despite him being unable to see. “yeah, just think about how good she would look with tears down her face trying to take us both.”

suddenly, a hand way being wrapped around his wrist. geto opened his eyes fully and watched with rapt attention as gojo cursed before his back arched. he continued stroking him, despite knowing what was gonna happen. he cringed when hot ropes of cum spilled from his dick, coating his hand and his cock and making a lewd sound from the stroking.

gojo gripped geto’s wrist to stop him, and geto pulled it away and made a face at the mess on his hand. gojo also had stopped jerking him off, just weakly holding his throbbing cock. “that did it for you huh?” he teased. gojo laughed before removing his hand from geto’s cock.

gojo crawled off the edge of the bed and bent down to grab a towel to wipe his cock clean with. geto gripped his cock and languidly started stroking, waiting for gojo to help him get off. “your turn, one minute man. come keep this fantasy going so i can blow all over your hand and pretend it’s hers.”

a cruel smile twisted on gojo’s face before he dropped the towel and zipped his pants back up. “i’m sure you can finish yourself off.” getos mouth opened in disbelief. “if you need some help, i have porn from last night still up on my laptop, feel free to check it out. it’s really good stuff.” with a wink, he left geto gaping and alone in HIS room with his stiff cock in his hand.

fucking biiiitch.

[shotmrmiller]

military issued wife but you didn't know that using the "dating app" your friend brought up once in idle talk would end with you in an office with a (signed) marriage license on the desk, actively not looking at your 'husband', the burly lummox with a skull mask who's dwarfing the chair he can barely fit in.

you'd thought it'd be like tinder. a potential dating site. as in messaging on the app, getting to know each other, exchanging personal numbers before going on a date. not marriage. not opening your front door expecting it to be your door dasher and instead it's him with a rucksack in one hand and duffel in the other.

he'd looked down his thick nose at you, grunted a quiet, "not bad", and pushed past as if you were a swinging door to a saloon. what the fuck had he been doing there? you'd only spoken a couple of times with him and left on read for the some of it. you'd chosen to move on, try to match with someone else but the app had stopped working (you couldn't swipe right or left anymore) so you'd just put it on the back burner. you had better things to worry about than another disappointment of a man then.

except now said disappointment of a overly large man is taking up most of the couch and his legs aren't even all that far apart. and he's at your house. the house you'd never sent him the address to. as a matter of fact, you'd received a text from an unknown number earlier that had said someone would be home in a few. you'd ignored it thinking it was a wrong number situation but now you're sure it was him. how he got your phone number is also a mystery.

you'd tried to argue. to threaten him with the cops. to get him out and away, far fucking away, but he'd only scooped you up and let you pelt his broad back with your fists. chuckled low in his throat while he smacked your arse to keep still. "i'd hate to drop m'wife."

whatever fight you had he ate right out of you with the heels of your feet digging into the large curve of his shoulders and his hands curled around the back of your thighs. maybe it's because it'd been a while but he'd played your body like an instrument and had you bucking your hips against his tongue, slick coating his face in minutes. (your cheeks burn furiously hot when you think back on what he'd said then. "tight little thing 'nd you've only taken my two fingers." it's flattering, sue you.)

he'd lapped at your sodden cunt until you had overstimulation clumping your lashes together, inner thighs tender from the bristles of his shorn hair and unshaven jaw, your palm on the crown of his head having both pulled him to you and pushed him away.

and then he'd wiped your release with the back of his hand, thumbed the swollen flesh of your bottom lip and rumbled that it's time for bed.

which eventually led to you being here. in front of a man he calls Price, a marriage certificate unlike any you've ever glanced upon, a large gloved hand curled snugly around your leg, fingers grazing a little too close to where he'd left aching and swollen just yesterday.

you're reading the terms and conditions of anything from here on forward. even the fine print.

and then soap comes around and plants a seed in his head of him planting a seed in you :/ at least you can tell your nosy ass aunt that at least you've got a man while she's on her 4th divorce on thanksgiving 💅🏼

[retrosabers]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄’𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌.

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: the scent of you is driving logan crazy.

contains: mild 18+ content. MINORS DNI. mentions of masturbation (m&f), a steamy little make out, and implications of future smut

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not me trying to capitalize off the hugh jackman renaissance and revive my dead blog…anyways, this is my first time writing for logan! hope you all enjoy <3

i feel like we don’t talk enough about logan’s enhanced sense of smell.

the man can catch a whiff of someone the second they walk into the room, even the building sometimes if their scent is strong enough. it’s especially heightened when he realizes he’s attracted to you. at first he thought maybe it was because you were always wearing perfume, the aroma lingering around the mansion wherever you traveled. but then it became such an intense, all encompassing sensation that he knew it was something deeper.

his suspicions are confirmed one night as he walks past your room. if the faint whimpers he heard weren't enough confirmation of your activities, then the scent that fills his nostrils seals the deal.

you’re touching yourself. and he can smell your arousal.

it makes something stir in his stomach. the animal-like urges he always tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to make their way to the surface the longer he stands frozen in the hallway. logan attempts to shake the heat that spreads across his skin as he makes his way back to his own room, but it only ends with him cumming hard into his hand an hour later.

the next day, when he catches you on your way out of charles’ office, you offer him the same kind, beaming smile you always did. then that damned smell fills his nostrils again and his fists curl at his sides once you’re out of eyesight.

there’s only one explanation for it.

you’re ovulating.

which means there’s no escaping his desires unless you stay out of reach.

so for his sake and yours, he decides to just avoid you completely until the week is over. he can’t risk caving to those urges and doing something stupid and irrational.

of course you’re completely oblivious to it. you think that he’s just being weird, going through another rut of being a standoffish loner like he was when he first arrived at the mansion. because after about a week, he’s back to being a bit friendlier, to being the logan you had grown to call a close friend.

then the cycle seems to repeat itself and you notice it’s just you he’s avoiding.

you try and wrack your brain to think of anything you could’ve done to warrant this kind of isolation. you hoped if something upset logan he would just talk to you about it instead of playing this childish game of hot and cold.

after a couple months, you decide you’ve had enough.

cornering him was a difficult task. but you were observant enough to know certain parts of his routine, including exactly when he would be lingering in the common areas after all the kids had gone to sleep. after two failed attempts of trying to catch him in the kitchen, you finally managed to find him alone and unsuspecting.

“why have you been avoiding me?” you blurt, wanting to cut right to the chase. you’re expecting him to flinch a little bit, perhaps even be stunned.

but he knew you were coming. logan knew it was only a matter of time before you noticed his schtick.

still, he decides to look for an excuse, any excuse, to cover up the real reason.

“m’not avoiding you” he grumbles halfheartedly around the rim of a beer bottle. taking an extra long swig, he finally turns to look at you; leaning against the doorway with your arms folded and a look akin to annoyance plastered across your pretty face.

you cock your head to the side, clearly unimpressed with his answer.

“a few days ago, i watched you back out of a room the minute you realized i was in it,” you start to list off, counting with your fingers. “last month you avoided the wing where the gym was altogether while i was going through a new training regimen.”

logan winces at the memory. the scent of your pheromones was intoxicating. so much so that he couldn’t step foot anywhere near the gym without feeling like he needed to rub one out.

“and the month before that,” you huff out a sad laugh, voice suddenly soft and quiet. “you didn’t even say goodbye before you went off on that mission with scott and jean.”

guilt overtakes him quickly at the pain in your tone.

you’ve never looked smaller as you pick at a loose thread on your sweatpants. “did i do something wrong?”

“no,” logan reassures, jumping out of his seat at record speed, though still trying to maintain some distance. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“then what is it? you sigh exasperatedly, desperate to put an end to this nagging feeling that’s been eating away at you. “logan, you know if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

and he wants to. he so badly wants to, maybe even see if you’ll offer to help him out. but you’re you. the sweetest, kindest thing he’s ever known and he’ll be damned if he lets his curse of a mutation ruin whatever relationship the two of you have.

but then you’re inching closer and his skin starts buzzing again. his senses are consumed by you. by the way you look up at him with big, wide eyes, the softness of your skin as you reach to place a comforting hand on his forearm. it's all too much, and he finds himself pulling away from you with a grunt.

it hurts to see him retreat from you so aggressively. his jaw is clenched tight, his fists at his sides even tighter as the veins in his arms bulge bigger than you’ve ever seen before. he looks pained. like he’s fighting something internally.

“logan,” you approach him cautiously, unsure of what exactly to do. “what’s going on?”

his eyes squeeze shut at the sound of your voice. “just, please go back to your room.”

“i’m not leaving you like this.”

“m’not asking you,” he grits out, almost like a growl. “i’m telling you. go back to your room.”

now he was starting to piss you off. you narrow your eyes, leaning your hip against the counter.

“or what?”

suddenly he’s crowding your space, chest heaving up and down as he stares at you with pupils so wide his eyes are nearly black. logan’s voice is scarily level when he utters his final warning.

“or i’m gonna do something i regret.”

when you shift closer to him, his nose twitches with a sniff. the raise of your brow doesn’t go unnoticed, and he knows that you’re not leaving this room until you get to the bottom of what he’s been hiding.

that’s when something inside logan decides to throw caution to the wind, just for a minute.

“i can smell you.”

curiosity morphs into confusion at his admission. you shake your head.

“i don’t understand.”

then, the man’s gaze travels to the waistband of your pajama pants, the tension in his jaw growing more taught by the second. his hands flex at his sides, trying to keep him grounded and calm as he finally admits what’s been driving him mad.

“i can smell you.”

the emphasis on the last word takes a minute to register. logan watches as the gears turn behind your eyes, catches the exact moment of realization as your gaze softens and your lips part.

oh.

oh.

slowly things start to piece together. how logan’s behavior seemed to fall around the same time these past couple months. a few weeks before your cycle.

he wasn’t avoiding you because he was angry, or upset. he was avoiding you because you were fucking ovulating.

logan expects you to flee, to be completely weirded out and steer clear of him for the foreseeable future. what he’s not expecting, is the words that come out of your mouth.

“i can help you with that if you want.”

you say it with such nonchalance, such casualness that he wonders if you’re even really grasping what you’ve said.

the wolverine shakes his head. “trust me, you don’t want this.”

he doesn’t quite believe his own words as he watches you close the distance between your bodies. something you’ve been desperate to do for as long as you can remember.

the thin fabric of his tank top and the soft cotton of your t-shirt is the only thing standing between you both. your chests are mere centimeters from touching and logan can feel the heat radiating from your bodies as his confession hangs heavy in the air. then that fucking smell comes back tenfold and he groans.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me,” your voice is sickly sweet, dripping with desire as your fingers ghost over the waistband of his jeans. he feels like a horny teenager as he preens at the barely there contact.

logan breathes your name, a last stitch effort to get you to run, though he knows it’s futile. if there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s that you're stubborn. unmoving in your ways.

and that when you want something, you don’t stop until you get it.

your hand comes up to cradle the side of his face, a rather gentle touch he wasn’t anticipating. his eyes flutter shut as you swipe your thumb over the expanse of his cheekbone.

your words are barely above a whisper. “i trust you, logan. completely.”

that’s all he needs to hear before he throws any sense of self control out the window.

he surges forward and captures your lips in what is possibly the most heated kiss you’ve ever experienced. you nearly stumble over at the sheer force of it. logan’s large hands fly to your waist, yours to the back of his neck as his tongue prods for entrance into your mouth. it’s messy, almost primal as you let him ravish you like he’s been thinking about for weeks.

you moan and he swallows the sound greedily, desperate to hear it again, and again, and again. when his lips move to press against the column of your throat, you know this is going to escalate into exactly what you hoped it would.

“logan,” you breathe out as he focuses on your pulse point, his hands wandering further south to knead at the globes of your ass. “not here.”

“why not?” he mutters, all smirky and smug as he continues to press wet hot kisses against your neck.

“because i would prefer if you didn’t fuck me where our friends eat.”

he laughs, a deep vibration felt against your chest as you absentmindedly grind your core against his. it makes him bring his mouth back up to yours, stealing one final kiss before he pulls away.

looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. and by god you might just let him.

pressing a playful smack against your backside, he gently nudges you in the direction of the corridor.

“lead the way sugar.”

thanks for reading! <3

[mv1simp]

Cuffing Szn ♥️

Max Verstappen x MidSize!Reader

it's cuffing season and all the girls are leaving to get a big boy (I need a big boy, give me a big boy)

As Max Verstappen's new girlfriend, you're one of the few WAGs on the grid who isn't a model and the only one, you think self consciously, who doesn't look like a model either. Good thing your big, strong boyfriend is here to set the record straight about how much he disagrees with you.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, trigger warning: explicit discussion about eating disorder and body dysmorphia, dom!max, sub!reader, size kink, this is just a shameless excuse for me to write smut about max's thighs, 3.3k WC

When you'd delivered one of your favourite patient's 3rd baby, handing over the healthy, crying pale blob (after thoroughly wiping it down because, you know) with a congratulations, Victoria, its a boy! you hadn't expected to catch the eye of the patient's very attractive, tall older brother at her side.

But as you walked off down the hallway once the baby checks were done, you were surprised to find Max stopping you with a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. You'd seen him a couple of times in Victoria's pregnancy, accompanying her and her husband at the ultrasound checks leading upto the delivery. You'd secretly thought he was so adorable with the way he handled his nieces and nephews patiently while his sister got scanned.

You'd also thought he looked positively delectable in his white linen shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders, and skinny jeans that clung to some of the thickest thighs you'd seen a man be blessed with. But making bedroom eyes at patient's hot family members was generally frowned upon (although not explicitly prohibited in the Hippocratic Oath, one could argue) so you promptly forgot about the handsome blonde 5 minutes later when the emergency bell went off.

But he stood before you that day, looking every bit as attractive as you remembered, even more so with a pink dusting on his cheeks as he asked if this was the last time you'd be looking after Victoria?

You tilted your head quizzically at him, your neck a little strained from looking up at his 6 foot frame from your 5"1 one. Yes it is, you informed him, and because new families often got anxious, you sweetly added that it was a good thing, to not see you again, because it meant darling Victoria and her baby are both healthy.

He confuses you again by saying that he was hoping to see you again. Oh! You smile excitedly, are you and your wife expecting? You pull out your clinic card and tell him that you're actually all booked out for the year but you'll make an exception for Victoria's brother.

His blush deepens. (Somewhere in a hospital broom cupboard, Lando Norris was filming this scene unfold and cackling.) Max rapidly explained that he's not expecting. Oh, and he's not married. And also he doesn't have a girlfriend. Basically, I'm single - he finally stammers out. (Rizzless and bitchless, Lando texts him). Thankfully, at this point you had caught on that Max was trying to ask you out, and after a quick phone call to the legal team to confirm you were clear, you turn back around to inform him cheekily that he could pick you up at 8pm Friday night for dinner. (Wait, this actually worked? a flabbergasted Lando now texts.) The emergency pager then goes off so you gently tug on Max's shirt to hint that you want him to bring his face down, give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and sprint off to Ward 6.

The dinner goes perfectly, with Max's charm returning in full force after a G&T - Sorry about earlier, schat, you're such a gorgeous woman and a very smart doctor, it makes me nervous - leading to a 2nd date and then a 3rd and then to a weekend trip in a romantic Nice winery, where you can't resist jumping into his muscly arms after a glass of wine and demanding he have his way with you. (He does. Very thoroughly. Multiple times that night, and the morning after. Thinking about it still has you blushing.)

6 months later, you two are officially going out and you're making your first appearance as his girlfriend at the races. You had carefully dressed in a classy Mirror Palais dress, complete with matching heels to save your poor boyfriend having to bend down too much. You'd also become rather turned on at seeing your normally soft, gentle cat dad of a boyfriend turn into an absolute menace once the Redbull suit is zipped up, terrorising his way all the way to P1 and living up to his nickname of the Dutch lion. As his assistant guides you to the podium ceremony, you're stopped by various fans who compliment your outfit and ask for pictures. The media attention is very new to you, as Max had been very insistent on protecting your privacy as you two established yourselves as a couple. But everyone had been so nice today - until you started noticing the dirty looks thrown your way, glaring up and down your form. And then, a couple of snide comments from passing fans about how you were very confident to wear such a body hugging dress, especially with your curvy figure.

You roll your eyes at their clearly jealous tones, and walk over to the podium ceremony to greet your boyfriend. He breaks into an adorable grin when he sees you, his whole face lighting up as he easily scoops you up for a deep kiss. The cameras around you two go crazy, but don't pick up his whispers when he sets you down and leans in, telling you that you looked so pretty today, schat, he'd been staring at you so much GP had to tell him to focus, and how was your first race? nobody gave you a hard time, did they? You don't miss the way his eyes are attentively focused on your face, clearly still worried about the damage he had warned you about before you agreed to go public.

You aren't going to spoil his win over a couple of snide comments. Not at all, baby you reassure, before whispering back that he looked really hot in his tight fireproofs, could he pretty please bring them home later when you give him his reward for such a good performance on the track? The tip of Max's ears go pink as he struggles to maintain a straight face for the cameras. Giggling, you press a kiss to his cheek and murmur you'll see him after his interviews.

Later though, when Max is in his interview across the paddock and you're being introduced to the other WAGs, you can't help but notice how different they all look in their body hugging dresses compared to you. Although you wouldn't be called fat, you aren't slim either, and you're nowhere near the tiny, trim figures the other girls maintain. Once the seed of insecurity is planted, it's very hard to stop it growing out of control - and at each race or public event or launch party you attend at Max's side, you start to pick apart more and more insecurities about yourself. How you're so much shorter than the numerous models on the grid, making you feel childish and round compared to their lithe gracefulness. How their delicate collarbones and ribs can clearly be seen at all times, but yours only if you twisted your neck a certain way. And they're all so lovely, chatting eagerly with you and interested to hear about your work, asking if you'd take so-and-so on as a patient, you had a great reputation already even though you were a new doctor in Monaco! The conversations distract you from your worries for a bit.

But afterwards, when you'd be laughing at cat memes online and sending them to your boyfriend, you'd come across the paparazzi pics of you speaking to the WAGs and felt sick to your stomach at how huge you thought you looked compared to everyone else, clearly standing out as the plainest one amongst their flawless faces. Some of the comments agreed, saying that it was just sad that the best driver on the grid had the ugliest girlfriend, and couldn't Max buy his gf some ozempic with all his tax evasion money? Comments that would have made you laugh at the originality now suddenly had you sobbing, and you're glad you hadn't stayed at Max's tonight and had to explain the state you were in.

When you'd been younger, in college, you'd started struggling with managing your stress levels given you were a perfectionist working towards a very difficult medical degree. Having always been a stress eater, you frequently binged on junk food, and obviously ended up gaining quite a bit of weight. Your family and ex boyfriend had ridiculed you endlessly, and so the year after you had to work hard and lose it all, which you had managed to do. You'd mentioned this to Max in passing, a couple months into dating when he'd spotted an old college picture of you and muttered so fucking cute, pocketing it.

You didn't tell Max about how you'd lost the weight though - with a vicious binging and purging cycle for the better chunk of a year. You'd grown out of that "phase" once you'd left college, or so you thought - because it was almost too easy to slip back into it now, to enjoy the sick pleasure at barely eating all day and seeing the weight drop on the scale, then bingeing on whatever you wanted because it didn't count, you'd throw it up anyways. You had to be very careful with it this time round, because your boyfriend's attentive gaze had been fixed on you even more so than usual - noting how you've been wearing higher heels, how your dresses are still as gorgeous as ever but never body hugging anymore, how you spend hours before a race now perfecting your makeup instead of joining him in the garage and don't spend the nights at his anymore. You weasel your way out of his questions when he asks you repeatedly if everything was okay, schat?

But you weren't able to fool him any longer after attending a charity gala for one of his sponsors. You'd actually been happy with your appearance for once, pleased with your slimmer waist this month, but as the night went on you started to feel the fatigue of starving yourself catching up, leaning more and more into Max's side as he glanced at you with concern. Rubbing your back soothingly, he asked if you wanted to leave early, but you shook your head, murmuring you were okay, your feet just hurt a little is all. He frowned then, hating to see you in pain just to be dressed up for some stupid event he couldn't care less about. Bringing you to the empty lobby, he told you he was going to grab your coats and have the car brought round, end of discussion, you need to rest, okay liefje? You didn't have it in you to protest any longer so just nodded. You hadn't realised just how much you'd been leaning on him until he left, and as stars started entering your vision, Max returned just in time to catch you before you stumbled.

You felt him firmly grab your waist, fully supporting your weight as he led you out to the car, lowering you gently into the seat and even buckling you in. You started feeling a bit better inside his Aston Martin with the aircon on, nibbling on a high protein low calorie bar you'd stashed in your clutch. Regaining your alertness, you notice the tense atmosphere, with a stormy expression on Max's face as he drove rather furiously through the Monaco streets, his hand not even resting on your thigh like it usually did but gripping the wheel tightly. Maxie - you begin uncertainly, hoping to diffuse the tension and ask why he was upset, but he cuts you off with a terse Don't. Let's wait till we're home.

So you wait, until you're both walking in through the front door. Max rips off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves, but he still doesn't talk and instead heads to the kitchen. You follow him, sitting on a barstool to admire how he still looked so handsome in the fitted sky blue shirt and tight navy pants, even when he was clearly mad. As Max starts cooking, his back to you, he tells you about how growing up his sister Victoria had to go to therapy for a long time because she wouldn't stop throwing up every time she ate because their father told her she was too fat (despite looking like a buffalo himself, Max snorts as he sets down a simple but delicious plate of chicken pesto pasta with salad in front of you), about how Max has seen countless girlfriends on the paddock purposely avoid eating all day, including his already stick thin model exes, and how Max himself would be called fat every month or the other by some trashy gossip magazine, because the media is just fucking toxic, he hisses. This is why I wanted to keep us hidden away from the cameras. He glances pointedly at your plate, where you've eaten the salad and chicken and not touched your pasta. You sigh and pick up your fork, slowly working your way through the food as you tell him that you suppose your diet had somewhat...spiralled out of control, but honestly, Max, I'm completely fine, and you two can't avoid the cameras forever given how he's the frickin F1 winner at all-

Don't tell me that you're fine. Do you really think I don't know what's going on? Max demands tersely with crossed arms. Finally finished with your meal, you hop off the stool to neatly place your plate in the sink, ignoring his question. Standing behind you, he watches you wash the dishes, still not even reaching his chin, even in those damn 6 inch heels you're still wearing. You do respond when he asks you just why you're putting your body through such torture.

C'mon, Max you say with an eyeroll, You know why, I need to lose some weight, I'm so much heavier compared to all the other girls and all your exes, and you deserve to have a girlfriend who looks-

Don't tell me what I do or don't deserve, schat. I always want the best and that's why I picked you. You're really gonna question the choice of a world champion, hmm? Max's deep voice is now right by your ears as he leans down behind you. You feel a shiver run up the back on your spine as he curls his huge arms possessively around your waist and thighs. He continues his whispers, his hands roaming up to your plush tits and another squeezing your ass, telling you You're so goddamn pretty. Every single part of you, just for me, making you bite your lip and breathily moan from his affections - it'd been a while since he'd had his way with you with all your avoidance, after all.

You feel him slowly unzip your dress, and the silk easily falls to the ground, leaving you only in your stiletto heels and a deep red lingerie set he’d gifted you for your 3 month anniversary. You tense, already feeling self conscious, but before you can say anything Max has wrapped a large hand around your waist and easily flipped you around to sit on the kitchen counter. You gasp from the action, hands automatically going to rest on his broad shoulders as your face comes level with his.

I haven’t made it clear just how lucky I am to have such a beautiful girl all to myself, schat, Max says huskily, before pulling away to unbutton his shirt, his blue eyes darkening as they roam over your pretty tits spilling over in the lacey bra, over your cute plush tummy, and over those deliciously soft thighs he adores. His hungry stare is really starting to drive you wild now, and you beg at him to hurry up and finish undressing. Chuckling, he throws his pants to the side as well, now only wearing his tight boxers. He pulls you forward on the counter so you're flush against him. See what you do to me, sweet girl? Hmm? he grinds the very prominent bulge in his boxers against your own damp core, making you gasp. You get me so hard and you haven't even touched me yet, that's the kind of power you have over me.

At his words, you don’t hold back from running your hand all along Max’s well defined chest. Your boyfriend is so much bigger than you and it's incredibly sexy. He towers over you easily with his 6 foot frame, all wide shoulders and swollen biceps and muscled thighs, and you don't hide the hypnotised look in your eyes as you trace from his thick neck down to his slutty waist, desire and desperation coursing through you, replacing any inhibitions you'd had earlier.

He grasps one of your wandering hands in his own, his larger palm easily dwarfing your tiny one and making you bite your lip at the difference in size. His attentive gaze doesn't miss this either, and with a low hmm he brazenly asks if you found it as hot as he did, the fact that you were the perfect size for him to snap into half if he wanted? He knows he's got you right where he wants as your pupils go wide with desire, breath hitching at the thought of your big boyfriend using his strength against you for once.

Then he's pulling apart your pretty little set, lace ripping and a large hand easily wraps around your entire throat, pulling you into a breathless kiss that has you moaning at his skilled tongue. You barely have time to collect yourself when he suddenly lifts you up by the waist, biceps flexing, and your eyes widen as you're lifted impossibly high in the air and find yourself straddling his thick shoulders, his face now at the perfect height to bury his tongue into your dripping pussy right in front of him. Max! you squeal, utterly ruined by his impressive display of strength. You're desperately scrambling for purchase at the cabinets behind you, head banging back against the wall as he relentlessly thrusts his wicked tongue into your puffy folds.

And he only sets you down after you cum obediently all over greedy lips like he demands you to do, then gently carries your shaky form to the bedroom to show you multiple more examples of how you were just made to take him, truly the perfect girl for him, weren't you? You'd been too blissfully fucked out by that point to form a coherent response.

Needless to say, you find yourself caring very little next time strangers had anything to say about the way you looked, thanks to Max's hands on affections (he'd also taken you to therapy like the supportive boyfriend he was, bless him.) He'd quickly formed a personal favourite method to prove to you just how desperate he was for you and how you had the world champion in the palm of your hand, whenever he saw that look flicker into your eyes from time to time. He'd take you back home, make you undress yourself for his hungry gaze, then lift you up into his arms, folding your thighs up against your waist from where he held them. You’d moan as he slid into you, bouncing your whole body onto his hard cock like you were a ragdoll, making you scream his name endlessly as he fucked you mid-air.

And sometimes, when he was feeling particularly possessive, he'd flip you around, pressing your back to his toned chest, as he made you watch with him in the mirror how he obscenely slid in and out of your dripping pussy. Whispering in your ear that see, like he had told you, he had such good taste, don't I, schat? And as you met his heated gaze through the reflective surface, clenching around him when you saw the pure love and raw desire in his eyes, you couldn't help but agree.

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A/N: guys can you guess I have a thing for boys who are big. Big boys, if you will. Someone just let me sit on Max’s lap goddamn 💸💸 as always lmk what you think and if u have any requests!!