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pucksandpower · 3 days ago

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Under the Mistletoe

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando really wants you to kiss him under the mistletoe. Sounds normal enough, right? Wrong! So wrong

Warnings: 18+ content and description of an allergic reaction

The apartment is finally quiet. The muffled thrum of conversation and laughter that had filled every corner just hours ago has faded, leaving only the faint crackle of the fireplace in the living room. It smells like pine needles, spiced cider, and the faint citrus tang of your new body wash. You pad softly down the hallway in your slippers, the wooden floor cool beneath your feet.

“Lando?” You call, peeking into the dimly lit bedroom.

He’s there, of course, but the sight that greets you isn’t what you expect.

Lando is lying on his back, smack in the middle of the bed, arms folded behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s wearing nothing. Absolutely nothing … except for a single, strategic adornment. Tied with what looks like a strip of red ribbon, a sprig of mistletoe dangles provocatively from his dick.

“Seriously?” You stop in the doorway, blinking. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Happy Christmas,” he says, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s an invitation.” He tilts his head slightly, his curls a messy halo against the pillow. “You’ve got to kiss me.”

“Oh, I’ve got to, have I?” You fold your arms, biting back a smile.

“Under the mistletoe,” he clarifies, as if that makes it any less ridiculous. “It’s the rules. I don’t make them.”

“You absolutely made this up.”

Lando shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “Does it matter?”

You stand there for a moment, torn between amusement and disbelief. “You know, normal people just leave cookies for Santa. Not …” You gesture vaguely at him, at the ribbon, at everything.

“Not everything has to be normal,” he says, his grin softening slightly. There’s something teasing in his tone, but there’s sincerity, too. “Come on, it’s Christmas. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it.”

There’s no point denying it. You do love him — ridiculous, over-the-top antics and all. With a sigh that’s more for show than anything else, you take a few steps closer to the bed.

“Alright,” you say, pretending to consider. “Where exactly am I supposed to kiss you? The mistletoe’s not even …” You trail off, waving a hand vaguely in the air.

Lando smirks, his eyes dancing. “Where do you think?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you say again, but you’re already climbing onto the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and Lando watches, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re not protesting much,” he points out.

“Shut up.”

“You could have just stayed in the doorway, you know. Told me off or something. But no, here you are-”

“Lando,” you cut in, leaning over him.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Your lips are on his before he can say anything else, cutting off whatever smug reply he had planned. His hands slide instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as you kiss him.

It’s not rushed. The night has been long, full of people and noise and obligations, and this moment feels like a welcome reprieve. Lando’s mouth is warm, insistent but unhurried, and you let yourself get lost in it for a while, your fingers tangling in his hair.

When you finally pull back, he looks up at you, flushed and grinning.

“Good start,” he says, his voice a little breathless.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Really?”

“Okay, maybe a little,” he admits, his grin widening.

Shaking your head, you shift your attention downward. The ribbon, the mistletoe — it’s so absurd you have to laugh.

“Did you seriously tie this yourself?” You ask, running a finger lightly along the edge of the ribbon.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Fine, yes. Took me a solid twenty minutes, too. Those stupid YouTube tutorials make it look way easier than it is.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, “you’re still here.”

You meet his gaze, your laughter fading. The teasing, playful look in his eyes hasn’t disappeared, but there’s something else there now — something softer, more vulnerable. It’s the look he gets when he’s reminding you, without words, just how much you mean to him.

“Well,” you say quietly, “it is Christmas.”

“And you’ve got to follow the rules,” he murmurs.

“Right.”

The bed creaks slightly as you shift again, positioning yourself more comfortably. You lean down, pressing another kiss to his lips — gentler this time, more lingering. Then you trail kisses along his jaw, his collarbone, the faint dusting of freckles across his chest.

Lando lets out a soft, contented sigh, his hands finding your hips again. “You’re taking this very seriously,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement.

“I’m nothing if not thorough.”

“Lucky me.”

You glance up at him briefly, smirking. “You’ve no idea.”

When you finally reach the ribbon, you pause, your lips hovering just above it. Lando’s breathing hitches slightly, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Merry Christmas, Lando,” you murmur.

“Best Christmas ever,” he replies, his voice low and fervent.

And then, with deliberate slowness, you kiss him under the mistletoe.

You pause for a beat, the mistletoe brushing lightly against your cheek. Lando’s breathing is heavier now, his chest rising and falling beneath you. He’s trying to stay still, but his fingers dig into your skin, betraying how much control he’s losing.

“You alright up there?” You ask, teasing, your voice low.

“You know I’m not,” he mutters, his words strained.

“Good.”

And with that, you continue. Deliberate. Unhurried. Every movement of your mouth is purposeful, every touch designed to unravel him. Lando groans, low and broken, the sound rumbling through the quiet room like a storm on the horizon.

“Fuck, you’re …” He cuts himself off, his head tipping back into the pillow. His hands flex against your hips, as if holding you steady is the only thing grounding him.

“Say it,” you murmur, barely pulling away for a second.

He glances down at you, his hazel eyes dark and glassy. “You’re killing me,” he manages, his voice hoarse.

You smile, the corners of your mouth curving just slightly before you return to your task. Lando’s hands slip from your shoulders, clutching the sheets instead. He’s completely undone now — his breathing ragged, his head thrown back, his body trembling beneath you.

“F-fuck … close,” he stammers, his words tumbling out like he’s barely holding them together.

You hum softly in acknowledgment, the vibration of it drawing a sharp, involuntary gasp from him. It’s all he can take.

He breaks.

A strangled sound escapes his throat as his body tenses, and you taste the telltale musky warmth on your tongue. You stay where you are for a moment, letting him ride out the high, his grip on the sheets going slack.

When it’s over, you pull back slowly, swallowing before wiping at the corner of your mouth. One drop clings stubbornly to your lip, and you swipe it away with your thumb, catching Lando’s hazy, satisfied gaze as you do.

“You alright there?” You ask softly, your tone light but full of affection.

“Barely,” he mutters, his voice thick. He exhales sharply, his chest still heaving as he lets his head fall to the side, watching you with a dazed grin. “You’re-”

“What?” You tilt your head innocently, wiping your hand on a tissue before tossing it onto the nightstand.

“Perfect,” he finishes, his voice soft and full of something deeper than just the moment.

You laugh quietly, crawling up the bed to lie beside him. He pulls you close immediately, one arm draped over your waist, the other brushing back a strand of hair from your face.

“Was this your master plan all along?” You tease, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Maybe,” he admits, still catching his breath.

“And?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You roll your eyes but smile against his skin. “Merry Christmas, Lando.”

“Happy Christmas,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with exhaustion and contentment.

For a moment, neither of you says anything more. The only sound is the quiet crackle of the fire in the distance, and the world beyond the bedroom feels miles away.

Eventually, Lando breaks the silence. “So … same thing next year?”

You shove him playfully, laughing as his grin widens. “Go to sleep.”

And with him wrapped around you, the warmth of his love settling over you like a blanket, you do.

***

The morning light creeps through the curtains, warm and soft, a stark contrast to the frantic energy in the room. You stir awake first, stretching lazily until you feel Lando shift beside you, letting out a low, uncomfortable groan.

“Ugh,” he mutters, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean, wrong?” You mumble sleepily, rolling over to look at him.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just shifts again, his body stiff and tense. Then he sits up abruptly, wincing as if every movement hurts.

“Lando?” You ask, more alert now.

“It … hurts,” he says, glancing down at himself. “Like, bad.”

You follow his gaze, and that’s when you see it. The redness. The swelling.

“Oh my God,” you say, your voice shooting up an octave. You sit up fully, the sleepiness disappearing in an instant. “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” He exclaims, his face a mixture of panic and embarrassment. “It was fine last night!”

“Well, it’s not fine now!” You scoot closer, carefully inspecting the irritated skin. It’s blotchy, bright red, and looks alarmingly angry.

“It’s swollen,” he groans.

“No kidding.”

“What do we do?” He asks, his voice bordering on frantic.

“First, calm down,” you say, though your own voice isn’t exactly steady. “Second … oh my God, Lando, do you think it’s the mistletoe?”

His eyes widen as the realization hits. “You think I’m allergic?”

“Do you have any idea where that stuff’s been stored? It’s probably coated in dust or pollen or something. Or-” Your voice catches. “Do you think you’ve always been allergic?”

“I’ve never, uh … put it on my cock before, so how would I know?”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, panic simmering between you.

“We need help,” Lando says finally.

“Like … a doctor?”

“No!” He yelps. “We’re not going to a doctor for this!”

“Then what-”

“Call Jon,” he blurts out, cutting you off.

“What?” You ask, incredulous. “Your performance coach?”

“Yeah! He knows, like, medical stuff. And he won’t make it weird.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow but grab your phone anyway, scrolling to Jon’s number. “Oh, this isn’t going to be awkward at all,” you mutter as it rings.

“Hello?” Jon answers, sounding far too chipper for the situation.

“Uh, hi, Jon,” you begin, exchanging a look with Lando. “It’s Y/N. Lando and I have … a bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Jon asks, his voice immediately shifting to professional concern.

“Well …” You trail off, glancing at Lando, who gestures frantically for you to continue. “It’s kind of … personal.”

“Y/N,” Jon says patiently, “you’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

You let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Okay, fine. Lando’s … area is swollen and covered in a rash.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“… Come again?” Jon finally says, and you can practically hear him trying not to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Lando shouts from the bed. “It’s serious!”

“Oh, it’s serious?” Jon repeats, his voice full of barely concealed amusement. “Alright. How did this happen?”

You hesitate, then mumble, “He … tied mistletoe to it last night.”

Jon doesn’t reply immediately, but the faint sound of him choking back laughter comes through the line.

“Can you help or not?” Lando snaps, his cheeks flushing red — whether from anger or embarrassment, you’re not sure.

“Okay, okay,” Jon says, his tone softening. “It’s probably an allergic reaction. Clean the area thoroughly, apply a topical antihistamine if you have one, and keep it elevated to reduce swelling.”

“Elevated?” You echo, frowning. “How are we supposed to-”

“Just do your best,” Jon says, clearly suppressing a laugh again. “And if it doesn’t improve in a few hours, you might need to, uh … consult a professional.”

“Thanks, Jon,” you say quickly, hanging up before Lando can yell again.

Lando groans, flopping back onto the bed. “This is the worst Christmas ever.”

“You’ll survive,” you say, grabbing the first-aid kit from the bathroom. “Now, let me see.”

“This is humiliating,” he mutters, but he doesn’t resist as you sit beside him, carefully applying the ointment Jon suggested.

“Hold still,” you say gently, your touch careful.

He winces but doesn’t complain further, watching you with a mix of gratitude and lingering embarrassment. After a few minutes, the redness looks slightly less angry, though the swelling is still noticeable.

Once you’re done, you sit back with a sigh, your hands on your knees. “Well, that was a bonding experience.”

Lando lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, not exactly what I had planned.”

You glance at him, your lips twitching upward despite everything. “So … was it worth it?”

He grins, some of his usual confidence returning. “Next year, I’ll make sure to have an epipen ready.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Next year, maybe let’s stick to normal traditions. Like cookies. Or matching pajamas.”

“We’ll see,” he says, smirking as he leans back against the pillows. “I’ve still got a whole year to think of something even better.”

“God help us all,” you mutter, but there’s affection in your voice.

And despite the chaos, as you settle back into bed beside him, you can’t help but think it’s still a Christmas to remember.

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bbokicidal · 2 days ago

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"What Happens When.." | [SKZ] OT8| [SEUNGMIN]

Hyunjin makes a bet that Seungmin can't satisfy his girl with just his hands - so he decides to prove him wrong. And with an audience.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Seungmin x Fem!Reader Warnings: orgasm denial, edging, lots of teasing, meandom!seungmin (kind of), fingering, spit (f receiving), masturbation (m)

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol. <- And thank you to everyone who waited so patiently for this while I went through my writers block rut, hahaha.

Word Count: 1.2K

"I... guess I was wrong." Hyunjin murmurs out more to himself than anyone else.

He'd been dumb enough to make a bet against the one, the only, Kim Seungmin. And the decision was dumb because he should've known better that Seungmin wouldn't back down from a challenge - especially when it had to do with you. Hyunjin wouldn't make any more bets against him in the future, that's for sure. Not after seeing the way you squirmed on your boyfriend's fingers like he was sucking the life out of you; The way you writhed against the sheets, back arching up off of the mattress and hips wriggling in a way that showed him - and everyone else in the room - that you only wanted more.

Though Hyunjin wasn't the only one so openly ogling your reactions. Some of the members had taken to glancing away either because they were too shy to stare or were too busy getting themselves off. But then there were the members who just loved to watch - those two being Jisung and Minho. While the younger of the two was watching in a more curious, excited manner with his hand down his pants tugging on his cock while it made a leaky mess in his boxers - Minho's gaze was far more... heavy. His eyes were dark, filled with lust as his head tipped down and he watched the scene play out in front of him through thick lashes. He'd restrained from touching himself at all, just a tad more resilient than his younger counterpart, but had been kind enough to himself to let his thighs fall apart. So he sat, manspreading in the chair in the corner of the room with a gaze as heavy as lead, just watching you fall apart for one of the youngest in the group.

"Gonna come?" Seungmin's tone is nothing short of teasing. His voice lilts with interest at the way you nod up to him, hair ruffling against the sheets as if the way your body reacted to his thumb pressing against your clit wasn't enough to tell him you were close. Your boyfriend chuckles, breathing out a laugh as he carefully slows his pace. Your body thrashes for a moment in annoyance before settling back down on the sheets, letting him do as he pleased because ultimately - he was in control here. "Hey," Seungmin bites, using his free hand to slap your pussy just as his movements stop. "None of that tantrum shit. Don't you want to behave in front of the others?"

"Don't think I'm ever gonna forget this," Felix's words don't fall on deaf ears. Seungmin looks up from where he sat between your thighs, fingers continuing to pump into your pussy so quickly it had you beginning to squirm and lift your hips off of the sheets. Felix sits up near the headboard, one hand laying on the pillow under his weight while the other rubs over his groin overtop his jeans. The feeling of the denim rubbing against his hard cock was something close to Heaven on Earth for him right now. Seungmin watches, letting his eyes wander over his Hyung for just a moment, before glancing beside him to the maknae - who was falling apart way faster than the Aussie.

Jeongin was in shambles. He'd been tugging on his cock since the moment you'd stripped naked in front of them, letting your boyfriend prove himself to his closest friends, and now he was just melting into the sheets. Slumped against the headboard and audibly whimpering just loud enough to be heard if one listened in closely - Jeongin let his eyes drag over your body where you lay in front of him. "You're being kind of - mean, don't you think, Hyung? Teasing her.." His hand slowed just for a moment as you moved to tip your head to the side, grateful the youngest had spoke up for you, moaning out and whimpering against his skin. He was close enough that when your head turned, your lips made contact with the bare skin of his thigh - his pants long discarded on the floor nearby. And the feeling of your breath fanning over his skin made him visibly tremble, cum leaking from the tip of his cock before he could even comprehend what was happening.

"I don't think I've ever seen him this determined," Changbin murmurs to someone to his left. His arms are crossed over his chest and he stands leaning against the wall - refusing to give in as easily as most of the others. He was one of the one who wouldn't look directly at you - at your tits swaying each time Seungmin got a little more rough with you, or the way you body arched and crooned into every move your boyfriend made. Not because he didn't want to, but because the sight of you looking so... desperate in front of all of them because Changbin a bit .. shy, with his ears painted a warm, bubbling crimson - and the color draining down to swatch his neck as well. But how was he supposed to ignore the sounds of your pussy clenching around your boyfriend's fingers - and the way he could see you practically drooling out of his peripheral vision...

Beside him, Chan was.. more than willing to look. He liked to touch, even, letting his fingertips brush over your cheek and watching your mouth open like you wanted to welcome him in. The eldest leaned down and for a moment, your breathing hitched, thinking he looked awfully big hovering over you in such a way - broad and thick and heavy, just like the cock that strained against his boxers begging to be freed. Your eyes dart up from between his legs and you stare as his tongue pushes along the inside of his lips. He gathers the spit on his tongue before giving it to you inside - spitting right onto your own and watching as you close your mouth to swallow it down. And you can't just ignore the soft "Good girl," that escapes his lips shortly after.

And Seungmin can't ignore the way you react. The way your body jolts up off of the sheets as your gut turns into knots, aching for release. He knows the signs - knows you'll squirt all over the sheets if he doesn't stop now - so he all but rips his hand away and watches as your body writhes in, once again, frustration. The warmth between your legs slowly begins to fade away as your boyfriend sits back, laughing at the way your nose crinkles and your eyes squeeze shut in hope that it's just a dream. "It's okay, baby," He soothes, both hands slowly running up the expanse of your inner thighs until his thumbs could spread you open for him all over again. Seungmin sits forward and leans down to spit right on your clit, your hips jutting at the sudden feeling.

"One more time, yeah? You've already done such a good job putting on a show for them. You can handle one more."

- Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

#skz imagine #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin imagine #seungmin smut #skz ot8 x reader #ot8 x reader #Kpop smut #Kpop imagine #Kpop x reader

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hxney-lemcn · 3 days ago

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First Kiss — The Leftovers x gn! reader

summery: your first kiss with your lover.

tw: none.

a/n: I wasn't sure what to call the students who aren't vice/housewardens so now they're deemed the leftovers (sorry Cater 😔). Also, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

wc: 2.6k (~340 per character)

Master List | Housewardens | Vicehousewardens

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Cater Diamond

The atmosphere was warm and soft as you both were hanging out in Cater’s room, is what I would like to say, but it was anything but that. You and Cater decided to have a ‘picnic’ (it wasn’t planned, you both bought your lunches and went to eat in the courtyard) and apparently your confession was a little too hot. What did your blabbermouth happen to say (was it really a blabbermouth if you were just telling a trusted friend something personal)? Well, you happened to let slip that you haven’t had your first kiss yet, and for some reason Cater couldn’t wrap his head around that. He didn’t seem to know how to react, mouth opening and closing as he doubted your sentence. You were so pretty and he found himself falling for you so easily, so the thought of no one else seeing you the way he does left him flabbergasted. And the juicy gossip he was (he just needed to understand this better), he kept prying; ‘weren’t you curious?’ yes, ‘has no one asked to?’ no, ‘has no one asked you out?’ no. That last went sent him on a whole other spiral, but he tried to store that in his head for another time. By the end of his little interrogation, he felt frustrated for you. And sevens, that bashful, saddened look made his heart plummet, and gosh did he want to kiss you silly, to prove whatever false things were rattling in your mind at that moment were wrong, and it seemed that Cater’s control was slipping, the suggestion spilling past his lips before he could stop it; ‘we could kiss, just so you know what it feels like.’ His heart leapt as you eyed him like you were actually pondering it, and that little nod of your head made his heart race. The kiss was soft, hesitant, unsure, but sweet. Hands were kept to themselves, unsure how far you were both willing to cross the line, and as you pulled away, the both of you could only long for more.

“W-well, if th-there’s any other firsts you want to break, caycay’s always here~”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Deuce Spade

The both of you just had the most spectacular date, you had a ton of fun and Deuce seemed to enjoy himself as well. The boy had been a blushing mess, tripping over words and trying to be as gentlemanly as possible, and you were eating up the cute display. He had argued that he couldn’t let you walk home alone, and so there you stood, on your doorstep just a few inches taller than normal. Deuce watched diligently, like there was a chance you would get hurt in the two steps it would take you to get inside (after what you experienced on campus it was a very real fear). You smiled softly at the dark haired boy, thanking him for the wonderful date. In return he managed to blush once more, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to formulate a proper response. So, to tease the poor guy some more, you leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek, watching on in amusement as Deuce seemed to shut down. You hid your cheeky grin behind your hand as he spluttered, trying to say something, but he managed to cut you off guard as he stared in wonder, face a bright red, muttering out ‘could…could you do that again?’. Who were you to deny him? Holding his cheeks, you placed another kiss, this time on the corner of his lips before you found yourself showering his entire face in kisses. You weren’t sure where all this affection was coming from, but neither of you were complaining. As you pulled away once more, you bit your lip before acting on impulse and leaving the lightest, barely there peck on his lips.

“I-I…u-uh…th-thank you. I…I hope we can go on another date…soon.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Ace Trappola

You were rightfully pissed. Ace had been teasing you nonstop about how ‘nobody wanted to date you’, and honestly? It was starting to get under your skin, your old (and normal) insecurities popping up once more. You have been working on it! And just like that he had erased your hard work in improving your mental health. And so what were you doing? Giving him the silent treatment. If he was going to be a jerk then you were going to ignore him. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle it, as Ace had been finding any and every way to get on your nerves. You clenched your fist as Ace continued to poke your cheek. You were either going to bite his finger off or twist his arm behind his back if he was going to keep this up. It wasn’t until he asked the dreaded question; ‘what did he do to get you so angry?’ The dam had been broken, and you found yourself venting all your frustrations on him, from his insults to how it affected you, it was all released. The look of horror on the ginger’s face made you feel somewhat satisfied. You were a bit surprised when he apologized so heartfeltly, he genuinely looked appalled at his own behavior for once. It was only a few weeks later when things took a turn. Ace was sleeping at your dorm, and the two of you were hanging out when he asked an out of pocket question; ‘do you wanna kiss?’ It was late, he was too tired to keep his filter up, and gosh did you look kissable (it was the main reason why he was teasing you in the first place). Against your better judgment, you agreed. The kiss was awkward, neither of you sure how far to go, but you’re kinda angry at how much you liked it.

“...you’re better at that than I thought…n-not that I think of kissing you or anything-”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Jack Howl

You watched the weirdo in front of you with a blank face, wishing you could be anywhere but there. This guy decided he wanted to flirt with you, and he was doing it in the worst way possible. I mean who tries to pick someone up by asking to kiss them outright? You kept glancing at Jack, who stood intimidatingly next to you, buff arms crossed as he glared at the guy, but made no move to say anything. You felt a sneer fall over your lips unconsciously as the guy continued to try and shoot his shot, couldn’t he see he was getting nowhere? You tried to let him down nicely before, so this time you decided to be more blunt, stating that you weren’t interested and you don’t just go out kissing people. That was when the guy lashed out, crying out about how you were a jerk, that you were just like everyone else who only cared about themselves. It was when he looked like he was reaching out for you, and you flinched back for Jack to step in (quite literally). Standing in front of you his glare turned dangerous, fangs showing as he snarled, telling the guy to get lost. The both of you finally relaxed when the guy scrambled to get away, leaving you with the wolf beastman. ‘Thank you,’ You muttered, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. A smug smile tugged at your lips as Jack glanced away, a soft pink dusting his tanned cheeks. ‘Oh, did I miss?’ you teased, eyes catching the way his ear twitched. So, as the merciful person you were, you leaned up and left a small, short, gentle kiss to his lips.

“Hm, i-if you find yourself in need of help, d-don’t be afraid to come to me.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Floyd Leech

You had already found yourself in a tough predicament. You were in the clutches of Floyd Leech when he was in a bad mood. Sure, he was the one who sought you out to squeeze, but you wanted to make sure you didn’t make it worse in any way. So you resigned yourself to your fate as his personal human plushie as he squeezed you from time to time, burying his face in your neck as he grumbled on unintelligently about one thing and another. You brushed your hands through his hair, placing small kisses to the top of his head here and there, feeling relieved as he started to melt in your hold, teeth scraping against your skin as he smiled. You shivered at the sensation, hair on end once more. ‘Oh shrimpy~’ he cooed, giggling like a mad man, face suddenly very much in your own. ‘I wanna kiss’. The request was simple, blunt, but it still left you reeling. You weren’t sure why, in fact, you should be surprised it took so long for him to ask for one, but you still found your eyes widening and breath hitching at the spontaneity of it all. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it (you suppose that was the appeal to Floyd). You could barely get out the words okay before Floyd pressed his lips to yours in a harsh manner, teeth clashing, lips being bit, hand on the back of your head so you couldn’t pull away. In fact, he wouldn’t stop kissing you, it seemed like forever until he finally got his fill.

“Hehe, you better watch out shrimpy~ I’m already craving another.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Epel Felmier

Your eyes widened as you eyed the intricately carved apple, turning it around to catch every detail. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve such a gift, but you were flattered nonetheless, your eyes finally raising up to meet Epel’s cyan ones. He looked bashful, cheeks tinted a light pink, eyes unable to meet your own. He tripped over his words, trying to make an excuse, stating that no one else was around so you might as well have it (you’ll ignore the fact that there were, in fact, people swarming around the cafeteria like flies). Without a second thought, you gave him a short peck on the cheek and continued business as usual. It wasn’t until Epel kept doing things for you, something that had only recently started. Epel…wasn’t mean by any means, but he also wasn’t one to help someone from the kindness of his heart. Sure, he’d do something for you before while complaining a ton, but recently he had been doing things without you even asking! It was strange, and he always seemed expectant afterwards, like he was expecting you to do something. Not to mention the little pout he thought he hid when you didn’t seem to do what he was anticipating. So, you decided to confront him, asking him outright what he wanted. Of course, he deflected, stating that he didn’t want anything and you were being crazy. A claim he wasn’t able to hide behind for long as you pointed out all the strange ways he’s been acting. Face burning red, Epel turned away, trying to keep his composure, but you seemed to be determined to break it. Your serious gaze locked onto his figure, there was no getting away from this now. And so, he admitted meekly that he wanted a kiss, and who were you to deny him? With a playful grin, you placed a kiss to his lips, reveling in the way he pushed against you like he was desperate (he had been waiting for this for so long). Pulling away, you teased that he only needed to ask if he wanted another kiss.

“I-I…d-damn, fine…do ya think we could do that again?”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Silver Vanrouge

A warm breeze tousled Silver’s white locks, his steel grey eyes hidden behind his shut eyelids. His head rested in your lap, face pressed into your thighs. Squirrels and song birds fluttered around you, a small chickadee nestled on the top of your head. It was peaceful, a nice change of pace from your usual chaotic days. As beautiful as the scenery was around you, with green grass fluttering in the wind and colorful flowers swaying about, your gaze couldn’t help but fall down to the occupant in your lap. How his lashes kissed his cheeks, how the sun made his hair shine, how soft his skin was under the pads of your fingers. Silver has become the most breathtaking sight in your eyes, and the bird that roosted in your hair seemed to agree as it let out a soft series of cheeps that smoothed into a blissful melody. You couldn’t help but think about how much better your life has become once he entered your life, how sweet and protective he was, how sassy he could be when his father made an offer to cook. You had come to love all his quirks, how he could drift off to sleep in even the loudest environment or how he’d try to stay up just for you. Unable to hold your affections in for much longer, you placed a kiss against his cheek, heart fluttering when Silver’s lips tugged into a smile. So what else would you do besides lavish his face in sweet kisses? His eyes fluttered open, and you couldn’t help the huge grin that fell on your lips as he looked up at you affectionately. You greeted him with a kiss to the corner of his lips, a cheesy good morning following. The way he stared at you made your heart flutter and stomach tie in knots, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sleepily, Silver followed your lips without a second thought connecting them in a warm kiss before pulling away sharply, eyes wide as he apologized for not asking for consent, only to be shut up by your lips meeting once more.

“So it's not a dream…thank you.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Sebek Zigvolt

You felt your eye twitch, trying your hardest to keep your composure. It felt like one step forward ten steps backwards when it came to Sebek. You thought you’d finally got to him in some way, only for him to be shouting at you once more for the same thing the next day. Which was happening right now, with him yelling at you about being some lowly human. Just the other day you had a one on one about how those comments hurt you, and he seemed to genuinely understand, so why the hell was he shouting at you again. You had tried throwing insults back, you had tried communicating like a mature person, you had even slapped him once and stormed away in tears! What the hell did you need to do to get through to this hard headed crocodile? Your glare turned sharp as Sebek continued, rambling on about one thing or another. Your exasperation taking over, you grabbed his tie, pulling his face close to yours as you sneered. You were so upset, you didn’t even notice how your noses were touching, instead tearing into Sebek instead. You also didn’t realize how Sebek turned silent, golden green eyes locked onto your figure, cheeks slowly but surely turning bright red. You let out a huff as your rant ended, raising an eyebrow at the half fae’s current state, then suddenly it clicked and an evil grin upturned your lips. Curling your fingers around his tie, you inched your face even closer (somehow), lips hovering over the other. You debated if you should do the evil thing, pull away and leave him hanging, but you also had the urge to kiss him stupid…letting your own desires win, you pushed your lips together in a heated kiss. Sebek was stiff as a board, but slowly melted into the kiss, only for you to pull away, biting his lip in the process.

“Wh-where are you going, human! You cannot k-kiss a knight and walk away without an explanation! H-hey! W-wait up-”

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starboye · 3 days ago

Text

starring: alexander "konig" kilgore x male reader

request: just thinking about innocent naive reader getting corrupted and not even noticing a single thing because he just want to be a good friend. . .

warnings: smut + angst, yander!konig, kinda obsessive, handjob

konig was such a good friend to you, he would never do anything to hurt such a pretty thing like you and plus you were both best friends so nothing was ever kept a secret between you two, so imagine konigs' face when you announce you have a date with some guy.

watching his face crack into a soft smile and telling you how happy he is for you but behind those eyes he was mad as hell, i mean who does this new guy think he is to try and take you from him, and it gets even worse when you come back from the date the next night and tell konig about how you loved it so much with the biggest smile on your face.

as much as he wants to feel happy for you he just cant imagine anyone else stealing him from you so he makes up a lie "i don't know about him y/n" he blankly making you question him "what do you mean" you ask him "i just have a weird feeling about him" he continues looking at you with the most beautiful eyes "well what if you just get to know him" you try to give an idea but konig pipes up with "you know my gut feeling is usually always right"

and he was kinda right i mean there was that one time you had feeling for this one guy and it turned out he was actually arrested for murder, or at least that's what konig told you (he pulled some strings at the police station and got what he wanted) "well then yeah i guess i can stop seeing him" you say and within seconds konigs arms are wrapped around you and he's thanking you for trusting him.

and queue the constant run of you finding a good guy and konig coercing you to stop seeing them because he has a 'gut feeling' and you trust him, but really he just wants you all to himself, making you depend on him more and more as time goes on by telling you if you ever need help with anything to call him and you do, calling him for even the littlest inconvenience.

whether that be helping you fix something or letting you cry on his shoulder when you get layed of from your job (after he pulled a few more strings and made it seem like you were a bad employee) and offering you a room at his place since you were short on money and couldn't pay your bills.

with you moved in now he can be so much closer to you, sneaking through your things at any chance he could and whats this it seems like you need some new clothes since all yours seem to be gone (he used all of them to jerk off and now they're ruined with his cum) so he takes you to the mall, carrying all your bags as you go to every store getting all the things you want, but hm it seems you need some help trying on those pants why doesn't he help you.

"you sure you're okay with that" you ask him "yeah it's what friends are for" he says helping you but on the jeans that hugged your ass so well, it was no surprise he got a boner, it straining so hard in his pants he just needed some release "fuck baby i need your help" he groans "what's wrong konig" you asked and he moved your hand to the aching bulge in his sweatpants "please just this once" he pleaded and after some consideration you agreed, i mean it was just a one time thing between two friends right.

pulling his pants down his thick cock flops out and you immediately work on fixing it for him, his grip tightening on the top of the dressing room door, your hand rubbing back and forth on his achingly hard boner, this was like his dream, he had thought about this exact thing so much, jerked off to the thought and feel of it but the real things is so much better than he hand.

"fucking shit y/n" he muttered before cumming on your hand, thick load messing up your hand as he let out shuddering breaths, and after that it became a regular thing, konig being all needy and asking you to come help him get off since you did it best (in reality you weren't the best at it but don't worry he'll train you soon enough).

and time after time it seemed you liked it more and more to the enjoyment of konig, maybe just a few more times and you'll tell him how you've had feeling for him to right?

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

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elflutter · 3 days ago

Text

— santa baby

santa!joel x f!reader

synopsis

you find an intruder dressed like santa in the living room of your childhood home on christmas eve. what could go wrong? or, you learn that santa is real. and extremely charming. and handsome. and he fucks, hard.

wordcount: 5.6k

ao3 | masterlist | fic notifs

tags/warnings: explicit (18+ mdni), christmas fluff/humor/smut, rom-com vibes, crack/silly fic treated semi-seriously, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is a mid 20's grad student, joel is in his 50's), unprotected piv, pet names (baby, baby girl, sweetheart, honey, little girl), brief daddy kink, santa kink(?), joel is santa, soft!joel, strangers to lovers, reader initially thinks joel is an intruder that poses a threat but is never actually in danger, so light thriller elements

When your eyes flutter open, it takes a moment to process the sight before you. Firelight still crackles in the hearth; the comforting scent of freshly baked cookies wafting in from the kitchen. The picturesque tableau of the perfect living room on Christmas Eve is interrupted by only one issue: the presence of large black boots standing before the mantle, attached to a towering man in a fur-lined red coat.

The first possibility— you’re dreaming. You must have been drunker than you thought when you dozed off in the plush lounge chair earlier that evening, warmed by the fire across from you. You do have weird dreams after drinking too much.

But... you only had a couple glasses of eggnog. Your blood alcohol content is definitely not high enough to be dreaming up a stranger decked head to toe in red sneaking around your parent's living room in the middle of the night. If this were a dream, the stranger would at least have a decent beard to complete the Santa look, right? The patchy shit framing his jaw is, quite frankly, an insult to mall Santas and Christmas card illustrators everywhere.

Trudging through the dregs of sleep, each thought like pushing through molasses. You rub your eyes to clear your head as your mind settles on the horrifying, disastrous, second possibility. Some fucking psycho is in your parents living room, on Christmas Eve, dressed like Santa Claus.

The stranger hasn't noticed you open your eyes, back still turned towards you, broad shoulders on display where the velvet of his coat pulls taut. His body shifts as he reaches for something above the hearth, adjusting the stockings… And methodically removing them from the hooks on the mantel! Is this motherfucker really swiping the stockings you and your siblings managed to hand-sew as a gift to your parents a few years ago? They aren’t even full of stocking stuffers yet! Not to mention that they are, quite frankly, of shitty construction and devoid of any material worth. What did this asshole want with them?

Rage simmers within you like a pot of water left too long on the stove, but fear wins out as reality washes over you—stock-still in your seat, blood frozen over in an icy river beneath your skin. There is a burglar just feet away from you, his huge shoulders filling out the joke of a red jacket he wears, strong frame easily visible beneath the costume. And your family won’t be able to clamber downstairs fast enough to stop him from doing some serious damage to you even if your scream did wake them up. So… motionless you remain.

You must have been asleep when he walked in. And he had left you alone. Pretty shit move for a burglar– probably should have chosen a house without a 20 something year old passed out in the living room, but okay. Whatever. Maybe you can just close your eyes, pretend you never woke up, and he won't hurt you.

But then knock off Santa does something unexpected—he puts the stocking back on its hook, hanging a little heavier now. What kind of thief is this guy? He definitely isn't very good at it.

Maybe… the icy river rages back to life in your veins, dread cracking through its frozen surface. Maybe he isn't a burglar at all. Maybe he put something dangerous in the stocking like poison, or a bomb, or—

Shit. Fuck. You are definitely alone, in the middle of the night, with some sick fucking Santa themed serial killer.

Strange man? yes.

Breaking and entering? Yes.

In the dead of night? Yes.

Burglar? Definitely not.

Deranged serial killer is like, the next option down the list. To someone else, burglar to serial killer may seem to be a large jump to make. But in this moment of pure panic, you find no other logical conclusions.

Serial-killer-Santa has moved onto the next stocking, rummaging for something in the bag slung over his shoulder, still facing away from you.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Your body is wide awake now, each second passing in slow-motion while Serial-killer-Santa fills each of your family’s stockings with who-knows-what. Whatever it is can’t be good. Right?

What is this guy’s plan? Does whatever he put in the stockings do the job? Is he filling them up for shits and giggles before going around the house and doing it himself? And, most importantly, what the fuck are you supposed to do?

There is no way you can get past him unnoticed to grab a knife from the kitchen. Gears turn as you run through your options. Something close by will have to do. Your eyes scan the room for anything you could use to fight him off.

There is no way you’re letting this fucking creep kill your whole family on Christmas Eve. Who the fuck does that?

Finally, your eyes fall upon your saving grace. Wrought iron fire tools, old-fashioned and quaint in their appearance in their stand beside the fireplace. They could also very well be your doom—they sit just few feet away from fucked up Santa. He could turn at any moment and see what you’re doing. Without the element of surprise, you have nothing.

You shift in your seat, holding in your breath as you wait for the creak of furniture that never comes. Without even breathing a sigh of relief, you inch across the plush rug covering the old wooden floor, lowered to all fours. Each movement is calculated, your body taut with tension. Knee, forward, stop.�� Hand, forward, stop. Over and over, for what feels like en eternity. Breath held until your hands wrap around the handle of the little shovel standing beside the hearth.

Fucked up Santa is an arm’s length away as you draw the shovel up and out of its holder, careful not to make a sound. Between the shovel and the fire-poker, you figure blunt force trauma is the more dependable option. Just knock him in the head, and you’ll be safe. Feet tuck beneath your knees, knees beneath your hips, hamstrings burning as you push yourself up little by little. Until, with a swing backwards for momentum, you bring it down on Santa’s head hard.

Did it just fucking bounce off his skull?

You try again.

Bounce.

Again.

Bounce.

Again, again, again.

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

What the fuck?

Panic surges through you, a sinking pit where your stomach should be. What little control you had over the situation is ripped from your grasp and it leaves your mind reeling as you try to come up with a new plan to get out of this encounter intact. The bored drawl of his voice finally rouses you from your racing thoughts.

“You done?”

The shovel is still held tight in your grasp, ready for another swing, when those big brown eyes disarm you. His forehead is creased into a scowl and his lips are slightly downturned at the corners, like you are nothing more than a pestering inconvenience. But those damn eyes—burnt amber and gentle; they draw you in like a fly to honey.

You’re certain your eyes bulge out of their sockets, your mouth hanging open like a fish out of water, stunned as you’re caught between drinking in the sight of him like the sweetest ambrosia, and knocking him upside the head one more time to see if it’ll take.

Maybe-serial-killer Santa drags a huge, gloved palm down his face; body sagging in exhaustion or frustration as he lets out a breath. The bag he had been holding flops on the ground beside him.

You track the movement of his hands—are the gloves to keep from leaving any DNA behind?

He must feel the fear radiating from your body because he holds his palms out like you’re a baby deer he’s trying not to scare off. “Look, I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

Great, the devastatingly sexy trespasser tampering with your fireplace says he won’t hurt you. Luckily criminals are known for their credibility!

The man nods encouragingly when you don’t bolt after his first statement. “This is my last stop of the night before flyin’ back home.”

Your eyebrows draw together. It’s not like you can run, so the only option you see is to engage with this weirdo. There aren’t any flights out this late, the airport is closed. Is he rich, or is he delusional?

“What like, a private jet or something?”

His lips quirk up in a smirk, “like reindeer.”

Oh, great. Delusional. Maybe your sense of self preservation is finally depleted, because you scoff.

His grin widens. “Don’t believe me?”

“Reindeer don’t fly, asshole. ‘Specially not for delusional intruders on Christmas Eve.”

His chuckle is soft and warm, comforting like a fresh cup of cocoa.

“I’d say that’s the only type ‘a person they fly for, sweetheart.”

Knock off Santa does have a point. And the term of endearment has your blood rushing between your legs. But, still. There’s no way… right?

“Ya want to see?”

So. Your life just got a lot weirder. It turns out Serial-killer-Santa isn’t Serial-killer-Santa at all. The reality is even more improbable than that: he’s just… regular Santa. Old Saint Nick. Father Christmas. With reindeer and snow magic to prove it. You think those melting-chocolate eyes have something to do with how quickly you accept the whole thing—kneeling in fresh snow with a stranger in the front yard well past midnight, hairy whiskers and warm breath against your skin as a reindeer eats straight from your palm.

Not-fucked-up-Santa’s gaze weighs heavy in your chest. A soft grin tugs at his lips. There is something enchanting about the way he looks at you, the way he carries himself. Gruff and sure, with warm eyes and secret smiles that belied his rough exterior. On his knees beside you, he affectionately scratches behind another reindeer’s ears.

The snow is freezing where it melts through your pajama pants, but the warmth in your chest makes it all worthwhile. You can’t believe you thought this guy was some kind of evil psycho. After you spent the last half an hour together in the front yard, you swear he reminds you of an overgrown teddy bear.

You nod towards the reindeer he’s petting. “What’s its name?”

“Prancer.”

Your laugh rings like a bell, rising into the night sky. You shake your head with upturned lips. “Prancer like in the songs?”

The man nods. “Just like ‘em.”

You look down, suddenly shy, eyes tracing reflections of Christmas lights atop the fresh coat of snow.

“So, what about you?” You ask, realizing you aren’t actually sure what to call him.

He cups both sides of Prancer’s face playfully, the reindeer leaning into get more chin scratches. He responds absentmindedly, “What about me?”

“What should I call you?” You ask, recalling different names you’ve heard over the years. “Santa Claus? Kris Kringle? Saint Nicholas?”

“The name’s Joel.”

Your head quirks to the side, surprised. “Joel like Jolly?”

He huffs a low chuckle, standing up with a fond pat on Prancer’s back. The lights lining the roof glint in his silver hair. “Joel like it’s what my momma named me.”

You raise to your feet as well, snow crunching beneath the slippers you slid on before following Santa—Joel—outside.

He rests gloved hands on his hips, standing with one knee popped out a little. Assessing you like he knows what you’ll say next.

“So… what’s with the other names?”

His little grins are becoming a familiar sight, warming your bones like the living room hearth. “Only started this gig a few years back.” Joel tilts his head upwards, taking in the inky black sky and its silver dusting of stars.

“Kris was the last guy. Before that it was Nick.” He lets out a sigh, breath a white cloud; nodding towards the team of animals harnessed to his sleigh. “The reindeer live forever. Santas… not quite. Usually get about a millennium, give or take a few decades.”

You nod, processing. “What Christmas is this for you?”

Joel rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “The third.”

Your eyes widen and you can’t help but laugh. Even if it is a little morbid. “Wait, Santa died two years ago?!”

Crossing his arms, Joel replies with a subtle twinkle in his eyes, “I’m Santa. Been over that already.” Chuckling under his breath he adds, “you ain’t the brightest light on the tree, huh sweetheart?”

Your hand finds his shoulder in a playful shove. “You know what I mean, asshole!” Huffing a laugh of your own before you continue, crossing your arms over your chest in mock defense. “And my GPA this semester was three point nine. So I’m plenty bright.”

That leather-clad hand reaches out to cup your cheek and your heart soars before Joel catches himself.

Hovering awkwardly between you, he speaks. A muttered out I can tell, darlin’ before he lowers his hand in a stilted movement.

Before you can think about it, your palm is wrapped around his wrist, and he slots his fingers between yours. Heat is radiating off his body like a furnace—whether it’s from Santa magic or the fur lined coat, you aren’t certain.

You blink up at Joel through lowered lashes, standing at least a head taller than you. “Aren’t you gonna ask my name, Santa Claus?” Voice lilting and flirtatious, you wonder if a little bit of that liquid courage still thrums in your veins.

“Don’t need to. Already know it.” As soon as the words pass through his lips, his eyes widen and he’s backing away from you, leaving your hand achingly empty.

“Shit, uh–” Joel clears his throat, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “That came out wrong. It’s just—”

Putting him out of his self-imposed misery, a giggle bubbles up in your chest. “The list?”

Joel nods, shoulders sagging in relief. “The list.”

Your body floats towards Joel’s again like you are attracted by some magnetic force. Eyes wide and doe-like, you surprise even yourself with the next question. “And which list is my name on?”

His face is so close you can feel his breath hot against your cheek. Black leather cool against your ear as he tucks a tress of hair behind it before cupping one side of your face in his big palm. Your heart beats like a wild drum inside your chest.

Mere inches separate his lips from yours when he answers your question, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. His voice is low and rough, with a teasing edge. “Don’t know, baby. You been a good girl?”

You swallow the lump stuck in your throat, absolutely certain he can hear the way your breath catches. All you can manage is a little nod.

Joel raises the other gloved palm to cup the base of your skull in both hands, tilting your head up towards him. The space between your lips is thick with tension, begging to be crossed. But you are as frozen as the air around you. Enchanted; not by the magic or impossibility of who this man claims to be; but by the way his silver hair glints in the starlight, curling at the base of his neck. By the way his fingers spread warmth where they touch, and the way you long to feel the work-roughened skin beneath them. By the way his eyes smile before his lips, and the way he makes your insides dance in leaps and twirls like the sugar plum fairy.

His voice comes out in a whisper. “You gonna be a good girl for me right now?”

The smallest nod of your head before he clarifies—“words, baby.”

You have half a mind to be embarrassed by the way you’re about to beg, but you know Joel is just as desperate as you feel in this moment. That he needs to hear what you want, that you feel this feeble string of fate pulling taut between your hearts, that already this may be something more than lust. Spellbound in the way he makes you feel seen, by the care he’s already shown you; the way he delays going home to rest after the longest night of the year to comfort you and ensure that you know you are safe, that he isn’t a threat to you or your family.

Your pleading whisper matches his. “Kiss me, Joel.”

The moment the words escape into the chill between you, Joel closes the meager distance keeping him from you. His lips are warm, chapped and rough where yours are smooth. His touch is feather-light where he still cups the base of your skull; his kiss just as gentle. Hands brace his chest, a rock upon which to hold steady against each wave of sensation. His mouth moves against you tender and timid, as if any movement too sudden could break the spell you’ve cast upon each other.

But you ache for more; for the heat and passion simmering beneath your skin. Longing for not just his gentle touch but also his jagged edges. When you trace the heat of your tongue across the seam of his lips, he opens for you like a bright red flower blooming in white snow. Suddenly tenderness is traded for hunger, and your fingers wrap around the white fur of his collar. Tugging it downwards, begging for his body flush against yours. Begging him to bare himself before you.

Hands gently wrap around your wrists in an urge you to pause. Voice wobbly as if he is holding himself back from continuing too. “Not here, baby girl.”

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath as he kissed you. But you must have been, because your little huffs puff white plumes into the air as you catch it.

“Come up to my bedroom?”

The moment Joel nods his assent, you take him by the hand to lead him inside, an unspoken promise lingering in each step.

You gently pull the door to you bedroom closed behind you. Your back rests against the white surface; the gentle cool of the wood so juxtaposed to the way each nerve ending in your body crackles with flame. Fingers turn the lock without looking, eyes fixed on the way Joel devours your body with sight alone. The bedside lamp is still turned on, warm light washing over the planes of his face. Letting you study each line and freckle now that he is lit by something more than the night sky.

It does not surprise you that he is even more devastatingly handsome in the light. Now that you can see the little wrinkle of concern between his brows, the lines that frame his eyes commemorating each scowl and belly laugh that you didn’t get to see. Your heart swells with gratitude for what you can see—how the worry line ease and the crows-feet deepen as he matches your timid grin with a one that splits his face in joy.

He speaks your name like it’s the one Christmas wish he doesn’t have the power to grant. All his magic, and he looks at you as if you’re the most enchanting thing in the room. “Can I kiss you again?”

You surge forward to capture his lips, more desperate now for the time spent parted as you walked through the quiet house. Hands bump into each other as you struggle to rid your bodies of the layers separating them. Melting against Joel at the first touch of his gloveless hands upon your skin; they bear the callouses you knew you would find. His fingers light trails of white-hot sparks with each touch across your skin, unbuttoning your knit cardigan and coasting his hand along the skin beneath the hem of your shirt.

Unlike the frigid air outside, your skin holds no chill. Despite your lack of proper dress, you never felt cold as you stood with Joel in the yard. Your lips pull into a smile against his, heart full with the knowledge that he did that for you.

His chest is toned and belly pleasantly full as you strip him of his coat and shirt. Pants pool on the carpet soft beneath your feet, shoes abandoned in the foyer. Your gaze stops short on the bulge outlined in Joel’s red (of course) boxer-briefs as his catches on your mismatched bra and panties. Fingers trace along the softness of your abdomen, slowly reaching around to the clasp of your bra, eyes locked with yours in a question. You quickly nod, and Joel’s fingers deftly unclasp the fabric before he lets it fall unceremoniously to the floor.

His pupils, already darkening his irises, blow even wider as he studies your pert nipples and the supple flesh of your breasts. One hand finds each, each gentle squeeze sending heat straight to your core. Surely the gusset of your panties is already soaked. Before you can lament the loss of his touch, he cups your chin in his hands. Lips find yours, reverent and gentle, as you slowly walk him to the bed.

The back of his calves meet the side of your mattress, urging him to sit on the edge before you climb into his lap, legs straddled on either side. Your fingers tangle through his gray locks– his rest upon your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the skin beneath your breasts. Lips hover just a hairs breadth apart, eyes locked in a heated gaze as you grind against him, his bulge rubbing the fabric of your panties against your slick folds.

He warns, “don’t have a condom, darlin.’”

It’s a stupid decision. The sex-ed outreach ambassadors at your school would definitely be horrified to see a grad student engage in such reckless behavior. But as you breathe out a response, you mean it. “Don’t care, Joel. Need you.”

His lips ghost against yours in a brief tease of a kiss before pulling back to speak against them. “Can’t get you sick. Perk of the job.” He steals another kiss before continuing, “you on somethin’?”

You nod, relief mixing with wonder at how he keeps finding little ways to take care of you. At the way he’s keeping you safe. You sound breathless when manage to speak, only getting out a simple, “IUD,” in response.

His hands guide your hips against the hard outline of his cock. You can feel his grin against your lips as you kiss him deep and long. His scruff rubs against your face and you trace it with your fingertips, stopping to rub the smooth little patch of skin you find along his jaw. You can’t believe you thought this sweet scruff was a sad excuse of a beard. He grinds his hips upward and you both groan at the friction. You think surely you could swim in all the slick pooled in your panties. The feeling of his cock against your seam has your cunt aching through the fabric keeping your centers apart. That feeling in your belly builds with each movement against him, and you think you could come like this.

“Joel, please.”

The deep edge of dominance in his voice sends a fresh wave of arousal washing over you. “Please what, baby girl?”

Your reply comes out in a needy whine— “need to feel you!”

Joel hums low in his throat as his teeth graze the shell of your ear. He buries his face in your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo—cinnamon and vanilla.

“Need Father Christmas to touch this sweet little pussy, hm?” The kiss he presses against your temple is so at odds with the filthy words that leave his lips. “Filled up your stocking out there, now you need t’be filled up right here?” Joel taps gently against your panties. “That it?”

His eyes find yours expectantly, your mind swimming in the sensation of his cock rubbing against your seam and his finger painfully close to where you need him most. You blurt out the first words that come to your mind—a little moan of yes, Daddy—the assent that he needs to hear before he touches you the way you want. You don’t mean to call him Daddy, didn’t even realize you were thinking it before it slips out. Heat rises in your cheeks. It’s his own damn fault, calling himself Father Christmas. You hope you haven’t scared him away; broken the haze of lust that has fallen over you both.

Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted by a broken groan as his hips buck into you. “Oh sweetheart.” His voice sounds wrecked, want cracking the last word— whiskered lips curve into a knowing grin. “Just need Daddy to take care of ya.” A drag of his cock against your dripping cunt through the layers of underwear. “S’ok, honey.”

Joel’s huge palms guide you to grind against him steadily. “Santa’s here. M’gonna take care of you, gonna take care’a my girl.”

His girl.

Panties pulled to the side, a calloused index finger runs through your soaked folds. Each touch sends sparks thrumming through your veins. You bury your face in his neck, hips bucking when the pad of his finger grazes your clit. Breathing deep to inhale his scent; pine and peppermint. A low groan tears out of Joel’s throat as he dips a finger inside your aching cunt, pumping in and out as your walls convulse around him.

“So damn wet for me, baby.”

You moan out a high pitched mhm. Joel rubs his thumb against your clit as he moves in and out, only one finger inside and you already feel deliciously full—but you need more. Adding a second finger inside you, you swear he can read you like an open book. Knows just what you need.

The stretch of two of Joel’s fingers is nothing like when you touch yourself; you can’t imagine how his length will feel. He can already reach so deep, easily rubbing against the spongy little spot hidden inside that makes you see stars with each pump of his fingers in and out.

“Good fuckin girl, takin’ what I give ya,” Joel breathes into your hair. “Think this pretty pussy is ready for my cock?”

“Yes, Joel, please, fuck—” his fingers brush against your g-spot one last time and cut off your begging with a keening whimper.

You watch entranced as Joel’s tongue darts out to taste you on his soaked fingers before sucking them in his mouth. He hums around his fingers contentedly. “Knew you’d taste sweet, baby girl.” Joel presses a kiss to the top of your head, speaking into your hair. “I could stay down there until the sun comes up, just tastin’ you.”

You won’t deny that the idea excites you. But you can feel his hardness press against your core, panties partly covering your folds now that Joel’s hand isn’t there to hold them to the side. You feel so empty, your achy cunt pulsing around air. So desperate to be full of him that any course of action except Joel splitting you in half with his cock seems unacceptable.

Your head pulls back, batting your eyelashes with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes you can muster. It doesn’t take much pretending for you to look so needy– it surprises you, the burn already starting behind your eyes. You’re certain you’d cry if he denies you a second longer.

“Taste later, Joel.” Lips press against his scruffy cheek. “Need your cock, please.” Lips press against the other one. “Now.”

Something about Joel, about the way he takes care of you, his rough-edged gentleness—you’re downright desperate. And it feels good.

Joel’s belly laugh is full of warmth, loud in the quiet of the house. “Later, huh? I’m holdin’ you to that.”

You’re grateful that your bedroom is far enough from the rest of your family’s to worry too much about the sound carrying and waking them. But still, you shush him with a scandalized grin. “Joel!” You whisper-laugh. “Not so loud.”

He lifts you from his lap like you weigh nothing, laying you back gently against the mattress. You add Santa-super-strength to the mental list of things about Joel that turn you on. He harrumphs, pouting playfully as he rids himself of his underwear.

His length bobs heavy, hanging thick and long between his legs. Goosebumps pebble your skin; his fingers are big. But his cock is huge.

Strong legs straddle either side of your hips, lips brushing against your ears as he speaks, “weren’t so worried ‘bout bein’ loud when you were beggin’ for my cock, little girl.” The words are harsh, but his voice holds no bite—teasing.

Joel’s name falls from your lips again. This time it’s a needy whimper.

He thumbs the hem of your panties, gaze serious as it meets yours. “Can I take these off, darlin’?”

Immediately, you nod. “Joel, please.”

Gently tugging your underwear off, he throws it backwards to join the rest of your clothes somewhere on the bedroom floor. His palm cups your pussy, the curls covering your mound slick to the touch.

He hushes the little whines leaving your throat. “Sh, sh, sh. S’ok baby girl.” Running a finger through your soaked folds, his voice is reverent, “gonna give you what you need.”

Joel’s cock his heavy against your thigh as he lines it up with you. Body covering yours like a blanket, propped up on his elbow above you. He runs the head through your puffy folds once, twice, thrice; each nerve on fire with every teasing motion. Finally, he notches his hard length at your entrance, waiting for you to nod before he slowly pushes inside.

There is a pressure in your core like you’ve never felt as he stretches you open. When you finally take him to the hilt, he stills to let you adjust to his size. Joel’s nose brushes yours, sweat glistening on his forehead in the warmth of your room.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

He hasn’t even moved yet, but your breath already comes in shallow pants. The tip of him brushes a spot so deep inside that you feel like you’re made of jelly. “So good, Joel. So good.”

He rolls his hips slowly, cock still wedged within you. You cry out, nipples brushing his skin as your back arches into him. Voice breathy, you only manage two desperate words– “I’m ready.”

Finally he moves, pulling nearly all the way out before he thrusts back in, deep and languid. Joel pumps his cock in and out, keeping his pace slow and comfortable. Like he’s still afraid to hurt you.

The stretch of your walls around his length has your skin prickling, clit swollen and begging for attention. Pleasure builds in your belly, but you need more. Nails dig gently into his back, urging him on.

“Harder, Joel, please,” you manage between panting breaths.

It’s like the leash that holds him back frays and snaps at your permission. Your fingers tangle in his silver curls, the pad of his thumb swirling around your puffy clit. Your cunt spasms around him as tension pulls taut deep in your abdomen with each rough snap of his hips against yours.

He fucks you mercilessly, for minutes or hours. You lose track of time as he pulls earth-shattering pleasure from your body.

“That’s right, good fuckin’ girl. Come on my cock, baby.” His comes out rough and breathy, sounding as wrecked as you feel. “Give it to me, baby.” Each instruction spurs you closer to the edge, coaxing you toward release with every mind numbing brush of his cock. It’s so deep inside that he must be hitting your cervix. He growls low in his throat, “let go f’me”

Joel’s thrusts quicken, frenzied as you writhe beneath him. With a few more tight circles around your aching clit, your eyes roll back as your release hits you. Walls flutter around his cock as he fucks you through the aftershocks, his thumb stilling its movements.

His pace doesn’t let up as he chases his pleasure, your arousal coating his cock in a slick squelch with each snap of his hips. “So good for me, so fuckin’ good.”

A desperate wine tears from your throat, stars painting your eyelids at his praise and the tip of him brushing against your g-spot as he fucks you hard and deep.

“Y'want ol' Santa to put a little snow inside ya, baby girl?”

The rasp of his voice has you begging for him to fill you with his spend. Needy whines of yes, Joel, please, fuck, yes!

He makes a strangled noise as his hips stutter, face buried in your neck as he spills within you, fucking his spend deeper as your cunt milks him dry. After a few shallow thrusts to ride out the aftershocks, he falls limp on top of you.

In this moment, you aren’t worried about the mix of your come and his dripping out of your cunt and onto the bedsheets. You aren’t even worried if your family heard Santa fuck you stupid.

All you care about is Joel, the softness of his curls between your fingertips. The feeling of plush lips against yours as he kisses you gently, his large palm cupping your face. You lay there, limbs tangled, in the arms of this man who was a stranger just hours ago.

You hope he never becomes a stranger again. After all, you do owe him a taste. You get the sense that you’ll be making good on that promise.

fuck neil druckmann, support palestine

a/n: thank you so much for reading! i've had such a busy christmas eve and need to go pass out now but i might add more detailed notes later lol if you enjoyed and want to leave feedback it would make my day!! need santa!joel bad idk it's embarassing

idk if i would have written a santa!joel fic if i hadn't been inspired by mr. winter by @kedsandtubesocks! please go read it ✨

dividers by @saradika-graphics

follow @elflutter-fics for notifs! i may some mutuals in the replies 🤍

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel x y/n #joel x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel smut #tlou fanfiction #my work #fic: santa baby

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wonderjanga · 2 days ago

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Fairy King

The day was normal if not, relatively boring. There had been the usual alien invasion, which the JL swiftly took out. Now they were in a meeting being hosted by Batman so they could go over everything that just happened as if they weren’t there. Now see when the meeting was over was when things got interesting.

JL: *all about to get up so they can go home*

Marvel: “Guys, before we go, can I announce something?”

JL: *groans because they just wanna go home and sleep after that entire ordeal, but still sit down*

Marvel: “I promise it’ll be quick. Look, I’m getting married-”

JL: *half their jaws drop while the other half is still processing what he said*

Marvel: “-And I want you guys all to come.”

JL: *the other half’s jaws drop too now*

Supes: “Wha…? Cap, what do you mean you’re getting married?”

Marvel: *passing out invites* “I mean I’m getting married. To the Fairy Queen. As a result of a treaty to get her to stop waging war on the gnomes.”

JL: *all stare*

Marvel: “Oh, don’t worry guys. Fairy lifespans are only about five years. She’s already a little more than halfway though.”

Flash: “Is that a good thing…?”

Marvel: “For me it is. Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely terrible that she’s gonna die, but I don’t really wanna be married to anyone so…”

*silence*

Marvel: “Anyways! I would really love if you guys came.”

They did. After all, they did not want to miss this. Some of the guys even got to go into the dressing room and talk to Marvel.

Marvel: *doing his tie in the mirror, trying to remember how Tawny taught him*

Aquaman: “So… are you guys gonna have any kids?”

Marvel: “No? Why?”

Aquaman: “Well, you know, royal marriages are normally completed after consummation.”

Marvel: *slowly looks over to him with a horrified expression before the expression disappears* “Wait a minute. Fairies make kids by combining magic! Geez… you had me worried for a sec.”

Flash: “So I guess we’ll be seeing another mini Cap running around then.”

Marvel: “What do you mean by another?”

Flash: “Mary is basically a mini you if you were a girl. And Junior? He uh… looks like you too. Kinda. But I’m mostly talking about Mary.”

Marvel: “Oh. I guess so then. We’ll have another mini me. Yay.”

Aquaman: “Will they go into heroics too?”

Marvel: *pauses fiddling with his tie* “Now that I think about it, I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to see what my future wife thinks.”

It was all in all a beautiful wedding. Junior was Cap’s best man. Mary was a flower girl. Flash got to stuff his face with human and fairy food. Aquaman talked politics with some of the fairy politicians. Batman talked about security and defense with some retired warrior fairies. It was nice.

A month later…

Marvel: “Hey guys! Wanna meet my baby?” *has a baby strapped to his chest*

GL: “Whaaaaaaat…?” *rapidly looking between the baby and Marvel before coming to a realization* “Oh is this your fairy baby?”

Marvel: “Yup!”

GL: “Aww look at the little guy.” *reaches over to poke the babies’ cheek*

Fairy Baby: *bites his hand with surprisingly sharp teeth*

Flash: *screams*

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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wordsinhaled · 1 day ago

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thinking of a scenario where when charles was little, his mum used to take care of his injuries and do the kissing-it-better thing, until he got older and his dad got wise to that and she couldn’t anymore. but it’s just something tiny that charles associates with comfort.

and so the first time, early on in the agency, that edwin gets badly hurt on a case and charles is patching him up, he leans in and presses a little kiss to the mostly-bandaged spot. it’s just the whole case gave him a scare, because he hadn’t seen edwin hurt bad before, and he’s just getting used to the fact that edwin’s his person, his to keep safe and he didn’t manage that this time, and in his distress he doesn’t even think twice.

edwin stiffens, and charles realizes he just kissed his best mate’s arm, and that’s not the sort of thing you do, is it, and maybe that’s really the sort of thing that’s going to get him knocked in the jaw. only edwin is just looking at him with curiosity, and edwin isn’t the sort of bloke who knocks people in the jaw but he is the type who could leave, could leave charles behind and... and now charles’s face is burning.

“sorry,” he chokes out, finishing the bandage hurriedly. “um, it’s just—something my mum used to do, y’know, kissing it better. when… um. when i’d get hurt as a kid, yeah? used to make me feel proper better, more than the plasters and all that. i know it’s silly, i didn’t think—”

“i did not mind it,” says edwin—who had never had any injury of his kissed better in his short life, and certainly not any of the damage he sustained over 73 years in hell.

“oh,” says charles. “that’s good, then.”

the next time edwin’s hurt it’s a significantly smaller injury, a really minor iron burn that’s already starting to look better even as charles applies the salve. he bandages it up anyway, though. but he’s surprised when edwin stays where he is once charles is done, still expectantly holding out his injured hand, not pulling away, as he usually does. and then he realizes that edwin is waiting for charles to kiss it better. and so he does—hesitant the whole time, in case he read edwin all wrong, up until edwin finally pulls his hand back seeming satisfied somehow, like charles has fulfilled some unspoken half of a bargain.

and that was twenty-some years ago. by now it’s just ingrained that every time charles tends to an injury of edwin’s, even one as minor as a paper cut from a page in edwin’s notebook, he kisses it better. edwin won’t move away until he does.

after edwin’s confession, things change. charles starts to notice that he feels a bit fluttery, the first time after hell that he leans in to press his lips to edwin’s scraped shoulder through a layer of bandage and the fabric of his shirt. and he tries to think nothing of it, only that then his mouth doesn’t connect with anything; because edwin has moved away, moved out of his reach, neatly risen out of the way of charles’s kiss so that he hovers, lips parted against empty air, feeling off-kilter and confused, something like hurt churning through him.

edwin had said he wanted nothing to change between them, and here edwin goes changing things himself. of course that hurts. but why does it hurt so much? and what was that fluttery feeling? and why can’t charles stop thinking about it?

#narrator voice: it was because charles loves edwin back #dbda #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #payneland

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verycoolusername1 · 3 days ago

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Dreaming Of A White Xmas

Summary: You spend your first white christmas with Quinn with his family in Michigan

Track 6 of fruitcake - white xmas

A/N: Just a short imagine for today. Happy holidays, everyone :)

Also idk if it snows in Michigan but here it does cause this is fictional 😼

You let out a yawn. You blinked your eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. Quinn is still fast asleep under you. You chuckled as drool fell past his lips.

You decided to let Quinn rest awhile. He definitely needed it after the day you had getting down here.

You quietly left the room and headed towards the bathroom before getting stopped by Jack.

He instantly gave you a hug. "Merry Christmas!"

You laughed at his actions but, nonetheless, hugged him back. "Merry Christmas, Jack. Whatever you're about to do, be quiet. Quinn's sleeping."

Jack let out a quiet groan. "So you mean I can't jump on his bed and annoy him?"

"Absolutely not." You told him. "And don't even think about opening presents, we're doing that after breakfast."

"Damn it." Jack cursed as he realized you knew him just a little too well. "I'll just cry in the shower then, apparently I can't do anything."

"Don't look at me like I'm a party pooper," You laughed. "You could always watch a movie."

Jack looked at you like you were a genius. "Oh my god, you're right!" He then ran down the hall.

Leaving you alone in confusion as you headed towards the bathroom and freshened up a little bit.

You headed down the stairs and was greeted with a beautiful sight... it was snowing.

You looked out the window like a child, your eyes full of amazement as the realization kicked in. A white Christmas.

Luke came around the corner, yawning loudly. He saw you but, more importantly, the sight out the window, and he grew just as excited as you.

"Oh my god, it's snowing." He came up beside you.

"Now, can we wake Quinn up now?" Jack asked eagerly.

You nodded eagerly as you ran back to the room, busting through the door.

You nudge Quinn slightly. "Quinn, baby, wake up."

Jack and Luke came in after you, Jack jumped on the bed.

Quinn groaned. "What do you guys want?"

"It's snowing!" Luke exclaimed as he tried to pull Quinn up from the bed. "You have to see it. Y/n wants you to see it."

You roll your eyes at Luke's words but couldn't find it in yourself to say he's wrong because he truly isn't.

"Let the man get ready first, out both of you." You told the boys, who let out mumbles as they left.

You looked back to find Quinn looking at you.

"Hey baby." You smiled softly.

"Hey." Quinn mumbles. "What's this about uh snow?"

Your eyes light up. "It's snowing, Quinn! Can you believe it, a white christmas."

Quinn looks at you softly. "Snow huh? You wanna play in it?"

You shook your head. "It's freezing out there. I'll just watch you guys. Jack and Luke are probably out there already."

Quinn lets out a laugh. "Yeah probably, someone's gonna make sure they're wearing the right stuff." He got up and rubbed his eyes.

"I'll wait for you downstairs." You gave him a soft smile as he nodded, you made your exit and ran into Ellen.

"Hey, merry christmas." You hugged her, feeling warm in her embrace.

"Merry Christmas honey, I'm just getting started on breakfast if you would like to help. Or be like those slackers out there in the snow." Ellen chuckled.

You couldn't help but laugh at you glanced out the window. Jack and Luke were surprisingly not fighting eachother and were building an oddly shaped snowman.

Quinn finally came down the stairs, a smile adorning his face when he sees you with his mom. He shook his head softly as he headed outside with his brothers.

You and Ellen continued to cook breakfast together while Jim set down the plates.

"Y/n can you get the boys so they can eat?" Jim asked.

You nodded. "Of course, be right back."

You headed towards the porch and opened the door.

"Guys, cmon, we still have presents to open!" You called out to them, a snowball suddenly hit your face.

You looked to find the culprit and only found your beloved boyfriend wearing a smug grin.

You took on the challenge and started making your own snowball. "It's on hughes, so on. You're gonna wish you never did that."

Jack looked at the two of you. "Uh oh... The couple is fighting, what do we do?"

"Take sides?" Luke suggested.

"Well, Quinn's doomed... and if we go against Y/N, we're bound to suffer." Jack explained. "And if we go with Y/n the more fun it is to go against Quinn, bond with the future in law, and most importantly win."

As Jack was explaining the outcomes, he has yet to notice that Luke was making a snowball and moments later threw it at him.

"Hey! Luke what the hell, I thought we was in this together!" Jack laughed.

"We never were!" Luke ran away from him.

You couldn't help but smile at the whole interaction, it was everything you could have dreamed of.

"I say we call a truce." Quinn came up beside you.

"You only say that because you know you can't win against me." You teased.

Quinn laughed at your words. "Yeah keep telling yourself that sweetheart." He wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you close.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You asked referring to the snow.

Quinn kept his eyes trained on you. "Yeah, it definitely is."

You looked up at Quinn, your smile showing shyly. "You're such a sap."

"Only for you." Quinn grinned.

You lean in and kiss Quinn softly, ignoring the crowd you had for a quiet moment. You broke the kiss and leaned into your touch. "Merry Christmas Quinn."

Quinn kissed your head. "Merry christmas baby."

#nhl imagine #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl players #luke hughes #verycoolusername1 #jack hughes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #qh43 #vancouver canucks

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whistlewritesforfun · 1 day ago

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“Mom get off me!” I rumbled, pushing her off me. Her wet kiss still on my cheek as I tried to wipe off her lipstick.

“I was wondering when you’d visit again! Your brother was here just last week-“

“Mom I’m here to kill you.” I stated firmly, drawing my sword. She sighed deeply with a groan.

“Before dinner? Really? Your father was at the smoker all day making brisket.” I ignored the faint rumble in my stomach.

“It’s for the prophecy!” I protested, waving my sword around.

“That’s what your brother was yammering about when he was here too.” I answered dismissively. “Honestly, what are they teaching you in college? When I was in school we used prophecies for important things. Like foreseeing if your boyfriend was gonna cheat on you, or if you were gonna get arrested for stealing a golf cart.”

“Mom they said the worlds gonna end if I don’t do it!” I once more protested as she started rummaging through a drawer in a side table. “Mom? Mom are you even listening!?”

“Yes- yes I am-“ she answered, putting a set of readers on. She yanked out a wrinkly old newspaper, squinting at it. “See! Your father was wrong.”

“What?”

“He said that 3 years ago the chicken meal at Sir Lances was 4 gold pieces-“ she said as she whacked the page with the back of her hand. “This says it was 6!”

“Mom can you at least pretend to take me seriously?” I questioned, entirely fed up.

“Alright alright,” she sighed, taking the readers off and tucking them into the bodice of her extravagant dress. She raised her arms up and her hands glowed with a deep purple energy. I readied my sword and charged at her, before she all too easily disarmed me.

“Mom!!” I groaned, stomping my foot. “Why’d you have to knock it so far away??”

“Ah I’m sorry dear, I’ll go get it.”

“No no- it’s fine.” I huffed, pinching my nose bridge. “I shouldn’t of reacted so angrily. It’s a completely normal distance.” I walked over, my armored boots clinking as I crouched and picked the sword up.

“Are you sure you wanna do this before dinner? I mean fighting on an empty stomach isn’t very fun.”

“Fine.” I agreed, sheathing my sword. “But tell dad not to give me a piece with too much fat!”

“Of course.” She agreed, before raising her voice loudly, “HAROLD! THOMAS IS STAYING FOR DINNER!”

“WHAT?!” Was the faint shout from the vague direction of the kitchen.

“THOMAS IS HERE FOR DINNER!”

“OH! OK! ARE WE USING THE CHINA OR THE PAPER PLATES?” My father responded again, sounding a bit closer before his head poked out from the doorway adjacent to his throne. I seriously don’t get why they didn’t hire more servants.

“It’s just Thomas,” she responded incredulously. “I don’t feel like dishes, we’ll just use the paper plates.”

“Alright Betty dear.” I grinned, his crown slightly lopsided as he slunk back to the kitchen.

“Y’know I think he’s going deaf.” My mother said plainly.

“I think you need to stop yelling from the other room.” I mumbled, before perking up. “Wait is that cake??” I asked, smelling the familiar scent.

“Yes, but it’s for the Dimmesdale’s.”

“Oh come on!” I groaned, walking with her to the dining room.

You, the chosen one, walk into the evil queen's throne room. The queen was sitting gloomily on her throne. She sees you and lightens up. She rises from her throne and kisses you. "Sweetheart, I am so glad you are back."

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teaboot · 3 days ago

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Bonjour Teaboot! I'm writing a fic with a Canadian character and wanted to ask you - is learning French mandatory in school? At what age/grade do you start learning? What sort of level of fluency do most students usually reach in school? Do you learn France French or Quebec French? Merci beaucoup!

Taking French as a class is mandatory, yes, (if your school doesnt have other second-laguage options, thanks for the correction, I'd forgotten) but almost nobody becomes fluent in public school unless they do French immersion.

The French is Qébecois French, and like super duper basic ass shit like "are, have, go, do" conjugations and a fee basic phrases, plus some words for table, ceiling, chair, library, hospital, whatever.

In elementary school, I don't think we did much- My english schools taught us how to sing the national anthem in English and French as well as ASL, but I've completely forgotten the ASL and most of the French. Normally we'd sing it in English and then switch to French for the last few lines, idk why.

The average highschool graduate knows, "Hello, my name is", "yes", "no", "where is the library", and a couple random words and swears. (Swears were not part of the curriculum.)

I chose to do French immersion stsrting in grade 6, so what happens THERE is you speak English and throw in whatever French words you know (affectionately referred to as "franglais"), then slowly use more and more French until about grade 7-9 where speaking English is no longer allowed in class. (I got detention a few times for chatting in English.)

One funny thing about early French classes in immersion- we had to ask to use the bathroom in French (esque-je peux aller a la toilette, if i remember correctly) and one time a kid said it wrong (esque-je peur à la toilette) which kind of sort of translates to "Am I afraid of going to the bathroom?" Which was, frankly, hilarious, and not just because he used to throw shit at my head all the time

Popular French words among English students are "pomplemousse" (Pomp-LA-Moose, Grapefruit) "Granouille" (Gran-oo-ee, Frog) "Phoque" (Fock, Seal) and "Arrêt" (A-rett, often intentionally mispronounced as "a rat", Stop)

Common French assignments in Englush schools are talking with a partner about your summer vacation, reading short paragraphs to the class, using smalltalk words in proper contexts, naming pizza toppings, singing songs about conjugation, etc.

Common French assignments in French schools are translating chapters from books written in English, writing short fiction stories, correcting incorrect sentences, reading French books, writing essays, etc.

In BC at least you need to take French or choose another language if it's available at your school? I think my mom took Russian growing up, idk, you just need a second languahe

But I haven't actually been fluent in... God, about 12 years or so now?

I van read enough to passably understand slow speech and simple books, but not enough to articulate myself past very simple concepts and ideas- directions, questions asking for help, etc, and my grammar is.... bad.

Hope this helps?

#Canada

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4milly · 1 day ago

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childish - jey u.

parings: manipulative!jey uso x black!reader

warnings: angst, use of n word, cursing, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, jey being an asshole is my fav sorry, cream pie, shower sex, manipulative jey, impregnation, dacryphilia, dumbification (if you squint),

word count: 3.9k (I BEEN GONE I WANTED TO GIVE YALL SOME)

you make me so mad, but i just come right back. it’s like i can’t get over you…

the music blasting through the speakers was enough to tune out the sound of your phone ringing...for nearly the 100th time. sexy redd and a bottle of casamigos mixed together was good enough to take your mind off things, not erase them.

jey called. than he called again. and again. and againnnn. he was doing all he could to reach you. he could play stupid all he fucking wanted too, he knew what the fuck he did. minus the arguing all day—for the last year—, jacob going live on instagram with them in the club last night was the straw that broke the camels back.

"imma head to bed though, ma. my damn head is pounding against my skull and shit" he muttered through the phone on facetime last night.

the call ended with the two of you kissing the screen on some clingy teenager bullshit. you were all googly eyed at him, just completely enamored. your man, your man, your man...all to get a live sent to you 45 minutes later of him in the club with some groupie ass bitch grinding on his lap and his hands on her hips.

all day you were going back and forth, him wanting to know what the problem is and you dodging it, making shady subliminal posts on the gram instead.

"bitch, get out your fucking head! fuck that nigga! he gone feel you this time!" you snapped out of your thoughts hearing lana, your best friend. she was kind enough to round up all the girls, give you her most see through and shortest outfit, do your hair, and makeup. honestly? you felt horrible. you wanted to do nothing more but lay in bed and cry you eyes out. but that nagging anger bubbling inside you was stronger.

she was right. he was gone feel it this time. no matter how much you missed him, it was fuck him right now.

a smile broke out on your glossed lips as, get it sexy began to play, "aw shit nah. get it bitch! cmon y'all!" you all headed to the dance floor ready to leave your problems there.

you lowered to your knees, bouncing your ass to the music. the liquor was starting to flow through your veins rapidly. you even raised your dress up a little just below your ass. one wrong move and you'd be flashing everyone in this damn place.

your back collided with a strong chest, "you showing out over here, baby." the man groaned in your ear, snaking his hands over your waist to pull your ass towards his growing crotch.

the man started kissing and sucking on your neck whilst his hands snaked downwards to your exposed thighs. you leaned your head back against his shoulder, grinding your ass in a circle on his crotch.

for a moment, your mind went to jey. you felt guilty. what he did was considered inappropriate, and it embarrassed the fuck out you. it was like every month for the last year, it was another random ass bitch he wanted to show his 32's too.

you knew jey would never cheat on you, but that didn't stop the insistent feeling that he didn't at least come close to. coming home smelling like perfume, taking pictures with random ho's from the club, the mall, or at wrestling events. liking their pictures on the gram. it's like you aren't enough for him anymore.

yet, just letting this man touch all on you made you sick. you had a man...even if it felt like you were in the relationship all alone.

"oh shit..." lana mumbled, her eyes nearly falling on the floor

the mans hands raised to squeeze one of your breast, just as he was yanked off you, "aye yo! what the fuck is this shit? this the shit yo ass fuckin doin? you got me so fucked up!"

speak of the devil they shall appear, i guess. anger radiated off jey's body. his nose flared, snarl on his face, and his dickriding ass cousins in tow right behind him. just perfect.

"boy fuck you! you can't take shit you dish out," you yelled back, frustration from the last 24 hours finally spilling out. "get the fuck out my face."

"how do you barge in here like that shit, after having some random—"

"mind yo hoe ass business, lana. you don't know shit about what the fuck you talkin' bout!"

you pushed jey backwards by his chest, "don't talk to her like that! chill—"

"fuck is yo ass even doin' in here! i'm callin' all day to see where my girl at and you letting some random ass motherfucka touch all on you?" jey's eyes narrowed with hatred as his voice continued to raise

"excuse me," a man clearing his throat caught everyone's attention, "i'm going to have to ask all of you to leave the property. this drama has no place here."

jey slowly nodded his head before kissing his teeth. his eyes held so much hate, you barely could recognize him. for a split second, you regretted this whole night. had you just stayed your ass home all this could've been avoided. but he had no right to be a hypocrite. especially, rolling in here with all that bass in his voice like he was a saint.

he mugged you up and down, "you know what? i'm out. have fun with yo hoe ass friends, mama. where that motherfuka at? i got a few condoms for ole boy"

jey's face snapped to the side. his cheek began to sting from the force of your hand, "you got some fucking nerve! you had a fucking headache last night, right? lemme guess, random ass bitches make you feel better? I was on that damn live. but im the hoe? hopefully yo chest hurt just as fuckin bad as my feelings do!"

the next morning felt like war. the house once filled with love between two lovers felt like a cage holding a lion and a tiger...one just waiting for the other to pounce. jey's face adorned with bags, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he stared at you in the kitchen. when the club owner forced everyone to get the fuck out of his establishment before he called the police, jey snatched you by your arm, pushing you into the car.

the whole ride home the both of you shouted at each other. name calling, you hitting the dashboard, him hitting the stirring wheel. the car felt like it was suffocating under the weight of all the things you both wanted to say but couldn’t find the right words for. instead? you choose to just say 'fuck you' over and over. his knuckles turned white as he gripped the wheel tighter, while your voice cracked from the strain of yelling. the tension was so thick, even the air outside the car seemed to press in through the windows. by the time you pulled into the driveway, the silence that followed was deafening, a sharp contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. neither of you moved, both staring straight ahead, unwilling to be the first to speak or step out.

jey choose to sleep on the couch, giving you the option to sleep in the bedroom. this morning was no different than last night. neither one of you wanted to speak first. you were tired of arguing with him—tired of him especially. you were sick of the random ass insta tags from women, the dm's, getting sent live videos...it was too much. what was supposed to be growing together felt like growing apart.

you looked up over the counter to see jey still mean muggin' you, "stop fuckin' looking at me!" you finally snapped. call you childish, for starting a fight again, but he was the one doing this. not you.

"watch yo fuckin' voice hollerin' and shit at my ass. you was the one shakin' yo ass and shit in the club. all on instagram throwing shade at me, taking pictures of yo ass out. but im the damn problem. mane, get the fuck outta here with that," jey groaned rubbing his head in his hands

"so what? you can have bitches on your lap, but i dance on a nigga, and thats your problem? you're a fucking hypocrite! i hate your ass!" you instantly regretted that, not even just saying it. but thinking of it.

"i was pushing her off me! had yo ass looked you would've seen that shit! yo ass wasn't pushing ole boy off you. was you? yo ass wanted to get back at me so bad, you damn near was finna fuck him." the thought of you and the man was vivid in jey's mind. his eyes darkening all over.

"you're a fucking liar! you were letting her grind all in your lap! I seen it! what about a few weeks ago? the bitch from your job? asking you to autograph her panties?" you scoffed before looking away. the whole conversation was a dead end. it was getting no where. he was being a hypocrite and you only wanted your point to get across. but that was jey: never wanting to take accountability or listen to shit anybody else has to say.

"thats my fuckin' job! you know that shit!"

you threw your hands in the air, before walking into the bedroom. as you slammed the door behind you, your chest heaved with a mix of anger and frustration. you couldn’t wrap your head around how jey always managed to twist things, how he never took accountability for anything.

it felt like every fight ended the same—with you drained and him unfazed. you sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets as if they could anchor you to something solid. what stung more was the realization that he probably didn’t even care. it was like he lived in a world where he could do no wrong, and you were just a storm he had to wait out.

jey leaned back on the couch with a smug smirk creeping onto his face. he rubbed his jaw, shaking his head like the whole argument was nothing more than a joke, "always trippin’ over nothing," he muttered to himself, grabbing his phone and scrolling aimlessly on instagram. in his mind, he wasn’t the problem—you were.

all he’d done was go out, and you couldn’t handle it. he did have a headache, but when he felt better, his cousin invited him to the club.

after a few drinks started making their rounds, so did the women. he did let the woman dance on him, and he did grab her hips to grind against her. but as soon as he remembered you—how you were waiting at home in nothing but a shirt and a pair of panties, probably fresh out of the shower smelling like vanilla—he pushed her off him. it was just dancing.

nothing more.

He chuckled low under his breath, his ego shielding him from any self-reflection. "man, she really be actin’ like I’m out here wildin’ for real," he said to no one in particular, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.

to him, the whole fight was just another example of you being “dramatic.”

you’d come out of the room eventually, probably still mad, but Jey figured he’d smooth things over like he always did. after all, you weren’t going anywhere. at least, that’s what he told himself as he stretched out on the couch, arms behind his head, convinced he was untouchable.

the sound of the shower turning on caught his attention, the thought of you undressing, body soaked with water, instantly got him worked up. he immediately stood up, his body moving almost on its own accord. the temptation was too strong to resist. jey made his way to the bathroom door, listening intently to the sound of water hitting tile. he hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

Was this crossing a line? you were still upset with him, after all. But the image of your wet skin, droplets and soap cascading down your curves, consumed his thoughts. he swallowed hard, desire overriding his better judgment. he wanted to make up to you the only way he knew how.

slowly, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. steam billowed out, enveloping him in its warm embrace. through the foggy glass of the shower door, he could make out your silhouette. his breath caught in his throat as he watched you run your hands through your hair, completely unaware of his presence. he began to undress himself, leaving his clothes in a small pile near yours. his hand grabbing his rock hard dick, beginning to stroke it to the sight of your body.

jey's heart raced as he silently slid open the shower door, stepping into the warm spray behind you. you tensed, startled by his sudden presence, but didn't turn around. he placed his hands gently on your hips, pressing his body against your back.

"i'm sorry," he murmured against your neck, his lips grazing your wet skin. "let me make it up to you, mama."

you remained still, conflicted. part of you wanted to push him away, to hold onto your anger. but his touch sent shivers down your spine, awakening a familiar hunger.

jey's hands roamed up your sides, cupping your breasts as he kissed along your shoulder. a small gasp escaped your lips, betraying yourself. he smiled against your skin, knowing he was breaking through your defenses.

slowly, you turned to face him, water cascading down your front. your eyes stained red as tears flowed freely from them, "i love you, baby." he sighed before wrapping his arm under your thigh to push it against your chest, "you love me?"

you knew his question was a ploy to get you to break down. you feel for it every time. you nodded weakly, your resolve crumbling. "i love you too," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rush of water.

his signature smirk appeared on his face—he won. you weren't going anywhere. he kissed you deeply, passionately, as if trying to convey all his emotions through that single act. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, your body betraying your lingering anger.

you knew you should resist, should hold onto your anger, but your body responded to his touch instinct. jey's lips crashed into yours, passionate and hungry. you melted into his embrace, your body responding to his touch despite your lingering hurt. his fingers dug into your thigh as he pressed you against the cool tile wall.

"show me," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "show me how much you love me, mama."

he positioned himself at your entrance, sliding his dick between your folds. your arousal leaking all over him, "its yo dick, mama. you all mines. y'hear me? ion want nobody else..." you whimpered as Jey teased you, your body trembling with need.

"fuck," you breathed, your fingers digging into his shoulders, "i need you so bad."

jey smirked, clearly pleased with your surrender. in one swift motion, he thrust into you with a grunt at the feelings of your pussy hugging him tightly, filling you completely. you cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation, "that's right, mama. no one else can make you feel this good. yea?"

"look at you, taking my dick so well," he purred, his voice dripping with arrogance. "you can't stay mad at me when I'm fucking you like this, can you?"

you shook your head weakly, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through your body. your anger melted away, replaced by a desperate need for more.

"tell me I'm the best you ever had," jey demanded, his ego swelling with every word, his voice low and dripping with arrogance as he leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours like a challenge he knew he’d already won

as he began to move, setting a punishing rhythm, you lost yourself in the sensations. the steam, the heat of his body, the fullness of him inside you, was all so familiar. all of jey's apologies ended this way. you lowered your head into the crook of his neck as your mewls bounced off the glass walls. jey felt the sensation of tears on his shoulder, warm and damp against his skin. at first, he rolled his eyes, a slight smirk tugging at his lips again.

the more he moved, the less pain you felt—and soon you were taking him so well. his dick was coated in your slick, a ring of white started form around his base as he plunged in and out of your pussy.

you felt pathetic. here you were; screaming and yelling at jey for being so inconsiderate about your relationship, inappropriate with other women, swearing you were done with him...and now you're crying about letting him fuck you in the shower. his dick thrusting in and out of your pussy, and bouncing you on it.

right where you belonged.

"this all you needed right, mama? stop crying. tell me whatchu needed. you just wanted to get fucked, hm?" jey laughed breathlessly, pressing you deeper against the wall as his hips pounded into you, "gotta remind my girl she ain't leavin' me. only place she belongs is right here. fuck me back, baby."

jey placed small kisses on your cheeks, where your tears rolled down. you hated him for making you like this—complete putty in his hands. you knew he was ruining you for all others. but what could you say? no matter how many fights, you still loved him. everything with him just felt right. you couldn't picture it with anybody else.

he chuckled darkly, increasing his pace. "that's right, mama. you all mine. no matter how mad you get."

your pussy clenched around him. the only sound in the room was you pussy making obscene noises every time he stroked, "j-jey.." you sobbed out against his shoulder as jey hit that perfect spot deep inside you.

he was like an animal in your ear: grunting and growling as he pounded you with little regard.

"i-i hate you," you whimpered unconvincingly, your walls clenching around him.

Jey laughed, the sound rich and condescending. "no you don't, mama. you close? focus on cummin' baby. i love that shit."

each thrust puts stars in your vision. he’s splitting you open from behind with a steady, strong pace. your pussy clenches down on his cock and he curses under his breath at the feeling. he loved how you squeezed his length as quiet, pained mewls escaped your throat. your stomach dropped and your hips shuddered as he went deeper and deeper inside of you. your mouth opened on a loud string of sobs as you push your hips towards his. you felt your belly start to tighten as his strokes sped up.

"m-m-m gonna c-cummm," you let out a strangled cry as your orgasm flooded the both of you.

"shit! fuck, baby. you can take it. it's your dick" he growled as your pussy tightened from overstimulation. it made his eyes roll and stomach clench so hard that it hurts.

"you ha-have to pull, aw fuck! you have to pull out." you and jey always used some sort of protection. jey remembered, you mentioning how you forgot to renew your birth control pills. he finally found his way out of another one of your dramatic ass arguments. he was gonna make you a mommy, "w-we can't bring a baby into th—"

"shh, shh," he hushed your protest as his hips continued to rock into your pussy, his dick coated in a sheer layer of white slicking him up, "don't worry bout that, right now. just focus on cummin' again, baby. you so pretty when you do." his voice almost hypnotic

jey's thrusts grew even more forceful, your body bouncing against the slick tile with each powerful movement. He gripped your thighs tighter, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he held you in place.

you sniffled as you finally calmed down. your body still betraying you by leaking onto jey's dick. he pressed his lips to yours and groaned spilling rope after rope inside you with choking gasps. your over-sensitive, aching pussy twitches at the feeling of his hot cum inside of you, sending another mini orgasm out of you. he kept his dick plugged inside of you, feeding you soft thrust, making sure all his cum was drained into you.

"you know I love you, right?" he let out a small chuckle, his tone dripping with amusement as he pressed soft kisses on your face—your eyes welling with tears again, "i told you it wasn't that deep. stop being so childish, ight? y'know you my baby. no other motherfucka but you."

you blinked, confused, a mix of frustration and guilt clouding your thoughts. he could see it in your eyes, how the doubt started to creep in. you opened your mouth to argue but found yourself hesitating. the way he framed it, the way he made you feel like the one in the wrong, made you question everything, "you're right...i'm sorry, jey. i really am."

"that's what i thought," jey murmured, his smile widening as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you like nothing had ever happened. his touch felt possessive, almost reassuring, but you couldn’t shake the knot in your stomach.

you’d said it—apologized when it wasn’t even your fault—but his manipulation left you feeling small, but once again, it didn't bother you.

he kissed the top of your head, acting like everything was fine, like the argument had never happened. "you’re good, baby," he whispered, his voice smooth, convincing. "don’t let these little things mess with us. we're gonna start our own lil family soon. my baby's gonna have my baby."

his words made your pussy soak his dick again absentmindedly and tighten all over. your body betrayed you once again, your pussy clenching and fluttering around jey's softening cock still buried inside you. a rush of warmth flooded your core as you felt his seed seeping deeper, seeking out your womb with primal purpose. your inner walls rippled with aftershocks, milking every last drop from him as if desperate to be filled.

jey set this up...he flooded his cum into you and right now it was rushing towards your womb. you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the right time, and maybe, just maybe, jey wasn’t the right person. yet, it all still felt so perfect.

his voice was honey-sweet, dripping with false tenderness that you desperately wanted to believe. "yo body knows what it needs, even when that pretty lil head of yours get all mixed up with drama and being childish."

you nodded, your chest tight as you fought the overwhelming urge to pull away, to tell him the truth—that this wasn’t okay, that it shouldn’t be this way. but you didn’t. because the way he looked at you, so certain and calm, made you second guess yourself again.

yet, imagine the look on your face when you see two pink lines on a pregnancy test 3 weeks later and a DM of a video with another woman's lips on your mans in the back of the club. but of course, he was pushing her off...right?

right?

❦

don’t forget to follow and reblog! drop me a comment too, i love reading those. <3

tags:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @southerngirl41 @jaza23 @prettyfilmz @uceyliyahh @strxwberry-milku

merry christmas! 💘

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psychoticfemmm · 3 days ago

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flashpoint

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: Rafe and the reader argue over a reckless stunt the reader pulled with the Pogues, escalating into a heated confrontation. The reader diffuses the tension in an unexpected way

The argument had escalated far more than you’d intended. Rafe stood in front of you, his jaw tight, eyes blazing with frustration.

“You’re unbelievable!” he snapped, pacing back and forth, his voice sharp with anger. “Do you even realize how reckless that was? Running around with them, pulling some stupid stunt like that? You could’ve gotten hurt—or worse!”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re my friends, Rafe. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do with them.”

“They’re Pogues!” he shot back, his tone dripping with disdain. “And they’re going to get you killed! You’re not—”

“I am a Pogue!” you interrupted, your voice rising. “And I’m not going to stop being one just because you don’t like it!”

“That’s not the point!” Rafe barked, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “The point is you’re putting yourself in danger for no reason!”

You rolled your eyes, even though deep down, you knew he was right. The stunt you’d pulled with the Pogues earlier—a daring boat jump into rocky waters—had been reckless. But admitting that to Rafe? Not happening.

“You’re overreacting,” you muttered, avoiding his glare.

“Overreacting?” He stepped closer, his blue eyes narrowing. “You were one wrong move away from cracking your head open, and you think I’m overreacting?”

You bit your lip, guilt settling in your chest. He wasn’t wrong, but you hated how smug he’d look if you admitted it. Instead, you crossed your arms tighter and met his glare with your own.

“Okay, fine! I get it!” you snapped. “You’ve made your point. Can you stop yelling now?”

But Rafe wasn’t done. “No, I’m not stopping, because clearly, you don’t get it. You can’t keep pulling this crap and expecting me to just—”

“Rafe,” you interrupted, your voice unusually sweet, but he was too wound up to notice.

“And another thing, you’re so—”

Before he could finish, you grabbed the hem of your top and yanked it up, exposing your bare chest.

The silence was immediate.

Rafe’s mouth opened, then closed. His eyes darted from your face to your chest and back again, his expression shifting from anger to shock, then to something far darker.

“You didn’t just—” he started, his voice lower now, almost husky.

“You were yelling,” you said simply, biting back a smirk.

For a moment, he stood there, clearly torn between finishing the argument and giving in to the temptation in front of him. Then, with a soft curse under his breath, he crossed the room in two long strides.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, his hands sliding around your waist as he pulled you close.

“And yet, here you are,” you teased, your voice barely a whisper.

He smirked, his lips brushing against yours. “You think you can just flash me and win every argument?”

“Worked, didn’t it?” you shot back, grinning.

Rafe didn’t answer, not with words, anyway. His mouth claimed yours in a heated kiss, the frustration from before melting into something much more electric. His hands roamed your sides, his grip firm, his movements deliberate.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmured against your lips, his tone laced with amusement and desire.

“And you’re lucky I know how to shut you up,” you replied, your breath hitching as he trailed kisses down your neck.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

sorry I went missing for a while but im backkkk 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe x reader smut #outerbanks rafe #obx season 4 #outer banks #fanfiction #obx #aesthetic #drew starkey x reader #rafe fluff #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction

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thekaratcake-blog · 13 hours ago

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I said I can't be bothere to check the others, but lets start real easily, non hebrew slaves are to be kept, owned as property and passed down to your children, it is explicit about it, to use hebrew salves to go "see look man" isn't very useful, also no it is the word of god, that part is directly after the ten commandments, this isn't going "slavery exists" this is god explaining how to do so and also mentions that women aren't to go free ever and are to be kept at property, it does not record it, it is demanding it, and the "slave's bible" was a real thing given to slaves to keep them in line, as well as christianity and places like exodus 21 being used to explicitly justify and prolong slavery, it's a nice apologetic "oh it was only a thing at the time" "oh it was only servants" no, it was instructions, that was incredibly clear, it was used so and understood to be and still is be scholars today, however now that we understand that it's wrong, people are backpedalling, but prey tell where it says that slavery is wrong?

Also yeah so the god who condemns eating shellfish and homosexuality is going to be fine with slavery in his book and at no point say to stop that? Those werne't things of the time but slavery is? Why exactly would god not condemn it if he saw it as morally evil? Again, the non hebrew slave was not treated the same, was considered property, wasn't afforded the protections, I wonder why only those of the religion the book teaches about are protected? Practices in exodus 21 didn't limit slavery, only slavery for hebrew slaves, which the african americans weren't counted as, a lot of the laws infact for slaves and the way they were treated during the american chattel period came directly from the bible

Cool and all it talks about not abusing children but god does and excuses what he wants, the whole killing all the firstborns of isreal, or commanding the slaughter of the caananites, men, women and children, to slaughter the women who have known a man, and to take the others for themselves (no age limit mention you may notice)

Also you're right, why is there no mention of pedophelia in the bible? God condemned wearing mixed fabrics, eating shellfsh, homosexuality, sewing your field with two kinds of seed, no all of that is condemnable, slavery? Nah he gives instructions, pedophilia? Nah but there's a few passages that many have taken to be explicitly condoning it, when you say interpretation, what you mean is some people like to take the bible liberally or call anything they disagree with metaphor to protect it when it objectively says evil shit

Again, what about those non hebrew slaves, those non hebrew slaves which are referred to as property in multiple passages, those non hebrew slaves which don't have protections and are to be passed down to their children, what about buying a wife? Did the woman get a say in it? The answer is no, btw, her father sells her, and she is to "please" her man, again, most scholars agree that this is generally in reference to sexual pleasure, women were usually sold as sex slaves

Yes eventually the Nazi movement fell into "positive christianity" that doesn't change it's roots it's normal christianity or the fact it was believed by the majority of it's troops, used as a rallying cry, what got hitler in power in the first place and why they targetted jews

And yes, I can absolutely say, as an african american yourself, justifying the shit used to enslave and torture your ancestors is just deeply fucked up, the slaves bible was explicitly a thing, who gives a shit if a handful of people reinterpreted the bible in a way that they thought was better and supported them, of course they did, because you god couldn't be fucked to be clear enough that people wouldn't fucking enslave and kill others, all powerful and all knowing but not powerful enough to be clear and not all knowing enough to know of the confusion it would cause, of course

Again, Bible condemns many other practices considered normal at the time, it actively doesn't condemn slavery, instead changing how it was done to make people nicer to those that follow the bible specifically, the same book that condemns insane small shit refuses to condemn slavery and instead talks about it repeatedly in what is obviously a very encouraging way

What on earth would make you think that the piece directly after the ten commandments is suddenly, without any mention of it being so, switching from god's commandments to "oh just what was going on at the time, y'knowwwww"

It's excuses, and they're shitty, and this isn't even the end of the horrible shit that book does and allows, american chattel slaves were treated just about EXACTLY as non hebrew slaves were laid out to be treated in the bible and historically it's likely that american chattel slavery comes from older biblical practices

But I'll give you another chance, give me any good reason to read exodus 20 as god's divine command and suddenly read exodus 21 as some weird recounting, I've heard this plenty and it's absurd, it's just so obviously just trying to weasal around the reailty

And again, if it's all about misinterpretations and mistranslation, man what a mighty god that he can't even write a book coherent enough to make sense to those in the future or translate it himself, maybe come down and go "oi stop it" as he supposedly did for all sorts of other things, I mean he fucking tormented Job because of a dare from satan, but nah slavery, doesn't bat an eye

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deonsx · 2 days ago

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helloo there!!♡, I really love the way you write. I'm wondering what it would be like if sae,rin,kaiser, have a gf who is a cosplayer, tyy♡!

Hiii dear!! Have a nice read and thank youuu^^

Rin Itoshi

Rin had come home early from practice. As soon as he opened the door he heard strange noises coming from the living room. When he walked in he found you sitting on the floor trying to shape a large piece of cardboard. The room was a mess with hot glue guns paints fabric scraps and oddly shaped foam pieces scattered everywhere

“What are you doing?” Rin asked with a curious expression. You looked up at him. With a smudge of paint on your face and messy hair you smiled brightly. “I’m working on a new cosplay. This is going to be a piece of armor” you said holding up the cardboard. Rin raised an eyebrow. “Armor? That thing needs a lot of work before it even looks like armor.”

“Don’t tease me!” you retorted. “This is just the base layer. It still needs painting hardening and detailing. Rin chuckled. “Alright alright. But why does the entire house look like a battlefield? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Though you looked a bit offended you could tell Rin was getting interested. “I watched some YouTube videos and read a few guides. It’s a bit challenging but I’m learning. Plus it’s fun”

Rin sat down next to you and picked up the piece of cardboard you were working on. “If you’re going to put in this much effort at least do it properly. You need to cut this cleanly with a craft knife” he said grabbing a knife and showing you how to do it

After that day Rin couldn’t help but get involved in your project. Sometimes he’d point out mistakes saying “You’re doing it wrong” and other times he’d grab a paintbrush to help you add finishing touches

When the cosplay was finally ready you put it on and showed Rin the completed look. As you posed excitedly you noticed the surprised look on his face. “Alright” he said after a moment “I thought it was silly at first but… it actually looks really good”

“Really?” you asked your eyes sparkling with hope. Rin shrugged. “Maybe. But after all that effort I guess I can’t say anything against it.” At the convention your armor caught everyone’s attention. People stopped you to take pictures and compliment your work. Rin stood a step behind you a small smile on his face keeping an eye on the crowd to make sure no one crossed any boundaries

Sae Itoshi

when you first mentioned your passion for cosplay he didn’t think much of it. “Cosplay? You mean dressing up as fictional characters?” he asked one day his tone calm but slightly curious “Exactly!” you replied with excitement. “It’s a lot more than just dressing up though. I design the outfits build props and sometimes even compete. It’s a hobby but it means a lot to me”

Sae gave a small nod. “If it’s important to you that’s fine. Just don’t expect me to dress up” You laughed at his response knowing it was his way of acknowledging your interests without diving too deeply

A few weeks later you were preparing for a convention. Your living room was a workshop with fabric glue guns and foam scattered everywhere. Sae walked in and paused his sharp gaze taking in the scene “You’ve been at this for hours” he commented setting his bag down

“Yup” you said not even looking up from the detailed painting you were doing on a prop. “The convention is in two days and I want this to be perfect” Sae sighed softly walking closer. “Does it really need to be this detailed? No one’s going to notice if it’s off by a little”

You shot him a playful glare. “Oh they’ll notice. Trust me cosplayers have an eye for detail” He didn’t reply but leaned down to pick up one of the finished pieces. “It’s impressive” he admitted after a moment. “I didn’t realize you made all of this yourself”

The day of the convention Sae offered to drive you there. As you stepped out of the car in your fully completed costume he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger for a moment. You looked stunning the outfit perfectly capturing the character you were portraying “You’re really into this aren’t you?” he said his voice softer than usual “I am” you replied with a bright smile. “And I love it”

At the convention Sae stayed in the background watching as people approached you for photos and compliments. He observed the way your face lit up every time someone admired your work. Despite his usual stoic demeanor he felt a subtle sense of pride

Later as you both sat down to eat he spoke up. “You’re talented. I don’t think I could have the patience to do something like that” You grinned. “Coming from you that’s a big compliment.” Sae smirked faintly. “Don’t let it go to your head”

Kaiser Michael

“You dress up as fictional characters and make all this stuff yourself?” he asked, spinning one of your half-finished props in his hand like it was a trophy.“Yes, Michael” you replied, rolling your eyes at his tone. “It’s not just dressing up. It’s crafting, designing, and bringing something I love to life. And no, you can’t break that it took hours to make”

Kaiser smirked and placed the prop back carefully. “Relax. I’m just admiring your… creativity” A few days later, he strolled into the room while you were sewing fabric for your next costume. His golden hair was slightly tousled, and he leaned casually against the doorway, watching you work. “So, when’s this big event of yours?”

“This weekend” you answered, not looking up from your work “Perfect. I’ll clear my schedule” he said with a grin. You looked up at him, surprised. “You’re coming?”

“Of course” he said as if it were obvious. “I have to see how good you are at this. Besides, you’ll need someone to make sure your fans don’t get too close”

The day of the convention, Kaiser arrived in style, dressed impeccably as always. When he saw you in your finished cosplay, his usual cocky smirk shifted into something softer. “I’ll admit” he said, circling you like a critic. “You look incredible. Almost as good as me” “Almost?” you teased, raising an eyebrow “Fine” he said with a mock dramatic sigh. “You look better than me for now”

At the convention, Kaiser stayed by your side, his presence impossible to ignore. People stared as much at him as they did at you, but he didn’t seem to mind. Whenever someone asked for a photo with you, he’d step aside, arms crossed, observing like he was the one managing your image

“You know” he whispered at one point as you posed for a group shot. “You should’ve told me earlier. I’d have joined you in costume. Imagine us as a power duo unstoppable” You laughed, shaking your head. “This is my thing, Michael. You already have football”

“But you’re my girlfriend” he said with a wink. “That makes everything you do my thing too” By the end of the day, you were exhausted but happy. Kaiser drove you home, still talking about how “you stole the show” and how “everyone was lucky to witness your brilliance”

Enjoy!

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