#i lit up like a fucking christmas tree

[valtsv]

are we still doing this because i have a late submission

[mazzy-rockstar]

The moon is absolutely ginormous I feel like I’m in Bruce Almighty

[peachesofteal]

Cool Girl

Ghoap x female reader / 18+ / masterlist / warning: cancer

“Wait… I’m sorry, I… I think I misheard you…”

The doctor gives you a very kind, but very practiced smile and pats your hand gently. “It’s a brain tumor.”

Oh god. Oh my god. You’re going to throw up. White hot fear rockets up your spine, spreading through every nerve, vessel, piece of tissue like a crack of lightning, obliterating everything in its path.

A tumor. A brain tumor.

“Okay… uh,” you don’t know where to begin. What kind of questions do you ask? What happens next? “Do I… get surgery or something? What… what do I do?” She nods, pointing to something on the tablet screen, scans of your brain lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

She’s explaining something to you, something you don’t really understand, but you vaguely catch the end of it. “-to try to shrink it. The chemo will hopefully do that for us, and we can move to next steps.” Chemo. Chemo?

“Oh.”

“I know this is a lot to take in, but we’re going to do everything we can.” Everything we can?

She sends you home with a stack of papers, pamphlets, and more appointments than you could possibly remember.

Your empty apartment suddenly feels more sad, more morose than it ever has before, and for the hundredth time today, you think of Simon and Johnny.

Pathetically, you want to call them.

Maybe Simon would let Johnny come over. Maybe he’d let Johnny hold you.

Maybe Simon would even want to hold you too. You snort. Unlikely.

Instead of someone to lay with, be with, you slip fitfully into a restless sleep, buried in a pile of pillows.

Your days turn into Russian roulette.

You meet your oncologist, you start chemo. You take medical leave from work, considering you can’t do anything except go back and forth between appointments, and try not to think about the monster that’s living in your head, sucking you dry. Mornings roll into nights, and you become some sort of zombie, dragging your feet around the building, unable to eat, unable to sleep.

You can sometimes stomach soup though. Soup of all kinds, chicken noodle, ramen, tomato, you name it. It takes two weeks for you to get through your mostly broth diet before you’re forced out into the world to buy some more.

The grocery store is a nightmare. The lights are too bright, the people are too loud, and it’s freezing, even though most people are in shorts and short sleeves.

You’re bundled up. It’s a little ridiculous.

You take your time in the soup aisle with your basket, glancing over your options, trying to push down your nausea and figure out what you might feel like eating later. It’s a daunting task, considering what you threw up before you left the flat.

You fill your basket with as much as you think you might need, ignoring the throbbing in your head as much as possible, and round the corner to the frozen section, looking for some ice cream. Something sweet doesn’t sound so bad, you think. Maybe some mint chocolate, or cookies and cream.

You stand in front of the frosted doors, debating your options, oblivious to the world.

Oblivious until you hear someone calling your name.

When you turn your head, there’s a flash of a mohawk from the corner of your eye, and then Johnny is standing in front of you with his jaw dropped.

“Oh. Hi.”

“Hi?” He bleats. “Hi? Bonnie, ye… ye look-“

“Like shit?” You finish for him, unimpressed, and he shakes his head.

“No. Sick. Are ye alright?” Truly, you want to lie. Throw yourself at his feet and beg him to come home with you, cuddle you, help you.

You can’t though. You know you can’t.

Johnny’s heart doesn’t belong to you. Neither does Simon’s.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine. Just tired.” His eyes narrow, your own heart bleeds. “Swear.” He shakes his head.

“Ye’re lying.” You’re about to tell him to mind his business, to tell him you’re not his business anymore, when his eyes go incredibly soft, and he steps closer. “If this is about what happened-“

“I don’t… I can’t do this.” You move away, backwards. “I just wanted to get some ice cream. I don’t want to do this with you.” You cast a mournful look at the freezers behind him, and then turn away, a barely there goodbye whispered over your shoulder.

[deadghosy]

Mommy long legs reader or slender man reader x Hazbin hotel 🌚🌝

AHHHH I LOVE YOU MY GHOST ANONNNN! SLENDERMAN?? YOU FINNA BRING OUT MY CREEPYPASTA PHASEE🦆✨💗‼️‼️‼️

HAZBIN HOTEL X SLENDERMAN! READER

prompt: a faceless creature of the height of 10’5 (or 7’9 idk I got two different heights from safari lol) came to hell to serve one final purpose…get a damn job.

Two words, scary tall…

So say your height was 10’5…

SHIT GON GET WICKEEDDDD!!!

Okay so I can see Charlie being scared staring at you as you just sit like a nice gentleman as your body doesn’t fit the whole seat… (y’know what, let’s go with 7’9…) you told Charlie you use to be a leader before you somehow came to this wrenched place

Charlie felt bad and gave you a job here so yon can stay. But she was confused when you said “somehow”’ as if you didn’t die as a Human…WAIT A MINUTE..DID YOU JUST TALK WITHOUT A MOU-

Lucifer looked up at you and was like….“What in the fucking nine circles…” and you two became friends because of how Lucifer put accessories on you like a Christmas tree

Y’know how people make slenderman wear reading glasses sometimes? That’s you. 😭 with your blind ass LMAOO (I also wear glasses dw…) But I can see you wear the glasses and residents be so confused because…you don’t have eyes for Christ out loud-

“Fuck you wearin' glasses for?” Husk said to you once as he caught you even reading a book…now he was more confused. “I’m reading…” “…..okay..” husk was so done with this buffoonery as you had no mouth and eyes. But yet you could still read, see, and fuckin talk? Yeah he must be drunk as hell itself…

You treat niffty just like how fanon slenderman treats Sally. That’s how I headcannon it.

I headcannon you to be the fanon version of slenderman rather the cannon version. Cause you being the fanon version is just sweet considering the chaos that can happen in the hotel and how you treat niffty.

I can see people thinking you are a new overlord as you had a stern aura around yourself as you had a proper straight walk as you held a high chin not showing any weaknesses.

“Woah….did you see that sinner get lit in flames…” “yeah I did.” It got so quiet so quick as angel gave you a confused face as you just stood there. 😭 Angel couldn’t tell if you were being fr or being a smartass

You were just sleeping on the couch, dead ass like a passed out beer dad after watching football. And fat nuggets sat in your lap sleeping. Then angel came and slept by you, then husk, then niffty, AND THEN EVERYONE JOINED 😭 big ass family cuddle💗💗🦆

You deadass could be the bodyguard of the hotel as you could escort a sinner who is trying to be an ass to the staff and you’re just like, “YEET!” And boom they are thrown away

You and Alastor definitely bond the most as you two got black tentacles. It’s just for Alastor it’s based on his powers when he uses his magic. But for you, it’s just your appearance as you use them to pierce your enemies. But mostly you use them when you are too bored to pick up objects with your hands

BIGGG headcannon that when slenderman do that static thingy, for you it clouds their vision and hearing as you make them pass out. Either to death or just to knock them out.

Lol I can imagine the whole creepypasta mansion going crazy while you drink tea like “this is fine” as you are in some other universe- 😭 crossover type shit

Like Drowned Ben is spam texting your phone like, “slender. slender. Help. Slendy. Octopus. Father. Help help.. help JeFF STABBED ME!”

And your tall ass is just sleeping as everything is going soooo peaceful in the hotel.

While we are at that, EJ definitely was using a book to try and to summon you with sally behind him hugging her teddy to see you again. Meanwhile Jeff was chasing Ben as he goes through a tv to hide from Jeff.

I imagine people in the hotel would hug you except for Alastor as he hates touch. But the people would dead ass hug you as one of your tentacles hold them.

You picked up angel, niffty , Charlie and Vaggie with your four tentacles as you read a book. It was a funny but cute sight as Charlie was like “:p” while the others had a cartoony ass expression or a blank one which is definitely Vaggie and husk

Adam and Lute definitely glanced at each other confused at what the fuck you were as you didn’t have a demonic or angelic aura. But you had some type of power in you. It was weird asf as you just stood there like “🧍🏾am I ugly?” They just kept staring at you

I can see you having the same expression as the picture above when you met pentious as you and Alastor was having tea just chilling with the hellish weather.

“Do you know that guy?” “I have no idea who that pest is my dear friend.” Alastor says with his usual smile as he hands you a cookie.

Just straight up tea times with Alastor is so peaceful as Alastor was kinda suspicious when you didn’t say anything if he ate a cannibalism meal. But I mean…slenderman! Reader is use to people being a cannibal.

The vees are definitely intrigued with who the hell you are and how powerful are you as you were the talk of pentagram city when you first came.

I headcannon a sinner tried to cut off your tentacles only to be grabbed by one of them and slammed to the ground. You just stood there and let static ring loudly in their head to the point it exploded.

[zhongrin]

zhongrin © 2024 ❥ do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or feed into ai.

muzzled.

featuring... ❥ wriothesley

involves... ❥ afab!reader, fem!reader, muzzle, restraints, teasing (reader → wrio), feral!wrio, sweet & degrading petnames used, mentioned collar & leash at the end, not proofread

wriothesley was starting to regret agreeing to this.

the thing is, you’d lit up like a christmas tree as soon as he nodded, and the way your hooded eyes coupled with your signature cheeky grin were intoxicating in itself. he couldn’t help but growl from behind the muzzle you’d fixed around his mouth - that wasn’t part of the agreement, but it seemed like you, like the impudent-yet-endearing individual that you were, had planned this from the start.

“you look so good like this, wrio~” you hum, now stepping closer to tap on the black metal, crooning as if you were talking to an adored pet, “and now you can’t use those teeth to bite me, pup.”

he growled. the cuffs - his handcuffs, the one he always carried around - jangled behind him as he tried to move his limbs out of habit. part of him burned when you treat him like this. it was both pleasant yet humiliating, arousing and infuriating, to be reduced to a tamed dog, chained to its place.

your boyfriend received an amused chuckle from you. wriothesley’s eyes sharpened, his thighs flexing when he felt your weight descend upon him, sitting across his lap as if you belonged there. which you did. and he would have welcomed you with kisses and his arms wrapping around your waist if he weren’t in such… predicament.

seriously, why did he agree to this, again?

the man watched intently as you slowly traced the hard planes of his muscles highlighted by the black bodysuit, the heat and tension of being unable to grab and hold you driving him mad by each second. all he could imagine was him flipping your position, holding your body against him, and—

“you drive me crazy whenever you wear something like this, you know?” his thoughts halted from your words, breath hitching as he felt your hand grope and kneaded against his pecs.

“truly, sweetheart? more than when i’m naked?” though his voice strained, he challenged, cocking an eyebrow up as his lips tugged into a boyish smirk.

you huffed and punished him with a hand coming down to rest against his inner thigh, so close and yet so far from his growing excitement, the bulge evident against the dark grey pants. “still cheeky? i’ll have to remind you that you’re currently under my mercy.”

“only because of these blasted restraints and goddamn muzzle, doll,” the gravel in his voice deepened the timbre of his voice, causing an involuntary shudder to run up your spine, “the moment i get out, you know who’ll be under whose mercy.”

“ohhh? then you better work hard~” you sang, leaning in unabashedly to lick and nibble on his neck. a rewarding groan from your boyfriend was all it took for you to start to earnestly mark his skin, red-purples blooming on the exposed part of his neck and shoulder. the fact that you couldn’t mark his favorite spot - the junction of his neck - was both a blessing and a curse to wriothesley. he had half a mind to beg you to rip his accursed bodysuit off somehow, though he knew it would be hard to do considering the situation.

his wrists strained against the metals, a hiss escaping through his clenched teeth. you eyed his escape attempt in amusement, withdrawing from his neck only to place your lips near the base of his ear, “aww, poor puppy… bet you never thought your cuffs would be used against you, huh? or have you thought about it before? naughty, naughty…”

“shut up,” he shivered, wishing he could turn and shut you up with a deep kiss, but this stupid contraption—

a strangled groan of your name left his throat, his thighs twitching when your hand on his thigh moved to cup his bulge, fondling softly from behind the clothing, “fuck, shit-”

yet as soon as it started, it ended. wriothesley subjected you to a fiery frustrated glare by his icy cold eyes; you were truly going to be the death of him at this rate.

“you fucking brat.”

the nickname shot a rush of desire into your core. you knew you were succeeding in riling him up in that direction when the sweeter petnames were replaced with that kind of filth.

you wanted him feral, and it seemed like you were getting your wish if you could keep this up.

“who, me?” you giggled, knowing it would irate him further, “oh, but i’m just getting started, darling.”

you shifted to face him directly, completely straddling him on his chair. the lust-filled eyes of your lover were affixed on you, unable to tear away as your hands moved to unbutton the blouse you had; one button at a time, slowly exposing more and more skin. with every inch revealed, you watched as his adam’s apple bob, his eyes dilating, breathing visibly picking up when he realized you had opted out of wearing a bra today. shakily, momentarily, his gaze dropped lower to your skirt. what if.

“like what you see?” his vision shifted back to your face at your taunt. with all the buttons off, the cloth slipped down your shoulders until you maneuver it to drop onto the ground.

“you… naughty, evil, teasing-” his words died on his tongue when your hands - oh how pretty they would look cupping around his cock - moved themselves up your ribs to cup your breasts. your dainty fingers fail to appreciate them fully, in his opinion; unable to hold the soft plumpness properly, too small to knead properly. it should have been his hands, massaging and making you moan and writhe. should have been his calloused fingers that flicked your pert nipples, making you whine needily and tremble like that.

“unlock the cuff,” he gruffly ordered, chains clinking loudly as he tried to pull and tug against them, “right now.”

you tilted your head, pausing to bat your eyelashes innocently at him. you had no idea how much he wanted to see those pretty lashes wet with tears as he bit and mark and fondle your skin all over right now. oblivious to the picture he had on his head, where he held you down and pinned you on the bed as he ravaged you senseless.

instead of giving him salvation, you gave him sin. more of sinful provocation; your moans loud, one of your hand slowly trailing down your abdomen to slip beneath your skirt. the fact that he could picture your finger gathering slick from your slit, delving into your folds to then rub your swollen clit with your abundance of slick — yet being unable to witness the sight obscured by the stupid piece of clothing, was maddening. a crime, even.

did you have to slip your hand beneath your panties? or did you also decide to forego them just like you did with your bra? and did you have to moan so prettily while looking directly at him like that?

“damn it- you unfair little-!”

his cock was straining so hard against his pants, it hurt. you hummed, both amused and aroused at the words falling from his lips and the loud creak and clang of metal chains and wooden chair scraping against the floor. you knew he wanted to touch and taste you, you knew he was going to devour you if you kept this on. you knew you probably should stop teasing him so cruelly like this.

you waited for a particular word to slip out of his lips — the word that would stop your little game altogether.

but only curses and snarls left your lover’s lips, and you relished in the pure, unfiltered want on his expression. your fingers delved into your sopping cunt, a breathy moan and a shudder racking through your body as you pleasured yourself on top of his lap, slick dripping to stain his pants.

wriothesley’s breaths were ragged and loud, his jaw locked and clenched, eyes shifting between your expression, the hand fondling your breast and perked nipple, the way your other hand moved beneath the skirt— it was all too much, too much—

you gave him a knowing, sultry smile, and he could swear he entered some kind of hypnotic daze as you pulled your hand away from under the flimsy skirt, your dainty digits covered in wetness. his mouth opened automatically, tongue out as he tried to inch forward, chasing the honeyed treat.

the metal muzzle tapped against your fingers, just as your kind smile turned mischievous.

wriothesley

snaps.

you didn’t realize the chains broke until your vision shifts, your center of gravity thrown off balance. your back slammed against the hard surface of his desk, your breath stolen out of your lungs as you lost your bearings, confusion flooding your mind. you’d barely realized what had happened when you felt your skirt ripped away, your legs pushed apart and your knees kissing your ears before your beloved’s cock plunged into the wet, sopping heat. eyes rolling to the back of your head, your back arched as he started rutting, sparks of pleasure blooming rapidly in your senses.

wriothesley couldn’t even spare a moment to talk as his hips moved so deliciously, the hardened cock dragging against your spongy walls with vengeance. this was what you’d reduced him to: a mindless, ruthless beast only caring to take and take and take, after finally having the prey you bared and dangled in front of him. preys shouldn’t have taunted their predators, but you went ahead and did it anyway.

“w-wrio- oh- f-fuck-”

a deep snarl, and the hands you tried to reach out to touch him slammed back down on the desk. you inhaled shakily and almost moaned outloud just from the sight of him on top of you, still muzzled, silver blue eyes glaring down at you. untamed and feral, the merciless slam of his hips continued, blunt head reaching into the deepest part of your pussy as it convulsed around him. the sounds of your coupling filled the room, and your mind melted from the onslaught of pleasure, senses succumbing to the carnal lust you’ve inflicted upon your lover.

amidst the feral snarls and mind-numbing oxytocin, you barely heard his voice, panting and rough with unbridled need, “gonna cum,” the grip on your hands moved onto your hips, keeping you in place as the brutish thrusts started to turn uncoordinated, “gonna breed this perverted pussy. it’s what you wanted, isn’t it? you wanted to be fucked stupid like this? huh?”

broken moans left your throat, head spinning as the arrhythmical slaps of his hips against yours brought you teetering towards the precipice of euphoria. it took all you could to nod in agreement, and wriothesley’s smirk widen, a pleased growl reverberating within his throat as he felt his cock throb, ropes of sticky cum flooding into your deepest part. the warmth flooding into you triggered your own climax, spongy walls clamping down to milk him within the tight channel.

you exhaled shakily, quivering as the intense orgasm left you sensitive all over, body tingling as it relaxed, limp against the hard surface of his work desk. wriothesley panted on top of you, his breathing heavy and almost strained as his smouldering eyes saw your boneless body under him.

he bent down, and you would have thought he was about to kiss you if not for the contraption obscuring his mouth—

“you didn’t think that was enough for that stunt you pulled on me, did you, brat?”

your breath hitched as he ripped away the metal muzzle off his mouth, flexing his jaw and massaging the red imprint it made onto his skin. he dangled the item above you, eyes hooded and dark and mean.

“this time, why don’t i let you wear this? i already have a collar and a leash prepared for you to match, after all.”

❥ banner picture © nqrse ー hoyofair 2024

[lovelytsunoda]

naughty list // oscar piastri

summary: oscar's bored, horny and hopelessly smitten with his lover. but if he keep this up, he's going to land them both on santa's naughty list this year.

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

prompt: "let's both be naughty and save santa the trip."

warnings: soft smut, praise overload, christmas lingerie, oscar is a big simp, sex on a shag carpet, oscar 'if she's not enjoying herself, neither am i' piastri,

author's note: am i incapable of writing anything wholesome about this man? possibly.

oscar piastri was head over heels for his girlfriend.

perhaps that's how he got himself into this situation, on the couch by the fire on a cold london winter, christmas tree lit up behind the couch, tennis on the tv. fresh gingerbread cookies sat on the island, filling the ground-floor apartment with their familiar and warm scent.

y/n had slipped away just moments before, kissing his forehead and promising a surprise, her nervous giggle punctuating the end of the sentence as she slipped away to the bedroom.

a nervous giggle that made him wonder, if, perhaps, the surprise was a little on the naughtier side. his lover wasn't one for wild bedroom escapades, but the fact that she might have been trying to spice it up a little for him?

it drove him fucking wild. worried him slightly, yes, because he didn't want her to push herself too far out of her comfort zone if she wasn't ready, but excited him nonetheless.

meanwhile, in the bedroom, she was nitpicking everything, standing anxiously in front of the mirror as she twirled her hair. the red set stood out against her skin, and while the corset was almost no different than many of the shirts that she wore, she wasn’t sure how to feel about the lacy panties, leaving so much skin exposed.

she’d never been a lingerie person. she wished she could be, but even stepping into victorias secret sent her in a self-critical spiral. no, until now she had tended to stick to skimpy pajama sets, never as exposed as she was now.

she thought she was being ridiculous, oscar had seen her naked, for lords sake.

but even still, looking at herself in the mirror, she wondered if she should have picked the set with the silk robe.

she closed her eyes, counting to ten before she reached for the santa hat on the bed, pulling it over her head and dangling the pom pom on the end over her shoulder.

when she gently trod back into the living room, she cleared her throat to get oscars attention. the driver looked up from his phone, choking on his kale smoothie when he saw her. he promptly dropped his phone, getting to his feet and ambling over to her.

“y/n, love, you look stunning.” his touch was gentle, starting at her hands before running gently along her skin, index finger tracing hearts on her exposed side. “you’re so beautiful, and I’m happy you feel comfortable enough with me to let me see you like this. it’s a privilege I count myself lucky to have.”

she sighed into his touch, fingers messing with the lapel of his flannel. the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the muscles in his arms flexing sharply as his fingers continued to soothe her skin.

“I thought I’d try something new.” she said sheepishly, a blush rising on her cheeks. “you like it?”

“baby, I adore it.” oscar beamed, leaning in to softly press his lips to hers. she tasted like peppermint, and smelled like vanilla bean as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer. “my gorgeous girl.” he growled, biting gently on her bottom lip. “all mine.”

smiling sweetly, she pulled oscar closer, wrapping her arms around him and playing with the hair on the back of his neck, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek. the aussie hummed contentedly, his large, warm hands trailing over her back.

he was well and truly smitten.

she looked like a christmas angel, wrapped in red and white, the cutsey santa hat propped on her head. who knew santa hats could be so sexy on the right woman?

"i love you." he hummed, moving to gently kiss her neck, smiling to himself as she propped up on the tips of her toes, gasping softly as his tongue ran over her pulse point. "my darling, darling girl." he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "maybe i should dress up next time? get that whole magic mike kinda vibe going on."

she giggled, moving one dainty hand up to cover her mouth as she laughed. god, that laugh. oscar was getting painfully hard just listening to her giggle.

she stepped back, and oscar followed, gently pressing her up against the wall. she winced at the cold plaster pressing up against her smooth skin, but the discomfort was soon forgotten as her lover leaned over her, one hand bracing him against the wall and the other under her chin to tilt her face up. she beamed, trying to hold back her giddy giggles as she stared into his wonderous eyes.

"pretty girl, love of my life." oscar started softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "let's both be naughty and save santa the trip, aye?"

"that's your smoothest holiday line yet." she nodded with a laugh, enthusiastically pulling him closer to her, eliminating the space between their bodies as best she could. "i love you." she said quickly, pressing her lips to his as his hands began to rove her front, fumbling with the strings of the corset top.

she gently pushed his hands away, watching as his eyes grew three sized when she pushed the cups of the corset bra down, nipples pebbling in the cold air, silhouetted against she stunning red of her top.

"you'll be the death of me, sweet thing." oscar laughed, running his hands over her skin. "tell me what you want, pretty girl."

"you, oscar. touching me. kissing me." she sucked in a breath as he bent down, sucking a hickey onto her supple skin, his thumb gently running over her nipple. "making me yours."

oscar groaned, laving his tongue over her sensitive bud, one hand reaching to hold hers close. "sweetheart, just let me take care of you, yeah? give you exactly what you need." he detached from her breast, a line of saliva trailing from her bud to oscar's tongue. he used one hand to wipe his mouth before kissing the back of her hand. "give my sweet perfect angel the full princess treatment."

she smiled down at him as he sank to his knees, nuzzling his nose into the soft skin of her thigh, her fingers carding through his hair. "baby, you left one of the girls unloved." she playfully pouted at him, nudging her other breast. "you don't want the one on the left to think you love the one on the right more, do you?"

oscar laughed, rising to his feet before taking her left breast in his hand. "you're so right, love. wouldn't want one of the girls to feel underappreciated. i hope they know how loved they are."

"you're such an idiot."

"yeah, but you're the one who gets turned on by me acting like a complete and utter fool."

"shut up and kiss me, pretty boy."

"yes ma'am."

oscar kissed her, his hands slipping down to the globes of her ass, lifting her into the air. she squealed, wrapping her legs around him so he was carrying her like a koala, her fingertips gripping his still-clothed shoulders.

well, she couldn't have that. why was she the only one showing any skin?

he set her down on the shag carpet, warmth from the fire gently hearing her chilled skin, hair fanning out behind her head. oscar wasted no time, shedding his flannel and t shirt before he dove right in, wrapping his lips around the tip of her breast. she gasped, arching into him with one hand gripping the carpet and the other in his hair.

“atta girl.” oscar exhaled, sucking another hickey onto her skin. in his opinion, his job wasn’t done until her tits were covered in proof of his undying love. “that’s my pretty girl.”

“need you, baby.” she pleaded, grinding up against his jeans, the denim rubbing at her sensitive core through her lace panties.

she was so shamefully soaked after oscars devotion to her breasts, and she needed some kind of release. she was almost certain that there was a damp spot forming on her lovers jeans as she ground against him.

oscar leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead before slipping his fingers underneath the fabric of her panties.

“you look too pretty in this set to take it off, baby.” he hummed, kissing over the red fabric, nuzzling into her skin as he rubbed his thumbs over her hipbones. “might just have to push them aside, but they’ll get stained badly when I make you see stars.”

“jesus, oscar, just do something!” she groaned, running her finger along his nose. “please?”

“anything for my girl.” he pushed her panties aside, gently pressing his lips to her sopping wet center, his tongue darting out to trace a heart on her lips.

she moaned, throwing her head back, her pelvis rising off the carpet to try and build more friction against her lover. she moaned his name, eyes fluttering closed as she began to see the stars he had promised her.

she was so lucky to have a man like oscar. a man who made her feel so confident in herself, treated her like a queen, and made sure that she got the calm, quiet love that she craved.

“fuck, baby. you taste fucking incredible.” he groaned, holding her thighs open, thumbs rubbing reassuring circles on her soft skin.

oscar could have spent all day between her thighs. hed always been a giver, but when he had the chance to spoil y/n, he was almost certain it made him way hotter than it made her. what could he say, acts of service was his love language.

and when she wrapped her thighs around his head, practically screaming his name, his tongue licking fat stripes up and down her opening, and over swollen her swollen clit?

he had to start thinking about tyre degradation to avoid coming in his jeans.

“fuck, oscar, baby.” she whined, tugging on his hair as his nose nudged her sensitive bud. (he moaned at the action) “just like that. god, that feels so fucking good.”

she could feel the band in her stomach begin to tighten, her thighs closing in around oscars head as pleasure spread around her lower body.

oscars tongue darted in and out of her, the lewd sounds filling the room. “are you going to come for me, pretty girl. yeah? yeah, that’s right, come on my tongue, princess.”

he slipped a finger in, and the sensation of his finger flexing while his tongue played with her sensitive, puffy clit made her cry out, rutting her hips into his face, grinding against his finger and trying to get herself off.

“oscar, im coming!” she cried, the coil in her stomach finally snapping as she cried out his name, fingernails leaving scratches in the skin on the back of his neck.

his hands gripped her thighs; he was holding himself up over the carpet on his forearms, his body shaking she coated the bottom of his face in evidence of her arousal. he moaned at the taste, sitting up on his knees and catching her eyes before sticking his finger in his mouth and sucking the salty fluid off his finger.

she smiled at him, face rosy and flushed. her limbs felt like jelly, arms giving out underneath her as she tried to prop herself up to kiss him. chuckling to himself, oscar braced his hands on either side of her head, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then her cheeks, and then the tip of her nose before, finally, her lips.

“I love you.” they both whispered, one after another, the room silent save for the low hum of the tv and the crackling in the fireplace.

“baby, as much as I would love to stay here with you, I am absolutley throbbing and if I am not inside of you in the next five minutes, I am going to lose it.” oscar chuckled, kissing her softly.

she smiled, giggling as he ran his hands over her flushed skin. “you know you’re going to throw your back out if we do this on the floor, right?”

“yeah, but it will be so totally worth it.” oscar laughed, kissing her forehead softly. “stay right here, and keep warm. I’ll be right back.”

she hated to see him go, but she loved to watch him leave, eyes zeroing in on both his impressive back muscles and the way his jeans hugged his backside. how did she get so lucky to land such a god of a boyfriend?

when he vanished into the bedroom, she stripped out of the corset, cringing when she noticed the reddened imprints left on her skin from where the wires dug into her. she pulled the santa hat off, dropping it pathetically to the carpet before pulling a blanket around her shoulders. she was slowly regaining feeling in her limbs, a feeling of contentment spreading through her stomach as oscar came back, a festive box in his hands,

“right, so your choices are peppermint, gingerbread and eggnog.” he grinned, tossing her three small packages before slipping out of his jeans.

her limbs tingled as she watched him undo his belt, his rock-hard cock straining against his flannel boxers. it was only when oscar sat down next to her, stealing half of the white knit throw blanket to wrap around his own shoulders, that she looked down at the packages in her hands.

they were christmas themed condoms, a reindeer face smiling up at her from the gingerbread one. she couldn’t help it when she burst out laughing, sniffing the peppermint package.

“oscar! what the fuck?” she managed through laughter. “you know the flavoured bit only counts if I’m sucking your dick right? and that’s not happening tonight.”

“they were a gag gift from lando.” oscar laughed, fiddling with one of the foil packets. “I brought out normal ones too; I don’t know how much I trust these ones anyways.”

she laughed, leaning over to kiss him. “thank you.”

“anything for my girl.” oscar deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to gently and politely explore the inside of her mouth, pushing her down onto the carpet once again, thigh pushing her legs apart.

he grinded against her sensitive core, trying to find some sort of relief for himself while also making sure that he lasted more than a minute when he finally got inside of her.

her legs curled around his waist, pulling him him closer as they made out, warm and sweaty skin sticking to each other as they warmed up by the fire.

he didn’t even need to pull away to make a grab for the discarded red hat, only drawing back to put it on before he extracted his cock from his boxer shorts.

she giggled, sitting up so she could take him in her hands, jerking him slightly before ripping open a condom package (just a regular one, not the peppermint one she knew he had been eyeing).

laughing to herself, she twirled the end of the hat in her fingers. “I should not find this as hot as I do. just so you know.”

“duly noted. are you ready for me, princess?”

she smiled at him, slipping out of her lacy panties before she straddled him, his sheathed cock teasing at her entrance, shivers running up her spine. “I wanna be on top. wanna ride your cock.”

and who was oscar to argue?

he gripped her hips, her hands on his shoulders as he positioned himself by her entrance. she was so wet that he slid right in, her fingernails leaving crescent marks on his shoulders as she winced, hiding her face in his neck.

“I know, sweet girl.” he moved his hands up and down her back. “i know it’s a lot to take, but you’re doing it so so well. you make the first move, sweetheart.”

she straightened her back, touching her nose to oscars as she began to slowly grind her hips, getting used to every inch of his dick splitting her in half.

“that’s it, pretty girl. nice and easy.” oscar groaned, palming her ass. “that’s it.”

with oscars hands guiding her, she began to pick up the pace, pulling up before sinking back down against his cock.

“fuck, baby, feels so good.” she whined, fingers tugging at the hairs on the nape of his neck. “feels so deep.” she reached for his hand, pressing it to her stomach to show oscar just how deep he actually was.

“yeah? yeah, this cock is all yours, baby. whenever you want it, you tell me. I’ll drop everything to give it to you.” he grunted, one hand gently smacking her ass. she yelped, hips startling before she smashed her lips to his, moving her hips in subtle circles.

he moaned into her mouth, thrusting up to meet her hips halfway, watching as her mouth dropped open in a guttural moan. “you like that, sweet girl? yeah, you just let me take over and fuck you until you’re all blissed out.”

he took the lead, planting his feet on the floor, one hand supporting his weight and the other holding his princess close, her perky, sensitive nipples pressed against his chest as he thrust up, his cock sliding in and out of her like it was nothing.

“oh, yes.” she whined.

“that’s my pretty girl. that’s my fucking girl.” he growled, rolling over so he was on top again. normally he loves it when she rode him, loved the intimacy that came with it.

but he was so pent up that he needed something more.

he slipped her legs over his shoulders, muscles rippling as he leaned forwards to thrust into her, balls slapping against her skin.

her hands gripped his shoulders, slipping down his chest and leaving little pink marks in their wake as he pounded in and out of her, the pom pom on the end of his festive hat dangling in her face

“fuck, I love being like this with you.” he rasped, fingers digging into the shag carpet. “being this close to you.” he started to kiss up the side of her throat, tongue occasionally darting out to lick the sweat off her skin. “you’re so fucking pretty like this, all blissed out and at peace on my cock. love making you feel good, honey.”

he allowed her legs to slide off his shoulders, leaning down to kiss her, swallowing her moan as he bit down on her lip.

“shit, I love your cock, oscar. I love having it inside of me. needed it so bad!” she cried, clinging to his upper body as she let him have his way with her.

she knew he knew what she wanted, what she liked. he could read her like the back of his hand, and she was so blessed to feel safe enough with him that she could just clear her mind and let oscar make her feel good.

“that’s my girl. taking it so well. how are you feeling, princess?”

“perfect.” she breathed, inhaling sharply as his cock brushed up against her walls. “absolutley perfect.” her eyes slammed shut as her walls started to contract, squeezing oscar’s cock for all it was worth

“are you going to come, pretty girl? come all over my thick cock?”

“yeah.” she whined, tears of pleasure pricking the corners of her eyes as he kept slamming into her. “yeah, I’m almost there.”

she almost didnt get to finish her sentence, oscars lips claiming hers against his own as he kissed her deeply, one feee hand coming down to play with her clit. she gripped his biceps tightly, moaning harshly against his lips as she felt herself clamp down on him, seeing stars as she started to let go.

“that’s it, princess. let go for me, cover my cock in your sweet sweet come. give it to me, sweet girl. I’ve got you,”

she came with a cry of his name, feeling her body go weak as all her energy evaporated. the motion triggered oscar’s own orgasm, his entire body shaking as he grunted (arguably louder than she did, back muscles rippling as his body tightened and then went slack) spilling into the latex shield before his arms gave out and he collapsed against her.

“I love you.” he mumbled, kissing her softly before gently pulling out. he reached behind him for the blanket, tucking it around her body before sliding a throw pillow underneath her head. “hang tight for me, baby. I’m gonna go make you a hot chocolate.”

he slipped the condom off, balling it up with the intention of chucking it in the garbage on his way to the kitchen, pulling his boxers back on before washing his hands and pulling two mugs out of the upper cabinets.

y/n watched him from her position on the floor, a soft smile on her face as she marvelled at the scratches on his back, and the pure soft domesticity of watching her lover make her a hot drink after he made her see stars.

he came back minutes later, with two mugs piled high with whipped cream and a foolish smile on his face.

“merry christmas, pretty girl.” he hummed, kissing her softly, not expecting anything more than what it was.

“merry christmas, oscar.”

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @twinkodium @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @lorarri @thatsdemko @oconso @sidcrosbyspuck

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗔 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗗𝗔𝗬𝗦

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N, estranged from her parents, hasn’t celebrated holidays with family in years. Until her boyfriend, Matt, invites her to spend Christmas with him and his family in Boston for the first time.

WARNING: Bad childhood, christmas trauma, anxiety. Angst to comfort/fluff!

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I was inspired by Moly from the books when writing Mary Lou so fucking much (hp fans will understand) 🥹

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The snow fell softly outside of Y/N's window, coating the streets of Los Angeles in a pristine white blanket that shimmered under the glow of the streetlights. The flickering lights of the Christmas tree cast a warm, golden glow around the room, but the festive decorations only served to accentuate the emptiness Y/N felt inside.

The memories of her childhood were bittersweet. Christmas had once been her favorite time of year, filled with laughter, warmth, and love. The smell of pine from the freshly cut tree, the twinkling lights, and the sound of carols playing softly in the background had created a magical atmosphere. Her parents had always made sure that the holiday was special, filling the house with decorations and baking delicious cookies and treats.

But those days were long gone. When Y/N was just sixteen, a series of painful events led to her moving out. Her parents' constant arguments, their acts of blaming her, the financial struggles, and the emotional strain had become too much to bear. She had left to find peace, but in doing so, she had also left behind the traditions and celebrations she had once cherished.

Now, Christmas was just another day. Y/N spent the holiday alone, watching Christmas movies and gazing out of her window at the festive that always seemed to happen on her street - a consequence of living in the middle of the city. She saw families walking together, their faces lit up with joy, and couples holding hands, whispering sweet nothings to each other. It was a beautiful sight, but it also served as a stark contrast to her solitude.

But not this year.

As Christmas approached, Matt, her boyfriend of less than a year, had invited her to join him and his brothers in Boston for the holidays. They were planning to spend Christmas with their family, a tradition they cherished. Matt had insisted that she come along, his eyes shining with excitement at the prospect of sharing the holiday with her. But Y/N had hesitated, the familiar doubts creeping in.

"I don't want to be a burden." She had confessed, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Your family has their own traditions, and I don't want to intrude."

Matt had taken her hands in his, his gaze unwavering. "Y/N, you're not a burden. You're a part of my life, and my parents would love to meet you. Besides, you shouldn't have to spend Christmas alone. You've been through that enough, and I am not gonna let you stay in that place again."

His words had touched her deeply, but the fear of being an outsider lingered. She had spent so many holidays alone, and the thought of integrating into someone else's family felt daunting. But Matt was persistent, his love and reassurance slowly melting away her reservations. He had promised her that she would be welcomed with open arms, that his family would treat her like one of their own.

After much contemplation, Y/N had finally agreed. She couldn't deny the excitement that fluttered in her chest at the thought of spending Christmas with Matt and his family. It was a chance to create new memories to experience the joy and warmth of the holiday season in a way she had never known.

The days leading up to their departure were a whirlwind of preparations. Matt had helped her pack, his enthusiasm infectious as he chattered about all the things they would do in Boston. He told her stories of past Christmases, painting vivid pictures of snowy landscapes, festive decorations, the good food, and the moment of opening presents, which always used to lead to childish discussions between him, Chris and Nick. Y/N found herself getting caught up in his excitement, her initial apprehension giving way to anticipation.

On the day of their flight, Matt, Nick, and Chris picked her up early in the morning. The triplets were a lively bunch, their energy filling the car with a sense of camaraderie and fun.

Chris, always the most childish and carefree, kept the air calm with his witty remarks and playful banter, receiving disbelieving looks from Nick, along with insults, which led to small stupid fights - as usual. Matt, the one with the most "mature" posture, made sure everything was in order while yelling to them to calm down from time to time.

As they boarded the plane, Y/N's nerves resurfaced. She clutched Matt's hand tightly, seeking comfort in his touch while leaning against his left shoulder, her eyes fixed on the walkway the plane would soon pass.

Matt, who was asking Chris to send a text to Mary Lou to let her know that they were about to take off, soon noticed the drop in her mood, turning his eyes towards her and watching her momentarily with eyebrows furrowed in concern before bringing his face closer to the top of her head, sealing his lips over her hair for long seconds.

"It's going to be great, petal. Trust me." He whispered against her strands, dragging the tip of his nose in a light caress, exhaling the fresh scent of her shampoo.

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath and letting the excitement override her fears. She lifted her face, her eyes meeting the blue ones that so calmed her, the beginning of a smile appearing on the corner of her lips almost automatically.

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The plane touched down in Boston almost six hours later, the city blanketed in a fresh layer of snow. As Y/N disembarked with Matt, Nick, and Chris, her heart raced with anticipation. The terminal buzzed with holiday travelers, their excited chatter blending with the festive decorations that adorned the airport.

Y/N felt a mixture of excitement and anxiety as they made their way to the baggage claim area, where they spotted Justin waiting for them next to his car.

Justin stood out with his tall, broad-shouldered frame and a warm smile that reached his eyes. He waved enthusiastically as they approached.

"Hey, guys! Over here!" He called, his voice cutting through the crowd.

Matt squeezed Y/N's hand, increasing his steps significantly, pulling his girlfriend behind him, ignoring the small stumbles she gave due to his sudden movements, leading her toward his older brother.

"Justin!" Chrid greeted excitedly from their side, the tone of his voice gradually rising. His body was pulled by his brother into a tight hug, his figure momentarily disappearing into Justin's arms.

Justin grinned, stepping away from Chris before turning to Y/N.

"Y/N, it's great to see you again!" He said, pulling her into a friendly embrace. She smiled, feeling a bit of her nervousness melt away in his welcoming presence, her fingers squeezing Matt's tightly, not letting go of his hand.

After retrieving their luggage, they made their way to the brother's parents' van, the cold Boston air biting at their faces. Justin quickly loaded their bags into the trunk, and they all piled into the vehicle, Matt and Y/N, taking the backseat.

As they settled in, all buckled up, Justin started the car, and the warm air from the heater filled the cabin almost instantly, gradually warming the bodies covered in cold hoodies and transforming the environment into something more cozy.

"Are yall ready?" Justin asked, glancing at Chris beside him momentarily before lifting his eyes to the rearview mirror, traveling his orbs over Nick to the love birds with a grin. His right hand flew to the radio, turning it on in a low volume, and soft Christmas music filled the car.

Y/N nestled into her seat, the soothing melodies of holiday classics surrounding her like magic, but despite the warmth, good vibe and the familiar presence of Matt beside her, she couldn't shake her nerves. Her hands trembled slightly as she fidgeted with the zipper on her pink coat, the tips of her fingers twisting the small metal object as her teeth worked to trap her lower lip, nibbling at the sensitive skin in an act of anxiety.

Matt noticed immediately, his eyes softening with concern. He moved slowly so as not to startle her, bringing his body closer to hers - if that was even possible, and raised his left hand to her face, using the tip of his thumb to gently pull her lip from its prison, stroking the red and slightly irritated skin.

"Hey." He whispered, his voice a soothing balm. "You're gonna hurt your pretty lips if you keep doing that, 'hon." He tapped his thumb lightly against her lip before lowering his hand, his eyes searching hers. "You're going to love it. I promise."

She nodded, trying to steady her breathing, her hot tongue escaping between her lips, wetting them.

"I know. It's just... a lot."

Matt leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear.

"Just focus on me, okay?" He reached for her, gluing her hands in a sign of prayer and closing them with his own, creating a small cocoon, caressing the soft skin with his fingers, his touch light and comforting. "Remember Vegas? You were nervous to meet Justin, too, but everything turned out great."

Y/N smiled at the memory of their trip to Las Vegas in July. It had been a whirlwind of fun and excitement, and it was the first time she had met Justin. The trip had strengthened her bond with Matt and his brothers, making her feel like part of their tight-knit group.

"So, Y/N, how have you been since Vegas? Anything new and exciting?" Justin glanced in the rearview mirror momentarily, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I've been great, thanks. Just busy with work and getting ready for Christmas." She appreciated his attempt to include her in the conversation, opening a gentle smile when her eyes met his.

Nick, sitting in the seat in front of hers, turned side ways to join in the conversation, resting his left arm above the back of the seat.

"You should see her house. She's got the cutest decorations, almost everything is pink!" He smiled in excitement, his eyes darting from Y/N to Justin, who was listening to him with his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"Thank you, Nick, you're too sweet. I love decorating for the holidays." Y/N blushed, lowering her eyes, feeling the warmth of his gentleness.

She leaned into Matt after noticing Chris start another topic, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat below her ear. His right hand moved from hers to her back, tracing gentle circles above her clothed skin that eased her tension.

"You're amazing, babe. My family is going to adore you." He whispered sweet nothings, his lips brushing against her ear.

The drive through Boston was enchanting, the city aglow with holiday lights. They passed through charming neighborhoods, each house adorned with festive decorations. Y/N's anxiety began to ebb, replaced by a sense of wonder at the beauty of the season.

As they turned onto the street leading to Matt's childhood home, Y/N's heart began to race again. She peered out the window, taking in the picturesque scene, recognizing the house from their pictures from when they were children. The house was a two-story colonial, its exterior beautifully decorated with twinkling lights, wreaths, and garlands. A large Christmas tree stood proudly in the front window, its branches heavy with ornaments.

Justin parked the car, and the boys quickly got out to unload the luggage. Y/N took her time to get out of her seat, her heart pounding as she shuffled her feet over the snow-covered gravel, pressing her lips into a thin line.

She watched as Matt, Nick, and Chris laughed and joked, their breath visible in the cold air. A pang of longing and fear filling her heart - longing to belong and fear of not fitting in.

The soft sound of the front door opening echoed through the open air, and Mary Lou, Matt's mother, stepped out, her face lighting up with joy at the sight of her sons.

"Matt! Nick! Chris!" She called, rushing down the steps carefully to envelop each of them in a warm hug, receiving hugs back just as strong. Her laughter was infectious, filling the air with a sense of home and love.

Y/N hesitated, her nerves threatening to overwhelm her. She watched as Mary Lou's eyes scanned the group, finally landing on her. Mary Lou's expression softened, and she walked around her son's, starting her steps toward Y/N with open arms.

"And you must be Y/N." She said warmly, her voice filled with genuine affection, a big smile resting on her face.

Y/N's heart fluttered as Mary Lou enveloped her in a hug, her smaller body surprisingly covering hers completely like a big blanket, the warmth of her embrace chasing away the cold.

"It's so wonderful to finally meet you." Mary Lou whispered against her ears, her hands gently rubbing Y/N's back. "Matt has told us so much about you."

Y/N felt tears prick at her eyes, the kindness in Mary Lou's voice touching her deeply, her heart squeezing slightly.

"It's so nice to meet you too." She managed to say, her voice trembling slightly, tightening her arms lightly around the older woman.

Mary Lou pulled back seconds after, holding Y/N at arm's length and studying her with a motherly and very attentive gaze.

"Oh my, you're freezing, dear. Let's get you inside and warm you up." She ran the palms of her hands from Y/N's shoulders to her wrists and back up again in an attempt to warm her before taking her hands, her touch gentle and reassuring. "Come on, boys, bring the luggage in. Let's get everyone settled."

As they stepped into the house, Y/N was enveloped by the warmth and coziness of the interior. The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of pine from the Christmas tree and cinnamon from the candles. The living room was a festive wonderland, with stockings hung by the fireplace and twinkling lights casting a soft glow.

Mary Lou led Y/N to the living room, where a fire crackled in the hearth.

"Sit here, dear." She said, guiding Y/N to a plush armchair, smiling warmly. "I'll get you something warm to drink."

Matt joined Y/N seconds after, appearing from behind her and sitting on the armrest of the chair, raising his right arm and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"See? It's not so bad." He murmured close to her ears, his eyes filled with love and pride staring at hers as if she was his world - and in every way, she was.

Y/N leaned into him, her heart swelling with gratitude.

"It's perfect." She whispered, feeling the warmth of the fire and Matt's body enveloping her, a permanent smile spreading across her lips.

Mary Lou returned with a christmas mug - in the shape of Santa Claus, full of fresh hot cocoa, the steam rising in delicate tendrils.

"Here you go, sweetie. This will warm you right up." She handed the pottery into Y/N's hands gently so as not to burn her fingers.

Y/N took the mug, the heat seeping into her cold hands.

"Thank you, Mrs. Sturniolo." She said softly, her voice filled with gratitude.

"Oh no, dear, just call me Mary Lou!"

Nick and Chris brought in the luggage, their cheerful banter filling the room. Justin joined them, his laughter a deep, resonant sound that added to the festive atmosphere.

Mary Lou looked around at her family, her eyes shining with happiness.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're all here." She said cheerfully, her voice choked with emotion, clasping her hands over her own heart. "This is what Christmas is all about, right? I was so excited for this year! Your father will be here soon, I asked him to buy some ingredients that I needed for our pumpkin pie."

Y/N felt a lump in her throat as she looked around the room. The decorations, the warmth of the fire, the laughter of the people she had come to care for - it was everything she had ever dreamed of. For the first time in years, she felt truly at home.

Matt leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple for long seconds, opening a smile.

"Welcome to the family, sweetheart." He whispered against her skin, his voice filled with promise.

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Y/N was starting to feel at ease, wrapped in the embrace of Matt’s family. She sat comfortably on the plush couch, sipping her hot cocoa and watching the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. The room was filled with laughter and conversation as Mary Lou moved about the kitchen, preparing dinner.

The front door creaked open, and a gust of cold air swept through the hallway.

"I'm back!" Came a cheerful voice from the entrance, echoing between the warm walls.

"Jimmy! The boys are here, and Y/N too!" Mary Lou’s face lit up as she called out, her voice louder with excitement.

Matt’s father, Jimmy, stepped into the living room carrying several grocery bags. He was a tall man with a kind face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.

"Well, look at this gathering!" He exclaimed, setting the bags down on the floor and brushing the snow from his coat. "It’s good to see you boys."

Matt, Nick, and Chris hurried to greet their father, exchanging hugs and hearty handshakes, talking excitedly over each other.

"And you must be Y/N." Jimmy's eyes twinkled with joy as he turned his attention to Y/N, his voice warm and inviting.

Y/N stood, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement, her hands smoothing down her hoodie anxiously.

"Yes, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sturniolo." She said softly, smiling nervously, offering her hand.

Jimmy chuckled after noticing her tension, enveloping her hand in both of his, the cold of his skin bringing goosebumps to Y/N's warm ones.

"Call me Jimmy. We’re all family here." He said genuinely, his grip firm but gentle. "I’ve heard so much about you."

"All good things, I hope." Y/N felt her cheeks flush as she smiled, her eyes meeting Matt's over Jimmy's shoulder momentarily, watching as her boyfriend smiled shyly, lowering his gaze.

Jimmy’s laugh was deep and resonant, filling the room with a sense of ease, taking her attention back to him.

"All very good things." He assured her. "Matt hasn’t stopped talking about you for even a minute during our meetings or our calls."

Matt grinned, shaking his head while approaching the two with light steps and positioning himself next to his girl, wrapping an arm around Y/N's shoulders.

"I can’t help it, dad. She’s pretty amazing."

Jimmy’s eyes softened as he looked at them together, seeing a glimpse of him and their mother.

"I can see that." He said warmly. "Welcome to our home, Y/N. We’re so glad you could join us for Christmas."

Mary Lou bustled in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel before throwing it over her shoulder.

"Jimmy, why don’t you take a break and get to know Y/N a bit better while I finish up dinner?" She suggested.

"Oh, I can help in the kitchen, Mrs- I mean, Mary Lou." Y/N quickly proposed, not wanting to just sit and "be served".

"Oh no, darling. Please enjoy your evening with everyone. During Christmas, the kitchen is mine alone." Mary Lou raised her right hand in the air in a "stop" gesture, throwing a wink in her direction before turning around and heading back.

"That's right. Every time I tried to help, she almost killed me." Jimmy joked, taking a seat across from Y/N. "So, Y/N, tell me about yourself. How did you and Matt meet?"

Y/N relaxed into the conversation, her nervousness fading under Jimmy’s kind gaze. She shared the story of how she and Matt had met at a random corner coffee shop in Los Angeles, their friendship blossoming over shared interests and late-night talking sessions. Jimmy listened intently, nodding and smiling as she spoke.

"It sounds like you two have a special bond." He said thoughtfully, leaning against the back of the chair he sat in, crossing his arms. "Friendship is a strong foundation for a relationship."

"It really is. Matt’s been my everything." Y/N nodded, glancing at Matt with a smile, watching him show Justin a video from his phone, his eyes sparkling with the way his smile grew.

"I’m glad he has someone like you in his life." Jimmy’s expression grew tender, bringing her attention back to him. "Family is everything, and I can see that you’re already part of ours."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat at Jimmy’s words. She had always longed for a sense of belonging, and in this moment, she felt truly accepted.

The evening continued with laughter and storytelling, the warmth of the Sturniolo home wrapping around Y/N like a comforting blanket. Jimmy’s kindness and fatherly presence made her feel at ease, and by the time dinner was served, she felt like she had known the family for years.

As they gathered around the dining table, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. She had found not only a loving partner in Matt but also a family that welcomed her with open arms.

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After dinner, as they sat around the fireplace once more, Jimmy leaned back in his chair, a contented smile on his face.

"This is what Christmas is all about." He started with a small sight, his voice filled with warmth. "Family, love, and making new memories. Merry Christmas, everyone."

Y/N, from her place standing against the door frame that separated the kitchen from the living room, looked around the room at the faces of the people who had become so dear to her. She felt a swell of emotion, knowing that this was just the beginning of many happy holidays to come.

The sound of soft footsteps behind her sounded mute to her ears, her body jumping slightly in fright as she felt Matt's presence so close, wrapping his arms around her, his touch warm and reassuring.

"How are you feeling?" He asked in a whisper, as if he didn't want to break the little and imaginary bubble that surrounded them, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room.

Y/N leaned into him, her hands finding his above her stomach, her fingers wandering over his milky skin until they met his, intertwining perfectly, her heart full.

"I feel... happy. Really happy."

Matt smiled openly, lowering his head, resting his chin on her shoulder, sealing his lips on the soft, warm skin of her cheek.

"I’m glad." He whispered. "You deserve all the happiness in the world."

"Thank you, Matt." She mumbled after some seconds of silence, her voice filled with gratitude while her eyes glowed brightly at the image in front of Chris, Nick and Justin playing video games on the big television while Mary Lou and Jimmy watched them with smiles on their faces, whispering sweet nothings to each other every now and then.

"For what?" Matt asked against her skin, feeling like he could stay in that position for all eternity.

"For bringing me here. For giving me this."

"You're my everything, Y/N. I want you to have the world."

He followed her line of sight momentarily, observing his family until his eyes met Nick's, who looked at them with a comical smile on his lips, pointing above their heads.

"What-?" He lifts his head, looking up, feeling Y/N's body move between his arms as she tries to see what he sees, a confused expression on her face turning into one of surprise.

Mistletoe hangs above their head, the prettiest they've ever seen.

Matt slowly lowers his head, meeting Y/N's eyes, who were still looking up - now into his. A shy smile stretches across his lips, his arms tightening around his girlfriend's body, bringing her closer.

Their gaze keeps connect when Matt gently places his right hand on her cheek, his thumb caressing the soft and warm skin.

"Merry Christmas, beautiful." He whispers softly before leaning closer, kissing Y/N.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @earth2starkey @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @junnniiieee07 @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw @colorthecosmos444 @dej4vhs @thewhispersofthewaves @mattslolita @imwetforyourmom @mrl217 @delilahsversion @sturnsmia @mattsfavbitchhh @sturnioloshacker @soursturniolo @blahbel668 @sarosfilms @moncherriis @tobesolonelyjess

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[madamechrissy]

Toji x Reader Christmas

Toji x Reader fluff/smut- set after Dirty Little Secret

"Get this stupid hat off me." Toji grumbles as you put a hat on him, it's Christmas eve and you've got a pink glittery Santa hat. He throws it and you snort. "Brat, wanna get spanked?"

"No gift if you don't." You open your robe then, and his jaw drops.

"Fuck, ma, fine." Toji Fushiguro grunts as you hug him, he's finally home from a long assignment at work. It's been an entire week without you, and you miss him so much, finally you all have a night away from the kids, too.

He's grabbing your ass with his strong, rough hands, kissing you. You feel that scar brushing on your lip, flicking your tongue over it, hearing him moan.

"I missed you Toji. Mmm." He's pressing you against the wall, you had barely let him walk in, he leans back to look at you

"So sexy, fuck. Ya wearing that just f'me, doll?" He's easing you down and standing back, whistling at your sexy little lingerie, a one piece lace number with a bow tied right on your tits. He goes to yank them and you stop him, giggling. "Fuckin brat, lemme see my girls."

"You have to unwrap me under the tree." You dart over to where the Christmas tree is lit up, and he's rolling his dark green eyes, sliding off his leather jacket then, revealing his thick muscled arms. You feel your heart race when you sit near the tree, crooking your finger.

"Santa got you all f'me, huh?" He's unwrapping the ribbin now, moaning when he sees your tits bounce out. "Oh fuck, I can't be on a nice list."

"You're on the naughty list. All day but... so am I." You giggle then grab him, pulling him down, he's sucking on your nipples, the glow of Christmas lights cast against your skin. His stubble tickles you, you laugh breathless.

"Is this another gift?" He asks softly, as he reveals your panties, then he groans. "Oh fuck, 'Daddy's Girl'?"

"Mmhmm. You like? Ah!" Toji has ripped them off of you so quick your head spins.

"Doll, imma fuck you so good you'll not be able to sit at Christmas Dinner." You gasp, and then he is shoving his thick fingers in, and your moans and the wetness of your pussy mixes with the sounds of the Christmas music playing.

Neither of you were making the nice list.

Thought I'd give a little snippet of these two again! ❤️

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Dick had to give it to the kid, he'd somehow thought of everything. It was a little concerning, actually, but the kid had brushed off every attempt had probing for answers. Who trained him? If he was trained at all. ...had the kid gone into vigilantism alone? Oh, dear. THat's not good fro Dick's current worries.

Reading the file Danny had handed him, Dick had to wonder how long it had taken him to put together this cover story. Also, where he'd managed to get the equipment to do it. At a glance, the kid didn't seem to have much on him. Not even a phone!

He closed the folder and set it back down on the table. "Really?" he asked, "'Congratulations, it's a boy'?"

Danny's cheeks turned a bit red as his gaze shifted to the folder. "Well, yeah. You're stuck with me now until I can get you into good habits and a healthier schedule."

"That implies that you're planning on leaving."

Danny shrugged, all his confidence now fading away. Is this what he's really like? "Well, I mean, I'm sure you don't want me sticking around at all, let alone for a while."

Dick frowned and looked back at the black folder and the binder sitting on his coffee table. God, his apartment's a mess! He smiled at Danny. "My name's Richard, but everyone calls me 'Dick'. You can stay in the guest room."

Danny lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. "Really?"

"Yep. You went to all this work, it'd be a shame if it all went to waste."

The grin on Danny's face was more than worth the security risk that he now posed. "You won't regret it, Mr. Dick!"

Dick smiled back at him, "Please, drop the formalities. We're cousins, apparently."

Was he attached? No. He wouldn't allow himself to get attached. Sure, maybe he was letting this kid - he really needs to start calling him Danny - stay with him for a while, but he wasn't going to get attached. Getting attached meant losing him. Dick wasn't sure he'd be able to survive if he lost someone again.

...damn it.

***

First order of business, now that Danny was officially Dick's - why would he willingly go by that nickname? - ward/cousin, Danny was going to make sure he got some sleep. Today was Dick's day off, so Danny had sent him to his room to take a much needed nap. The man was basically dead on his feet and Danny would be damned if he let him wander around this mess of an apartment with blurry vision.

The second thing he did, once he was sure Dick was asleep, was start to clean up. The place was a stereotypical bachelor's pad, complete with questionable stains in the carpet, rips in the cushions, dishes piled up in the sink, and old take-out on every table and counter. Gross.

He made quick work of the old take-out by throwing it all away and hitting it with a very small and controlled ectoblast. He was so glad Dick had disposable gloves on hand.

The dishes were the next thing he handed. The water was cleaner than in Gotham, so he didn't worry about washing the dishes by hand when they all didn't fit in the dishwasher. He dried the ones he'd hand washed before putting them away. Dick had no organisation in his cupboards, so Danny fixed that, too.

The fridge and freezer weren't too bad. Sure, the dairy products had all expired and most of the food was freezer bitten, but none of it was moldy yet and the appliance itself was in perfect working order. He'd have to go shopping later.

Danny had never liked cleaning, but he'd had to when his parents refused to follow any OSHA laws or Lab Safety courses. So, when he found the cleaning supplies, he took a deep breath and began scrubbing the bathroom. It wasn't too bad, thank god, and was already fairly clean. It was quick and he was able to move on very quickly.

The counters, tables, walls, and tile and wooden floors were all easy to clean with a wet rag and a broom. He wasn't going to even try saving the rug because it looked well beyond the point of no return. The couch and chair cushions could be sticked up, but he didn't have a sewing needle and thread with him.

The last thing he did before taking his backpack into the room he'd been given was to write down a shopping list and leave it on the counter. It wasn't a lot, just food and some dishes and toiletries. He'd have to figure out with Dick a way to pay rent, too, but that was a later Danny problem. He'd tired himself out and was still running on pretty much empty. So, he allowed himself to fall asleep. He'd check on Dick when he woke up.

Part 4 Part 6

Tag List:

@flame-343 @ghestie93 @anarinette @aglmry @peachtreewriter @evix-syne666 @loudlypanickinginvenezolano @lumosfeather18581

[kaisworlds]

ghillie suit wearing reader who is an absolute fucking unit im talking taller than könig okay

top dom male reader x könig

they meet on the battlefield, now könig knew who you were, of course he did, you were the only one on base who towered over him but he didnt expect his ass to get saved by you plus he had a tiny hallway base crush on you.

he was running through the large amount of trees trying to escape the enemies whose amount was gradually increasing behind him. he was out of ammo and used his gun as a weapon up til now. he dodged a few bullets before feeling a wet patch in his shoulder deciding not to look (to avoid the adrenaline from wearing off) he continues running seeing a lake close by he sprints towards it having the idea to hide out until backup arrived for him. the air was knocked out of his lungs as he got tackled to the ground he tries fighting whatever was ontop of him but feels a hand wrap around his mouth glancing up into the shaggy figures eyes

its the same [e/c] he can never seem to stop staring at in the break room

his body immediately relaxes under the weight of your body pressed up against his, the moment doesnt last forever as the yelling of the enemy soldiers grow louder.

still laying on top of him you lean each of your elbows beside his head resting the tip of your gun on a tree trunk quickly firing, every bullet that leaves the muzzle aims like a tracker into someones skull. könig was so caught up in you being on top of him,his mind running wild, not even registering the low whine that leaves the back of his throat as you get up off of him

furrowing your eyebrows at the noise deciding to leave it to the fact that he was....as much as you tried to find another reason you couldnt so instead you asked "könig right?" while grabbing gauze from one ofbthe patches on your ghillie suit before kneeling down beside him. könig nods looking anywhere but your face eyes widening like saucers as you unbuckle his vest "calm down im just going to wrap the wound before it gets dry and sticks to the fabric, is that okay könig?" the way you say his name has him crossing his thighs to hide the boner pressing up against his pants, his shakey hands slowly move up to take off the gear and clothes he has on. 'why are my hands shaking stop it he's gonna think your weird Scheiße' everything he is doing right now seems wrong in his eyes he can feel his heart racing, he has killed people and faced gruesome shit but none phased him as much as this situation right now after what felt like an eternity to him he finally pulled off his undershirt, his chest completely bare for you to see

taking off the head piece of your suit you start wrapping the bandage over the wound hand resting on his chest surprised by his hammering heart just mumbling out a small "its gonna be okay love" not thinking much of it trying to get him to hold still under your touch

he is so happy the veil covers his face, he wouldnt want you seeing how his cheeks lit up like Christmas lights, he continues to sneak glances at your concentrated face.

of course you noticed, did he really think he wasnt obvious? he shouldve caught on by now the way you subtly licked your lips or the way you've been flexing your jawline this entire time. he was too caught up in his thoughts to even think about that though.

thinking about how he felt your bulge on his thigh while you were ontop of him, about how easily you took him down, you could probably pin his hands down without even trying, how hard could you chok- "such a good boy for sitting still" könig snaps out of his thoughts brain barely comprehending what you said, he makes eye contact with you...you're smirking...did you know he liked you?

"how can you be so oblivious" a teasing tone in your voice he just avoids eye contact slowly shrugging the blush now reaching his neck. clicking your tongue you lean in closer to him hand sliping under his veil cupping his jawline "i like you too if i wasnt obvious enough" gently lifting the black clothe covering his face his hand grabbed your wrist, [e/c] eyes bore into his, as he gets lost in them his hand slowly slips off allowing your hand to raise the cloth stopping when it reaches his nose not wanting to push him.

slowly you lean in crashing your lips onto his he immediately kisses back pulling you closer ontop of him before a call comes in through your radio asking if anyone found könig because he wasnt responding, slowly leaning back grabbing your radio "yeah we're by the lake over"

könig lets the veil drape over his blushing face before slowly putring his gear back on

i love him guys :(

[buckets-and-trees]

As one of the Christmas presents, your Alpha promises to fulfill one of your fantasies, or introduce you to a kink you secretly wanted to try. What is it and how he's going about it? Does he surprise you with it? Or did you plan to make a special night of it?

Okay, not an alpha, but...

well...

I couldn't get this idea out of my head...

Fandom: Chris Evans Characters Title: Make Her Glow Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 986

Content Warnings: bondage, established coerced marriage, breeding kink

Logistical Notes: I think technically this is ... going to be a collection now. Sequel to I'm Your Man and a moment from their honeymoon. I just can't resist this Andy (and neither can you, dear reader).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The domestic elements were incredibly important to Andy. He knew they were vital to building a happy, long-lasting relationship between husband and wife, and he wanted nothing less than that for both of you. Putting up the Christmas tree had been something he’d insisted on doing together, just the two of you, the day after Thanksgiving.

He’d driven the pair of you to the nicest tree lot, walked around holding your hand until he knew the two of you had found a tree you truly liked, then paid to have it delivered to your home after lunch. He had you direct the delivery men to put it exactly where you wanted it. He had helped you string it with lights, then decorate with garland and ornaments. You were still guarded – he had broken down many, but not all, of your walls, but it had been a good day.

But by far the most valuable thing from putting up the tree together had been the lights. He saw sheer, unadulterated delight shine through your eyes the first time they lit up. It was the passion he’d seen on your face so frequently during the first weeks he knew you – it’s what made him know he had to have you, and he loved seeing it again.

Each night, you had very easily let him hold you on the couch, all the other lights off, and sit together in the glow from the white lights of the tree. He had pulled so much more out of you each of those nights – memories, wants, dreams, worries.

He always knew you would work.

He knew you knew the two of your would work.

The soft glow of those lights had made you impossibly softer and warmer to him, and he fucking loved it.

But he hadn’t exploited that knowledge until tonight.

Having finally sent all the house guests home, you were turning off all the lights, and about to collapse onto the couch, but he intercepted you a step away from your destination, and tugged you gently upstairs. You knew not to fight him.

He knows you don’t want to fight him; you’re only holding onto small pieces of resisting him because he’s slowly been disarming every last piece of you, making you more and more vulnerable to becoming completely swept away by him.

He closes the bedroom door and then leads you to the bed. He slowly unzips your simple but beautiful party dress from behind, and you shrug it down your shoulders. He presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, and you can’t suppress a shiver. Then he unclasps your bra, and you let that fall to the floor, too. He slides a finger into the waistband of your lacey underwear on either side of your hips and pulls them gently down. You step out of them without direction.

He spanks you, just once, but it elicits the short, gasping moan he loves to draw from you.

“Up on the bed now,” he instructs.

“Yes, Andy,” your voice is soft, and you crawl up obediently.

“On your back in the middle of the mattress.”

As you move into place, you watch him, and he reaches for a box he left under the bed a few hours earlier.

Andy places the box on the bedside table, and first pulls out a thick, forest green satin ribbon.

He climbs up on the bed next to you. “Hold up your hands, wrists together for me.”

Despite everything else up to this point, he’s never physically bound you before.

Although he can see the evidence of your breathing speed up with the rise and fall of your chest, he’s incredibly pleased that you do exactly as he says, surrendering without a fuss. He wraps the ribbon around your wrists and forearms, then strokes your cheek. “Such a good girl for me.”

He moves back to the box, pulls out one end of the string, plugs it into the socket, and you gasp as a full string of white lights comes to life. Andy smiles and turns off the rest of the lights in the room.

Ten minutes later when he’s wrapped the lights around your arms – right over where the ribbons were first placed because he did want to protect your precious skin from being uncomfortable – and then bound you up to the headboard, where he strung the rest of the lights back and forth between the bedposts, and emerges naked from the large master closet, he fully appreciates the warm glow of the lights just as you have the lights from the tree. He more than gets it now.

Joining you once more on the bed, he runs his hands up your thighs, then guides them open and kneels between them.

“You’re so pretty like this, wife.”

You’re wet for him. Waiting for him.

“You want one more Christmas gift?” he asks, his eyes moving up your body to meet your eyes.

You let out a small, whimpered, “Yes,” and he smiles again. “Please,” you add.

“And I think it’s time we start really working on one more gift for me,” he says. He moves one hand to your hip and places the other solidly over your womb. “I’m done waiting to see you growing with my child, and it’s too perfect that you’re ovulating.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens just a little.

He smirks. “You think I really wouldn’t know something like that? Well, if you’re going to act dumb, I’ll just oblige and fuck you dumb. But, goddamn, you should know how perfect and beautiful you look for me just like this. Glowing under these lights? Perfection."

He leans down to kiss you. His lips move against yours, easily, he licks into your mouth, and you moan. He doesn't relent until you're breathless, and arching up beneath him.

"Now let’s make it so you glow for another reason.”

I make no apologies for this.

I'm Your Man Collection Masterlist ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[hyunsvngs]

hyunsvngbinimas!

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader

warnings: u fuck jisung with a dildo made from his own cock, sub!jisung, dom!reader, degradation, sph, mommy kink, unprotected sex, jisung cums twice, a lil bit of feminisation, cumswapping

You’ve been holding it for about five minutes now. You’re not sure what to say. 

It’s a dildo, complete with veins and a tip, silicone bouncing everytime you move your hand. A red bow is tied neatly around it, like some sort of comedic gift. Is this a joke? It has to be a joke, but everytime your eyes flit to Jisung, he’s still beaming with a content look in those round eyes. He got you a dildo for Christmas.

“You got me a dildo for Christmas,” You deadpan, an eyebrow raised. It’s not that you’re not excited because in all fairness, the dildo is the perfect size for you. Chubby, with a flared mushroom tip and not too long, not too short either - just big enough. You’re just confused. It kind of reminds you of-

“It’s not just a dildo! It’s my dick, look!” He points to the present excitedly, unabashed glee in his eyes. “It’s the same as mine. I got one of those kits and put my dick in it. Kinda felt good, to be honest.”

You giggle, running your fingertips up the shaft once more. “I knew I recognised it,” You muse, and Jisung shifts to get closer and stare at the toy. The wrapping paper on the sofa scrunches under his knees. “Chubby cock, veiny. Perfect length. Did you want to see me fuck myself with this?”

Jisung blanches, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “Well, it’s- yeah,” He admits, round cheeks turning pink. You pull him closer by his shoulders, letting him nuzzle into your neck in his shyness. He’s so cute, especially in his cute little plaid Christmas bottoms and an oversized hoodie. He looks so boyfriend. He gains the courage, hot breath panning over your skin as he speaks. “I thought maybe you could send me videos when I’m away, too. I got you other presents too, but I thought this would help you the most when you miss me.”

He’s right. When Jisung’s away, you do sit and think wistfully about his cock before fucking yourself with your fingers and whining that it’s not enough. He likes hearing about it, likes thinking about how needy you are for him, but it would be good to have a little help when he’s gone. It would stop you thinking about his cock, his mouth, his ass-

Wait.

“Sungie,” You begin, and he shivers. He must know what you’re about to say. He cuddles closer to you, fingers gripping on the fabric of your shirt as he hums in response. It’s shaky. “Baby, would you let me fuck your ass with this?”

He whines. It’s long, drawn out, and fully desperate. “I- baby, that’s dirty,” He gushes, acting the perfect image of anguish, but he’s already climbing into your lap. “I- it’s for you, not for me!”

“You’ve already thought about it, haven’t you?” You smile, and he shakes his head vehemently. He’s on your lap now though, cock already solid and pressing at the front of his cute bottoms, hair lit up by the lights on the Christmas tree behind him. His toes curl in his socks while he tries to get comfortable on you, cheeks pink and pouty lips just slightly parted with every breath he takes. He’s already fucked up just from the idea of it. You toss the dildo to the side of the couch, running your thumb over his bottom lip. He shivers again. “Tell me.”

Jisung shifts on your lap, erection pressing against the bottom of your stomach. “It’s- I- maybe it would be hot,” He begins, and then he shakes his head rapidly, eyes blinking shut. “Okay, yeah, I did think about it. I- my ass, it’s- baby, feel.”

He grabs your hand, shoving it down the back of his bottoms. You’re pleasantly surprised to find that he hasn’t worn boxers for this gift giving exchange, and even more pleasantly surprised to find that his hole is slick with lube. Wait. Slick with lube.

“Sungie, baby, you’re so wet for me,” You run two fingers over his hole, and he whines, bucking his hips forward. “You wanted it that badly? Why didn’t you ask, princess?”

“I- I-” He’s huffing with every breath, cock heavy and hips canting back into your fingers. You hook a finger just past his rim, making him gasp with shock. He’s looser than you expected. It makes you smile. “Nervous. I- It’s weird, it’s kind of dirty, isn’t it? It’s- it’s my cock, and-”

Oh. It’s that type of scene. Jisung’s a self proclaimed slut, and he wants you to tell him it’s dirty, and wants you to be a little mean to him. You could do that. 

“Mm, it is dirty,” You agree, nodding. Jisung stares at you, wide eyes, licking his lips over and over. You pull your hand back, and then you’re pushing two fingers past his rim instead. This time, you let them sink right down to the knuckles, and he moans, head lolling back. “This pussy’s so fucking wet for me. I think you’re already ready, you stretched it out that much. Fuckin’ whore.”

Jisung nods eagerly, feet kicking in his impatient state. “I am! I’m a whore for you, for you, god, can I- can I fuck your pussy, and you can fuck my ass with it while I’m inside you, please, please, please-”

“No,” You scoff, stroking over his hair with your spare hand. It makes him pout, but he leans into your touch nonetheless. “I’m fucking your ass first, and if you can hold on for long enough, you can cum inside my pussy.”

“Hnnng, that’s mean! You’re so mean, you know I’ll cum,” Jisung pouts, and you just giggle in response. The laugh makes your eyes crinkle, and Jisung lets himself make a purely fond smile of his own. “You’re so pretty.”

“Yeah? Mommy’s pretty?” You question, head tilting to the side. Jisung shifts on your lap at the use of the title, nodding shyly. “Why don’t you strip off for mommy, honey? Show me that pussy, yeah?”

Jisung dives off of you, yanking his bottoms down and pulling his hoodie over his head. It leaves him fully naked on the sofa, bent over and presenting his ass to you. His thick cock hangs heavy between his legs, balls looking agonisingly full just from a bit of dirty talk and ass looking slick with his antics beforehand. You slide your hands down his back, feeling the smooth skin beneath your fingers. You reach around and grab his ass, spreading his cheeks and exposing the tight hole between. You lean in and lick his rim, teasing him with the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t tease, mommy!” He protests, shaking his head. He leans down further, head resting on his arms to tilt his ass further back for you. “Gimme it. I’m ready, I’m ready, if you lick me there I’ll cum.”

“Slut,” You muse fondly, using a hand to flip him over onto his back. He’s pliant, instantly wrapping his hands in the pits of his knees to pull them to his chest, bent in half. It exposes his hole to you, clenching and unclenching impatiently. You grab the dildo, and before he can say anything, you’re pushing the head past his tight hole.

“Oh, yes,” He nods, tongue lolling out of his mouth. You snicker, pushing the silicone the rest of the way in. It meets little to no resistance, bottoming out quickly and making him shift his hips. “Fuck me with it, c’mon, mommy, fuck me with it! I need it, c’mon.”

“Shut up, Sungie,” You admonish, shaking your head in disbelief. Jisung giggles, shoulders shaking with the cute laugh, and then you’re pumping it in steadily. He shifts his hips, trying to get it to hit that delicious spot inside of him, and when he lets out a long, anguished noise, you know he’s found it. “There? Is that hitting your g-spot, baby? Dirty princess.”

“Oh, oh, keep- mama, keep talking like that, please! Faster, mommy, mama, please, faster!” 

He’s thrashing around already despite the slow pace, and when you finally speed up, his hands drop from his legs to grip the sofa. You push his legs back with your spare arm to keep him in position, forearm firm on his lower thighs, and he starts to bounce against the thrusts.

“Is that good?” You question, and he nods eagerly, unabashed whines and high-pitched moans falling from his parted lips. “Yeah, I can tell. Look at you, whining like a little whore. I know you would’ve preferred to ride my strap, feel that cock deep inside your slutty hole.”

Jisung practically wails, head shaking rapidly. “Don’t- don’t- don’t make me cum, mommy, mama, mommymommymommy, please, please, please, don’t make me cum, I wanna cum inside, please-” He’s babbling, eyes clenched tightly shut and fingers gripping the edge of the sofa in his lust-filled haze. Despite his words, his hips are bouncing back onto the silicone, cock jumping with every thrust and adding to the pool of precum on his honey-toned tummy. 

“You want me to stop, baby? But what if I just sit on your cock after you cum? Do you think you could cum again for me?”

“Yes!” He wails, nodding rapidly. His hips buck onto the dildo a few more times, little “ah, ah, ah”’s being let out with every thrust of your hand into his hole. “I can cum again! I can, I can, I’ll do it for you, for mama, please!”

“You’re so pathetic, baby,” You coo, leaning over him to kiss his neck. It makes him whine even more, pink flush travelling down to his neck and chest. “Cumming so quickly from this small cock. How can you even feel anything? I know I can’t when it’s inside me.”

A loud moan, a gasp, and then he’s spilling onto his tummy untouched. The ropes of thick white cum shoot out of him, cock jumping and bobbing against his skin with the pleasure of it. You pull the dildo out softly, taking notice of the way his asshole clenches to avoid the loss. As he’s coming down from his orgasm, you wrap your free hand around his cock and pump rapidly, making him thrash and wail at the overstimulation. 

“Ah, baby. If you can’t take that, I don’t think you can take my pussy-”

“I can! Mama, just fuckin’- just sit on it, I promise. I can, look, I’m still hard,” He grips his cock at the base, showing you the unflagging erection. He’s not lying. His cock is covered in his own release, but it remains solid, chubby and messy for you. His eagerness makes you giggle, and he watches with wide eyes as you pull your underwear down, and then you’re sitting on his cock in one go.

Seeing him whine and thrash around like a slut had gotten you way too wet, and Jisung notices. His eyes roll back into his head at the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, tight walls soaked with your excitement. 

“Oh, baby,” You moan, high pitched and desperate. Jisung’s hands go up to your tits beneath your shirt, grabbing almost painfully, and you let him. You’re too needy at this point, and your hips start to rock against him. His cock always presses perfectly against your walls, ridges and veins hitting you just right and fucking against that sensitive spot inside of you. “Mm, that cock’s so good. Fucking mommy just right, ‘s so good Sungie.”

“Yeah, ‘s good?” He huffs, thrusting up against you. It’s obvious by the tears in his eyes that he’s desperately trying to calm down from the overstimulation, but he tries to stay good for you nonetheless. “Pussy’s so good, please- please go faster, please make me cum again, please?”

“I’ll make you cum again, Sungie, mommy’s got you,” You reassure, nodding, and then you splay your hands on his chest. Your fingernails dig into his pecs, flesh spilling around your fingers, and then you’re bouncing. 

You ignore the ache and strain in your thighs in favour of fucking down onto his cock over and over, the mess of your pussy mixed with his previous release making slick slapping noises in your living room. The noises make Jisung whine, head rolling around in pleasure. 

“Mommy, mommy, hnnnnnfg…” He slurs, drool slicking his bottom lip. “So wet. So wet on Sungie’s cock, so wet, so wet, mommy, please cum, please, need it.”

“You need my cum?” You sigh, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his cock grinding against your walls. It’s almost too wet, but you fight through it to get some more friction in your hole. You slide two fingers past Jisung’s lips, and he blinks up at you in shock, sucking them diligently. Taking the two fingers down to your pussy, you rub over your clit, sensitive and swollen past your slick folds. 

“Oh, yeeeees,” Jisung nods, eyes flickering down to watch you touch yourself. “Rub that clit for me, so dirty. Dirty mommy, oh, I’ll cum again if you keep going so fast-”

“Cum then,” You scoff, rubbing harder on your clit. The circles you form on the nub are imprecise, but the friction is just enough to have you hurtling towards your orgasm. You’re too excited, too eager after fucking his hole open. “C-Cum and I’ll cum with you, Sungie, c’mon. Squirt it all inside mommy, please, baby.”

“Okay, okay, okay, I can, I’ll cum, I’ll-” He cuts himself off by gripping firmly on your ass, and then he’s thrusting up into you. His hips slap against yours, eyes rolling back into his head as he fucks you hard and fast to cum inside of your pussy. You surge forward, fingers digging harder into his pecs at the change in pace, moaning at the stimulation on your g-spot. Your hand drops from your clit, but you can’t even think about it with the way he’s fucking into you. 

“Oh, mommy’s gonna cum, baby, keep fucking me just like that,” You keen, and then you’re cumming. Jisung wails through your cunt fluttering around him, hole clenching and unclenching around his shaft. 

After a few more thrusts, his hips still on an inwards thrust, cock pressed tightly against your cervix and you can feel him spilling inside you. It’s less than it normally would be given his previous orgasm, but it still leaks out around his cock and fills your hole to the point you’re panting, head dropping to loll into his neck. Jisung sighs a heavy puff of air, wrapping his hand around your head to keep you close as he slips out. 

His cock is still half hard, only slightly flagging, and he dips his fingers into your pussy to collect yours and his cum. He turns to you, the white substance stringing his digits together.

“Open wide, jagi,” He muses, and you let your lips part, his fingers forcing your mixed fluids into your mouth. You let them rest on your tongue, and then he’s kissing you, tongue soft and wet in your mouth to taste the release. There’s a few wet slaps of your lips together, a messy exchange, and then he’s pulling away with a stupid grin.

You blink, knowing he’s about to say something stupid. “Jisung.”

“I guess we are having a white Christmas, huh?” He giggles, hands wrapping around your middle. You roll your eyes playfully, kissing his nose. 

“You’re so fucking dumb, Sungie.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

[headkiss]

maybe this christmas time

pairing: steve harrington x sunshine!reader

summary: working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns for r, some grumpy steve (he’s still a softie underneath it, i can’t help it!), some family issues (a phone call from steve’s mom), a rude customer, christmas activities/themes, fluff, and a first kiss!

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays from me to you!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one, i had a lot of fun writing it!! big big thank you to @bcyhoods for sending the request that inspired me to write this fic and to @bruisedboys who helped me out when i was unsure about things <333 ily guys i hope u all have the happiest of holidays!

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Starcourt Mall is decorated to the brim. Fake snow and garlands, giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a Christmas tree that stays lit all day long.

And, in the middle of it all, Santa’s Workshop.

That’s where you are, where you’ve been for a couple of Decembers now. Every other month of the year, you work at the movie theater, scooping popcorn and scanning tickets. But, for December, you trade in your cinema t-shirt for an elf outfit, striped tights and all.

“It’s really not so bad once you get past the itching,” you tell Steve.

“Great,” he says, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

“Great,” you repeat, cheery enough for the both of you.

He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than the sailor uniform. That is, until he saw what he had to wear for this gig.

It’s Steve Harrington’s first year at Santa’s Workshop, and you’ve been tasked with training him, though the job is mostly self-explanatory.

But unlike you, Steve didn’t volunteer for this.

“I can’t believe they picked me to do this,” he sighs. “Don’t even like elves.”

“Well they had to pick someone, Steve.” You shrug, “who knows, you might end up having fun!”

“Not likely.”

“At the very least, you’re getting paid, right?” You nudge him once with your elbow, “plus, if you’re extra nice, some moms give pretty good tips.”

You and Steve went to school together, but he never really spoke to you then. It was only after graduation that you had any sort of conversation with him. They mostly consisted of him bribing you with free ice cream to let Dustin and the gang into the movies for free.

That was after you caught him letting them into the back rooms to sneak in.

Now, Steve’s wearing a pair of slippers that jingle with every step just like yours, and in the only two shifts you’ve had together so far, you’ve spoken more than ever. Even if it’s mostly been instructions from you and an unenthusiastic comment in response from Steve.

“Do I really have to wear these fucking shoes?” He asks, following you out of the staff room.

“Yes. It’s part of the uniform.” You turn around to face him, walking backwards while he walks forwards. “Don’t worry, you’ll tune out the jingling soon enough.”

“I’ll hear these jingles in my nightmares.”

“At least you look cute!”

You spin back around, and Steve only rolls his eyes as he trudges on behind you.

Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about you, whether he finds you a little annoying or endearing. At the moment, with an elf hat squishing his hair, he’s leaning a little more towards the first.

He didn’t know you during school. Admittedly, he was an asshole for most of his time at Hawkins High, so that explains that. Even still, he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re kind enough not to snitch on him for sneaking the kids into the movies and that you seem to seep sunshine all the fucking time.

And your sunshine seems to be dialed up during the holidays. Like you really believe in ‘holiday cheer.’

Steve knows, deep down and buried somewhere he’s not quite ready to face yet, that he’s mostly just jealous. Because if you like the holidays so much, if you’re smiling the way you do so often, you must have it pretty good at home.

To him, nothing else makes sense. Not when Christmas at the Harrington household has been absolute shit for years. First, it was the gifts he never wanted, things his parents didn’t care enough to know he didn’t like. Then, they dwindled until, eventually, Christmas did, too.

There’s a travel discount during the holidays, sweetie. We’re visiting dad’s boss’ cabin. Next year, we promise. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

So yeah, Steve’s never really understood the appeal. Walking behind you in a pair of jingling shoes and a scratchy outfit, he’s not sure he ever will.

You lead him towards the area where Santa’s Workshop has been set up, right by the fountain. There’s bright red carpet rolled out over the usual tiled floors, an area set up for the cue of families, and of course, a bench where some guy playing Santa will sit.

“Since we’re opening today I’ll show you the whole set-up routine.” You step over the rope with the sign that says ‘Gone to feed the reindeer!’ with Steve in tow. “Easy peasy.”

Steve steps over the rope behind you, shaking his head at the sound his shoes make when he lands. He chooses to listen to your voice instead.

“First, we count the props,” you nod over at the bin that’s tucked away behind a small tree, “there should be four sets of antlers, two santa hats, a red nose, and some extra elf hats.”

He stares at you—because why on earth would you have that memorized—and raises his eyebrows. For a moment, as he watches you grab the clipboard that sits atop the prob bin and start counting, Steve wonders if maybe he should be more like you. The kind of person who seems to see the good in everything.

Then, he remembers what the outfit he’s got on looks like and shakes the thought away.

“Why would anyone want to be a clown in these pictures?” He says.

“The red nose is for Rudolph, dummy.”

You say dummy with a smile, like it’s something to admire. Steve huffs.

“Rudolph’s a loser.”

“Aw, come on, he’s got his own song and everything! I’d say that makes him the opposite of a loser.”

“Of course you would,” he mutters, cursing the tiniest twitch of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next?”

“Right,” you grab the bag that you brought from the staff room and set it on the ground by the tripod that’s already set up. “Next is the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”

The only knowledge Steve’s got of cameras comes from whatever Jonathan has told him, which hasn’t been very much, considering the pair’s history on the topic despite them being friends now.

So, he steps closer to you, watches as you pull the camera out of the bag.

“You just have to switch it on and make sure the battery’s full, right there,” you say, pointing at the small symbol that lets you know if the camera’s charged or not. “And don’t forget to take the lens cap off. I did it once and this dad yelled at me, so...”

You pop the lens cap off, putting it in the bag. Steve’s standing close to you, right behind you, his chin hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest just shy of brushing against your back.

“Finally,” you continue, ignoring the little skip in your heartbeat, the way you breathe just a tiny bit quicker. “Set it up on the tripod, and you’re good to go.”

He watches your fingertips move easily, securing the camera to the tripod. When you’re done, you turn around to face him, and it’s only then that Steve realizes how close he’s gotten.

Close enough that you stumble and land against his chest, his hands on your upper arms to steady you as you pull back quickly, like you’d been burned. Steve, however, doesn’t let go just yet and he’s got no idea why.

He doesn’t let go until the music in the mall is switched on, the opening notes of some Christmas song startling you both. Steve steps back and releases you, dropping his hands by his sides and ignoring the twitch of his fingers.

“Alright,” you say, trying to brush the moment off. “That sound means we’re open. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

-

Your lunch breaks at Santa’s Workshop feel like a luxury, because no matter how much you enjoy the job, it’s nice to get away from the rowdy children it forces you to deal with.

Unlike your job at the theater, where your breaks are staggered, the workshop closes for an hour every day, meaning that even during lunch, Steve’s stuck with you.

The sign by the line for Santa is flipped, and parents groan whenever they see the festive font saying you’ll be back in an hour.

You take the hour spent in the staff room as a time to ask him questions, what his hobbies are (“does driving a pack of 13-year-olds around count?”), if he likes his job at Scoops (“I’m starting to appreciate it more. The lesser of two evils, or something”), if he’d introduce you to Robin someday (“I’m afraid of what that might do to my sanity.”)

Today, you’re trying to tackle the subject of his Grinch-like tendencies.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” You ask.

Steve doesn’t know why he continues to answer your questions whenever you throw them at him—which is often—but he does. He thinks it might be like being mean to a puppy, ignoring you. Unnecessarily cruel.

“Don’t have one.”

“Ugh. Come on, Steve! Everyone has a favorite.” You slump in your seat across from him at the small table in the break room. Steve stares at you blankly as he takes another bite of his lunch. “You can tell me.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your foot with his when it comes close. “They’re cheesy.”

“Aren’t you secretly a rom-com fan?”

“How did you-”

“So, you actually enjoy cheesy movies!”

“Okay, well you don’t have to say it to the entire mall. Gosh.”

Steve wonders how you know that about him, how you’ve been able to guess a lot of things without him telling you. Briefly, just for a second, he wonders if that might mean something.

Like, if maybe you’re in his life now for a reason.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Steve.” You smile what you hope is an honest, reassuring smile. “So, the cheesiness isn’t the root of the issue.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna take a guess here,” you start, “and say that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Steve, I’ve never heard someone complain about jingle bells so much in my life.”

“We can’t all behave like we’ve been injected with sunshine.”

You don’t think he means it as a compliment, but you decide to take it as one nonetheless. But you suppose he’s right, there’s always gotta be a balance. Dark and light, happy and sad.

“Thank you,” you give him a quick grin. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

He’s silent for a moment, twisting his fork around between his fingers. “My parents never really did Christmas.”

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest at his words, at the way his tone goes quieter, at the way he looks at the table to avoid catching your eye.

Immediately, you feel guilty for prying, because the last thing you’d ever wanted to do was force him to tell you something he didn’t want to. It’s not your place, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much you’d like to give him a hug or something right about now.

It’s not your place, but you find yourself wishing it could be.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.” You reach for his hand that sits on the table and give it a quick squeeze before pulling back. “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have bugged you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to accept it.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t affect him. But from the scrunch in his brows, you can tell it does, at least a little bit. “The Harringtons have better things to do than sit around cleaning up wrapping paper.”

Steve feels embarrassed, his cheeks warm and his head bent. He doesn’t like scraping this wound open, doesn’t like to think about what he was missing out on while everyone thought his life was perfect.

He especially doesn’t want you looking at him like he’s injured or something after this.

Surprisingly to Steve, you don’t. You actually do quite the opposite. You smile brightly at him, like you’ve just had an excellent idea, like you can inject a bit of your sunshine into him with it.

“How about this: I’ll teach you how great Christmas can be.”

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Steve tries to shake his admission away, to clear the room. He points at the elf hat on his head, “this outfit has ruined any last shred of hope I had.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you make a cute elf? You pull it off better than I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Steve raises his eyebrows at you. You ignore that look. “Whatever. I cannot in good conscience, let you keep disliking Christmas. Think of how fun it could be. Plus, you owe me for all of those movies I let your children into.”

Steve already finds it difficult to say no to you, because of how kind you remain even when he’s snarky with you, because of the same kindness you seem to offer to everyone you meet.

So, even though he’s not sure what your plan entails, he sighs and says: “okay. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You cheer, clapping a little in your seat. “Oh my gosh, we can go skating, and go to one of those Christmas light festivals, and make cookies-”

“What did I get myself into?” Steve mutters, while you’re still rambling off ideas.

“-I’m gonna need to make a list.”

Even after your break ends, you seem to have an extra pep in your step, if that’s even possible. Your smile is a bit wider, your eyes brighter, and Steve can’t help but feel a little special for being somewhat responsible for that.

Really, what did I get myself into, he wonders.

-

In the time between him agreeing to your Christmas plans a couple of days ago and now, at yet another shift, Steve has realized that he actually likes you quite a bit. Even though your seemingly constant optimism drives him a little bit crazy.

You treat everyone with an attitude that’s so rare, he finds that his previous annoyance for you is slowly becoming overtaken by the endearment.

He won’t admit it, not when bantering with you seems to be the highlight of his days lately, but Steve is starting to be sort of grateful that he got selected for this job.

And that has absolutely nothing to do with the outfit he wears. He still fucking hates that.

“It’s alright, cutie,” he hears your voice say, all soft and understanding. He finds you, crouched down to talk to a little girl who seems to be wary of Santa. “I bet Santa will give you something extra from your list if you smile for the picture.”

The girl nods, like she’s determined. But, when you stand back up, she grabs onto your hand by your side.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Can you do it with me?”

You look over to the girl’s mother where she stands to the side, and she nods, eager to get the picture done. So, with that, you say, “okay, then.”

Steve’s standing behind the camera as he watches you help the girl onto the bench beside Santa. Then you’re sitting beside her and telling her to look at the nice boy behind the camera.

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking about him, but when he does, he forces himself into action, bending to look through the viewfinder.

“Say cheese,” he says.

The click of the camera sounds, and then it’s done. You help the girl down, who goes over to her mom quickly and they head over to grab their picture.

Once they’re gone, the line dies down, giving you and Steve a rare pause from the pictures and overenthusiastic welcomes to ‘the North Pole.’

“I hope that family’s okay with my face in their picture,” you say, coming to stand beside Steve by the camera. “I mean, I know the mom nodded, but maybe they’ll cut me out of it.”

You’ve become more comfortable with Steve the more you’ve worked with him, getting to know him in how his grumpiness is more related to the holidays and early mornings than anything else, in how he turns the same grumpiness down when he talks to the kids.

You think he’s grown more comfortable with you, too, because he’s started bringing you a coffee in a festive cup in the morning, leaving it in your cubby without a word.

From Steve, you think that says a lot. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, you think. Like the free ice cream he gives you from Scoops, or the small nod he’d give you whenever he’d pick up the kids from a movie.

And now, there’s the small tug of his lips, the hint of a smile that has you saying, “Steve Harrington are you smiling right now?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head at you. “That was sweet. What you did for that girl.”

Steve lets himself say what he thinks for once, because there’s nobody else around, because he wants you to hear it.

You hide your shy smile by looking down at your feet. You know that underneath everything, Steve is probably one of the best boys you’ve ever met, because even with his attitude, he’ll never say anything to truly hurt you, and with how little you know about his family, you also know that it’s rare for someone in his situation to remain so good.

Any resemblance of a compliment from Steve feels extra special, like its own gift in itself.

“Ruining her picture, you mean?” You ask, trying to cover up how you feel about him calling you sweet.

“You didn’t ruin that picture, sunshine.”

Sunshine. That’s new.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Before Steve has the chance to respond, the line picks up again, and it’s back to business as usual. The routine click of the camera, the sound of parents telling their kids to smile nice and big.

You and Steve catching each other’s eye when a particularly entertaining family rolls around, laughing at the way he does an impression of a mom after she leaves. With work being sort of like this every day, you wish it could be Christmas all year round. You much prefer this to the theater, you think.

Steve can't say that he likes this job more than Scoops—Robin might call him traitorous—but he finds that you’d been at least a little right when you said that it would get better when he got used to things, when he hears the sound of your laugh rather than those stupid bells on his shoes.

He finds that he sometimes has to remind himself that he doesn’t like the holidays, that they aren’t like this all the time.

At the end of your shift, as you and Steve grab your stuff from the staff room, you turn to him, leaning against the wall as he shrugs on his coat.

“So, I made a list,” you say. “We are going to have the best Christmas ever, Harrington.”

“My standards are very low, so it wouldn’t take much.”

“Don’t care. I have plans. We can make gingerbread houses and get Christmas pajamas-”

“Absolutely not.”

While Steve already agreed to letting you show him Christmas your way, he thinks he can only take so much at a time. Small doses of your jolly spirit are plenty.

“Steeeve.”

“I am drawing the line. No Christmas pajamas. Not happening.”

“But the gingerbread houses are a yes?” You ask, hopeful and smiling like it’ll persuade him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

That’s what Steve decides to say, instead of simply agreeing because he finds that he’d like to spend time with you outside of work, to see if you’re really so bright all the time, to see if he can soak it up a little better when he’s not dressed as a damn elf.

That’s what he decides to say because it’s easier than spilling the rest of it out there. Much, much easier.

“But you already agreed!” You pout at him a little, exaggerated dramatics on your part. “You can’t just tell me I can teach you Christmas and then back out, I mean, I made an actual bucket list. With glitter and shit.”

“Oh no, not the glitter,” Steve places a hand on his chest, sarcastically scandalized. “That makes it serious.”

You blink at him, giving him a blank look. “Don’t diss the list. By the end of it, you’re gonna be jolly as fuck, trust me.”

“Jolly as fuck,” he repeats, shaking his head on a laugh. “You’ve got a way with words, sunshine.”

“Thank you.” You push your tote bag onto your shoulder, fishing out your keys, they clink in your palm when you find them. “I’m not letting you back out of this, by the way. The list is binding.”

“Well in that case…”

You give Steve a little smile, the flash of a sunbeam, before heading out, and he’s left standing in the break room wondering what you’ve got on that list, why you seem to care so much about it.

Huffing, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

-

Steve definitely should not have told you that he’d never been ice skating before.

It all started when you’d been talking about that damn list at your most recent shift, a couple of days after he’d accepted the fact that he couldn’t back out of it (did he really want to?).

“Hey, you have a change of clothes in your bag, right?” You’d asked him in between families.

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Because, Steve, our festivities begin today after work!” You clapped your hands together softly, excited and encouraging, yet delicate. “I haven’t quite decided what we’re starting with yet.”

“I thought you had a list.”

“I do! But it’s not in order,” you shrugged, “I’m more of a mood-based decision maker, anyways.”

“Of course you are,” he’d said, his usual sarcasm lighter, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“So I’m thinking we go skating-”

“Nope.”

“You can't say no to every idea I have. Then how will you get the Christmas experience?”

“I won’t say no to everything.” You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, so, quietly, he added, “it’s just, I’ve never been skating before.”

“Steve, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you reassured him easily, your voice honest in a sort of natural way, like you couldn't lie even if you tried. “All the more reason to give it a try. The point is to have fun, not to be good at it. I’m really not that great, myself.”

“If I hate it, we’re leaving.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how he’d ended up here, standing next to you at the rental counter at the ice rink, telling some teenager his shoe size so he could get a pair of skates.

Steve looks at you as you talk to the teenager, paying before he even gets the chance. He looks at the hat you’ve got on your head, the way your jeans are cuffed just enough to let your snowman patterned socks peek out of your boots.

He realizes that he’s only ever really seen you in uniform, at the theater and as an elf, and he thinks, quickly, like a car driving by, that you look really pretty like this. With snowflakes stuck in your eyelashes and all.

Though he’s never said it, barely let himself think it, he’s always found you pretty in a sort of undeniable way, like it was just a fact. Now, he finds you pretty in a way that makes him feel it.

His heart beats like it feels it, too. The traitor.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing both your and Steve’s pairs of skates. You turn to him, smiling like always, Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, “ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be,” he says, letting you lead the way to the benches by the rink.

He watches the way you tie your skates, copying your movements on his own pair, double knotting the bow at the end. When you stand, he stays seated for a moment, suddenly more nervous than before, because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself in front of you, in front of everyone around.

Like you can read his mind, you say, “it’s okay, the first step is only standing. It looks harder than it is, promise.”

“I feel like you’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you just stand up and find out, then?”

He rolls his eyes, more at himself than you, and pushes himself up from the bench. It takes him a second to get used to the feeling of the skates, of balancing on them, but eventually, he nods at you, eager to get it over with.

“‘Kay, so it’s gonna feel weird when you step on the ice, but you can just hold onto the side until you get the hang of it.” You start walking ahead of him, turning back to say, “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

“Sure you do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The rink is outdoors, the walls surrounded with string lights of all kinds, twinkling and colorful. In the middle, there’s a big tree, a shining gold star sat on top. There’s a hot chocolate stand to the side, the smell mingling with the freshness of the cold.

There are Christmas songs playing over the speakers (of course), and Steve thinks that if he hears one more rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” he’ll have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. On top of that, there’s the sound of laughter, kids with their parents, friends, couples, everyone seems to be having fun.

Everyone seems to be at ease except for him.

You step onto the rink first, skating a couple of steps forward to give Steve room to get on. He holds onto the side like you told him to, lifting a foot and stepping forward slowly, his foot slipping a little when it hits the ice.

You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him, only stand there with a kindness in your eyes that tells him you won’t be anything but patient.

Still, he doesn’t take too long to get the other foot on the ice, too, his feet carrying him forward a little bit, his hand gripping the side tighter.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you skate to his side, leaving space between you as Steve holds out his arm for balance. “Now all you gotta do is push yourself forward.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s called being encouraging, Steve. Let me be encouraging!”

“Fine,” he stares down at his feet, his hair falling over his forehead. “So what do I do?”

“Use one foot to push, and then let yourself glide, switch feet, and repeat. You can do it.”

He gives it a go, and finds that it isn’t awful, but he moves slowly, and looking around at the other people skating, he’s not an impressive skater at all.

Steve has always felt the urge to be good at everything he does, basketball, driving, even fucking babysitting. He’s always tried so hard to do things well, like maybe, if he was talented enough, his parents would care more, would finally be proud of him for something.

He swallows that thought down and pushes forward again.

You follow his speed, gliding easily beside him, “look at you go!”

“I look like an idiot,” he says, his arm outstretched beside him, the other gripping the side, his knees bent.

When you look at him, though, all you see is the pink of his cheeks and nose from the cold, the way his hair brushes against his forehead, the focus in his eyes, the determination. No, you don’t think he looks like an idiot at all.

“You look like you’re trying, and that’s a great look on you, Steve.”

This time, it isn’t only the cold that pinkens his cheeks.

He doesn’t have time to muster up a reply, because the next time Steve skates ahead, he stumbles, his balance wavering until he feels your hand grabbing onto his arm to help steady him.

Then, your hand moves to hold his, and even through the layers of both of your gloves, he feels the warmth in his fingertips, some sort of tingling.

“This way, if you fall, so do I,” you say, squeezing his hand once, winking at him like the thought of falling doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Super sure.”

You hadn’t been lying on that one, because eventually Steve does fall, and you fall right along with him, landing on the ice with a little, “oop!”

On his back, Steve turns his head to look at you, your hair a mess around you, some on your cheeks. He reaches out and brushes it away.

“You okay, sunshine?”

The response he gets is the sound of your laughter, a single loud cackle that has your eyes widening and a hand smacking over your mouth.

Your laughter fades into a fit of giggles, one so infectious that Steve—surrounded by all kinds of Christmas-themed things he swore he hated—laughs along with you.

And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, Steve thinks that the holidays might not be the worst thing ever.

-

Steve’s in a bad mood today, that scrunch in his brows you'd thought had been easing away back in full force.

It’s your first shift back together since you’d been skating only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help but worry that maybe it was too much, that you’d pushed him too far.

Even though, at the time, he’d been smiling more than you’ve seen him smile maybe ever, and you really thought that you had a shot at making Christmas better for him. You worry that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed, that he was pretending to have fun for your sake.

Steve, on the other hand, is actually glad to be at work for once, glad for the distraction it gives him. He’s unaware that his emotions are so visible on his face, that you think an ounce of his annoyance and anger is aimed at you.

All he knows is that after the morning he had, he needs this distraction.

This morning, it wasn’t the beep of his alarm that had woken him up, but the shrill ring of the phone on his bedside table. Groggy, with his eyes still half shut, Steve picked up the phone.

He wishes he didn’t.

“Hello?” His voice was almost a groan, scratchy from sleep, irritated at being woken up earlier than his alarm.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother’s voice made him squint his eyes shut further. “Why do you sound so tired?”

“‘Cause it’s six in the morning, mom.”

“Oh, silly me. I forgot about time zones,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. She didn’t even care enough to know what time it was for her son. “Anyways, I’m calling to let you know your father and I won’t make it home for Christmas this year. There’s this banquet we just can’t miss. You understand, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’d been surprised, doesn’t know why her words, completely devoid of any kind of empathy towards the situation, made his stomach hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, because it was no use to do anything but agree.

This was his normal: an almost monthly phone call from one of his parents from wherever they are in the world, no matter the time, always telling him that they’re missing this holiday, his birthday (which, at this point, he was shocked they even remembered), anything.

“That’s my boy,” she’d said, as if she knew him at all. She didn’t. Hasn’t known him—or cared to—for a long time. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Right.”

“Oh, there’s your father. Gotta go.”

And just like that, she hung up.

Steve almost wishes that they’d never call at all, because maybe then it would be easier to swallow their neglect. If they’d just forget him completely, he could get rid of that stupid, tiny sprout of hope he feels whenever they call, hoping things will be different.

At least it was his mother this time, he thinks. His father is a hundred times worse, only ever disappointed in Steve, asking about his job or when he plans on ‘getting a real life,’ never about him.

So yeah, Steve’s in a bad mood today.

The two of you don’t talk for the majority of your shift, you, afraid that Steve’s angry with you, opting to give him space, and Steve, stewing in every negative emotion that comes along with a phone call from his parents.

You don’t talk until one of the last families in line for the day comes up.

Once the kids are in place, you lean down to look through the viewfinder, counting them down and snapping the picture when they say ‘cheese.’ To the side, the children’s mom looks at you with so much judgment, Steve, even brewing in his thoughts, notices.

With the picture taken, you take the camera over to the mom, letting her see the picture the way you do with all the parents, making sure they approve.

Instead of approval, what you get is, “what the hell is that?”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of rude customers, at every job you’ve had, but this woman all but screams at you, and that’s rare. “Sorry,” you say, “I can take a new one, no problem.”

“I better be getting the new one for free with how these pictures are looking,” she practically hisses at you.

Usually, you can handle stuff like this, can smack on a smile and politely agree to get things taken care of, but today, the mixture of all your self-doubt and worrying about messing things up with Steve and this mother shouting at you, things pile up, and you feel your happy mask slipping.

“Um,” you start, voice small.

“You elves get worse every year,” she says to you. “I can’t believe people this incompetent even exist.”

Steve, hearing the whole thing, is quick to step in front of you, any thoughts about his shitty parents quickly fading in favor of helping you.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but she already offered to take another picture, and if that isn’t good for you, you’re free to leave,” Steve’s voice doesn’t slip one bit, standing his ground with every word.

You’re overwhelmed with everything going on, and when Steve turns around to look at you, nodding his head towards the staff room, you take the escape he offers you quickly, eyes blurry with tears you won’t let fall until you’re alone.

“You can’t speak to me like that!” The woman stomps her foot.

“I can, actually. She,” he points in the direction you’d gone, “is the kindest person I know, and you shouldn’t speak to her that way. I understand the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, but we spend all day helping people like you take these pictures, and the least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

Rather than respond, the woman takes her children’s hands and stomps off.

Steve turns to find that the few families that had been in line before have decided to leave, and he takes the emptiness of Santa’s Workshop as an opportunity to follow after you.

He finds you sitting on the bench beneath your cubby in the break room, head buried in your hands, sniffling a little like you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Steve can’t think about anything other than how much he hates seeing you upset, like a cloud covering the sun.

“Hey,” he says gently, sitting beside you on the bench. “Don’t listen to any of that. She was a bitch.”

You’re both grateful and unhappy that Steve came after you. Grateful because he’s kind, because he’s showing you that he cares. Unhappy because you’re embarrassed of him seeing you like this, because he calls you sunshine and you don’t feel like that right now.

It takes a second before you move your hands, wiping at your cheeks before turning to look at Steve, his brown eyes already on your face, unbelievably soft.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he assures you. “She was awful to you after a long enough day. You have every right to be upset.”

“You’re being really nice,” your voice breaks a little bit, fighting any more tears that threaten to spill.

“I can be nice. I should be nicer to you.” He knows he should, but with Christmas and everything, it’s easy for him to be grouchy. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” you shrug, almost defeated. “I thought you were mad at me today.”

Steve’s heart fucking aches at the sound of your voice, all small and lacking of the light he’s somehow come to like so much. And when another tear slips down your cheek, he can’t stop himself from reaching out and holding your face in his hands, thumbing the tear away lightly.

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, sunshine.”

“Oh.”

His hands are warm where they hold your cheeks, a thumb still tracing back and forth over your skin. Not mad, then.

“I, uh,” Steve looks at where his thumb brushes against you, like he can’t believe it’s there, like he doesn’t want to look into your eyes for the next part. “I got a call from my mom this morning. They’re not coming home this year. Again. I shouldn’t be surprised but… anyways. That’s why I’ve been so quiet and shit today. Not because of you.”

One of your hands comes up to lay over his where it sits on your cheek, tangling your fingers with his and moving your hands down to your lap.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take this stuff out on you just because you like Christmas and I don’t.”

You smile a little bit, a twitch of your lips, but Steve takes it as a win all the same.

“I’m gonna change that,” you say.

“Sure you will,” he replies, the sarcasm in his voice still there the way it usually is when he teases you, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

-

Steve told you to go home after that, assuring you that he’d take care of the few families left, and when you’d opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, you could stay, he’d pinned you with a look and told you again to let him do it.

So, you did.

You’d thought it would be a day at least until you’d see Steve again, but it’s only a couple of hours after your shift ends.

There’s a knock at your door, your apartment one of the ones built above a shop on Main Street, and even though you have no idea who it could be, you get up, sock-covered feet padding against the floor as you go over to answer it.

You’re surprised to find Steve on the other side—one, because you don’t think you’ve ever told him where you live, and two, because you didn’t think he’d want to see you more today than he already had—a bag in his hand and a shy sort of question on his face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand before responding, a nervous gesture that he hasn’t been able to get rid of. “I thought that maybe, after the day you’ve had, you could use some cheering up. I could, too.”

You remember him telling you about the phone call from his parents, and something in your stomach flutters a little when you realize that his plans to cheer up involve you of all people.

“Okay.” You smile, you can’t really help it, “come in, then.”

He does, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes before stepping inside any further. Steve spots your kitchen table easily, and moves to set the bag he’s holding down.

“I thought we could do another thing that might be on your list,” he says. Steve tugs things out of the bag, gingerbread house kits, to be exact. “Gingerbread houses are Christmas bucket list worthy, right?”

“Absolutely,” you search his face, a little confused because last you heard, Steve was not into your whole bucket list thing, but here he is. “And you’re doing this… voluntarily?”

“I have the receipt. I can return them, if you prefer.”

“No! Don’t do that. I just mean- I thought you didn’t like Christmas or my list and that you were just playing along to be nice.”

“I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but,” he shrugs, opening one of the boxes of gingerbread, “you’re a good teacher, sunshine.”

You resist the urge to pinch yourself, like you might be dreaming because Steve, who you’ve grown to like an embarrassing amount, is here, offering to do this with you and giving you a compliment like it’s nothing.

When you respond, you hope your voice doesn’t give away how you really feel. Excited, happy, your heart jumping. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, pointing to the unopened box, “now will you come build this gingerbread house or what?”

“Mine’s gonna be way prettier than yours.”

Steve simply rolls his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile there, too. He’s happy to see that your light is back, that you didn’t let what happened at work get to you too much.

You sit down beside each other at your table, gingerbread kits laid out in front of you. Icing and sprinkles, a cookie roof and chimney. You’re sure it’ll leave a mess, but right now you don’t mind.

There’s a sort of lightness in the air, the knowledge that this thing—friendship, more, whatever it is—between the two of you is something that you’re both happy to bask in. It’s unspoken, and that doesn’t bother you.

You and Steve start by unpacking all of the pieces, yours laid out neatly, his in a leaning pile that makes you bite back a laugh.

“The fucking roof won’t stay on,” Steve says once you’ve both started to put the houses together, and he sounds genuinely annoyed about it.

“Just put some more icing on it,” you say, “there’s no such thing as too much.”

“I don’t think icing will save me now, sunshine.”

You look away from your own gingerbread house over to Steve’s. His hands are holding the roof up, pushing them together so they meet at the top, and he’s staring at the thing with so much determination that you can’t help but giggle.

“You laughing at me?” Steve quirks a brow at you, but there’s a shine in his eyes. They smile even when his mouth doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so seriously,” you laugh, and that smile of his spreads slowly on Steve’s face, blooming like a flower. “It’s alright to admit defeat, Steve. My house is already better than yours.”

“Woah, this isn’t over yet, alright? Mine just needs time, don’t you worry.”

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow without letting go of the roof of his house. “Don’t speak too soon, sunshine. I could be the underdog here.”

You lean over with your icing bag in hand, piping some more into the gap in Steve’s roof. “Here, let me help.”

Steve—always reluctant to accept help of any kind, even the smallest things—lets you. While he watches your face as you pipe the icing, the focus, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips, you take his distraction as an opportunity to move, letting your icing fall onto his hand instead of the house.

“Oops,” you shrug, your tone suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake at all.

Steve gasps overdramatically, then leans closer to you, “Oh, looks like you’ve got something right there.” His hand reaches for your face, and he spreads the icing from it onto your cheek.

“You’re done for, Harrington.”

He only laughs, bright and quick.

Before you know it, you’re having some sort of food fight, putting a dot of icing on Steve’s nose, him tossing sprinkles at you. It’s a mess, but all you can hear is Steve’s laughter, all you can see is his smile. Unguarded for once, free and genuine.

By the time it dies down, there’s stripes of icing on your cheeks, red and green sprinkles scattered about the floor and on the table, and Steve’s got his own patches of icing to deal with.

“You better help me clean this, Harrington,” you say, your giggles still spilling, fizzling out softly. “What are we gonna decorate these houses with now?”

“Mine’s a lost cause,” he admits, the pieces now in a pile the way they’d started.

“So I won, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve looks at you, at the sparkle in your eyes that had been dimmed earlier at work, at the smile that spreads across your face when his eyes meet yours. Fuck. He thinks you’re completely beautiful, icing across your face and all.

His gaze snags on a piece of green in your hair, and before he can think about it, he reaches up and tugs it out for you.

“Sprinkle,” he says.

You look at his hands, messy from the gingerbread houses but never any less strong, and you remember how they felt in yours when you’d been skating. And when you flick your eyes back to his face, he’s already looking at you, gaze dipping to your mouth quickly, like he can’t help it.

And shit, you think. You really, really like this boy.

Before either of you can say anything more, you’re leaning towards each other, meeting in the middle and you’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but you end up with your mouths pressed together.

It’s featherlight at first, testing the waters. Then, Steve’s hands cup your jaw gently and pull you back to him, and you wouldn’t dream of doing anything but follow.

He kisses you again, still soft somehow, but more certain, his lips dancing with yours like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You reach up and grasp his wrists in your hands, feeling his pulse under your thumbs. His heart is racing just as much as yours, you notice. Like your heartbeats have synced to a twin pattern, like this kiss was enough to do that.

And while you’re not sure what will happen after this, you know that something has shifted, that both of you are saying things you’re too afraid to say out loud.

When he pulls back, Steve presses one, two more pecks to your mouth, his thumbs tracing over your skin so lightly you might’ve dreamt it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever think about kissing the same way after you. Steve feels warm the way he does when the sun beams on him in summer, and quickly, he thinks, I could get used to this feeling.

Then, he gets up and finds a small towel in one of the drawers by your sink, wetting it with warm water before coming back to sit with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, using a finger to tilt your chin up, swiping the towel over your cheeks to get rid of the icing there as lightly as he can.

And that’s that.

-

December twenty-fourth is your last day at Santa’s Workshop. Christmas Eve snuck up quick, and tomorrow, the twenty-fifth, the mall will be closed.

You’ve always enjoyed the job, but this year’s been your favorite by far. Usually, you and your coworkers would get along just fine, talking during shifts and laughing but never expanding outside of work, but it’s completely different with Steve.

He knocked on your door with gingerbread houses in hand and kissed you like it meant something. You like him so much that it’s in your bones, this feeling he brings out of you, how special you feel when you think about the trust he’s shown you.

But looking back, you think you were screwed from the start. From his scrunched brows asking you if the bells on the elf shoes were really necessary, to confiding in you about his parents, that list you made that seemed to be the beginning of what things have grown into now.

Green elf hat lopsided on his head, Steve smiles at you from where he stands by the camera. You smile back without thinking, like it’s natural, an instinct.

“Alright,” he says, talking to the kids sitting on the bench with Santa. “Everyone say ‘cheese’ on three. One, two-”

“Cheese!”

The camera clicks, and then it’s onto the next, the system you and Steve have created moving along smoothly, family after family.

If someone told Steve when he’d started this job, grouchy and prepared to pout about it every day, that he’d grow to like it, that he’s realized he’ll miss it when it’s gone, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Never in a million years did Steve think he’d come remotely close to enjoying being an elf, but he has (he still fucking hates the outfit, though). You have everything to do with his surprising not-so-hatred of the job, of his careful fondness growing towards the holidays.

It’s all because of you.

Christmas Eve is a busy day at Starcourt mall, parents rushing about for last minute presents, teenagers taking advantage of holiday sales, and families lined up for their Santa pictures they’d forgotten about until now.

You don’t get breaks between families often today, but once you do, you and Steve are next to each other, making imaginary backstories for random people that pass by, dramatically reading lips of conversations.

The next time there’s an opening, you walk over to Steve, holding up your fist as if there’s a microphone in it. “So, Steve, tell me, how does it feel to have survived December as a Christmas elf?”

“I feel like I should get an award, maybe,” he says into your fake microphone. “I’ve gotten two rashes from this scratchy outfit. Two! And I’ll never hear jingle bells the same again.”

You laugh before clearing your throat and getting back into your news anchor character, “wow. You heard it here folks, North Pole outfits are not luxurious.”

“No, they are not.”

Steve can’t help but grin as he looks at you, as he jokes around with you so easily it feels like he’s known you for years instead of a month. He supposes he has known you longer, but never the way he does now.

“Now, will you be returning to Santa’s Workshop in future Decembers, mister Harrington?”

“Well, that depends,” he says. “I think I’ll require a certain presence to be with me if I come back. Can’t survive it without my doses of sunshine.”

My doses of sunshine.

You’ve never reacted to words the way you do with Steve, but when he says things like that, how can you not react? He compliments you in these indirect ways that only you could understand, and this secret language of yours has your heart skipping, your world tinted-pink.

That one makes you break character, “really?”

“Really.”

Looking up at him, at those soft, melting brown eyes that have always told you more than anything else about him, at the fondness in them, you think about that kiss.

You haven’t spoken about it, but you haven’t felt the need to. It meant something, you know that much, and by the way Steve sneaks touches—a squeeze of your hand, a palm on your back—he does, too.

“You make Christmas better,” he tells you.

He leaves you with that as the next family walks up for their picture, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, his gaze spreading sparkles over your skin.

It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is him calling you sunshine in that soft voice of his he’s only used when you’re alone, but you have to, so it’s back to work you go.

You don’t get to speak much again until your shift is over, the Christmas Eve evening rush swooping in and keeping you both busy.

It’s bittersweet, walking to the back room for the last time from Santa’s Workshop. You’re excited for tomorrow, because it’s Christmas and it’s one of your favorite days of the year, but it’s hitting you now how much you’ll miss seeing Steve nearly every day.

You’ll still see him, of course you will. Whether it’s him getting you to help sneak kids into a movie or maybe something more, something for just the two of you. Either way, you’re at least sure of one thing: Steve Harrington is one of the best people you know.

He’s the first to speak as you step into the staff room. “I have something for you,” he says.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it’s the sweetest thing. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box, a white ribbon tied in a bow around it, a little lopsided, like he’d tied it himself.

You take it from him, smiling down at the box, because no matter what’s in it, he cared enough to get you a gift and that’s what matters, that’s what you’ll hold onto.

“Really?”

“Open it, please.”

You listen, tugging the ribbon loose and opening up the small box. Inside, you find a delicate chain, the pendant in the shape of the sun.

“Steve.” It comes out in a breath, your eyes welling the tiniest bit because this is the best gift you’ve ever received. He’s a gift himself, looking at you shyly, searching your face for a reaction.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his voice soft. “If it’s too much I can-”

“It’s perfect,” you say, and you mean it. “Put it on for me?”

He flashes you a grin, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he nods and takes the necklace from you, undoing the clasp as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

You can feel his warmth against your back as he drapes the necklace over your collar, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp.

“There you go,” he says, taking a small step back to give you room to spin back around to face him.

You look down at the sun pendant sitting against your skin, touching it lightly. Steve’s actions speak volumes, and this one makes you feel so many things. But above it all, you feel like his.

He watches your face as you look at the necklace, the slope of your nose and the softness of your cheeks. The flutter of your lashes and the smile you don’t even try to hide. He’s been resisting the urge to kiss you since he’d done it the first time, but it’s stronger than ever now, with his present around your neck.

Your eyes meet when you look back up at him, his brown ones never failing to show how he feels, and your heart skips with how he looks at you. Like he cares, like he doesn’t intend on stopping.

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingertips gentle as ever when they brush against the side of your neck.

“I love it, Steve, really. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t expect-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his hand shifting to hold yours, fingers lacing with yours easily, “you’ve given me so much.”

Steve doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to get paired with you for this job, how he got lucky enough to have someone look past his slight grumpiness and really see him. You’ve given him Christmas as a whole, erasing bad memories, replacing them with new ones, and he doesn’t think any present could repay you for that.

“Oh wait!” You squeeze his hand before letting go and heading towards your bag, digging until you find what you’d been looking for. You hand Steve a folded piece of paper, “you should have this.”

As he unfolds it, he realizes it’s the bucket list you’d made for him what feels like forever ago, glitter and all. There are activities with check marks beside them, the ones you’d completed, and he shakes his head with the smile he seems to only wear when you’re around.

Very last on the list, your handwriting spells out words that make his chest feel light, his heart full.

‘Make next Christmas just as good.’

Steve finally stops holding himself back and kisses you for the second time, and you’re both certain it won’t be the last.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please please consider leaving a reblog or comment and let me know what you think! it would mean a bunch <3

[notroosterbradshaw]

Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)

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

word count: 6k

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

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

masterlist.

It was so late. 

Bradley was so late.

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

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

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

It really was a picture. You curated magic.

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

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

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

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

He grinned. “That good, huh?”

“I’m sorry, but you were so late.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In what way?” he played along.

“Well, you’re a wonderful father.”

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

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

…and you got to reap every single benefit. 

“Just a good dad? Shit…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were the girls good?” 

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

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

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

He hummed again. 

“I want you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “That’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

"Did you not put in the leave paperwork?"

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

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

“Is anyone going with you?”

"Payback, Phoenix," he confirmed softly. 

“Will you be home for Christmas?”

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

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

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

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

He nodded. Dear God, he knew. 

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

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

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

Last night… he did not.

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

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

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

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

“Dad?” Violet now. 

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

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

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

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

Even last night’s half-full wine glass.

[jolalibrary]

coming under the christmas tree

frankie morales x f!reader | masterlist

summary: The way he whispers your name should be a sin—it coating the air, making each letter feel important, essential—as your hands find his belt, undoing it, the sound cutting through all else, even burying a whispered expletive that falls from his tongue. “Do you know how hot you look right now, Morales?”

warnings: explicit. 18+. smut. literal porn from me. oral (m recieving), p in v, praise (jo has a thing, run with it), frankie being gorgeous, minor cock worship, christmas themes.

wordcount: 2.8k an: i wrote this little imagine and then the gorgeous, wonderful @wildemaven created this moodboard (which inspired the banner) and then i decided to write more.

Putting up a tree with anyone is a chore, but with him, it’s a blessing.

It isn’t because it’s him, because you’re dating, because he makes you laugh and makes your toes curl at any time of the day. But, rather, because he wants to do it. Because he’s methodical. Always thinking, turning—planning.

Whether it’s routes to get somewhere, timing on when to leave when the two of you have reservations or whether your grand plans for a room rearrangement, Frankie plots it out and makes measurements in his head. He’s always right, not that he ever gloats—just nods as though it’s entirely normal.

It isn’t—it’s fucking hot.

Something you expect, and thankfully do, come face to face with when the branches are all in place on the half-dressed Christmas tree. The clear plastic boxes strewn across the living room, his fingers slowly undoing and unknotting the lights you’d haphazardly thrown in the box last year.

You know the answer, but you ask all the same: “You want me to help with that?”

He doesn’t answer, just gives you a look. A blend of ‘be serious’ and ‘you’re good’ cuts across his features, making his eyes warmer and his smile kinder.

Before he even sets about winding them through the branches, you can tell he’s created a light-path. Already heard him mumbling that they don’t go all the way around, remember earlier. His eyes glancing up at it, making mental notes, calculating a route—brown eyes skating and shifting side to side.

You just remain on the floor, legs crossed—checking over the ornaments for nicks or scratches—admiring. You do it a lot, admire him, take him in—gawk, trace your eyes over him so when you blink you don’t waste a second not seeing him.

“We can always buy another set?” you offer, watching him bend behind the armchair, plugging them in, plunging the room in a soft, white glow.

Grinning, Frankie brushes some loose strands from over his eyes, “No need, baby. I’ve got it.”

He does. You weren’t surprised his devised path makes the base of the tree already look full—no section unlit, each bit of cable hidden from sight, blending perfectly with the tree. You were even sure if you turned it 180, the back currently in the corner would even be lit.

It isn’t that which makes your mouth drool.

It also isn’t the way the twinkle of the lights has hit the brown of his eyes when he lets his gaze fall to you, making it appear like a galaxy has burst in them—a sky full of stars, all staring at you.

No. It’s the way the entirety of him is lit up. Practically glowing. It enhances how stretched out he is, practically in a straight line. His arms above his head, fingers delicately wrapping the lights around the tip of the tree. It shines light over the slither of skin exposed from his shirt rising; it makes it more evident that his tongue is poking out, resting on his bottom lip, eyes trained on the job at hand, his priority, his task.

You flutter around nothing.

Feel your heart stammer in your chest as you devour the sight of him whole.

Placing the ornament in the good-to-hang pile, you don’t even pretend to glance at it. Too busy drinking in the sight of the lines on his arms from flexing—those strong, arms which carried the tree down from the attic. Little beads of sweat had clung to his forehead then, having needed to shift things around, move them—move baby, don’t want you to get hurt.

You were something akin to pain now. Desperate, needy and fucking feral. Your throat all dry while your tongue felt heavy, eyes sliding down his frame, focusing on the hairs on his stomach, all exposed, beckoning to be touched, to have your tongue slide down over it.

You only blink when he clears his throat, looking up, finding his eyes on you—tracing over your face, slightly narrowed, attempting to read you.

Another day, you might shy away from it. Look away first, wait until he calls your name and pleads for you to look at him. Today, you don’t. Slowly rising onto your knees, holding his stare, commanding him to blink as little as possible:

Watch me, Morales. Keep your eyes on me.

Sliding your tongue across your bottom lip, your teeth finding a resting place on it—fingers sliding to his hips, watching his hand release the lights, forehead smoothing, any and all confusing lines fading away.

The way he whispers your name should be a sin—it coating the air, making each letter feel important, essential—as your hands find his belt, undoing it, the sound cutting through all else, even burying a whispered expletive that falls from his tongue.

“Do you know how hot you look right now, Morales?”

Your fingers undo the button, tracing your tongue again over your lip—hungry, practically salivating—as you slide the zip through the teeth. His gaze is still on you, unwavering, a shadow of surprise in the back of his eyes that this is even happening—as though he is still taken back by the fact he deserves this, deserves you.

“You want me to suck your cock, baby?”

His swallow fills the room—loud, vociferous. Your palm brushes over the hardened bulge, tracing the outline over the thin cotton which remained a barrier between his velvet skin and your tongue.

“I really wanna suck your cock,” you add, purring, practically drooling as you notice the wet stain appearing—blooming, stretching out—as one hand falls from the tree, cupping the side of your mouth.

You like him like this, quiet, taken off guard. So often it is him doing it to you, saying all the right things, whispering all the words which make your skin feel like fire.

When you finally let his cock spring free, you waste no time licking a stripe up the side, tongue flat, brushing over veins as your hands tease the fabric down to the tops of his knees, resting on the jeans that remain there, pointless, likely mildly annoying for him. Not that he’ll care in a second. Less so for now when your fingers wrap around him, take his girth in your palm, warmth spreading over your palm as you slowly pump him up and down, collecting your first few hisses, and a little groan.

You marvel at him—at his cock. How thick it is, how long. How you know it feels between your thighs, how it makes your toes curl. Pressing kissing to the leaking tip, wrapping your lips around the head, hand working the length of him as you make your lips slick, coat them in desire, before you take as much of him as you can. Your tongue pressed to the underside, mouth basked in the taste of salt and just him, as your jaw stretched to accommodate him, to willfully take more, and more.

“Don’t know—fuck, baby—what I did to deserve you.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, burning under the praise, under his praise. Your head bobbing, wanting to show gratitude by taking more of him. Cheeks hollowing, his fingers sliding around the back of your head, a comforting hold, a calming one as you relax your throat, wanting to be full of him. Fiercely so.

Tears even prick at your eyes, and your fingers dig into the back of his thighs, lifting off, swirling your tongue around him, running your teeth lightly over him, before swallowing as much of him as you can. Willing for him to smear your throat in him, leave you tasting him with each swallow for the rest of the afternoon.

“Wanna fin—fuck—ish inside you,” he grunts, curls plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed—neck stained in pink.

You moan in response, closing your lips around him as you’re sure your underwear is clinging to you, drenched in want.

You’re half-tempted to slide your fingers inside the band of your shorts, passed the red lace you chose this morning, not even sure if you’d be unwrapped before or after the erection of the tree. Midway through hadn’t crossed your mind. Had never counted on this, never would have made a bet.

But, then he drags himself out, tip hovering at your lips giving you a look—sharp, uncharacteristic of him. “I want to fuck you, baby. Make you feel good.”

Tongue swirling over, he appears to shudder, eyes fluttering, before he pulls the rest free from your mouth. Spit smearing your lip, snapped in the space between where the two of you had been connected.

“You always make me feel good, Frankie.”

Smirking, his arm flexes briefly as he takes hold of his cock. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

And you don’t miss the reference. Not so drunk on him that you don’t remember your own words from before—but you just nod. A retort growing and dying, as you do.

“Spread your legs and show me.”

And you do. Leaning back, sliding onto your rear, your fingers slide your clothing down your legs, kicking it off past your ankles, passed the fluffy socks you’d stolen from him. Bare from the waist down, just for him—always for him. Letting your arms support you from behind, you tilt your head. In awe of him once again as he wraps his hand around his cock, the size even more impressive when you know how big his hands are—your own nails digging into the rug under your palms and ass.

“C’mon, show me you want me.”

You whimper, spreading your knees, letting them part until they’re hovering just above the floor on either side.

The cool air kissing over you, a gasp desperate to emerge but dies somewhere in your throat—swallowed up by a moan at the way he views you. The way his eyes rake up and down you like this is the first time he’s seen you, and not the billionth.

Like all the things he does, it’s with precision the way he rids himself of being contained by his jeans and underwear. Lowering himself to his knees between yours, you lean forward, lips finding his—messy, needy. Need you, they kiss, fuck me, they plead.

His mouth remains on you, only letting enough words escape to tell you to keep his jumper on when your fingers slide his t-shirt up and over his head. He rewards your obedience by letting his hand fall from himself to you—tracing, languid circles on your swollen clit, until he pushes two fingers in. You shift your hips into him, hearing him moan distantly at the feel of how wet you are, whispered praises given that are too far away as your mind rendered nothing (emptied, lost)—

Because he’s electric, you swear. Not even sure the lights need plugging in, you swear he could touch them and they’d illuminate—at least from the way he sparks enough in you to light the whole house up. Making it run, dart, a heavy current that dashes through your veins.

It’s why you whimper at the loss of him—only stopping yourself from whining when you feel him trace his cock through your folds, teasing, tracing up and down as the head of him nudges your clit, watching you, focused on the way your mouth must be parted and the likely sheen on your face.

And, you’re about to say his name—more in warning, in hunger. His body presses you down flush to the floor, the back of your hips meeting the fluff of the rug, as his mouth slides over your jaw, fingers dancing along your thigh, writing words, with the pads of them—leaving teasing verses against your skin.

“Stop teasing,” you say sharply.

Watching your words have their desired effect—that shy smile that grows into a confident smirk. The one you witness more than anyone else, the one you think of when you’re alone in the bed you share and it’s only his voice you have down the phone when your mind tries to pretend your fingers are his.

It’s slow, gentle, the way he begins to line up, pausing at your entrance—keeping you hanging, delicately placed there, held up by string as his breath paints what he wants to do to you against your neck. But you don’t hear it, can’t untangle the tale, least of all when he begins pressing in, sliding in inch by inch—

He’s big. And it makes you breathe deeply as you stretch around him. It makes you shiver. Makes you moan as he buries himself to the hilt, hips flush with yours.

“So good for me,” he praises before his lips slope over yours.

His hips begin to move, and each drag of his cock in and out makes you moan. The sound of you swallowing him, taking every inch of him he’ll give, is the soundtrack; the backdrop being the halo of lights above the two of you. It lights him, kisses along the varying shades that make up his curls, the browns, the beginning greys.

And you’re soaked, drenched—can feel it around where the two of you are joined, each slow drag in and out making it more apparent as you capture his lips. Breathlessly doing so, looping fingers around his neck, tugging lightly on his hair, curling into him, needing him deeper as your legs wrap around him.

It’s then the tip of him hits that spot, all unhurried. A motion he seeks, centres in on as he thrusts again, abutting it, making your eyes close and your mouth stretch each syllable of his name out in a whine. It makes you forget how to speak, and which language to utter. Barely a word for each finger can even come to mind, it’s mostly just his name. Frankie. Frankie. Please, Frankie as the air crackles around you.

He answers—he always does. His hand slides between your sweaty bodies, and finds the bundle of nerves calling out to him, the place which yearns. Doing so with accuracy, and exactness, as he draws shapes, lines and the fucking alphabet until you’re seeing stars, until it’s so hot you swear the jumper will peel from your skin and your head is nothing but a dizzying mess of him, just him. It makes you frantic to see him, outline his face, all cast in shadows because he’s turned away from the lights which made him look ethereal only moments ago.

His cock throbs inside of you, everything else curling inside your stomach, walls twitching around him as you tighten, vice-like, making him hiss. A sound which makes molten spread through you, more so when his mouth slides to your ear, breath laboured, along your skin, begging for you to come, needing you to, please, baby, please.

“S’close, Frankie.”

“I know—doing so well, so perfect for me.”

The words unlock something as a new pace is set, it more unforgiving, one that’ll likely leave marks on his knees from the friction on the rug, as you writhe and cling, half-moons left on his neck, digging in, marking him in the same way he’ll mark your walls in a moment or two.

Then, it floods over you. Drowns you. Coats you from head to toe as though you’ve been plunged in pleasure, left gasping, breath struggling to be located. Your mouth latched to his, burning your thanks into his mouth, your entire body tingling as he fucks you through it, until he’s thrusting aimlessly, so damn close until your name leaves the back of his throat in a sob, a blend of pleasure and relief strewn across his face as he comes deep inside of you. Hips slowing to a stammer, lowering himself down till he’s flush with you, before they come to a stop.

Then, it’s just his pants that meet your strained breaths, until a little hiss as he pulls himself out of you. Leaving you empty, sore in a way you’re grateful for, as his fingers trace over your chin, along your jaw, words being thought in slow bubbles as he stares at you.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Narrowing your eyes, you slide a hand to his hip, pinching.

“Just love that puttin’ lights up made you wanna suck my cock, is all.”

Smiling, you run your knuckles along his cheek, and brush past the wiry hair that makes up his patchy beard. “Wait till you see me hand the baubles, bet you’ll wanna be on your knees for me.”

“Good,” he replies. “I’m really hoping to taste how good we are together once we’re done.”

an: i freaking loved writing this, oh my.

i don't usually do taglists, but just tagging a few people who seemed interested in the longer version (sorry if this is annoying): @thetriumphantpanda @swiftispunk @5oh5 @morallyinept @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @reddedmiller @yorksgirl @missredherring @tvversionperson @secretelephanttattoo

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

hang the moon ◦ l.f

-going through the ages of time with felix, from when you told him you were pregnant to seeing him braid your baby's hair.

@feelikecinderella I hope you like it it isn't something I usually write, but I adored writing it so thank you so so much for the request ♡

Paring ◦ Dad!Lee Felix x Pregnant!Reader

Words ◦ 4,506(this was originally supposed to be 1,000 words 💀)

Genre ◦ Fluff, Dad!Lixie headcanons, MY FIRST REQUEST MWAHAHA.

Warnings ◦ Felix being the sweetest man in the whole world, super unrealistic ngl, descriptions about pain, crying, reader being kinda moody, sexual content but its literally like two lines and it just says that you give him head and him giving you an orgasm no details at all, felix being hot asf, felix being a model father, a few big bad fuck words, I'm 19 i dont know how pregnancy works so bear with me babes💀, I know their has to be at LEAST 12 spelling errors, not edited (forgive me I have no time) uhhh nothing else I don't think

A/N ◦ I love this so much it was so cute and I stand by the fact if my husband isn't like this with kids I'm not having one (also is anybody else traumatized by their present absent dads my dad was always in my life and I love him to death great father terrible husband never did anything to help my mom out which makes me really scared to have kids can anyone relate?) I just want to apologize in advance for my rambling tendency please forgive me 🙏 Also this isn't in actual bullet point because Tumblr is stupid.

~cookiecreates 🍪

Mommy-to-be!Reader who gets that feeling all mothers get when another body is currently being knitted together inside them. The month you missed your period also helped with the suspicion, but the three pregnancy tests with two thick pink lines screaming at you really confirm your hypotheses that you are indeed pregnant, and it is 100% Felixes.

Mommy-to-be!Reader who is first overwhelmed by all the thoughts that have gathered in your head—the preparations, the options—if you want to keep the baby or not, what are you going to do if he doesn't want to? Oh no, you didn't think about what you would do if he didn't want to keep the baby. How would he react? Your overwhelm quickly changed to an anxiety that bubbled in your stomach when you thought of all the possible outcomes of what could happen to your relationship because of one simple accident. No matter how secure your relationship with Felix is, it's terrifying to think that he might leave, seeing his dreams of being an idol as more important than being a dad.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who was just sitting on the couch fiddling with his computer, when you walk in with your tear-stained face and trembling hands, he immediately goes to comfort mode. "What is it, darling whats w-" he stops in his tracks, seeing the test in your hands and definitely seeing the thick pink lines that tell him you're pregnant...

Daddy-to-be!Felix whose immediate reaction is to gather you up in his arms and twirl you around in the air, overwhelmed by a feeling of unadulterated joy. His whole face is lit up like a Christmas tree, really making his sunshine title shine through.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who can’t really believe it, “Your pregnant.” “Apparently” “Oh my gosh, we're pregnant.” “I don't think that's how that works.” You chuckle, still in mild denial. “Oh yeah, it is part of my DNA is currently inside of you.” He stops, really letting it sink in. “Holy shit, we're going to have a baby! You don't think either of you has ever smiled so big in your lives. 

Daddy-to-be!Felix who goes and tells the group the next day, too ecstatic to keep it to himself.

Uncle-to-be!Group who congratulates the hell out you and Felix, promising to take care of the baby any time you two need a babysitter. Cue spontaneous gift-giving as well; one day you find a stroller on your front porch from Chan, a box of baby clothes from Han, and a diaper bag from Minho, all on the same day.

Uncle-to-be!Chan who promises to spoil the hell out of your little sunshine, letting Felix rant about all his fantasies, how he's going to be the best dad, how you're going to be a wonderful mom, how he's going to buy her the cutest clothes, and how- Chan loves Felix, but he stopped listening after the 25th compliment about how wonderful you are doing with your pregnancy.

Mommy-to-be!Reader who figures out that Han's girlfriend, your best friend, is also pregnant, so you won't have to deal with your pregnancy alone, while Felix is understanding and supportive; he is a guy after all, and some things like how your boobs hurt and are oddly getting bigger, he just won't understand, and that's okay because at least you have a friend who you can rant about your boobies too.

Mommy-to-be!Reader who promises not to tell anyone about Han's girlfriend's pregnancy. Due to her request, she and Han have already agreed that they are planning a very big event to tell the boys, and she doesn't want it to be spoiled because of your loose lips.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who's so gentle with you, even during the days when your bump is so little, it's almost nonexistent, always asking if you're okay or if you need some food, water, or if the baby is okay? Is she hungry? Maybe thirsty? You have to remind him that the baby is nothing more than a gathering of cells right now and can't partially talk.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who guarantees that your baby is a girl and no amount of convincing can persuade him he's definitely projecting.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who would refuse to let you get up from nuzzling his face in your practically flat stomach. "Felix, I have to pee." "Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?" He looks up from your tummy with big boba eyes. You deadpan. "Yeah, okay, you're right. You've got this." Basically, giving you little praise hand emojis🙌, even though his worried eyes stare you down all the way to the bathroom. 

Daddy-to-be!Felix who sends 'how are my girls doing' texts every day at practice, "You know, you don't actually know if it's a girl or not." "I have a feeling."

Daddy-to-be!Felix who treasures you even as you sob into his chest about your nightmares from the Euphoria TikToks you've watched about parents whose relationships crumbled because of having a baby, he dusts kisses over your face, whispering promise after promise on your skin that no matter what relationship won't crumble, this baby is going to make your relationship stronger, closer, better. He loves you too much, just like how he would love you if you were a worm and how he would kiss the prettiest person in the room with the choice between you or the prettiest person in the room because the prettiest person in the room is you (all true conversations you've had in between sobbing sessions).

Daddy-to-be!Felix who deals with all your shit with a smile on his face because he understands how hard it is to carry a fuckabigillion pound baby in your belly, so if you feel like yelling at him because he's home late, then crying in his arms because you regret yelling at him, begging him for forgiveness, he'll do both gladly. Not the forgiveness part; he doesn't forgive you because you didn't need it; he was never mad at you in the first place.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who starts getting concerned when your belly starts getting bigger at a faster rate than the average rate of time that one's belly gets bigger.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who shuts down every accusation that he's been doing research on your pregnancy and that he just happened to know the statistics about rates in which baby bumps grow (what can you say, he's a smart guy🤷)

Daddy-to-be!Felix who makes you promise to tell him all the days that your ultrasounds are on so he can make sure everything with you and his little princess is okay, especially since your bump is getting so big so fast, which he just happened to know and definitely did not do research about.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who gives you the best princess treatment all the time without fail. You don't like your nails; the money is on the counter for a new pair. You want to go shopping for maternity clothes because your jeans are starting to get too tight; he's at the door with his card and a big smile on his face, practically skipping out the door to give you the best day of your life. You want him to hold your bags as you walk around the mall, spending his money on anything you think looks even remotely cute; he'll do it with a sparkle in his eye. Your feet hurt from walking all day with this watermelon-sized child in your stomach; he'll lean down on his knees and stay there, rubbing your feet for hours. No matter what, even if he's exhausted from practice, his girls come first. Which ties into...

Daddy-to-be!Felix who demands time off. Demands it or he's done, leaving the team. (He's not actually going to, but he needs to let the company know he's not going to take their shit). His girls always come first. Reluctantly, they agree that he can take a 4-week break while you are pregnant and a 6-month leave after the baby comes. He glares at them before realizing that that's a pretty good chunk of time, but he's relentless, folding his arms in front of his chest, "and I get to leave whenever they need me." "I don't know about that." Daddy Bear mode activated. The woman trembles, looking at him. "Okay," she mutters reluctantly. Back into teddy bear mode. "Thank you so much. I hope you have a beautiful rest of your day." He turns and walks away like he didn't just make this lady shit her pants. (i highly doubt this is actually how this works but idrc this is called a fanFICTION for a reason )

Daddy-to-be!Felix who doesn't mind one bit doing the dishes and sweeping the floor as long as he sees you safe and sound in your bed, snoring away with your legs stuffed between a fluffy pillow.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who went with you to one of your ultrasounds, and ended up with only 10 minutes to get ready before a photoshoot. He had never felt so many glares in one room. Newsflash: It was worth it, even though they had to rearrange the whole schedule just for him. Han sent him a smile, knowing exactly how he felt.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who gets the worst cuteness aggression as you waddle around.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who just holds you when you burst into tears, feeling so useless as you cry from the pain, not knowing what to do when you start balling because the weight of holding a baby beginning to be too much to bear, so he just holds you, not being able to keep the tears that swarm his vision at bay, especially when he holds your bump, feeling how heavy it is just for him; he couldn't even imagine how heavy it is to carry that around inside of you.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who calls his mom right after just to thank her for going through all the shit of baring a child because he sees how hard it is for you and literally can't believe women all around the world have been going through that for all of time, it genuinely baffles him, he trips out about it for a hot minute.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who takes it up as his personal mission to make you feel like the prettiest woman on the planet when you're with him, especially since he can tell you feel insecure with all the changes your body is making. He sees them, notices them, he doesn't mind them at all, what he minds is how much they are hurting you and he just can't have that. Let's just say the amount of kisses and orgasms he has given you in the past 6 hours makes you feel like the hottest bitch in the world for about 4 weeks after.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who convinces you not to do a gender reveal because he wants it to be a surprise, you are hesitant because you don't like not knowing which gender to buy certain clothes, but you know you currently have a closet full of both baby boy and baby girl clothes because of ✨princess treatment ✨and with a black card and pregnancy hormones, all the clothes at the mall looked cute. What can you say? You're just a girl. 🤷

Daddy-to-be!Felix whose biggest fear is that he's going to be away when you have the baby, and he's not going to be able to comfort you through the most memorable and painful time of your life. It quite literally brings tears to his eyes. You comfort him, telling him that it's okay even if he isn't there. You know he loves you, and you wouldn't mind, but he reminds you constantly, "I don't care if it's in the middle of a concert, a fansign, a meeting that determines my whole entire future; your water breaks, I run."

Daddy-to-be!Felix who is so relieved that your water breaks in the middle of the night when he's home, where you can screech as loud as you can to attempt to get his attention. 

Daddy-to-be!Felix who jumped up from bed so quick, grabbing you and leading you down the stairs, racked with guilt that he couldn't pick you up because A) he literally can't, and B) he's too terrified, he'll fall and hurt you.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who if all the anxiety he has ever experienced in his entire life could be multiplied and put in his body, it would still be so minuscule compared to the way he's freaking the FUCK out right now, but he still tries to calm himself down, and be sober-minded for you.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who when you get to the hospital, they have got him FUCKED UP to think he's ever leaving you. Holding your hand through it all, a part of him has to be on you the entire time. It doesn't matter if he doesn't sleep; he's an idol. Not sleeping is what he does.

Daddy-to-be!Felix who falls in love with you all over again, seeing you push through all the pain—admiring your strength and dedication— he loves you so much and makes sure you know, even in some of the most inconvenient times.  “Big push,” the nurse calls out from under you. “I love you so much, baby, so fucking much, holy shit.” He kisses your hand. “Shut up, Felix, please.” You scream, your body vibrating with pain. “Yes ma'am, shutting up right now.”

 Daddy-to-be!Felix who praises you constantly, “You're doing so well, baby.” "Keep pushing; do you see that, you're almost done?” "I'm so fuckin' proud of you, darling." "The only reason I'm going to see my beautiful baby is because of you. Do you know how much I admire you? I literally can't find the words." “SHUT UP.”

 Daddy-to-be!Felix who lets you hold onto him while you go through all the contractions, digging your nails into his skin, drawing blood, "Ow baby," "sorry," "it's okay, I understand." You obviously are not very sorry, cause two seconds later you're digging deeper into his wounds.

Dad!Felix who is just as ecstatic about them telling him it's a boy as he would be if they were telling him it was a girl, he just has to change his dreams about brushing his little girl's hair to teaching his little boy how to tie a tie (which he is very bad at, but for him, he will attempt to learn).

Dad!Felix who never knew that you could love somebody so deeply without ever even knowing them, but when he holds your little ball of sunshine in his arms and feels their heartbeats intertwining, it all seems so much more real. He has your eyes. His nose, your hands, his toes—he sees bits and pieces of the two of you in every breath he takes. He has just met your baby, and yet he immediately feels like he would burn the whole world down for him.

Dad!Felix who panics when you suddenly start having even more contractions.

Dad!Felix who breaks down in tears when they hand him your second baby, a little girl, whose freckles dust across her cheeks just like his. If he thought he was feeling happy before knowing he gets to experience the best of both worlds at the same time, makes his already bursting heart about 10 times its size. 

Dad!Felix who is sobbing happy tears, a smile plastered on his face as he cuts the umbilical cords off of both his little balls of sunshine, never thinking he would be so excited to do something in his life. 

Dad!Felix who at this point is so surprised that he hasn't had a heart attack with the amount of scares he has gotten in the past 12 hours, especially when his heart jumps out of his chest, as the doctor informs the both of you that you need to be stitched up from where you tore, you are mostly confused because you didn't know you tore. It must have blended in with the excruciating pain that was firing from all areas of your body. "What does that mean? Is she okay? Is she going to die? Is she-"

Dad!Felix who is literally going to pass out because he actually thinks you're going to die.

Dad!Felix who feels real fuckin stupid when the nurses just chuckle and tell him you're not going to die, your vagina ripped while giving birth, that it happens quite often; they just need to sew you up.

Dad!Felix who watches them like a hawk as they sew you up, making sure that they aren’t messing anything up.

Dad!Felix who literally refuses to let you do anything for at least 3 months after your birth, researching the hell out of what can ease your pain, forcing you into bed rest while he takes care of the kids, giving you massages for your aching muscles, pouring you warm baths with rose petals when your stitching hurts or itches, he's so kind and attentive, hating seeing you in pain.

Dad!Felix who is so eager to do anything; getting up when the babies are crying, changing diapers, giving bottles, singing the babies to sleep…

Dad!Felix who loves to sing the babies with his deep calming voice, knowing it puts them to sleep instantly. 

Dad!Felix who loves to eat you out when he finally puts the twins to bed about just as much, noticed the way you were looking at him as he was singing in that deep, sexy voice. 

Dad!Felix who goes right back to the kids 30 minutes later when your moans wake them up.  

Dad!Felix who just can't get over how awesome it is to see how different your babies are, not just in gender but in personality as well.

Dad!Felix who literally despises having the babies cry, does anything he can to stop it, not because it's annoying him, but because it hurts him to know his little angels are sad.

Dad!Felix who will cook dinner with both babies held carefully in his arms—something that seems atomically impossible, but he figures it out.

Dad!Felix who sees the guilt bubbling up on your face, rushing it away with gentle kisses and soft reassurances, ushering you away with a smile. “I know you're tired and hurting. Go take a nap, love, and I'll wake you up when dinner is done.”

Mom!Reader who wakes up from her nap, sees the house cleaned, the dishes done, the babies fed, and put to bed with a steaming meal in front of you, you are more than happy to suck him to the heavens after. Hey, everything's 50/50, right? 

Mom!Reader who begs Felix to get the babies because she can hear them crying through the baby monitor.

Dad!Felix who does it without a second thought. Never once complaining about how you guys could count the amount of sleep you have gotten combined on just one of your hands, he understood the twins were ornery—having a bad case of colic—so to calm them down, he sings to them just like he always does.

Mom!Reader who panics hearing such a deep voice over the baby monitor. In a fit of half-asleep—panic-induced—sleep deprivation run into the baby's room, ready to kill somebody if needed, but your heart melts instead when you meet Felix holding your sniffling twins, rocking them carefully in his arms. Tears pool in your eyes seeing the way his face glew with pure love; even though he looked exhausted, even though there were deep bags under his eyes and spit up on his shirt, no matter how hard life was, at least you know that with Felix, you’d never regret it, not even for a minute.

Dad!Felix who looks up, surprised to see you in the doorway. "Hi baby," he whispers. "Go back to bed, darling. I've got this." You look at him like he hung the moon, and for you, he would. 

Dad!Felix who is the most patient father any child could ever ask for. (I will never get over this. Definitely the type of dad who would help clean up the milk and not just yell because it was spilled)

Dad!Felix who would rather die than yell at his kids, is definitely the gentlest parent known to man.

Dad!Felix who dresses your angels like the next Louis Vuitton ambassadors, "Really, Felix, our four-month-old babies do not need a Louis blazer and jumpsuit." "Who says?” he shrugs. “Um, me, because they're 4 months old.” You enunciate every syllable as though you were talking to one of the babies in question. “Do they even sell this in stores?" “Um, no, I had it custom-made, duh." "Oh my gosh," you facepalm, not before facepalming a little harder, pulling out a Louis pair of sunglasses and a Louis purse just small enough to fit tiny hands. ”You bought the baby a Louis purse?" "Of course, my princess can be without a bag. Look deeper; there's something for mommy in there too.” You pull out a Louis Vuitton diaper bag. 🤦

Dad!Felix who has never really liked confrontation, but when a paparazzi accidentally bumped into you holding the twins because he was trying to take pictures of the group; he almost killed him, saw red, got so close to using those Taekwondo skills he spent years practicing. The team was the only reason he didn't rip someone's head off. Bangchan's glare would have been enough, but yours, his, and the whole group were enough for the man's face to go red and curl into himself, definitely regretting all of his life choices.

Dad!Felix who's the type of father who wants to protect his little angels from the world, is literally willing to glue pillows to all areas of the house so that they will never get hurt. You stare at him blankly, wondering if he's serious.

He is.

Dad!Felix who gets genuinely disappointed that you obviously oppose, so instead he baby-proofs the ever-loving shit out of the house, sharp objects gone, all corners covered, outlets concealed.

Dad!Felix who if anyone were to talk about his family online, would not be silent, would go into a fit of rage, aggressively typing on his phone, getting ready to post a long paragraph on his story that you or his team would have to keep him from sending because, you know, his job or whatever, speaking of job…

Dad!Felix who knows he has to leave for work eventually, and his 6-month hiatus from the group was not permanent. A lot of tears are shed as he holds you and your beautiful babies, knowing he isn’t going to be able to see them for a whole 3 months while they start their tour. He can't bear thinking that he might miss such pivotal moments as the first rollover, the first steps, the first word. He can see his little munchkins' lives flashing right before his eyes as he looks at the packed suitcase in the corner. “Felix, we are going to be fine, I promise." “Are you sure?? I can leave the group; I would leave them for you; I promise I would; you just say the word and I'm gone; we can buy a house in the suburbs-” You giggle, overwhelmed with admiration for his dedication to your family, “Don't be silly, Lix. I know you love your job and your team, plus we wouldn't be able to afford a house without you working." He sighs, knowing you are right. “Fine,” he mutters, holding you all close. “Just promise to call me every single day, okay?”

Dad!Felix who gets up early enough in the morning to feed the kids and get them dressed, trying to spend as much quality time with them as possible before he has to leave. 

Mom!Reader who, being the mom you are, still freaks out when you wake up, scared Felix is going to miss his plane. While you're putting your son's shoes on, you run into the room and say, “Come on, lix-” You stop dead in your tracks, seeing him beaming while brushing your little girl's hair, humming a sweet melody as the paddle goes smoothly through her locks. She looks up at him like he hung the moon, and for her, he would. Your bad mood dissipates as you remember why you got into any of this in the first place. Everything is going to be fine. You're going to be fine. Felix looks up, feeling your presence. He smiles wider. "Do you like it, momma?" He asks, clearly proud of his work. She smiles toothless and full of glee. You take her in your arms, spinning her around. "Well, of course, I like it. Did Daddy do this for you, baby?" She spits out gobbly gook, which you nod your head at, acting like she just recited pie.

Dad!Felix who brushes the little girl's hair every day before work without fail, even looks up tutorials on YouTube about different strategic hairstyles. He's terrible at them. Doesn't stop your heart from melting into a puddle on the floor while he's attempting French braids, though.

Dad!Felix who proposes to you a few years later, so he can have your two beautiful babies standing beside him as he proposes: his little princess in a cute white dress holding a bouquet of picked flowers, and your little prince in an adorable little tux holding a heart of chocolates. Everything is just so perfect, you'd be a certified idiot not to say yes (not that you were ever considering it).

Husband!Felix who when you finally get married, agrees that your baby boy is going to be the one who walks you down the aisle with your little girl being his best wo'man', right beside Hyunjin and all his other members, of course.

Extra for the ones who endured my rambling 

Mom!Reader+Hans girlfriend who had a baby boy the same day that you had your little girl. When you found out the good news, you immediately started planning for the wedding, knowing this couldn't be anything other than fate, already thinking about ship names and wedding dresses.

Dad!Felix+Han who glare at the two, Felix not liking the idea of his perfect princess being anywhere near the male species, Han not liking the idea of his girlfriend cuddling with someone that isn't him. But eventually, Felix eases on his glare, his heart melting as you giggle about the color of the bouquet.

Last but not least

Husband!Felix who will always love the way his family looks at him, like he hung the moon because, for them, he would.

©CookieCreates (posted: June, 19th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately.

~ I'm probably going to redo this one day so if you have anything you would like to add/change please let me know :))

COOKIE OUT