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cherryxbooo · 18 days ago

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I’ll do anything to make you happy

Summary: You were excited for winter break to start because it meant one thing: spending more time with Lando. But little did you know, that was the one thing you wouldn't be getting.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff/angst

Winter always held a special kind of charm for me.

The frosty mornings, cozy blankets, and steaming cups of cocoa had always made this season my favorite.

But this year, it held a different promise: Lando finally had a break from racing.

After months of hectic schedules, jet-setting across the globe, and stolen moments in between races, I was looking forward to having him all to myself.

At first, it was everything I’d imagined and more.

We spent lazy mornings tangled in bed, with me teasing him about his messy hair while he pulled me closer, claiming I was his personal heater.

Breakfasts turned into brunches because we couldn’t stop talking or joking around.

We watched movies, baked cookies that turned out terrible, and played endless rounds of Mario Kart, which I always managed to win.

“You’re only winning because I’m letting you,” Lando said one evening, his grin teasing as he tossed the controller onto the couch.

“Sure you are,” I replied, laughing as I grabbed my victory snack from the table.

Those first few days felt like we were in our own little world, where nothing else mattered but us.

But soon, reality began creeping in.

It started innocently enough.

“Babe, Max just called,” Lando said one morning, leaning against the counter with his coffee mug in hand.

“He’s organizing a karting session. Shouldn’t take long.”

I smiled, my heart swelling with pride.

Racing was his passion, and I loved seeing him happy. “Go have fun. Just don’t let him beat you.”

“Never,” he said with a wink, kissing my temple quickly before heading out.

That day, I didn’t mind the quiet. I worked on some projects, caught up with friends, and even took a long bath.

By the time he got home, his cheeks were flushed with cold, and he couldn’t stop talking about how much fun he’d had.

But karting soon turned into golf.

Golf turned into poker nights. And poker nights turned into outings that stretched late into the night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he’d text, always with a heart emoji. But “soon” became later and later each time.

I told myself it was fine. He deserved this break.

He’d worked so hard all year, and if spending time with his friends helped him unwind, who was I to complain?

But as the days wore on, the house began to feel emptier, and so did I.

One evening, I decided to surprise him with his favorite dinner.

I spent hours in the kitchen, setting the table with candles and dimming the lights for a cozy atmosphere.

When Lando walked through the door, his expression softened as he took in the setup.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

“I wanted to,” I replied, smiling up at him.

“You’ve been so busy, and I thought it’d be nice to have a quiet night together.”

“That’s so sweet,” he said, leaning down to kiss me.

“But the guys are waiting for me. I promised I’d meet them for drinks tonight. Let’s rain check this?”

My smile faltered, but I nodded. “Of course.”

He kissed me again and was out the door before I could say anything more.

I sat down at the table, staring at the empty chair across from me.

The candles flickered, their light reflecting off the untouched plates. I took a deep breath, telling myself it was okay.

But deep down, a tiny crack had formed in my heart.

Days turned into weeks, and the cracks only deepened.

Lando’s absence became more noticeable, and I began to feel like a ghost in our own home.

One evening, after scrolling through endless photos of him with his friends on Instagram, I called Mia, my best friend.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the moment she picked up.

I sighed, the weight of my emotions pressing down on me.

“It’s Lando. He’s been spending so much time with his friends lately, and I feel like I’m… invisible.”

Mia was quiet for a moment before saying, “Y/N, you’re not invisible. But you need to talk to him. He’s not a mind reader.”

“I don’t want to seem clingy,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not clingy. You’re his girlfriend. He should want to spend time with you. Talk to him.”

Her words gave me the push I needed. That night, when Lando came home, I gathered my courage.

“Can we talk?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Of course,” he said, sitting down next to me.

I took a deep breath.

“I’ve been feeling… neglected lately. I know you’re enjoying your break, and I want you to have fun, but I miss us. I miss you.”

He frowned, reaching for my hand.

“Babe, I’m sorry if it feels that way. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

I nodded, but his words didn’t ease the ache in my chest. Before I could say more, he kissed me and stood up.

“Max needs help with something,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Love you!”

And just like that, he was gone. Again.

I tried my best to push away all negative thoughts until I thought about the positive ones.

Our second anniversary was just days away, and I held onto the hope that he’d make it special.

I told myself the late nights didn’t matter. He was probably planning something incredible for our anniversary.

The next day,

The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft golden hues.

I stretched lazily, a content smile curling my lips as I reached across the bed.

My fingers met cold sheets. The space beside me was empty.

I frowned, the giddy excitement I had woken up with faltering.

Today was our second anniversary.

I had imagined waking up wrapped in Lando’s arms, whispering sleepy “Happy anniversary” wishes before sharing breakfast together.

Instead, he was gone.

I also realized that I hadn't heard him come back last night.

He told me he was just helping Max out with something, but he probably went out partying with his friends afterward, again.

I tried to shake off the disappointment as I climbed out of bed, brushing my hair out of my face.

Maybe he had planned a surprise and needed to step out early.

A flutter of hope lifted my spirits as I grabbed my robe and headed toward the kitchen.

The scent of coffee greeted me, but there was no sign of Lando.

Instead, on the counter, I found a note written in his familiar scrawl:

“Gone golfing with the guys. Be back later. Love you.”

My heart sank. Golfing? On our anniversary?

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, trying to focus on the fact that he had said he’d be back later.

He wouldn’t forget our dinner, right?

We’d planned this evening together weeks ago, and I’d been looking forward to it ever since.

I folded the note and placed it aside, telling myself not to overthink it. He would be back in time.

He promised.

After a quick breakfast, I set to work preparing for the evening.

My heart thudded with a mix of excitement and nervousness as I laid out my plans.

Lando had been so busy lately, and this was my chance to remind him how much I loved him, despite everything.

I spent hours in the kitchen, cooking all his favorite dishes: his go-to pasta, a roasted chicken dish he always requested, and even the dessert I’d failed at three times before finally perfecting.

The smells of herbs, garlic, and chocolate filled the apartment, making it feel warm and inviting.

Between stirring pots and chopping vegetables, I took breaks to set up the dining table.

I draped it with a soft cream tablecloth, adding candles and a scattering of rose petals for a romantic touch.

Fairy lights hung along the walls, casting a cozy glow that made the space feel magical.

On the counter, I carefully placed his gift, a sleek watch he had admired months ago but never bought for himself.

Not forgetting to attach a handwritten note to the box.

With everything ready, I checked the clock.

It was almost evening. So I had to hurry up to get ready.

I slipped into the dress I had chosen weeks ago, a soft, fitted number I knew he loved on me.

My makeup was simple yet elegant, and I added the finishing touch, a spritz of the perfume Lando had gifted me for my last birthday.

I felt beautiful, excited, and nervous all at once as I sat on the couch, watching the clock.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

By the time twenty minutes had gone by, I grabbed my phone, texting him a quick, “Hey, are you on your way?”

No response.

An hour later, I texted again. Then called. Still nothing.

My excitement turned into a gnawing worry that sat heavy in my chest.

Where was he? Had he forgotten?

Two hours passed.

The candles on the table had burned down halfway, their flickering flames reflecting off the now-cold plates of food.

The fairy lights, once magical, now felt like mockery.

Finally, three hours later, I gave up.

Tears stung my eyes as I blew out the candles, packed away the food, and removed my dress, exchanging it for soft pajamas.

My makeup was smeared with tears by the time I climbed into bed.

I grabbed my phone one last time, and my heart shattered when I saw the Instagram story.

It was one of Lando’s friends, showing a clip of him laughing, drink in hand, surrounded by his friends.

He looked happy. Carefree.

And completely oblivious that tonight was our anniversary.

The tears came faster, hot and uncontrollable. I buried my face in the pillow, the ache in my chest overwhelming.

I had been so sure he’d come back, that he’d remember. But I was wrong.

Later that night,

The apartment was cloaked in silence when Lando opened the front door, the click of the lock echoing faintly in the stillness.

He stumbled inside the weight of exhaustion and faint traces of guilt tugging at his chest.

The soft glow of the streetlights outside illuminated the darkened space just enough for him to make out his surroundings.

Something felt… off.

He reached for the light switch, and as the room was bathed in warm light, his eyes landed on the dining table across from him.

He froze.

The table was beautifully decorated, candles placed strategically, now melted into small stubs, surrounded by rose petals that had been artfully scattered.

Plates of food were neatly covered with lids to keep them from going bad, but even from a distance, Lando could tell they were his favorites.

He took a tentative step forward, his stomach sinking further with each movement.

Resting near the center of the table was a small, wrapped box with a note attached to it.

The sight made his chest tighten, a creeping realization clawing at the edges of his mind.

His fingers trembled as he picked up the note. Unfolding it carefully, he read the words in her familiar handwriting:

"To my Lando, the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for being my partner, my love, my everything. Happy anniversary, baby. Love, Y/N."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart sank as the full weight of the evening’s significance crashed over him.

Anniversary. He’d forgotten their second anniversary.

Lando stood there, the note still clutched in his hand, his throat tightening as shame washed over him.

He thought back to the past few weeks, to the times he’d brushed you off or come home late without so much as an explanation.

He couldn’t even recall the last time you two spent real, quality time together.

You had tried to talk to him about it, about how you felt neglected, and he had dismissed your concerns every single time.

Now, standing there amidst the evidence of your effort and love, he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world.

Lando exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as regret threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

He glanced around the room, noticing how quiet it was. He knew you were asleep.

His eyes landed on his phone, dead from the night’s events.

With a heavy sigh, he plugged it into the charger, pacing nervously as he waited for it to turn back on.

When it finally lit up, the screen was flooded with notifications, missed calls and unread messages from Y/N.

The time stamps told the story of your evening:

“Hey, are you on your way?” - 8 p.m. “I’m waiting for you… everything’s ready.” -8:30 p.m. “Lando, please call me.” -9 p.m. “Are you okay? I’m starting to worry.” -10 p.m.

The last message was hours old, her tone shifting from hopeful to concerned.

Each notification felt like another jab to his heart, the guilt almost unbearable.

He dropped his phone onto the counter and made his way toward their shared bedroom.

Pushing the door open quietly, he stepped into the dimly lit room.

His gaze immediately found her curled up under the covers, her face half-buried in the pillow.

His breath hitched when he noticed the faint streaks on her cheeks, traces of tears she hadn’t been able to hide.

The sight made his heart clench painfully. She’d cried herself to sleep, and it was his fault.

Lando approached the bed slowly, kneeling beside her as he took in her tear-streaked face.

She looked so peaceful yet so vulnerable, her chest rising and falling softly with each breath.

Guilt swirled in his chest as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, thick with regret.

Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, lingering for a moment as if hoping it could somehow convey all the apologies he couldn’t say while she was awake.

His thumb grazed her cheek, and he sighed deeply.

“You didn’t deserve this,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

“I’ve been such an ass… the worst boyfriend. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I love you so much.”

She stirred slightly at his touch but didn’t wake.

Lando watched her for a moment longer before standing, his mind racing with plans to fix what he’d broken.

Tomorrow, he vowed, would be all about her.

The next morning, I woke up with a dull ache in my chest, my body heavy from the night before.

My eyes were sore and puffy from crying myself to sleep.

I glanced at the empty side of the bed, already prepared for the familiar sting of disappointment.

Figured he’d leave again before I woke up, I thought bitterly.

Dragging myself out of bed, I moved to the bathroom to freshen up.

The cold water on my face didn’t do much to wash away the exhaustion or the emotional weight from the previous night.

With a sigh, I tied my hair back and made my way downstairs, expecting another day of hurt to unfold.

Halfway down the stairs, though, something unusual stopped me in my tracks.

The smell of coffee, rich and inviting, wafted through the air.

There was another scent too, pancakes? My brow furrowed in confusion.

"That can’t be right. Lando doesn’t cook... does he? Who am i kidding he can't even boil eggs."

I cautiously descended the rest of the stairs, each step filling me with equal parts curiosity and hesitation.

As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I froze at the sight before me.

There he was, standing by the stove, flipping a pancake with a focused but slightly clumsy determination.

Plates of food lined the table, croissants, fresh fruit, juice, and what looked like store-bought pastries.

It didn’t take long to figure out most of the spread wasn’t homemade, but the effort was unmistakably his.

“Morning, love,” Lando greeted me, his tone soft and tentative, his lips curling into a nervous smile.

I raised an eyebrow, my arms crossing instinctively. “What’s all this?”

He put the spatula down and stepped closer, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

“It’s breakfast... and an apology,” he said, his voice earnest.

My eyes flickered between him and the spread on the table.

I could see he was trying, but the hurt from last night still lingered like a heavy cloud over my chest.

“Come sit,” he said gently, pulling a chair out for me.

I hesitated for a moment before sitting down, my arms still crossed defensively.

Lando grabbed a plate, placing a pancake in front of me before adding a small pile of fruit and a croissant on the side.

I eyed him suspiciously as he poured me a cup of coffee, then sat across from me.

“What are you doing, Lando?” I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of confusion and frustration.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he met my gaze.

“I messed up, Y/N. Big time. And I need you to know how sorry I am.” His voice was steady but filled with regret.

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Last night,” he began, his brows furrowing,

“I forgot our anniversary. I forgot the one day I should’ve been making you feel like the most important person in the world. And it’s not just last night, I’ve been neglecting you for weeks. You told me how you felt, and I brushed it off like an idiot.”

His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and I could see the weight of his guilt etched into every line on his face.

“I’ve been selfish, caught up in my own world, and I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. You deserve so much better than that, Y/N. Better than me.”

I felt my throat tighten as his words sank in. The sincerity in his tone chipped away at the walls I’d put up.

“I was so hurt, Lando,” I said, my voice trembling.

“I waited for you all night. I planned everything because I thought… I thought you’d come home and we’d celebrate together. I stayed up, hoping you’d walk through that door with a smile, ready to tell me how much you love me. But you didn’t.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I continued.

“I saw that video of you and your friends. You were laughing and having fun while I sat here, alone, on what was supposed to be our night.”

Lando’s face fell, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if grounding himself from the weight of my words.

“I know,” he whispered.

“And I hate myself for it. Seeing what you did for me last night, the decorations, the food, the note. I realized just how much I’ve been taking you for granted. I never want you to feel that way again, Y/N. You’re the most important thing in my life. I need you to believe that.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the table to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, my voice softer now, though my heart still carried the sting of last night.

“Open it,” he urged.

I carefully lifted the lid, revealing a delicate necklace with a sparkling pendant.

The intricate design caught the morning light, making it shimmer.

“Lando…” I trailed off, overwhelmed.

“It’s not enough to make up for what I’ve done,” he said quickly,

“but it’s a start. And today, it’s all about you. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go, we’ll do it.”

I stared at the necklace for a moment before meeting his eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

“But,” I added, my tone firm, “this doesn’t mean I’ve fully forgiven you yet.”

“I know,” he said, nodding.

“And I don’t expect you to. But I’ll spend every day proving to you how much I care, how much I love you. I won’t stop until you believe me again.”

The determination in his voice made my chest tighten.

I wanted to hold onto my anger, to make him feel the depth of my hurt, but seeing him now, vulnerable, regretful, and desperate to make things right.

I couldn’t help but feel the smallest crack in my resolve.

As the morning unfolded, Lando’s sincerity shone through.

He insisted on clearing the table and cleaning up, stealing small glances at me as if trying to gauge my mood.

I wasn’t ready to let go of all the hurt just yet, but for the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

The morning's heartfelt apology set the tone for what became one of the most memorable days Lando and I had spent together in weeks.

While I was still guarded, I couldn’t deny that he was trying, really trying, to make things right.

As I got ready to leave the house, he was already by my side, holding my hand, his other arm slung casually around my shoulder.

“I promised today would be all about you,” he said, giving me that signature soft smile.

“So, where to first?”

We started with a trip to the mall. At first, I felt a little awkward, hesitant to fully enjoy the experience.

But Lando was like a lovesick puppy, following me from store to store, holding my bags, and insisting I buy anything that caught my eye.

“Do you like this dress?” I asked, holding up a flowy sundress against myself.

“I love it,” he said without hesitation. “But I’d probably love anything on you.”

I rolled my eyes at his smooth comment but couldn’t help the blush creeping up my cheeks. “You’re just saying that.”

“Nope,” he replied, grabbing the dress and adding it to the pile of things he’d insisted on buying.

From clothes to accessories, he didn’t say no to anything.

When I protested, saying he was spending too much, he brushed it off.

“I’d spend everything on you, Y/N,” he said with such sincerity it made my heart ache.

Afterward, he took me to my favorite café for lunch.

The cozy little place was one we often went to in the early days of our relationship, and the nostalgia hit me hard as we sat down.

“I missed this,” I admitted as I sipped my coffee.

“Me too,” Lando said, reaching across the table to hold my hand.

“And I’m going to make sure we never lose this again.”

Next, he surprised me with a visit to a local pottery studio.

I couldn’t help but laugh when Lando struggled to shape a vase, the clay slipping through his fingers.

“Okay, you’re supposed to keep your hands steady,” I teased, leaning over to guide him.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert?” he joked, though his grin softened as I showed him how to shape the clay.

It was messy, chaotic, and perfect.

By the end, we both had clay smudged on our faces, and we were laughing like we hadn’t in weeks.

From there, we stopped at a flower shop.

Lando picked out the biggest bouquet of my favorite flowers, holding it out to me with a boyish grin.

“For you,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops today, aren’t you?” I teased, though my heart swelled as I buried my nose in the fragrant blooms.

“Only the best for my girl,” he replied, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

For the rest of the day, he didn’t leave my side.

He held my hand as we walked through the streets, his arm draped protectively around me whenever we stopped to rest.

He peppered me with kisses at every opportunity; on my cheek, my forehead, my temple.

“You’re being extra clingy today,” I said with a small laugh as he pulled me into another hug.

“Making up for lost time,” he murmured, his chin resting on the top of my head.

Bit by bit, the walls I’d built around my heart began to crumble.

His efforts felt genuine, and I found myself smiling more easily, the hurt from the night before slowly fading into the background.

By the time we got home, the sun was setting, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange.

We were both tired but happy as we curled up on the couch together.

Lando tucked me under his arm, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my shoulder.

“Y/N,” he said after a long moment of silence.

His tone was serious, and I looked up at him curiously.

“Yeah?”

“I need to say this again because you deserve to hear it,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I’m so sorry for everything, for neglecting you, for forgetting our anniversary, for making you feel like you weren’t my priority. You are my priority, Y/N. You’re the best thing in my life, and I hate that I made you feel otherwise.”

His words hit me straight in the chest, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, his hand cupping my cheek as he looked into my eyes.

“But I swear, I’ll spend every day proving how much I love you. I’ll never let you feel like that again.”

My heart felt full as I reached up to hold his hand.

“You’ve done a lot for me today, Lando,” I said softly.

“And it’s helped. I can see how much you mean it.”

“So... does that mean you forgive me?” he asked, his tone hopeful but cautious.

I smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “Yeah, I forgive you.”

The relief on his face was almost comical, and he immediately began peppering my face with kisses, my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, even the corners of my lips.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmured between kisses, his joy infectious.

Just when I thought the day was over, Lando suddenly sat up.

“Wait, I have one last thing,” he said, standing and disappearing into the other room.

I frowned, confused, as he returned with a small envelope in hand.

“What is this?” I asked as he handed it to me.

“Open it,” he urged, a playful but nervous glint in his eyes.

I carefully tore open the envelope, and my breath caught as I pulled out two plane tickets.

My eyes widened as I read the destination: Maldives.

“Lando… are you serious?” I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief.

He grinned. “You’ve always said you wanted to go. So, I booked us a two-week stay. Just you and me. No distractions.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him, overwhelmed.

“You didn’t have to do this…”

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly, pulling me into his arms.

“I’ll do anything to make you happy, Y/N. Anything.”

I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his chest.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I love you too,” I replied, my voice muffled but sincere.

We settled back into the couch, cuddled up together, the weight of the past few weeks finally lifting.

After a long silence, I broke it with a playful smile.

“If you ever neglect me like that again, I’m breaking up with your ass,” I teased.

Lando laughed, his arms tightening around me. “Fair enough. But don’t worry, I won’t. Not ever again.”

And for the first time in weeks, I believed him.

The end

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elssero · 5 months ago

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bakugo would be the type of dad who for the life of him cannot say no to his little girl.

k.bakugo

♰ girldad ! bakugo fluff <333

he never imagined himself as a family man, he’d always had the idea that he’d work his ass off for number one and just.. do that forever?

he kept that mindset right up until he met you. pretty little thing with a mouth just as snappy as his and that was all it took for him to be whipped.

to say you swept him of his feet would be an understatement. he physically bumped into you in his agency building and in return you raised your voice at him and told him to watch where the fuck he’s going.

the rest is certainly history, he chases after you and you let him. much to his delight your married a mere 3 years later, laughing at the stupidity of your first meeting.

when discussing children you decide on one for now, bakugo grew up and only child and he quite enjoyed being the center of his parents attention, he only wishes the same for his own.

your pregnant in no time, thanks to his… persistent efforts and he can’t contain the love he has for you as you begin to swell. he completely dotes on you.

your hungry? a three course meal is on its way. your sleepy? he’s carrying you bridal style, laying you down in bed and tucking you in. you deserve only best in his eyes, just as his little girl will.

he doesn’t leave you or the baby’s side for weeks after the birth, your begging him to go back to work at this point because kirishima cannot work another 16 hour shift to cover for him.

he hates every minute he spends away from you, it’s spent grumbling about how he’d much rather be curled up in bed with you. he drops in the charts the first year the child is born but he doesn’t care, he can’t care, not when he’s coming home to you- his beautiful wife and his pride and joy of a baby girl.

as the kid gets older he starts working full time again, you too go back to work a couple days a week while your child’s at school, he insists that you don’t- he takes good enough care of you right?? but you do it anyway, it’s more for something to do rather than for the income.

now spending more time away from his kid- the time he does spend with her he cherishes every minute, they’re baking cookies, he’s taking her shopping, he’s spoiling her rotten :(.

she feels a little sick and wants to stay off school? suddenly they’re both begging you to let her stay off and when you finally agree- he’s calling into work saying he can’t make it so they can spend the day together.

he helps her with quirk training when she insists she wants to be a hero just like daddy. he cries the first time he hears it, unable to control the surge of joy he feels seeing his kids face looking up at him with admiration.

he takes her into the agency to meet all her favorite pro heros- he sets up play dates with his friends kids so his little angel can grow up around kids her age.

as she grows he makes sure that they never lose their closeness- he promises her that she can tell him anything and she does, she truely the light of his life.

it’s the last year of middle school for his girl when he gets the phone call he’s been dreading for years- she got into a fight today in school, a serious one too it seems and he’s rushing as fast as he possibly can, he doesn’t even take the time to phone you because he’s so worried, he makes a mental note to call you the second he’s out of the place.

he bursts through the door and he can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out when he sees that she’s okay, infact she’s not ruffed up at all- which only makes him more worried. had his kid been the one to start the fight? his little angel?

the principal explains the situation pretty clearly, the other kid involved admitted that they had been purposely attempting to get under her skin- using his name to do it.

he’s furious of course- but he can’t help overwhelming happiness that bubbles in his throat when he realises this is your first fight- a fight that you had only started to protect his name.

he thanks the principal for his time and escorts his kid out, she’s silent the entire walk back to the car while he fights back a smirk- “are you mad at me?” she looks up at him from her place in the passenger seat and he just bursts into a smile-

“let’s go get some ice cream kid- just don’t tell your mother about this alright?”

#bnha #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha #dad bakugou #fluff #mha fluff

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milliesfishes · 11 days ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎshower with clark౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x clark kent

The hiss of the spray raining from the shower head loosened your taut muscles, and you released a sigh. Tilting your head back, you hummed softly, lifting your hands to smooth hair back from your face. You'd run a brush through before you stepped in, conscious of the tangles that would appear once you were done washing.

This was your safe place, where all the stress of the day melted into nothingness, swirling down the drain with anything else you'd collected during the day. You were long overdue for an everything shower, having skipped it for the past few days. There was nothing worse than a rushed shower. You wanted to take your time, to really relax. After the week you'd had, you felt you deserved it.

When the door clicked open, you perked up, pulling back the curtain and poking your head out. Water dripped from your hair onto the tile, but you hardly cared, a tired smile drawing your lips up.

Clark was rubbing his eye with one hand, stepping forward to cup your damp cheek with the other. "Baby." His voice was no more than a mumble, and your eyes wandered over him. Curls stuck to his forehead, wearing nothing except a pair of boxers.

Your shoulders relaxed, and you leaned against the side of the shower, tilting your head into his touch. "Wanna come in?"

His eyes lit up. "Yeah." You slid the shower curtain aside, watching him kick off his boxers before he got in. The water flattened his hair, and you reached up to push it out of his eyes.

Clark opened his arms, and you fell into them, pressing your cheek to his warm chest. One big hand smoothed over your hair, and he kissed the top of your head. "You left."

"I'm sorry, baby," you said softly, burrowing into him. "I didn't think you'd wake up."

His chin settled atop your head. "You can wake me up for showers. I like this. I love this," he corrected himself after a moment.

You tilted your head up, his arms around your back holding you upright. "I love it too."

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, eyes on the wall behind you. "You have a lot of pink soap."

"Mhm," you hummed, resting your cheek on his chest again. He'd never commented on it before, but it made you smile.

Clark's thumb rubbed up and down your lower back. "Is that why you always smell like a donut?"

A happy giggle bubbled up from your chest. "Donut?"

There was a pause, and he adjusted his arms comfortably around you. "You know...sweet."

"Yeah," you responded lazily, looking up at him. His eyes were sleepy, and you lifted your hands to cup his face. "Wanna try some?" The black and grey bottles of his own soap were lined up neatly next to yours, but you offered anyways. "Just one?"

Pausing for a moment, Clark used his fingers to scratch your back, and you nearly melted. "Which one?"

Reaching out from the confines of his arms, you plucked one up. "This one. Bodywash."

He leaned his cheek against your head, inhaling softly. "Okay." You squealed, causing him to jolt just slightly, but he shook it off and took the bottle from you. When you looked back up at him, he was smiling.

Showering with Clark wasn't an uncommon occurrence. You easily maneuvered around each other, swapping places on the shower bench and under the head. You borrowed the body wash back to shave, and he scrubbed at his curls, closing his eyes to rinse out his soap. It was hard to tear your eyes away from him, from the firm contours of his body, and how it looked when water was dribbling down his chest.

You knew him in every form- as the invincible hero and the quiet writer. Underneath it all was something soft, a man who melted under your touch and held you like a teddy bear at the end of every day. And here he was, rubbing your sugar cookie body wash all over him and grinning at you when he saw you watching. Clark's skin was thick, untouchable, but in times like these you could see his heart. It was bigger and brighter than anything you'd ever come across before.

You stood up for one more rinse, feeling clean and fluffy like you always did after a good wash. Clark capped the bottle he was holding, taking the razor from you and setting it on the pale pink shower caddy. He reached for you. "C'mere, honey."

Gladly, you settled back into him, feeling almost cocooned. He pressed a few kisses to your head, swaying back and forth so subtly it almost felt like a dream. Images of clouds and pastel rainbows and white fur blankets filled your mind like fog. This was always how it felt around him. Safe. Anywhere else you'd be on high alert, but when you were tucked away into him, your mind lapsed. It was like your body knew you were protected.

Getting out, Clark wrapped one of your fluffy towels around you before drying himself off. You covered your torso, reaching for your vanilla lotion, but he got to it first. "Let me?" When you nodded, he lifted you onto the counter, big hands on your waist, and knelt before you. While he worked on the first leg, you made quick work of brushing your hair, setting it to the side so you could look at him again. Leaning back on your hands, you watched him with sleepy eyes. The feeling of his hands on your smooth legs was a bonus to the calm you already felt.

He had you in his arms once he was done, and the trip to your room was a blur until he set you down into your bed, gentle and loving as always. The towel was removed, and he worked a shirt over your head, panties up your legs. With his hand under your head, Clark guided you to lay down, only leaving you for a second and reappearing on your other side to gather you into his arms. He smelled like your body wash.

The moon was glowing through the slit in the curtains, and you turned in his arms to push your head into his chest, hiding from the light. The overwhelming feeling of being taken care of flooded you, and you felt more relaxed than in months.

An 'I love you' was whispered into your hair before you drifted off. You squeezed his hand over your tummy. When you weren't half asleep in the morning, you'd make sure to say it back.

#clark kent #clark kent david corenswet #clark kent x reader #superman #clark kent x you #clark kent fanfiction #superman 2025 #superman x you #superman x reader #superman david corenswet #clark kent fluff #clark kent fic #milliesfishes clark

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hoshifighting · 2 months ago

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how seventeen would act with reader having daddy issues

WARNINGS: it may be sensitive to some people, and there are mentions of past traumas and family issues. mostly of it is basically, seventeen and their family taking care of you <3

a/n: this was an ask that was in my inbox for a long time, sorry about this 🥺 and worse, I was writing it, and the light have gone off, so ivé lost the drabble and I cant find in my inbox, I just know that it was from my bestie hannieween, sorry about the long time 🥺🙏 I hope you like it

seungcheol: already planning how to spoil you just to make up for what you didn’t get. this man would not let you suffer through those awkward, tense family reunions. the second you even hint at feeling uncomfortable, he’s pulling you out of there and taking you straight to his family’s place. his dad, a total sweetheart. he’s the type to sit you down, ask how you’re doing, and genuinely listen. and that’s when it hits you—this is where seungcheol gets his protective streak. his dad’s got the same energy, always making sure you’re taken care of. it’s like you’re part of their family now, and honestly, it feels better than anything you’ve ever known.

jeonghan: he’s sneaky about it, but in the most loving way. like, he knows you’ve got that hole where support should be, and he’s filling it without making it obvious. he’d get his mom and dad to invite you over for a casual dinner, but then it’s all about you. “oh, y/n loves pasta, mom,” he’d say, nudging you under the table when you get shy. his parents adore you, and jeonghan’s sitting back, watching you laugh at his dad’s corny jokes with this smug little grin, like, yeah, that’s my baby.

joshua: he’d plan random trips to his family’s place, just so you can hang out with his mom. like, one weekend, you’re baking cookies with his mom, and the next, you’re playing guitar with his uncle. josh is always hovering, making sure you’re comfortable, but lowkey beaming when he sees you getting along with his family. he’s super patient, too—he never pushes, just waits for you to open up when you’re ready. and when you do... he’s holding your hand, whispering, “see? they love you, just like i do.”

junhui: he’d make sure you feel like you belong there too. he’d take you home during the holidays, and suddenly, his mom’s treating you like her own kid. jun would sit next to you at dinner, quietly making sure you’re okay, squeezing your hand under the table whenever he notices you getting overwhelmed. he’s just sitting there, watching it all unfold, thinking, yeah, this is what you deserve.

hoshi: this man would straight-up share his dad with you. like, he’d plan trips for the three of you—fishing, hiking, picnics, you name it. and he’d be so proud when you start opening up to his dad. he gets that it’s gonna take time, but when he sees you laughing at his dad’s terrible puns, he’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. sometimes, when hoshi’s away for schedules, you’d even hang out with his dad without him. he’ll be texting you like, “my dad loves you more than me now 😭.” and even when he’s away for work, his family still makes time for you, calling you over to hang out or have dinner.

woozi: jihoon’s not big on family talk, but he knows you are, and he gets it. instead of dragging you into his family stuff, he makes a point of creating a new kind of support for you. like, you want to skip a stressful family dinner? cool, you’re spending the night at his place, binge-watching your favorite shows and eating takeout. he’s not one for big gestures, but he makes sure you always know you’re not alone. his quiet, steady presence is the comfort you never knew you needed.

wonwoo: he’d just sit there, letting you talk, and then hit you with the most thoughtful response ever, like, “you didn’t deserve that, but you deserve everything good now. let me be that for you.” giving you the world’s warmest hug, he’d probably start joking about being your emotional support cat forever.

minghao: he fully believes in breaking cycles, so he’s the guy who helps you redefine what family even means. he’d take you to meet his ambient, his friends, his family, everywhere where he KNOWS you'll be taken care off. he’d also start little traditions with you, like Sunday morning walks or trying new restaurants, just to build something stable and comforting for you. he's not trying to be your dad—of course. but he's trying to make programs that he remembered doing with his dad and that somehow, marked his trajectory. he wants you to experience that too.

mingyu: when shit gets heavy, he doesn’t try to fix it all at once—he just sits with you, lets you cry on his shoulder, strokes your hair, and whispers, “you’re not alone, okay? you’ve got me.” when you’re ready, he’s like, “now, what do you want to do about it?” and he’ll back you no matter what. he’ll drag you out to do the most random shit—karaoke, late-night drives, baking cookies at 2 a.m.—just so you’re not stuck in your head. and when you thank him later, he’s like, “who, me? nah nah.”

seokmin: he is the kind of guy who’ll carry you—literally. if you’re overwhelmed, he’ll scoop you up like you weigh nothing and plant you on the couch with snacks, a blanket, and whatever dumb movie he picked. “you don’t need to do anything today,” he says, plopping down beside you with the softest smile. but also, he won’t sugarcoat things, but he also doesn’t let you get stuck in negative self-talk. “you’re worth more than what he made you feel.”

seungkwan: got a sixth sense for this kinda thing. you don’t even have to say the words—he knows. he’s the type to gently steer the convo every time someone in your family says something shitty, or he’ll swoop in with some sarcastic-ass joke to take the heat off you. but when it’s just the two of you, he’s soft as hell, cuddling you, stroking your hair, and reminding you that he’s your safe space now. he’d probably even offer to go with you to therapy, just to sit there and hold your hand.b

vernon: he’ll say the goofiest shit to make you laugh—like doing terrible impressions of your least favorite family members or purposely messing up on kendama. doesn’t even try to hide how much he loves you. when you’re down, he’s the type to turn everything into a you’re amazing campaign. random notes in your bag, impromptu “you’re so cool” chants, and hugs so tight they might crack your ribs.

chan: baby’s the sweetest. he’s lowkey hurt that you’ve had to deal with that kind of stuff, so he makes it his mission to show you what love and support really look like. chan’s family would love you, and he’d be so excited to share them with you. he’d plan little visits where it’s just you, him, and his parents, so it’s not overwhelming. later, he’d check in, like, “did you have fun? was it okay?” because all he wants is for you to feel loved and safe.

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scuderiahalf · 3 months ago

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(almost) one year with you — c.sainz

pairing. carlos sainz x strategist!norris!fem!reader

summary. your boyfriend is usually so intelligent. when he makes one of the stupidest decisions of his life to break up with you, his best friend (and your idiot brother) decides to take matters into his own hands. 4.3k, 18+

warnings. breakups = makeup sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, reader is kind of a bitch but carlos is into it

masterlist.

"I'm going to kick the door open."

"Please, do not do that," Carlos says from behind you.

"You think I can't?"

Smartly, Carlos chooses not to voice any further opinions.

You kick the door, more out of frustration than an actual attempt to break it open.

"I'm going to murder you when I get out of here, Lando!" you shout against the door, not really caring if your idiot brother has hung around to hear the very real threat.

You may not actually kill him (you're still debating it) but you will definitely hit him. At least five times. Maybe more. And he's not getting any of your late-night stress-baked cookies for several months. Asshole.

You kick the door again, harder. The wood bends near the bottom from the impact, rattling in the doorframe but otherwise unmoving. Your groan turns into a yell of frustration, punctuated by you hitting the still closed door with both hands. You seriously cannot believe Lando would do this.

"Are you finished?"

Carlos sounds almost amused.

If he hadn't been literally thrown into the room by not just Lando but Max and Alex as well, you might think he's in on this whole scheme. Instead, you just glare at him, irritated that he's so calm while you're both being held against your will.

"Is being made to be near me that horrible?" Carlos says.

"Oh, fuck off."

"You are acting as if they will not have to let us out eventually."

"How long is that going to take? Huh? I don't want to be locked in here for hours. It's actually FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

You're shouting at the door again, hoping your dumbass brother and his stupid fucking friends can hear.

They all better be prepared for the consequences. There's no one better at holding a grudge than you.

You never should have trusted Lando when he had insisted you come to Charles Leclerc’s dumb yacht party. He never wants to be seen in public with you much less all but beg you to attend a party with all his friends who are so much cooler than you because he's an F1 driver and all his friends are, too, and you're just a strategist.

(You never thought that being a trackside strategist at Scuderia Ferrari would be preceded by "just" as though it isn't an impressive feat but with a brother like Lando Norris, nothing you do ever really seems to measure up. You're the reason Lando ever got into racing or F1 in the first place. So really, this is your own fault.)

You give up harassing the door (it locks from the inside so there must be something blocking it in the hallway) and start searching the room for another way out. It's a bedroom, and you're choosing to assume that it just happened to be the easiest place to trap you both and not a purposeful nudge to something untoward. Lando isn't that crude. You think.

After this little stunt, you don't think he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

You start checking all the drawers to see if there's anything useful. You don't actually know what you're looking for. Maybe like a fire axe or a hand saw so you can brute force your way out of here.

"We could talk," Carlos proposes.

"And give Lando what he wants? No, thank you."

"You are so proud. Can we not talk this out?"

"What's there to talk out, Carlos? You dumped me, remember?"

That shuts him up.

You refuse to look at him. Even with your back to him as you search through a completely empty dresser, you can feel the look on his face. Full lips pouting, big brown cow eyes all sad and pitiful. You'd fold like a cheap suit if you saw his pretty eyes right now and you're trying really hard to stay strong and hang onto your anger so you won't give in.

There's nothing in any of the dresser drawers. The nightstands are fruitless, too. The wardrobe houses only empty hangers, and not even the cheap wire ones that could be bent into something useful like a weapon to kill yourself with if things get any more tense in this tiny room.

"I regret it," he says.

You close the wardrobe with a heavy breath.

"I regretted it as soon as I said we should end it."

"Cry me a river, Sainz. Build a bridge. Get over it. You don't get to call me ‘nothing but a distraction’ then tell me you regret it and expect me to forgive you just like that—fuck this. I'm going to swim to shore."

You yank the balcony door open and climb up onto one of the chairs so you can get over the railing.

"Y/N!" Carlos curses in Spanish, scrambles after you and gets an arm around you before you can actually step up onto the railing. "What are you doing?!"

"I just said! I'm going to swim to shore. Let me go!"

Carlos picks you up like a purse dog and carries you back into the room. He stands in front of the balcony door after setting you down, blocking your only escape route.

"You cannot swim to shore. We are miles out of sea!"

"If it gets me out of this room, I'd do it!"

"Can you not just talk to me?"

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want to!"

"What are you afraid is to happen?"

"I don't have to explain myself. Especially not to you."

So, you don't explain yourself. You walk over to the couch and take a seat, arms and legs crossed, looking anywhere but at Carlos.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to that first date with Carlos last year. You know what you were signing up for. You knew all the judgement would be on you if/when you decided to go public. You knew Ferrari would have many things to say about your relationship, and they did, when you told them earlier in the season before it could potentially get ugly with a reveal from unsasvory sources.

You knew all of that and you went for it, anyway, because could you even call yourself a Norris if you didn't go after what you wanted? You knew what being with Carlos would bring but apparently, you were the only one.

After eleven amazing months together, Carlos got cold feet. You don't know how else to describe it. You had told your family after three months; he'd told his after just one. Everyone was happy for you. Your family loves Carlos, and the Sainz clan accepted you with open arms. You were so happy.

But as your relationship pushed a year, Carlos said you needed to talk, called you a distraction, subsequently hazardous for his line of work, and ended things.

Did you call him an emotionally stunted manchild before storming out of the cafe he asked to meet at? If you did, he surely deserved it.

A few weeks after that, you're where you are now, locked in a bedroom on a yacht while a party rages on several floors above. Carlos says he regrets breaking up with you, that he wanted to take back everything he said, but he already said it and that's how things are now.

You'll not be the girl he comes crawling back to whenever it's convenient for him. If going steady is a hazard for work, then an off again-on again situationship is definitely not OSHA-compliant. You refuse to lower yourself to being a doormat that Carlos wipes his feet on whenever he feels he has the time.

After a while of standing guard at the balcony door, Carlos makes a move to sit on the couch with you.

"No," you say.

He halts midstep.

"You can sit on the bed."

Slowly, as though giving you a chance to change your mind, Carlos sulks over to the bed and sits.

He's moving to Williams next year. He has only a handful of races left in rosso corsa. He doesn't know you're sitting on a job offer that could have you following him, a promotion to head strategist at the Oxfordshire team that you can't believe you're actually debating because of your standing with a man.

You've told no one of Williams's proposition. So, you really don't know why you open your mouth to tell Carlos of all people.

"Williams wants me as their head strategist."

He looks up, eyes bright, surprised but excited for you. "What? That is amazing."

"Yeah, I know it is," you say, glaring at him again. "I haven't accepted yet, though."

Carlos is quiet, then carefully says, "Because of me?"

"No," you say because it's just ridiculous for that to be the reason you're holding up contract negotiations, "Yes, because of you. Obviously. I don't want you thinking I'm following you. I'm not. I'm pursuing my career. So, I know that changes you being all regretful. I just want to clarify things before you hear about it from someone else.”

“Why would it change how I feel?”

“Because we’ll still be coworkers next season.”

“That changes it? What does it change?”

Carlos' accent (hot as fuck) and the way he doesn't always say things 100% correct (cute as fuck) are misleading for his actual understanding of the English language. So, you're really not sure what he's getting confused over.

He's leaving. You were supposed to be staying. No longer working together meant no distractions for him until you would meet up at a hotel after a shitty quali and he would fuck the shit out of you. Or something like that.

It'd feel good in the moment but you don't want him for just sex. You don't want casual. You don't want to be a convenient, low-maintenance, not-quite-official girlfriend. You won't do it. No matter how pretty he is.

And his plan to get you back was ruined now that you'd be moving to Williams for next season, anyway.

“I’d not be a distraction if I was staying at Ferrari. Now, we’ll both still be on the same team. Not convenient for you to still be in a toxic work environment, huh? So, you can cut the crap.”

“That has nothing to do with my regret."

"I won't be a casual fuck buddy who you can't stand to be around when it doesn't work for you."

"I never said that!"

He seems genuinely hurt by your implication but you won't fall for it, won't let it deter you.

"It's kind of implied. You know with the whole 'I have to focus on my driving' thing. Like, what the fuck were you doing for the rest of the time we were together? Nothing changed and you suddenly decided it was too much, then you want me back but I ruined that for you. You'll be seeing me next year, too, so don't even bother with the whole regret speech or whatever."

"I—," Carlos starts, then says nothing.

He can't seem to find the words.

"What? Nothing to say? You wanted to talk. Talk."

"If I am in a team with you or not," he says, slow, calculated, "It does not change that I regret what I said."

Carlos takes a second to think before continuing. That's where you two differ.

Carlos has always been incredibly intelligent. You knew he was gorgeous before you had ever met in person but his mind made him appeal even more to you when you first started working trackside last season. Long, intellectual conversations preceded him asking you out after his masterclass in Singapore.

You nearly started foaming at the mouth when he said "it's on purpose" to keeping your brother within DRS to hold off Mercedes. You were ready to jump his bones right then and there in the middle of the team celebration when he asked you to dinner before you flew back to England.

But he was a gentleman. (He didn't fuck you until after your second date, but it was a close thing that first night when you leaned over the center console to kiss him. You'd have ridden him right there in the front seat of that rental car if your idiot brother hadn't chosen then to walk by and make a scene. Kind of a mood killer.)

The two of you both found fascination in the other's way of thinking, Carlos' smooth logic and your chaotic brilliance. He is all thought and few words while you talk and talk until you find your solution.

You always found beauty in the contrast. You balance each other. Simultaneously alike and disimilar. He is someone you saw yourself building a life with. After nearly a year together, those are the kinds of thoughts you start to have about a partner.

"So, you regret it," you gather, "But do you still think I'm a distraction?"

"Of course, you are a distraction. I am in love with you. There is nothing more distracting than that."

You laugh, disbelieving. "You're in love with me but I'm distracting and you can't be with me? Why? Because you love racing more?"

"I was scared. I was stupid. I am stupid. I am."

"Self deprecation won't do you any favors. But, yeah, you are stupid. You're not making any sense."

"I was scared. You were everything I could think of. I thought I could not find a balance between you and racing. But without you, it is even worse. I want you as a distraction. I know that because I have lost you.”

“You haven’t,” you say before your brain even knows what you’re doing. “Not entirely, yet. Maybe… You’re not allowed to do this again. Ever.”

And you’re crying. Of course.

Carlos is at your side in record time, kneeling in front of you, taking immediate advantage of the crack in your defenses. “Never.”

“You can’t do shit like this. You can’t push me aside like I don’t matter. You can’t call me a distraction.”

“You are a distraction. In the best way.”

Unimpressed and wiping your tears, you say, “Wow. You’re such a poet.”

Carlos laughs thickly. “I love you.”

“Ugh, fuck off.”

You’re still wiping at your face. You didn’t cry when Carlos called it quits, refused to let him have any sort of hold over you when he pushed you aside but now, you’re crying. It’s in relief but you still feel your face getting hot from the embarrassment of it.

He knocks your hands aside to cup your cheeks. “You are the love of my life. I will do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.”

“S’not broken. Just bent. Or whatever the saying is. I don’t fucking care—just kiss me.”

Carlos’ “yes, ma’am” is muffled against your lips.

It’s only been three weeks (three and a half but who’s counting) since he last kissed you but it feels like an eternity.

It’s salty from your tears and wet, also from the tears but more from the way you let his tongue into your mouth after probably not enough time has passed. You don’t care. You just want him.

“I love you," you break the kiss to say. "Don't leave me."

"I won't."

"Say it back."

"I love you. I love you I love you I love you."

His words jumble between English and Spanish as he kisses down your body.

Your breath catches as he pulls your hips further down the cushion you're sat on. Stupid F1 driver muscles. You want to sink your teeth into his bicep, make him walk around with the bruise, a reminder of who he belongs to.

He slips his fingers into the waistband of your pants, looks up for permission. You lift your hips. You've missed what his big brown eyes look like when they're all dark with want.

He pulls your pants and underwear down and tosses them aside, tugging you even closer to the edge of the couch. Your legs part. He puts your knees on his shoulders then finally pushes his face between your thighs.

You let your head fall back as you sigh, probably sounding ridiculous but he's always been good at this.

He had you ride his face one time. He practically had to beg to get you to agree. There was a lot of him gripping onto you, arms wrapped around your thighs and hips to force you to stay in place. He'd kept you there until you couldn't stay upright or fight against his hold, coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with just his mouth.

Then, he'd fucked you until you came for a fifth time. (You tell a guy one time about how your last partner hadn't the patience to get more than one orgasm out of you, and he makes it his life's mission to get three or more every time you go at it. How terrible for you. Ha.)

He eats you out like a man starving, like he has something to prove. To be fair, he does but he's not going to be entirely back in your good graces just because he's helping you get off for the first time in three and a half weeks. This is just extra credit.

One of his hands finds yours. He tangles your fingers and holds your hand as he involves his free fingers in slipping past your entrance. You open up for him with obscene ease, legs falling apart even further.

He fucks you with a single finger slow, slow, slow while his tongue licks languidly at your clit.

"Carlos," you whine his name.

You don't need all the pleasure you already know he's more than capable of giving you. You just need to get off already.

"I will get you there, hermosa," he promises with a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Get there faster; I don't want my idiot brother thinking better of his insane plan and letting us out while you're nose-deep in my cunt."

Carlos huffs a laugh. You can feel the air against where you're wet. It makes you squirm.

Usually, Carlos would tell you to stay still and be patient but seems to think better of it this time. You would probably still do as he says, circumstance regardless, but he doesn't need to know that. He just presses his lips back to your pussy.

He sucks on the hardened little bundle of nerves at the joint of your labia just how he knows will make you go limp and needy. He pushes a second then a third finger into you, the stretch just that much more than you can manage with your own, smaller digits.

You could've gotten it with the neglected dildo that lives somewhere mostly forgotten in your closet. There was something that felt so final about bringing out the toy you haven't needed since that second date. Thankfully, you still don't need it. You should consider just pitching it, at this point.

You push your hand through Carlos' hair, brushing the ridiculously perfect locks off his forehead so you can watch his stupid, beautiful face as he goes down on you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby," you praise.

His dark eyes flicker up to you, exhaling against your exposed cunt and shifting his knees on the floor.

You're sure if he had a hand free, he'd be palming himself over his pants. He gets off on you getting off and praise goes straight to his dick. You've got this fantasy of making him come completely untouched but you might need to do actual research on that before it becomes a reality.

He sticks his tongue down with his fingers, lapping at your hole and spitting your wetness onto your clit just because it's hot. Like the way he's slobbering over you isn't enough to make the glide of his tongue over your clit smooth and delectable.

"Come on, baby. Don't tease. Not now."

Carlos makes this little displeased noise in the back on his throat.

Quickies aren't really in Carlos' sexual vocabulary. He occasionally likes it as rough and fast as the next dick-haver but he's more of a spread you open and make love to you for hours at a time kind of guy.

He took you to a secluded little cabana in Mallorca for a week during summer break specifically so you two could spend days on end doing nothing but loving on each other. Then, he took you to meet his family and you had to pretend like you hadn't spent the majority of the week prior with their golden child's dick or fingers or tongue inside of you.

Currently, you're just wanting to find relief without Lando or some other F1 driver walking in on you first.

"Carlos, baby—please."

Carlos likes when you play nice. When you're so desperate for it that your bossy exterior goes away. You tell yourself that you exploit this because your unending pride doesn't like the alternative that you really just are that desperate for it.

He finally starts to finger bang you properly. Combine that with the obscene slurping sounds he's making against your clit and the lack of action for nearly a month and no one could really blame you for not taking long to hit your high.

Heat curls and explodes in your gut and up your spine, back arching, lungs gasping, Carlos' name falling from your mouth as your thighs try to close around his head. He gets his elbows up to hold your legs open. His fingers keep fucking you through your orgasm. He pulls his other hand free of your grip to massage your clit with his thumb, kissing your thighs, pubes, stomach.

He captures your lips in a kiss while you're still riding it out. It's intense and leg-shaking after so long without, emotion-driven, which is the best kind but not worth it after knowing what the fear of losing him is like. You can hardly kiss him back, face pulled in pleausre, moans spilling past your lips that Carlos swallows unburdened.

You tuck your face into his shoulder as he drags it out just to the precipice of overstimulation. You tug him into you, arms around his shoulders, fingers tugging the hair at the base of his skull. He lets his fingers rest inside of you, rests that thumb against your clit so he can hold you back with one arm, at least.

You just breathe for a moment, composing yourself where he can't see your face. The worst may be over but the level of trust you'd built over months together would not be so easily reinstated. He'd have to work hard for that, much harder than a sinlge mind-blowing orgasm.

"Don't leave me," you say in a whisper. "You can't, okay?"

"I won't."

"Promise."

"I promise I will not leave you again. I am the most dumb man if I lose you another time. I will deserve it, then."

"Be smart, then. Like I know you have the capacity to be."

Carlos pulls his fingers out. He catches your shiver, still wrapped up in his one arm. He kisses your cheek before finding something to clean his hands with. You've pulled your pants back on when he's finished.

"Likelihood someone heard us?" you prompt.

"Heard you, you mean?"

You kick at him as he comes back over to you. "Watch it."

He tucks you against his side once he's sat. "Scale?"

"One to a hundred."

"90, at least."

You smack his chest. "Dick."

"You are very loud, mi amor. You talk so much, and you make such pretty noises."

"Don't insult me immediately after I've forgiven you."

You've not drawn away from him at all. In fact, you've tucked your feet up on the couch to curl into him fully.

Carlos knows this. He presses a kiss to your temple.

"I love you. I am sorry I am so stupid."

"I guess I've just got to have enough brains and beauty for the both of us."

"You have always."

You hide your smile in his chest. He holds your thigh when you put your legs across his lap. Now you've got him back, you want to be as close as physically possible. Whoever first said they want to be inside their partner's skin really gets it.

George Russell ends up getting sent to let you two out. Evidently, your brother fled the scene of the crime once the yacht returned to port in the early hours of the morning. He dumped the chore of opening Pandora's box on an innocnet bystander.

"I am so sorry—"

"Oh, clever," you say when you spot the poor Brit, "He sends an uninvolved party to let me out like I couldn't track him anywhere in the world. I've his trainer's phone number and Jon likes me more than him. I am going to beat his skinny little muppet ass. When I find him—"

You trip over the tangle of chairs that had been used to barricade the bedroom door from the outside.

Carlos catches your elbow.

"Amor, it is late," he says. "Sleep, first, hm?"

You relax into his hold a bit, a silent concession. It'll be easier to murder your little brother after a good night's sleep, anyway.

"So, are you two...?" George trails off.

You cut him a glare.

"Nothing. Never mind. Apologies."

He speeds around the two of you and off the boat.

"The 2019 rookies are all terrified of you."

"Good."

Carlos laughs. "I am excited to see what Alex is like with you next year."

You smile.

Next year, you'll still be working with Carlos. It'll be at a different team, a midfielder at best but at least Carlos will still be on the grid. He'll still find increasingly laughable excuses to be in engineering just to see you. He'll still come home to you, the same that you'll come home to him.

A future with Carlos is still in the cards. He'll be damned if he messes it up again, you know that much.

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speed-world · 5 months ago

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do you think you could do one with Shadow milk cookie x reader, where reader is like his stage assistant, hypeman, supporting role kind of thing, reader is like fully fine with atrocities shadow milk

maybe something with like reader also having been sealed separately from the beasts so shadow milk would probably have to try and find where reader was sealed while the brave and others were running around

- :D

His partner in crime

You and Shadow Milk Cookie were almost like The Joker and Harley Quinn (minus the cycle of abuse-)

He always loves and appreciates whenever you help him out in setting up a play. Whether that be designing the characters with him, arranging the props and stage in the best condition, and even just rooting for him!

There are even times when you help him write out the script for his plays, which he adores so so very much!!

He’ll always make a point to credit you in the most dramatic and loving manner whenever you help him. And boy do I mean dramatic-

“Thank you all so so so so much for enjoying the show! But the real star that deserves the glory is my dazzling, extraordinary, and adorable~…Y/N Cookie!!!”

A giant spotlight was cast on you as confetti and ribbons popped out all over the audience. You smiled and bowed as Shadow Milk applauded you, and after a while, everyone started applauding you!! If they didn’t, then the jester made sure they would cheer for his assistant…”

There are times where in the middle of his performance, he allows a pause for you to applaud and cheer and for him!

Of course, all of the audience is free to do the same whenever that brief moment comes, but usually it’s only you. Granted, all he cares about is your praise and appreciation, so he doesn’t care if you’re the only one clapping for him.

When he was imprisoned by the Witches, you were…displaced. The Witches knew your connection to Shadow Milk, and sealed you to the far ends of Earthbread outside of the Beast-Yeast continent.

Shadow Milk was furious beyond belief when he saw you being sealed up too. You weren’t a Beast or did anything wrong like he did, so why were you being punished like this?!

It hurt him so much, especially because he couldn’t do anything but sit in that dang tree…

Granted, this wouldn’t stop you from doing everything you could to get back to Beast-Yeast, or more get back to Shadow Milk

When you two were finally reunited in the Faerie Kingdom, after both your seals were broken down, you both ignored GingerBrave, Elder Faerie, and everyone else there and went to a discreet place to yourselves.

While you were reconnecting the lost time, he told you about Pure Vanilla and the Witches, and you’d be right there to hold him if he got shaken up or cried when mentioning them. You hated the witches and Purr Vanilla Cookie just as much, if not more than he did.

When Pure Vanilla and his company caught up to you, it was you who personally a play where certain caricatures would reference the witches, Pure Vanilla, or any others that Shadow Milk wasn’t fond of. You wouldn’t have any mercy in disrespecting said caricatures in the plays, which Shadow Milk loved and cheered for!!

No matter what, you were always there to support Shadow Milk and his crazy antics. He would do the same, loving you and being with you through every single thing.

#crk x reader #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run x reader #cr kingdom #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader

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cherishedhope · 5 months ago

Text

They Find Their S/o in Tears.

Characters involved: Riddle, Leona, & Azul x G/N! Reader. Genre: Comfort. Disclaimer: Characters may be OOC. There’s a couple of choice words in here as well. If that makes you uncomfortable, please skim over them. NOT proofread. This is a little bit repetitive, so sorry in advance. A/N: I was feeling a little bit sad at the time of writing this, so I decided to cheer myself up with a little something special! I hope that if you are feeling down, then this brightens your spirits as well. Keep going!! You’ll get through whatever it is that made you upset. You got this! 🫶 (here’s a cookie to accompany you while you read 🍪 feel free to snack on it. You deserve a treat!). (PS. I kinda rushed through Azul’s part. Sorry 🥲) Request status: Open!

Your vision was blurred over with tears. No matter how hard you swiped the damp tissue over your eyes, the drops of water kept bubbling out. Breathing came as a challenge. It felt as if your lungs were working overtime to help you breathe. The lump in your throat only seemed to amplify the loud sobs that were just as relentless as the tears. Nothing was able to stop the whimpers sneaking past your lips.

Why did you even try? What was the point? Why was life so unfair? Why did it hurt so much? Why couldn’t it all just stop? All you ever wanted was to be happy. Was that too much to ask?

Just as you thought that it couldn’t get any worse, the door to your bedroom creaked open. Your head swiveled around to check who had crashed in on your pity party.

Your heart dropped.

Fuck.

It was him.

“[Name]…?”

“Goodness gracious! Whatever is the matter?”

— His eyes are blown wide. It would have made you chuckle with how large they looked, but given the circumstances, you couldn’t find it in yourself to laugh.

— He completely freezes on the spot. He had rarely, most likely never, been comforted when he was younger. What was he suppose to do? Should he give you a hug? What if that only hurt you more? Did Ace go too far with his teasing? Were you having trouble in your studies? What could it be?

— His thoughts come to a stop the second you started approaching him, your arms already stretching forward, desperately seeking out comfort. His arms promptly curled around your waist, his fingers running through your hair. He feels a little stiff, but he slowly relaxes and embraces you tightly.

— "There, there. It’s okay. Everything is quite all right. I’m here.” He whispered sweetly before patting you gently on the head. His grip on you tightens ever so slightly. Seeing you like this did terrible things to his heart. The mere thought of someone possibly reducing you to this state made his blood boil. However, he wouldn’t jump to conclusions. The reason for your breakdown could be something completely different.

— After you had calmed down, he excuses himself from the room to go fetch a nice cup of tea for you. Perhaps an herbal kind. Jasmine or chamomile usually help settle the nerves.

— Once he returns, he quietly asks if you’d like to sit down and discuss the reason for your distress. If you decline, he immediately backs off and instead focuses his efforts on trying to distract you. But if you do open up to him, he holds your hands the entire time, nodding every so often as he listened to your rant.

— Depending on what your issue is, he’ll try his hardest to help. Falling behind in your studies? Don’t worry! He’ll lend you his knowledge on whatever subject is troubling you. Someone hurt your feelings? They’re in for a long lecture as well as a week without any magic. It’s an immediate off with their heads! Feeling bad about yourself? You are getting a lecture, albeit a soft one, but a lecture nonetheless. He will inform you of how wonderful you are and don’t you dare say otherwise!! You’re perfect.

“….What the fuck.”

— …Is the first thing he manages to utter out before he yanks you by the wrist and crushes you against his chest. He isn’t going anywhere, and that much is obvious by how tightly he’s holding you.

— The two of you stand there for a long time. The only thing keeping the room from being drowned in an awkward silence was the sound of your wails. Each time you let out that stupid, horrible sob it made Leona’s heart clench. He hated it. He fucking hated hearing those pathetic noises coming from you. Seeing you cry was unnerving. He wanted you to stop.

— He tries to pry the answer from you. If you refuse to explain why you’re so upset, it only frustrates him further but he’ll stop. Even if you do confide in him, it will result in him unceremoniously throwing you over his shoulder and hauling you off to bed to sleep the gloom away.

— If, and god forbid, IF someone was the reason for your sorrow, they are in deep trouble. He’s made it known to everyone that you are his significant other. And if someone managed to somehow find the guts to ignore that and still cause you distress, cause you to cry, then he’s going to beat some a lot of sense into them.

— If it’s a matter of feeling insecure, he’ll scoff and press his lips against your forehead and calls you stupid. He picked you as his lover. You. Not anyone else. You. If you can’t see why he did so, then you need a brain transplant because clearly the one you have is way too small.

— If it’s about studies, he’ll send Ruggie to help you. Homework? No, you don’t need to do that. Come snuggle with him instead. Ruggie can take care of it. Notes? Ruggie will do it. Just stay with him.

“Oh…! Oh dear.”

— His lips are pinched together in a frown. While he appears somewhat relaxed, he’s actually freaking out internally. It takes a moment before he carefully approaches you. Even then, he hesitates for a second before tugging you into a hug.

— Seeing you in tears reminds him of his childhood. And because of that, I think he would be great at comforting you. He would know exactly what to say, what to do, what tone to use, etc. Everything he longed to hear back then comes rushing out. He coos affirmations in your ears, praising you for how strong you are as he brushes away your tears with his fingers. — While every bone in his body is screaming at him to ask you what’s wrong, he holds it off. You need him right now. What you don’t need is to be ambushed by all of these questions swirling around in his head. He really, really does not want to push you or make you uncomfortable. He’s mentally judging every single word he speaks. There is no such thing as being too careful, after all! Your trust is oh so very precious to him.

— He doesn't judge you. He knows what it’s like to feel helpless. Even as snot dribbles down your nose, he does not bat an eye. (But he does use a tissue instead of his finger to swipe it away.)

— If your issue is that you feel insecure, his heart breaks even more. He never, ever wants you to think that you aren’t enough. He’ll start listing off every single last one of your qualities. Not just the best ones, but every single one. He adores all of them. He adores you. Every part of you. He wouldn’t have you any other way.

— Oh? Was someone the source of your misery? He’ll take care of it and no I’m not going to elaborate on this. You already know what’s going to happen.

— Too much work on your hands? Never fear! Azul is here. Just sign a contract and your generous boyfriend will take care of everything~! The only thing he asks in return is for you to take a day off to relax.

#cherishedhope writings #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader #twisted wonderland comfort #twst x reader

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wandering-pirate · 28 days ago

Text

Mouthwashing Characters Headcanon

Christmas Day with You

Captain Curly

You and him baking sugar cookies in matching aprons? Peak domestic fluff His apron said "Sugar Daddy," and yours? "Daddy’s Sugary Snacc"

Yeah, that was all his idea. He couldn’t stop showing them off, grinning ear to ear, parading them around Walmart like it was a fashion show.

Meanwhile, you were just trying to hunt down all the ingredients in peace, but nope, he had to follow you around, flaunting those aprons.

After a war of flours, you successfully conjured up a decent batch

You had to use actual physical restraint to stop him from adding Vegemite to the cookies. The audacity. And when he ate one, took a full spoonful of it, and moaned?? Yeah, a monster

He’s obsessed with ski or any snow sport video game and always teases you for being a noob. But it’s all in good fun—he’s learned his lesson after the Mario Kart Incident that shall never be mentioned again

"Sweetheart, you’re gonna twist your joint with that posture—"

"Hush! You just wanna win gold again. Stop tempting me, you tall, handsome, bulky-ass demon"

Naturally, your competitive streak kicked in and, somehow, you ended up twisting your ankle

He played the role of nurse, cold compress in hand, sneaking kisses to your ankle because “it speeds up healing” (and also because he’s a shameless flirt who’ll use any excuse to be touchy)

You both gave up on the active stuff and just settled in for a holiday romcom. Of course, you both passed out halfway through

Nurse Anya

You made sure the fireplace was stacked to the brim with firewood because Anya + cozy fire = Christmas must

Your tradition? Her reading a book with her legs propped up on your thighs while you either watch your favorite YouTube videos or game

She’d be all serious about the book, but every now and then, she’d peek over at your screen, giggling at your reactions, but pretending like she was still super into the book

"What did he even trip on? Hell no, he deserved more than just getting skinned alive"

“Y/N, sweetie, natural selection. The weak always get eliminated”

"Mmm, makes sense"

When the clock hit a certain hour, it was handwritten letter time. Instead of gifts, you both wrote love letters to each other. This started when she told you how she re-read your first love letter whenever she got stuck on months long of hauls as a crew nurse

"Yeah, sorry, Anya. No letter this year"

"What? Bu—"

"Because you’re not getting back on that claustrophobic flying submarine this time"

Knowing how much she wanted to enter med school, you gave her the ultimate gift: fully paid tuition for a six-month medicine review center. You’d worked all year for it, and seeing her reaction made every second of it worth it

It was the first time you saw her cry. Anya, who’s always calm and composed, was sobbing in your arms, and it just wrecked you with love. You hugged her tighter, not sure who was more emotional at that point

"Y/N, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me"

Intern Daisuke

He planned the perfect Christmas adventure, complete with bullet points, timestamps, and color-coded charts. You had to give him credit for actually being organized for once—he really took his Christmas plans seriously

But, of course, the Christmas spirit was clearly not on his side this time. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong:

Alarm didn’t go off

There was a traffic jam due to a fender bender

Your favorite thrift store? Closed for maintenance

Even the skating rink shut down after some bizarre oil spill caused a dogpile (like, how does that even happen?)

By the end of the day, you weren’t mad at all, just hungry. And somehow, Daisuke turned every misfortune into something you both would be giggling about

You both bought GIGANTIC mugs at Walmart that read, “The Grinch pales at my naughtiness.” They were immediately used to create the world’s sickest hot chocolate, piled with as equally large marshmallows and a diabetes-inducing amount of whipped cream.

Meanwhile, Daisuke was relentless in roasting the Grinch—he couldn’t stop hating on that movie.

“Who even hates Christmas? It’s the grand finale of the year! Absolute loser behavior.”

Mechanic Swansea

Christmas in the garage, for short, his sanctuary. The man thought of everything: fully insulated it, brought in a heater, all just to make sure you were warm and comfy while you both worked

Both of you had this wordless agreement to work on woodcrafts for Christmas. He taught you the basics of woodworking and you proved yourself to be a modern abstract Picasso. You improved throughout the years, tho. Your pieces? From abstract Picasso to expressionism Picasso

He loves carving because it gives him the perfect excuse to sit right behind you, guiding your hands with his. His big teddy bear frame is all around you, and something about that just hits him deeply. Like when he knows you’re safe and protected in his arms. And your eagerness to learn and follow his moves. He melts.

Naturally, you got a splinter, triggering his fierce Tsundere side

“What did I tell you about not rubbing fresh-cut wood? Keep this up, and I’ll just have you sit on my lap while I do your work for you.”

But underneath all that scolding, you could see his silent panic. He just hides behind transparent glass

"Stop smiling at me like that, you clumsy goof"

After crafting a spoon with a thirty-degree angled handle and an awkward head (he still called it perfect, of course), he whipped up his signature paella

Somehow, despite having eaten a thousand spoonfuls of it over the years, you still weren’t tired of it

Co-pilot Jimmy

Jimmy’s not really one for celebrating Christmas. Not bitter about it or anything, but he just treated it like any normal day. That all changed, though, when he realized that Christmas was your thing.

“Babe, why Christmas?”

“Honestly? I’m not really sure. But you know how, when we were kids, there’s that feeling of excitement, like when Christmas is coming and you can’t stop smiling? It just brings all that back, and suddenly, you feel like a kid again. So I guess, it’s just nostalgia, huh?”

He never really thought about it that way before. After all, his goal as a kid was always to grow up faster than everyone else.

So, you took it upon yourself to share all your favorite Christmas traditions with him, hoping to bring a little of that magic into his world:

Decorating your tree? He suggested replacing the star with an angel figurine... with your printed face glued on it. (Naturally, he followed through after you both went to bed, sneaking up to do it.)

Making a gingerbread house? He blocked the chimney, and when you asked why… well, he said it best:

“I don’t want some fat bastard breaking in, he’d eat the entire damn house”

By Christmas Eve, looking around his once-bare apartment, now filled with colors he didn’t even know existed, he couldn’t stop that tugging in his heart. He didn’t even realize how much of his childhood was missing until now.

You were patching up his unhealed wounds with your bandaids, and he didn’t even notice until it was too late. He's down bad

a/n: I know it's late T.T, but here's the crew having some holiday break... future angst coming up with curly and you (sorry)

also p.s. english ain't my first language, so i kinda felt like my whole headcanon writing abilities were crap... but these somehow are the top liked posts soooo... future HCs comin' down your way

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

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rockstar!eddie x shy!reader , christmas party shenanigans, shes so sweet she made cookies & sweets for everyone but she wasn’t asked to , run ins w celebs 🤭

hope u like it angel!! — a rockstar flirts with eddie munson’s girl minutes before corroded coffin plays a show (shy!reader, established relationship, fluff, 1.4k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Corroded Coffin’s got their own green room — backstage at one of the biggest music festivals of the year. There’s a team of people dressed in black waiting at their beck and call. Eddie’s pretty sure KISS is in the suite down the hall. As a boy from Middle of Nowhere, Indiana, he doesn’t feel very deserving of any of it.

He feels like he’s dreaming, really. The only thing keeping him from pinching himself is Dustin and Lucas’ roughhousing and Steve’s stupid belly laugh. Having all his childhood friends here is strangely humbling.

Eddie lazes on an expensive leather chair, totally unsure of what to do with himself when he’s not holding you. He’s trying to get comfortable in the foreign leather drab that stylists put him in when the door yawns open. It swings with such ferocity that the metal knob slams against the opposite wall with a low thud. It isn’t any surprise that the culprit is Robin Buckley.

She storms in first, followed more quietly by you some seconds later.

“Woah, woah, woah— what happened?” Eddie wonders aloud, already on edge with anxiety. Robin swooping in like a dark grey storm cloud doesn’t make it any better.

You shrug with a tin of Christmas cookies in your hand. Some are already missing because you wanted to pass them out to the workers. “It’s not like I don’t have enough to go around,” you’d said with a shy chuckle, nodding to the table lined with homemade pastries. You always bake when you’re nervous.

“We bumped into someone on the way back,” you explain in a gentle murmur, mindful of the emotional girl across the room. “I think she might’ve known him…”

“You didn’t recognize him?” Robin blurts from where she’s flopped on the leather couch. Her eyes go wide, the edges of them smudged with brown eyeliner. The look she gives you makes you cower.

“…No?”

“That was Roger Taylor,” she tells you. And then, when it still doesn’t hit you— “From Queen.”

Your doe eyes flood with a similar, more innocent look of shock. “That’s who that was?”

Robin groans and shoves her face into the fluffy throw pillow beneath her. She decides to talk to the only person in the room who could understand her and her wild emotions. Steve, sitting next to her with cookie crumbs all over his mouth, somehow manages to cipher her mumbled, emotional slurs.

“You don’t get it— it was like seeing an angel, Steve. He was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen— and I don’t even like men!”

“Yeah, so that’s definitely saying something,” the boy mumbles through a mouthful of pastry.

Eddie, still wide-eyed with amazement, turns to look up at you. You’re lingering at his side, a sweet thing dressed in pastel pink. He reaches over to smooth a hand over your pale tights. His ringed fingers are almost achingly warm when they curl around the back of your thigh. He tilts his chin to smile at you with all his teeth.

“I thought you loved Queen, babe,” he chuckles, squeezing gently at your leg.

“I do,” you insist, always shy in your way, as you shift your weight on your feet. Your sheepish gaze flits to the tray in your hand — to the hand-made snowmen, trees, and snowflakes. “I just didn’t know that’s what he looked like.”

“Was he pretty?” Eddie teases with a knowing squint in his chocolate eyes.

You shrug, burning with misplaced embarrassment. “I don’t know… I didn’t really look,” you mutter. His chest swells with something short of pride. “They just wanted to try my cookies—”

“That’s what she said,” Gareth quips. Followed by an audible slap when Jeff reaches over to smack him. “—Ow!”

“Was Freddie Mercury there?” Dustin wonders from across the room, smiling wide at the thought. His giggle is boyish and high-pitched. “That’d be insane.”

You shake your head in response. “No— but now that I think about it, that’s probably why they said they needed to take some extra for Fred. There was another guy there, though.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lilts to egg you on.

“Yeah. He kinda looked like a poodle—”

“Brian May!” the room choruses.

“Um…” you mumble under your breath. “Maybe?”

“One of the best guitarists of our time Brian May?” Robin wonders, a tad bit dramatic, and filled with life all over again. “Astrophysicist and super genius Brian May?”

Your smile is innocent and utterly sincere. “Oh, he’s an astrophysicist? That’s so cool!”

Robin groans again, and you flinch.

“…What?”

“Nothing,” Eddie answers for her, squeezing your leg to bring your attention back to him again. His rosy grin widens when your eyes meet his. “You’re just cute.”

Your face heats like it’s the first time he’s ever complimented you. Your warm cheek tilts to your shoulder as you smile quietly back at him. “Well, thank you,” you mutter shyly.

“Why can’t anything good happen to me?” Robin whines.

Steve doesn’t mean to laugh, but it tumbles out before he can stop it. “It did happen to you. You were there.”

“Well, it didn’t feel good at the time!”

The door creaks open again. Nancy and Jonathan walk in together, fashionably late. It wouldn’t be surprising if she stopped a couple of musicians for impromptu interviews and didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer — bound to be on the front page of Hawkins Post come Sunday morning.

Jonathan, however, looks a little bit dazed. “Is that— Is that Queen in the hallway?” he whispers to the group of you, like he’s scared the band might hear him.

“Yep,” Robin deadpans in response, popping the p.

“Ooh. Smells like a bakery in here,” Nancy lilts with a pretty pink smile.

You get all shy because it’s entirely your fault. “Yeah. Sorry. I kinda… went overboard with the cookies.”

“Don’t be sorry. I love when you bake us stuff,” she assures you, then bites the head off of a sugary snowman. She sighs at the heavenly taste and nods with it stuck in her cheek. “Don’t ever, ever be sorry.”

You giggle all pretty in response.

Jonathan reaches into the tray and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. “Woah. What’s this?”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry. I meant to throw that away—”

Nancy rips it from his hands. She straightens it out as best she can and squints when she finds writing on the back of it. She grins like she’s found some kind of hidden treasure.

“Wait, this is someone’s phone number,” she announces to the rest of them room. She reads it out loud for all of you, each of you on the edges of your metaphorical seats. “Thanks for the cookies, but I bet you taste sweeter. I’m free after the show. Call me. Roger.”

The room goes deadly silent.

Eddie is among the gaping mouths of shock, unsure if he should be jealous or amused.

“He wanted to try your cookies, alright,” Gareth chuckles under his breath. Jeff snorts out a laugh, then reaches over to slap him again. The curly-haired boy cowers. “Oh, come on! You thought it was funny, too!”

“Let me see that,” Eddie insists, rising on his feet to take the paper from Nancy’s painted fingertips.

His brown eyes flit back and forth as he reads it for himself. Once, then twice, then a few more times after that. He’s about to play a show for thousands of people, yet this is somehow harder for him to grasp.

“Roger Taylor wants to fuck my girlfriend,” he murmurs in amazement to himself.

For some reason, feeling the need to defend yourself, you rush to get the words out. “I didn’t know that’s what that was, Eds, I swear— I figured he thought I worked here, and he was just giving me his trash to throw away.”

Eddie turns to you, still silent. His chocolate eyes are slightly glazed over as he blinks at you — the sweetest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, so polite in her shyness and aloof with it, too.

Still in a state of subtle disbelief about all of this — the phone number, the looming performance, and the fact he ever landed you in the first place — he shakes his wild head with a dumbfounded smile.

“I love the shit outta you, you know that?” he says with a burst of low, boyish laughter. He doesn’t give you the opportunity to answer before wrapping you up in his leather-clad arms and pressing a smothering kiss to your mouth.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

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munsonsmixtapes · 6 days ago

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Who's Gonna Love You Like Me?

Eddie x fem!reader

cw: hurt/comfort

Eddie's upset about something and unbeknownst you, he doesn't want you to on your date tonight.

You stand in front of the mirror in your bathroom finishing up your makeup while Eddie sits on the counter next to you, pretending to read a book to hide his anger. You’re getting ready for a date. He doesn’t know who you’re going out with (and he doesn’t care) but what he does know is that he’s pissed that it’s not him. And he’s doing a terrible job of hiding it. You have no idea how he feels about you as far as he’s concerned, you never will.

The two of you have been best friends for as long as you can remember and he doesn’t want to ruin it. And he wants you to be happy so he’s going to force him to let you go out with this guy that he knows nothing about because he’s a good friend. Even though he wants nothing more than to tell you to ditch the guy and convince you to stay here with him so he can finally admit his feelings for you before kissing you absolutely stupid. But he doesn’t.

This is the longest the two of you have been quiet since you’ve become friends. You always seem to find something to chat about, but not tonight. It’s weird, the air thick with awkwardness and you hate it. You love when Eddie talks your ear off about a random subject you know nothing about. He’s in a bad mood and you know it. You just can’t figure out why.

“What’s got you in a crabby mood?” You asks as you turn to face him, blotting your bright red lipstick that he always loves seeing on you. “And I thought you were working tonight.”

“Nope, tomorrow,” he says, not even bothering to look up as he flips to the next page. You’re sure he’s mad at you since he’s giving you the cold shoulder but you have no idea what you could have done to upset him. The whole thing is making you panic slightly but you’re hiding it well.

“You didn’t answer my first question.” You’re now working on your eyeliner that Eddie’s always mesmerized by and he’s doing what he can to avoid answering you. He can’t tell you the truth. He just can’t.

“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head as he changes his position, crossing his legs before going back to his book. He’s honestly thinking about leaving all together, but he can’t. You asked him to be here and he doesn’t want to disappoint you.

“It’s not nothing. You’ve been acting like this since I told you that I was going out with Todd.” Fucking Todd. “Is this because I’m leaving you to hang out with someone else? C’mon, Ed, no one would ever replace you. You’re my best friend.” He appreciates your words and doesn’t think he deserves your niceness because of how big of a dick he’s been about the whole situation.

“No I haven’t.” He sets the book next to him and finally looks you in the eye, though it’s through the mirror. You set down your eyeliner pencil and fully turn to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, your eyebrows furrowing as you stare at him.

“Fine, but if you’re going to behave like this then you’re going to have to wait in my room.” You jerk your thumb behind you, pointing to your bedroom.

Eddie hops off the counter and mutters under his breath as he heads into your room, throwing himself onto your bed like a child who just got told they couldn’t have a cookie before dinner. He’s acting so immature and it’s so unlike him. You want to get down to the bottom of the whole situation, but you can’t talk to him when he’s acting like this.

Once you’ve finished your makeup, you head to your dresser where you have your necklace and earring sitting. You put your earrings in with ease, followed by your necklace that you hold against your neck. Eddie wordlessly appears behind you and does the clasp, his cold fingers feeling so good against your skin.

He takes his time with the task, giving you plenty of time to change your mind, to tell him that you’re going. But you don’t. So he just stands behind you, staring at your reflection in the mirror that’s attached to your dresser. He’s wearing an expression that you can’t quite make out. It’s one that you’ve only seen a few times and it almost seems like he’s upset.

“You’re mad at me,” you tell him as you turn to face him. His lips part like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He then licks them before taking a deep breath.

“No I’m not.” He’s not mad at you. He’s actually mad at himself. If he had told you how he felt as soon as he started having feelings for him, maybe the two of you would be together and you wouldn’t be going out with fucking Todd.

“Then what are you mad at, Eddie? I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” You cross your arms across your chest as if to say “that’s final” and Eddie just sighs again. Now he just wants you to leave so he doesn’t have to actually tell you what’s wrong.

“You’re going to be late.” He’s not totally selfish and would feel bad knowing that he was the one holding you up. You’re already pushing it enough as it is.

“I don’t care. You’re my best friend and your feelings are more important than some guy. So tell me what’s wrong. Please.” You look like you’re about to cry and now Eddie’s sure that he’s taken it too far. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sometimes he forgets that you know him better than he knows himself. That you’re always able to see through his invisible cloak that he’s always got in. You notice him no matter what and that’s the thing he loves most about you. You see him and isn’t that all he’s ever wanted?

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” He turns his head away from you and you think it’s time to throw in the towel. You don’t have time for his childishness anymore.

“Fine. Then I guess I will go.” You push past him and move to grab your jacket and purse from your bed. You’re walking out the door and he knows he fucked up. Now’s as good a chance as any so he has to take it.

He chases after you, hot on your heels as you hurry down the stairs. You get to the door but he catches up to you and grabs your arm. He expects you to fight him, but you don’t. You just look at him, confused. He lets his impulsive thoughts get to him and before he can stop himself, he’s pulling your body to his, pressing his lips yours.

At first you gasp into his mouth, but you’re quick to melt into him, your lips moving against his. Your purse and jacket drop from your hands and you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s everything he ever imagined and more and he can’t believe you’re actually kissing him back.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips and you smile in response. That’s all you’ve ever wanted to hear.

“I love you too,” you reply and your next kiss is nothing but teeth clinking together because neither of you can keep your smiles off your faces. “I was really hoping you’d stop me because I really didn’t want to go out with him.”

“Then why did you agree?”

“Because I wanted to get over you, but now I guess I don’t have to.” Eddie lets out a laugh then captures your lips with his again before letting you go call Todd and call off your date because Eddie’s got different plans for the two of you that include the two of you in no clothing at all.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 1 month ago

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Unwrap Me For Christmas

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa fic for 2024. This one is for you @atenea585 ! It took some time and ended up longer than I expected but I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Smut

Main Masterlist

You lie in bed with your head on your boyfriend’s firm chest as it rises and falls. Generally, it would lull you back to sleep, but you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the current holiday season. You know the life of a hunter doesn’t exactly lend itself to having quiet days decorating a tree, baking cookies or sitting around drinking eggnog, but you can’t help but want that. You absent-mindedly run your fingers up and down the bare chest beneath you as you imagine doing all of those Christmassy things with the said man underneath you. Suddenly, you feel a warm hand cupping yours to stop your movements.

His deep chuckle reverberates through his chest. “That tickles”. You smile and peck his chest as you roll over more to look up at his beautiful face. His eyes are still closed, hiding his mesmerising emerald eyes. He looks so peaceful.

“Dean…Can we-I want to-Nevermind.” At your stuttering, he opens his eyes and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart? You didn’t take any of that lunatic's spells did ya?”

“I still can’t believe you were a dog and you checked out that poodle right in front of me! But no. I just…I know what you’re gonna say.”

“I could surprise you?”

“No, I know you too well.”

He flips you over so you’re caged between his muscular arms. “You won’t talk? Fine.” He presses soft kisses over your face and neck as his fingers trail down your sides digging in softly. You squirm in his grasp but he doesn’t stop. You rarely get to see this lighthearted and fun side of the hunter, so you revel in it whenever you do. He looks younger like this, not rugged and aged beyond his years like he does whenever he has a blade or gun in his hands. He looks like the mid-30s man he is. Eventually, he stops his fingers and lifts your chin so you meet his eyes. “Ready to talk yet?” You shake your head with a smile. “I torture monsters you know? I can do this all day.”

“Alright, Cap. Prove it!” you say defiantly. He reaches for the bedside drawer and pulls out a tie dangling it above your face. He carefully ties it around your wrists and the headboard as he straddles you. You know then that you’re in for a long morning, but you’re not complaining.

“Sure you don’t wanna talk?” When you stay silent, he kisses your lips softly before working his way down your body. His calloused fingers run under his oversized shirt you’re dressed in and across your bare stomach leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He pushes the shirt up until it’s covering just your eyes.

As you lay on his chest taking in the bliss you finally decide to talk. “I wanna celebrate Christmas…”

“Every day is Christmas since I got you.”

“So, sappy. And then what? Every other day is Halloween?”

He kisses your head. “Yep.”

“I’m serious though. I want it. A Christmas tree, gifts, mistletoe, the whole nine yards. I know we’ll never have the house with a white picket fence and two-point-five kids, but is Christmas too much to ask.”

“No…”

“See, I knew-”

“No, it’s not too much to ask. Let’s do it.”

You roll over to meet his eyes which are shining back at you. “Really?”

“Anything for my girl. The monsters’ll still be there after. We deserve a break. Plus, it’s still a couple weeks away. Now, come on. I need coffee.”

“But I-” He lifts his eyebrow at you.

“Don’t tempt me.”

Much to your disappointment, when you and Dean finally make it to the kitchen for what is now brunch, Sam slides his laptop across to you to read a strange news report. You sigh and roll your eyes but allow him to tell you both more as you eat and let the caffeine fuel your system. You all agree that it’s worth checking out.

As you’re packing your duffle you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your stomach. “It’ll be a cakewalk, then we’ll be back home for Christmas. I promise.”

“It’s never a cakewalk, Dean.”

“That article had vengeful spirit all over it. We get in burn the bones and then get the hell outta Dodge.”

“You’d better be right.”

“I’m always right.”

You toss a few changes of clothes in your bag with a sigh. Under your breath you huff, “You’re never right.”

“I heard that!” He shoulders his bag and reaches for your hand. “Let’s go, grumpy. The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back and have Christmas.”

The next night you, Dean and Sam are standing over a grave as you watch the bones go up in flames. “I shoulda bought chestnuts, could’a give you your first Christmas tradition,” Dean says with a wink.

“I don’t want chestnuts cooked over a dead body, Dean.”

“It’s just bones.” You roll your eyes and walk back to the car, leaving the brothers to cover the grave back over. You sit in the backseat with your legs dangling out of the open door. As you wait for them to come back you pull out your phone and start searching for gift ideas. If tonight’s tactics worked, Dean may be able to keep his promise, and you want to be ready for that scenario. After scrolling through multiple websites you’re still unsure what to get him, or his brother for that matter. Sam had accepted you as a sister long ago and so you want to show your appreciation for that as well. You know the most useful option would be more ammo or a new weapon or food, but just this once you want a proper Christmas without reminders of hunting.

When the brothers finally settle back in the car so you can all go back to the motel for much-needed showers and sleep you just decide to ask, “What do you guys want for Christmas?”

Dean meets your eyes in the rearview mirror and winks. “Just you, Sweetheart.”

“Gross!” Sam whines. “To erase that from my memory.”

“I’m serious! I want a real Christmas and I want to get you both things you’ll like.”

The car falls quiet and you lean back on the cool leather as Metallica fills the space instead. You sigh and look out the window into the darkness. When Dean finally parks in front of your room at the motel you jump out, but he grips your wrist before you can get far and pulls you to his chest. With his lips ghosting above your ear he quietly says, “How about a pie? Homemade. Or a new knife? Or…” He tilts his chin lower so his lips are brushing against the tip of your ear. Goosebumps rush down your neck as his hot breath tickles your sensitive skin. “Or you wrapped up in nothing but a bow.” Your breath hitches and your whole body heats up. Before you can even register, he’s gone, walking into the room you both have to share with Sam due to it being the last one available. You quickly compose yourself and follow.

As you lay snuggled up in Dean’s arms listening to his even breaths his words echo through your head sending goosebumps over your whole body. You know you need something else that he can unwrap in front of Sam, but you actually like the thought of him unwrapping you. With the semblance of an idea spawning, you settle into the warm arms around you and close your eyes.

Despite being the last to fall asleep, you’re the first to wake up. You carefully untangle yourself from Dean’s arms and sneak into the bathroom to freshen up. Once you’re done, you scribble down a quick note to say you’ve gone out to get breakfast and coffee and leave it on the table. You use the opportunity while waiting for your order to continue researching gift ideas, this time of the more scandalous variety. As you’re scrolling, a convoy of police cars and an ambulance speed past the cafe towards the house you’d come to investigate. Deflated, you call Dean to wake him up. After a few rings, he mumbles out a “hello”.

“Our little salt and burn last night didn’t work. Tell Sam to get back on the research. I’m on my way back with coffee and breakfast now.” Without waiting for a response you hang up, grab your order from the bench that you barely noticed was ready and hurry back to the Impala.

Back at the motel, you dump the food on the table and explain what you saw. Dean sits there rubbing at his eyes as he tries to wake up and take in your words.

Four days later you’re finally back in the bunker after finding and burning the cursed heirloom ring from the recently deceased grandmother and freeing her restless spirit to move on. During the pursuit you’d had barely a minute to do any further research or shopping and you’re irrationally annoyed with Dean. You know it’s not his fault the hunt turned out the way it did, but you knew it would—it always does—and he promised. Now your idea of a peaceful Christmas is quickly slipping away. You huff as you shoulder past him to go to your room, put your stuff away and collapse in bed. When he catches up with you in your shared room he pulls you close.

“I’m sorry. You were right…you’re always right.”

“Whatever. I just wanna get in a few hours before Sam lines up the next one.”

“No more hunts till after Christmas.”

“Tell that to your oversized baby brother!”

“I have, he promised.” He kisses the top of your head. “Tell you what, you go have a warm bath and relax and then we can watch whatever sappy Christmas movie you want.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now go, I don’t want to see you for at least an hour.” You peck his lips and then pull away. As you go to the door he adds, “And check under the sink, that’s where Sam keeps his special hair stuff. Just don’t tell him I told you.”

“Thanks, Dean. I love you.”

“Love you too, Sweetheart. Now get outta my sight before I change my mind.”

In the bathroom, you quickly strip out of your sweaty clothes from travelling and start to fill the tub. You pour in some floral-scented bubble bath and slip into the shower to quickly shave your legs and wash your hair while you wait for the tub to fill. You get out of the shower just in time before the tub gets too overfilled. You shut off the water, massage in a small dollop of Sam’s secret conditioner, pin up your hair and then slip into the warm bubbly water. You sink down until the water is lapping your collarbone and let out a contented sigh. As you lay there letting the hot water soak into your skin and relax you, you continue considering what to get the brothers. So far all you can think of is a new book set for Sam and some new vinyls or cassettes for Dean, plus the special gift for his eyes only. You know they’d both be more than content with those options so you make a mental note to order them and then let your mind wander back to other Christmas activities, such as what movie you’re going to subject Dean to after the water cools.

By the time your skin is well and truly pruned, the water is starting to feel cooler, so you drag yourself out of the tub and wrap yourself in a towel. You let the water out and then brace yourself for the cool air in the rest of the bunker. As you wander down the cold hall to your room, your body instantly feels cooler. You miss the warmth of the bathwater already, but you force yourself to go on. In your room, one of Dean’s hoodies, a pair of thick tracksuit pants and a pair of fluffy socks are spread out on the bed with a note:

Hope you enjoyed your bath, Sweetheart. Put these on and meet me in the Dean-cave.

You smile as you quickly drop the towel and slip into the prepared outfit. You pad down to the Dean-cave and your jaw drops. A fibre-optic tree stands in the corner of the room lighting the whole space in vibrant colours. A fireplace crackles on the TV in the centre of the wall adding a warm glow and an overwhelming aroma of pizza and gingerbread wafts past you. Then you finally settle on the man standing in the middle of the room with his arms outstretched. His comforting smile warms your soul and sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. You never thought a hunter could feel this way or make memories like this, but you’re so grateful that you can. You know in this moment that Dean will be your forever and it only strengthens your resolve to throw the best Christmas either of you have ever experienced. You run over to him and jump into his embrace, his strong arms catch you and hold you tight.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart,” he whispers next to your ear.”

“Thank you. Merry Christmas, Baby.”

Unsurprisingly, Dean falls asleep midway through the movie. You take the opportunity to pull out your phone and order their gifts. Looking at the confirmation emails, you feel more content and positive about the chances of having a real Christmas this year. You carefully move the empty popcorn bowl to the coffee table and snuggle into your boyfriend’s weak embrace to enjoy the remainder of the sappy Christmas flick.

The next week passes quickly and it’s Christmas Eve before you know it. Over the last few days, you decorated more trees to put in the library and kitchen and baked Christmas cookies. Finally, the bunker looked, smelled and felt Christmassy, at least in the most used rooms. Your gifts had arrived and you managed to sneak away to wrap them, now all that’s left is to put them under the tree, celebrate Christmas day and then orchestrate Dean’s special present.

While Dean’s working hard in the kitchen cleaning up from his Christmas cooking, I sneak out and put the presents for them under the tree in the library where they’re most likely to see them. I then quickly sneak back to our room and snuggle up in bed while I wait for Dean to join me. The anticipation sparkles through my body making it hard to relax. I scroll through my phone to distract myself by it’s no use, every photo is of people out celebrating Christmas.

When Dean finally comes and joins me, I snuggle into his embrace and try to relax. He checks his watch and then kisses my head, “Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas my love.”

When you wake up, the bed is already empty. You’re a little disappointed at first but then you figure that Dean must be up doing something special, so you forgive him and jump out of bed to search for him. Predictably, you find him in the kitchen in front of the industrial stove. You approach quietly and wrap your arms around his chest. “Good morning, Handsome.”

“Good morning, Beautiful. Your special Christmas breakfast will be ready soon.”

You glance around him at the frying pan. It’s full of bacon and a plate of fried eggs sits to the side. “We have bacon and eggs all the time.”

“So? It’s still special.”

“I guess. I’ll be right back.” You kiss the back of his shoulder blade and then pull away. You go to the bathroom to freshen up for the morning, brush your teeth and then get changed into the dress you ordered when you ordered their gifts. It’s a bright red A-line dress with long sleeves, the hem falls around your knees and it flows around you as you move. You rarely dress up like this. The most you generally get to do is a button-down and pencil skirt when you’re pretending to be FBI or short slutty numbers when you’re playing bait in bars. This dress is cute and conservative but makes you feel so pretty. You sway a few more times in front of the mirror admiring your different look before finally emerging from your room and going back to join Dean in the kitchen. When you walk in, he’s set the table with plates, and cutlery and poured you both a mug of coffee. As a treat, he even added a dash of milk and sugar to yours. You can drink it black and often do due to not always having access to the luxury of milk and sugar, but he knows you prefer it on the sweeter side. You smile and he checks you out. He’s speechless. He nudges you towards your seat at the table.

“Sit down before I change my mind about all this and take you back to bed for breakfast instead.”

You smirk as you twirl in front of him. “You like?”

“You kidding? You’re stunning. Sometimes I forget you’re a woman and can look this beautiful.” You give him a disgruntled look and he tries to backpedal. “You know what I mean! I know you’re a woman, it’s just you never dress up like this. You’re always dressing and acting like one of the guys with me and Sam. You fit so well that sometimes it just feels like you’re one of us instead of my incredibly sexy girlfriend.” You giggle a little at his clear embarrassment and he shakes his head with a mock glare. “Sit down and eat your breakfast, it’s going cold.”

“You gonna make me?”

“Don’t tempt me I just m-” Sam comes into the room cutting off Dean as he’s about to reach for your waist and turn this day around. Not wanting him to expose his present yet, and especially not in front of Sam, you quickly sit down and sip your sweet coffee.

After a large gulp of caffeine, you finally say, “Good morning, Sam. Merry Christmas.”

“Morning, Y/N. Merry Christmas.”

“I know Dean wouldn’t have cooked it, but that meat-free bacon you like is in the fridge. I wanted-”

“You what? You know there’s no meat-free shit in the Meat-Man’s kitchen!” Dean proclaims loudly.

“One, it’s not just your kitchen, Babe. And two, that does not mean what you think it does,” you say with a pointed look before smiling back at Sam, “help yourself. Consider it your first Christmas gift.”

“Than-”

“First? Why does he get more than one?” Dean complains.

“Who said you don’t? Stop whining and eat your breakfast.”

“Or what?”

“Stop it or I’m going back to bed!” Sam says. “I’m not listening to your bedroom talk at breakfast.”

“Yeah, Y/N, stop it.” Dean teases.

“You’re so childish,” you say with a smile before diving into your breakfast.

Once you all finish eating, you help clean up and then move to the Dean Cave. Dean flops down on the two-seater and stretches his arms along the back so you can slot in beside him. You turn on the lights on the tree and then sit down beside him as Sam sits on the single recliner beside you. Dean flicks on the TV to fill the space and finds a Christmas movie playing. After a few minutes, you all realise how sappy and predictable it is, so you get up to go get your gifts from the tree in the library. You hand them to the brothers and then sit down to watch them unwrap them. Sam goes first, carefully peeling apart the paper to reveal the new fantasy book set. He flips it over to read the blurb and then thanks you, saying he can’t wait to read it. You then turn to Dean. He fiddles with the packages trying to guess what it is and you grimace, worried he’s going to break it. Then he finally rips the paper off and inspects the albums.

“These will be great to play in our new machine. Thanks, Sweetheart.” He carefully places them to the side and slaps his thighs as he gets up. “My turn I guess.” He collects two messily wrapped gifts from under the tree. He tosses one to Sam and hands the other to you gently. “Sam first,” he winks at you as he sits back down. Sam tears off the newspaper wrapping and smiles knowingly at the bottle of beer and skin mags. Then they both look at you expectantly. You take the hint and open yours. It’s small and feels solid as you turn it in your hands. You hold your breath as you peel away the paper to reveal a small velvet jewellery box. You shake your head as you look over at your boyfriend. He just nods. You close your eyes as you flick the box open.

Dean rests his hand on your bare knee urging you to look. When you finally open your eyes you see it’s a small pendant of a strange symbol hung on a thin black rope that matches his. You finally allow yourself to breathe as he takes it out of the box and ties it on your neck. With his lips near your ear, he asks, “You expected a ring?”

“Maybe…But I was more scared that it was. I love you Dean, but-”

“I know. It’s an angelic protection symbol, just FYI. Cas showed me and I made it.”

“I love it.”

Sam then gets up and retrieves two paper bags from his room. He hands one each to you and Dean. You both carefully reach into the bags at the same time pulling out a bottle of booze. Yours is a sweet strawberry and cream liquor that he caught you ordering at a bar a while ago. It was highly over priced to buy by the glass but you know it’s not something any of you would buy at a liquor store as you always get drinks you can all share or that are on the sale rack. Dean then inspects his bottle of top-shelf scotch whiskey. You know it’ll be gone in no time, but he’ll enjoy it. You both thank Sam for the thoughtful gifts and relax back into your seats.

You all spend the rest of the day relaxing in the Dean Cave watching Christmas movies until it’s time for dinner. Around 5pm Dean stands up and disappears into the kitchen to start preparing some festive food. He carves ham off the bone, heats some turkey pieces, mashes potatoes and roasts a range of seasonal veggies after covering them in salt and oil of course to make them edible in his eyes. You spend the time while he’s distracted getting your room ready for his after-dinner surprise. You make the bed nicely and lay the thin lacy dressing gown you bought with the lingerie on the end of the bed for quick change. Finally, you hang one of his ties on the door knob so you can blindfold him when the time is right.

The table is set beautifully when you finally join the brothers in the kitchen. Sam has a glass of eggnog in front of him. He pours one each for you and Dean with a small smirk and you instantly know it’s going to be strong. You take a small sip and wince. You place it down, you want to be sober-ish tonight for a seamless execution. Dean places the last of the food on the table and sits opposite you. You all start dishing up your food and try to have a lighthearted conversation that doesn’t revolve around hunting; it’s harder than you thought. As you eat, you take small sips of the eggnog. Dean smiles at you whenever you look up. As much as he’d never admit it, you know he’s enjoying celebrating Christmas as much as you are. He’s never had much chance to have anything nice or indulge in normal celebrations. Since you’ve been in his life you’ve tried to do what you can, but being a hunter makes it difficult. The most you generally manage is to buy or make him a pie and then either start or end the day with mind-blowing sex or a blow job, but if you’re hunting he rarely even gets that. That’s why you’re so determined to make today special.

Dessert comes soon after dinner is put away and cleaned up, which you’re thankful for. The nearer the end of the night gets, the more eager you get for Dean’s gift. You barely want to eat as you don’t want to go into a food coma; you want to be agile enough for the night’s activities but you know if you don’t eat it will be suspicious, so you force yourself to eat a small piece of pie slowly. Across from you, Dean scoffs his pie like it’s his last meal on Earth. You can’t help but smile. But then a blush creeps up your neck and cheeks as you imagine him eating you as passionately as he is the pie. You know he would, and likely will later tonight. You force yourself to push away the thought before they notice.

Half an hour later it’s finally acceptable to sneak away. Sam excuses himself to his room to start reading the books you gave him and you use the opportunity to sneak out of the kitchen yourself. You lean against your bedroom door as you wait patiently–or impatiently rather–for Dean to come find you. You fiddle with his tie as you wait. After what feels like an eternity, but is really only a few minutes, you hear Dean coming down the hall. You instantly straighten yourself up and put on a confident front. The second your eyes meet he smirks knowing something is up, or maybe he has plans of his own, you’re not entirely sure, but you know there’ll be time for both if he does. He picks up his pace to jog to you, but as he gets within reach you put your hands out in front of you, the tie dangling off the fingers of your right hand.

“You gonna tie me up?” he asks lowly, eyeing off the piece of material.

“Maybe…but first, lean down, you’re too tall.” He happily obliges but he kisses you briefly as he does. You take the opportunity to quickly wrap the tie over his eyes and in a bow at the back of his head. He doesn’t complain, he just uses his other, now heightened senses to continue to kiss you and hold you close. As he does, you reach behind you to turn the doorknob and slowly walk backwards into the room. Once the door is shut you step back quickly out of his reach and slip your red dress over your head, quickly replacing it with the lacey dressing gown. You tie a careful bow as Dean tries to seek you out. You stay just out of his reach as you sneak around behind him and lay carefully in the middle of the bed trying your best to pose seductively.

“Alright, come get your gift, Handsome.”

A low growl comes from his throat as he takes small careful steps towards your voice. When he’s facing you and almost against the end of the bed you tell him to take off the blindfold. He reaches behind his head quickly ripping the fabric off his head. His hair spikes up in all directions and you almost laugh, but you stay composed as his eyes run over you. “You gonna unwrap your present?”

“Fuck yeah. Just gimme a second to admire you first. So sexy.”

You stretch your legs out, reaching for him with your toes, but he quickly captures your foot and runs his calloused hand down your calf to your knee. He keeps a grip on your knee, holding you close as he crawls onto the bed. He runs his other hand down your other leg before lightly pulling them both around his waist. You cross your ankles behind his back pulling him closer. He falls to his hands, hovering over you as he continues to take in the moment. He kisses you softly before sitting back on his knees. He softly runs his fingers over the soft material before paying close attention to the bow. Savouring the moment, he unties it slowly before pushing the material away to expose the sexy red lingerie that leaves little to the imagination.

He growls lowly again as he asks, “Were you wearing this all day?” You nod and he throws his head back groaning. “I knew I should’a brought you back in here earlier.” He looks down at the thin lace covering your sex and bites his lip. “Looks like the wait was definitely worth it though. You’re so ready for me already.”

You nod. “So, why’d you stop unwrapping?” That’s all he needs to pull you up to him and strip the grown from your shoulders. He kisses you deeply as his hands explore the lace and your body. You can tell he’s searching for how to remove the barrier from your body, but it’s admittedly complicated, so you just bring his hand down to where you need him and push the fabric to the side. He obediently slides two fingers into your heat with a groan and hooks them forward. You throw your head back and his lips slide down your neck, kissing every sensitive point like he has them mapped out in his head (to be honest, he probably does).

Near your ear, he whispers, “This is the best Christmas ever. Thank you, Baby.” You gasp at his words. He rarely calls you that, that particular pet name is saved for his precious car, but whenever he does it’s during passionate moments like this and you know then that he considers you one of the most important aspects of his life. Deep down you know he’d let the Impala fall off a cliff if it meant saving you or Sam, but it’s still extremely important to him; she’s his last tangible link to his parents and you’d never begrudge him of that. Your thoughts are dragged back to the present when he pulls away. You open your eyes to glare at him when you notice he’s shedding his shirts and jeans. You use that moment to undo the hidden clasps that keep the lace in place. He shakes his head at you, knowing he never would’ve found them on his own. He reaches out his hands to pull you up to him so he can help you the rest of the way out of what looks like a very sexy trap. The second you’re both naked he gently guides you back onto the bed and crawls over you. He kisses you softly as he slides inside your wet heat with a moan. You bite down on his lower lip as he pushes all the way in, filling you perfectly. He gives you both a minute to adjust and get used to the bliss before pulling back slightly and thrusting back in with more force. You dig your fingers into his short hair as he continues to increase his pace and pressure. As he bites his lip and his little sounds intensify you can tell he’s trying to hold back and drag out the moment. You slide your hand up his left arm and lock your fingers with his before guiding his hand to your clit. He rubs small circles at just the pressure he knows gets you off as he slows his hip movements slightly, dragging out each forceful thrust. You throw your head back with a loud moan as you feel yourself let go around him. He gives you two final thrusts before finally letting himself go. He pulls his left hand back off you to hold himself up as his lower body convulses with yours. After a few seconds, he falls to the side beside you trying to catch his breath. You lay there just revelling in the pleasure too until he reaches out and pulls you to his chest. He kisses your head and says, “Merry Christmas, Baby. Best gift ever.”

“Merry Christmas my love. I completely agree.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

#dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader

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valkyrieromanoff · 30 days ago

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WRAP ME UP: Dilf! Anakin x f!reader

synopsis: caught up in the Christmas rush, you took charge of buying all the presents to give your boyfriend a well-deserved break. But as the day winds down, you realize you’ve forgotten the most important gift—his. Determined not to let him down, you scramble to come up with a surprise that’s sure to make this Christmas unforgettable.

warning: MDNI, 18+, unprotected sex, pussy eating, dirty talk, implied age difference.

words: 4.1k

a/n: Hello there, hope you’re all having the best Christmas ever! 🥰💖 I whipped up this lil oneshot as a gift just for you, filled with all my love and holiday vibes 🎁✨ Sending hugs, kisses, and festive cheer your way~ mwah! 💕🎄

So why don't we just wrap me up? A little bow and ribbon, best thing you've been given Baby, come and wrap me up I'll be under your tree, hurry up and find me

Christmas always seemed to come with a whirlwind of chaos—the kind that swept through the house like a winter storm. There were decorations to hang, meals to prep, and endless checklists to tick off. Putting the kids to bed at just the right time so you could sneak the already-wrapped presents under the tree was practically an Olympic sport. Not to mention the milk and cookies the little ones had spent the day making; someone had to nibble on those and leave a convincing crumb trail.

Whew. Just listing it all was exhausting.

This year felt even more complicated, though. Add a divorce to the equation, and you had the perfect recipe for a holiday headache. Coordinating a peaceful gathering between your boyfriend’s ex-wife’s family and your own was no small feat. For Anakin, this was the first Christmas since his split from Padmé that would take place at his

He wanted everything to be perfect. Not for himself, but for his 10-year-old twins, Leia and Luke. He had insisted on getting a live pine tree—a massive, fragrant beauty that now stood proudly in the living room. He’d spent hours stringing lights and hanging ornaments, meticulously ensuring no branch was left bare. But let’s be honest, the finer, more delicate touches weren’t exactly Anakin’s forte. That’s where you came in, adding cute little details like hand-painted pinecones and glittery snowflakes.

Despite all his efforts, there was still so much to do. Anakin even took it upon himself to clean out the attic so Padmé and her new partner would have a place to stay—a task you eventually had to step in and stop. Watching your older boyfriend juggling it all—exhausted and overwhelmed—was enough to make your heart ache.

“Babe,” you’d said, placing a hand on his arm as he tried to untangle yet another strand of lights. “Why don’t you let me take care of the gifts? You’ve got enough on your plate.”

Anakin had protested at first, brushing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “I don’t want you running around and tiring yourself out,” he’d said, his furrowed brow softening slightly at your concern.

But you’d been ready for that. “We already made a list,” you’d assured him with a grin. “Half the stuff is online—I can knock it out without even leaving the couch.”

That had earned a laugh, the kind that made his shoulders relax and his blue eyes light up, even just for a moment. “Sometimes I forget that,” he’d teased, shaking his head.

“You forget a lot of things, old man,” you’d shot back, your tone playful as you nudged him gently.

And so, the task had fallen to you. You’d tackled it with determination, checking off each name on the list like Santa himself. Leia’s little scientist kit, the one she hadn’t stopped talking about after a trip to the mall. Luke’s robotics kit, perfect for building his dream spaceship. For Padmé, you’d chosen an elegant set of rose-scented moisturizers, oils, and bath salts—practical but thoughtful. Even her date wasn’t forgotten; you’d picked out a bottle of wine that struck the perfect balance between classy and casual.

Each gift was wrapped meticulously in festive paper—greens, reds, stripes, and prints of reindeer prancing through snowy fields. Big, shiny bows crowned them all, turning the pile beneath the tree into a picture-perfect scene.

But as you stood back, surveying the neatly wrapped packages, a realization hit you like a snowball to the face. You’d forgotten the most important gift of all. The one for him.

Your heart sank, and the cheerful glow of the tree suddenly felt a little dimmer. How could you have missed it? After everything Anakin had done to make this Christmas special, after the hours he’d poured into creating a magical holiday for everyone, you’d forgotten him.

You spent most of dinner lost in thought, your mind racing to come up with a way to fix your mistake. Buying something online was out of the question—it wouldn’t arrive in time. The stores had surely closed by now, and even if they were miraculously open, you doubted you’d find anything meaningful enough to give him. You could still picture the chaos that had unfolded in stores that morning, people scrambling to grab last-minute gifts. No, it had to be something special, something that mattered.

“Hey, you outdid yourself, baby.”

Anakin’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as his arms wrapped around you from behind. His touch was warm, steady, and so familiar that it sent a wave of comfort through you despite your swirling anxiety.

You sighed, startled by his sudden presence. You hadn’t even heard him approach. “I could barely get Leia to sleep,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck. “She wouldn’t stop talking about the scientist kit Santa brought her. And Luke?” He chuckled softly, the sound deep and content. “He’s passed out upstairs, hugging his present like it’s a long-lost friend.”

His satisfaction was evident, a proud smile curling his lips as he nuzzled into your neck. The light tickle of his growing stubble sent a shiver down your spine.

“That’s… that’s great,” you murmured, trying to match his warmth, but the weight of your forgotten gift tugged at you like an anchor.

“Baby?” Anakin’s voice softened, his concern breaking through the comfortable silence. He turned you in his arms, his large hands settling on your waist as he studied your face. His blue eyes, stormy yet full of affection, locked onto yours. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet all evening.”

You hesitated for a moment, the words catching in your throat. Finally, you whispered, “I didn’t get you a present.” You bit your lower lip, the admission laced with guilt and shyness. “I—I forgot.”

Anakin’s reaction wasn’t what you expected. His smile widened, his features softening as he tilted his head. The corners of his eyes crinkled in that way that always made your heart flutter. “Baby,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth, “you’re my present.”

His words caught you off guard, the simplicity of them sending a rush of warmth through you. You stared at him for a moment, your chest tightening with love—and then, suddenly, inspiration struck.

“Oh,” you breathed, a smile spreading across your face as an idea took root. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be right back—I need to take care of something.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, bemused but curious as he watched your sudden burst of energy. “What are you up to now?”

“You’ll see,” you said with a mischievous grin, your excitement bubbling over as you slipped out of his grasp and hurried toward the stairs. You moved quickly, your steps light yet deliberate as you tried not to wake the children. Whatever guilt you’d been feeling was now replaced by an eagerness to give Anakin a gift he’d never forget.

A few minutes later, with a few fewer clothes, you were ready. Calling out to him softly, you hoped he would like your surprise gift. The door opened, and Anakin's mouth dropped open in awe as he took in the sight before him. You were draped in red lace lingerie that caressed your curves like a lover's touch, hugging you in all the right places. A crimson bow adorned your curls, and satin ribbons were artfully wrapped around your body - a bow around your slender neck, another cinched around your tiny waist, and delicate strands encircling your hips and thighs. You looked like a tantalizing holiday treat, a gift just for him.

Anakin stood there, speechless, his blue eyes drinking you in like a man dying of thirst. A wolfish grin slowly spread across his face as he closed the door behind him with a gentle kick of his foot. "Merry Christmas, baby," he purred, his voice low and husky with desire. "And what a very naughty, very sexy gift you are."

You smiled coyly, tilting your head up to meet his heated gauze. "Merry Christmas," you murmured, your breath hitting as he closed the distance between you. His lips captured yours in a feverish kiss, the taste of rum-spiked eggnog mingling with the intoxicating flavor that was uniquely him. It made your head spin and your knees go weak.

"Fuck, I love you so much," Anakin groaned against your skin as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. His teeth grazed your pulse point, making you shiver and arch into him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly, and it made you ache with want.

His hands roamed your body, mapping out every curve, every dip, every secret place that made you gasp and moan. He palmed your breast through the delicate lace, rolling the hardened nip. Anakin's hands continued their sensual exploration, his fingers dancing across your skin like a symphony of sensation. He cupped your face gently, tilting your head back to claim your lips in another kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking against yours in a tantalizing rhythm that left you breathless and wanting more.

"You're mine," he growled possessively as he broke the kiss, his blue eyes burning into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "All mine, my beautiful Christmas present."

His hands moved lower, skimming over your ribs, your hips, the soft globes of your ass. He gripped your rear, pulling you flush against him, letting you feel how hard he was, how much he wanted you.

"I'm going to unwrap you slowly," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm going to savor every inch of you, like the rare and precious gift you are."

His fingers found the bow at your neck, and with a gentle tug, the ribbon slipped free, fluttering to the floor. He kissed your collarbone, your shoulder, the swell of your breast as he worked his way down, untying each ribbon, baring more and more of your skin to his hungry gauze.

You trembled under his touch, your body singing with desire, wanting to be touched, claimed, loved by him. Each brush of his lips, each nip of his teeth, each caress of his hands sent sparks of pleasure racing through you, building the heat simmering in your core to a fever pitch.

"Please, Anakin," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you. I need to feel you inside me."

He groaned at his pleading words, his control hanging by a thread. "Patience, baby," he murmured, even as his hands made quick work of your lingerie, tugging it down your legs and leaving you bare, save for the ribbon cinched around your waist and the bow adorning your golden curls. "I thought you were my gift, not the other way around," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Anakin guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, his large, warm hands on your hips steadying you. He knelt before you, his eyes dark with desire as he drank in the sight of your naked body. Slowly, reverently, he leaned forward and took your breast in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your hardened nipple.

You gasped at the sensation, your back arching to press more of yourself against his eager mouth. He sucked and nibbled, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. He lavish attention on your breasts, his hands kneading the soft flesh, his mouth hot and wet against your skin.

Time seemed to blur as he devoted himself to worshiping your breasts, licking and sucking until your chest was flushed and damp with his saliva. Your nipples throbbed with need, craving for more of his touch, more of his attention. Soft, needy moans spilled from your lips, growing louder with each passing moment.

"Shhh, baby," Anakin whispered, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "You don't want to wake the kids, do you?" There was a note of genuine concern in his tone, even as his lips curved into a playful smile. "Can you be quiet for me?"

Nodding eagerly, you bit your lip, determined to stifle your cries of pleasure. Anakin smiled proudly, his eyes shining with adoration. "That's my good girl," he praised, pressing a tender kiss to your belly before trailing his lips lower, down, down, until he reached the ribbon tied around your waist, he undid it with his teeth, letting it gather the pile of clothes on the floor.

Anakin gently spread your legs, his hands firm but gentle on your thighs as he positioned himself between them. He looked up at you with a mischievous grin, his blue eyes dark with desire, before lowering his head and burying his face in your pussy.

His hot breath ghosted over your sensitive folds, sending a shivering through your body. Then, with a low groan of appreciation, he dragged his tongue along your slit, savoring you as if you were a banquet, his first meal in decades.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against your skin, the vibrations of his voice sending sparks of pleasure racing through you. "I could eat you all day, baby."

He lapped at you hungrily, his tongue delving deep into your wetness, seeking out every hidden crevice. He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were squirming beneath him, your hips bucking against his questing mouth.

Anakin moaned in approval, the sound muffled against your flesh. He seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were, his enthusiasm evident in every lick, every suck, every nibble of his lips. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, darting flicks of his tongue, keeping you on the edge of ecstasy.

His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for his oral assault, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours as he held your gaze while he licked you, the intensity of his stare sending your arousal soaring.

"You like that, baby?" he asked, his voice rough with lust. "You like how I eat this pretty pussy?"

You could only whimper in response, your eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter. Anakin grew in approval, his tongue redoubling his efforts, fucking you with it as he sucked hard on your clit.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice a low, soothing rum.

"Fuck, baby, I'm, I'm gonna cum" You mumbled, the words getting mixed up and tangled in your mouth, the pleasure he was bringing you making everything else blurry and confused.

Anakin's eyes darkened with hunger as he looked up at you, your words spurring him on. He doubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep into your entrance, fucking you with long, languid strokes. He alternated between plunging his tongue inside you and circling your clit, keeping you teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

"That's it, baby," he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled but still filled with encouragement. "Cum for me. Let me taste you, feel you coming undone on my tongue."

He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking hard as he thrust two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. Your legs began to shake, your thighs trembling against his head as the pleasure built to a crescendo.

"Fuck, Anakin," you cried out, your voice breaking on a sob of pure bliss. "I'm gonna- I'm cumming!"

Anakin groaned in approval, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh, pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continued to lap at you, prolonging your pleasure.

You thrashed beneath him, your hands fisting in his hair, holding him in place as you rode out the intense waves of ecstasy. Anakin stayed with you every step of the way, his tongue working wonders, coaxing out every last drop of your release.

As the aftershocks subsided, he gentled his touch, his tongue still stroking over your sensitive flesh, soothing you down from your high. He placed a tender kiss on your mound before lifting his head, his face glistening with your juices, his eyes blazing with satisfaction.

"Fuck, you're delicious," he growled, his voice rough with arousal. "I could never get enough of you."

He crawled up your body, his hard length pressing insistently against your thigh as he captured your lips in a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavor mingling with the taste of him, creating a heady combination that made you feel like a shooting star, being burned and then reconstituted by his mouth.

Anakin gently brushed away the damp strands of hair clinging to your forehead, his touch tender and reverent. He gazed down at you, his blue eyes soft with adoration and still smoldering with desire.

"I still want to be inside you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. He pressed a trail of kisses along your neck, his lips adoring your skin. "Do you have the energy to ride me, or would you prefer me on top?"

You shivered at the feel of his warm breath against your sensitive neck, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. "I want to feel you deep inside me, but I'm not sure if I could get up off the mattress," you whispered, your voice weak but filled with need. "Please, Anakin."

With a low groan, Anakin settled himself between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours, seeking permission, making sure you were ready for him.

At your nod, he slowly pressed forward, sheathing himself inside you inch by inch. You gasped at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. He was so big, so hard, filling you in a way that made you feel complete.

Anakin stilled once he was fully seated inside you, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closed in bliss. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he breathed, his voice tight with restraint. "So tight, so perfect."

He began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure through your body, building the heat simmering in your core once more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, harder.

Anakin complied, his pace increasing, his thrusts growing more powerful. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful drive of his hips. He angled his thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars, that had you crying out in ecstasy.

Anakin's thrusts grew more urgent, more powerful, his hips snapping against yours with a force that had the bed frame shaking. He braced himself above you, his muscles flexing with each drive of his cock deep into your heat.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "So tight, so perfect. I could stay inside you forever."

You clung to him, your nails digging into the hard planes of his back as he pounded into you, chasing your pleasure. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with your moans and his grunts of endeavor.

Anakin shifted slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, hitting a spot inside you that made you see the whole galaxy. Your back arched off the bed, a silent scream of ecstasy tearing from your throat. He must have felt it too, because he smiled down at you, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

"That's it, baby," he croaked, his voice a low, sultry rumble. "Cum for me. I want to feel you coming apart on my cock."

He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive nub. The added stimulation was too much, pushing you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your walls clenching around Anakin's thrusting cock, milking him for all he was worth. He groaned, his rhythm faltering as your pleasure triggered his own.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled his seed deep within your heat. He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck.

"Fuck, that was incredible," he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. "You're amazing, do you know that?"

You could only nod, too consumed by the afterglow to form coherent words. Anakin rolled to the side, pulling you with him, tucking you against his chest. His hand stroked lazily over your back, his touch soothing and comforting.

Anakin kissed your forehead softly, the lingering warmth of his lips like a silent promise. His strong, calloused hand rubbed gentle circles on your back, grounding you both in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The glow of the lights your boyfriend insisted on placing in every window in the house spread lightly throughout the room, casting a warm, golden hue over the space.

“You,” he murmured, his deep voice still tinged with the rawness of emotion, “are the best Christmas present I could have ever asked for.”

A lazy smile spread across his lips, his eyes heavy-lidded but filled with unmistakable love. He looked utterly content, his body still recovering from the tidal wave of pleasure that had swept over him. He leaned back slightly, letting his head rest against the pillows as he gazed at you.

You felt the strength of his arms encircling you, his larger frame cradling your smaller body like you were something fragile, precious. Your cheek pressed against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn’t realized you needed.

“You’re everything,” Anakin continued softly, his hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. “Do you know that? You came into my life and turned everything upside down in the best way possible.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your own smile forming as his words sank in. “I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you teased lightly, your voice muffled by his chest.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, vibrating through you. “Not even close,” he said, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You’ve given me something I didn’t think I’d ever have again. Love. Real love. Not just for me but for my kids, for this life we’re building together. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached up to trace the sharp lines of his jaw, his soft stubble prickling under your fingertips. “I love you, Ani,” you whispered, the words full of warmth and certainty.

His lips curved into a wider smile, and his stormy blue eyes glistened with emotion. “I love you more,” he replied, his voice steady but soft.

For a while, neither of you moved, content to simply exist in the moment. The sounds of the house were muffled—the distant creak of floorboards, the hum of the heater, the faint tinkling of Christmas music still playing downstairs. It was as if the world outside your little bubble had melted away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in the comfort of each other.

Finally, Anakin shifted slightly, his hand trailing soothing patterns along your back. “You know,” he began, his tone lighter now, “we should probably get some sleep. Santa left a lot of toys under the tree that will need assembling in the morning.”

You laughed softly, the sound muffled by his chest. “You mean I’ll be assembling them while you ‘supervise,’ right?”

He smirked, brushing a kiss over the top of your head. “I think we make a pretty good team. Besides, I’m sure Luke will take over as lead engineer within five minutes.”

“Leia will be too busy experimenting on whatever she can find,” you added with a laugh.

Anakin’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he imagined the chaos that awaited them tomorrow. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and pride.

You shifted slightly to look up at him again, your own smile soft and filled with affection. “Merry Christmas, Ani,” you whispered, your fingers lacing with his.

He tilted his head to press a lingering kiss to your lips, the gesture tender but full of meaning. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he murmured against your lips.

As the two of you settled back into the quiet comfort of each other, the warmth of the holiday filled the room, a gentle reminder of everything you’d built together. Anakin’s life, once marked by loss and brokenness, now felt whole again—with you at the very center.

#anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #hayden christensen x reader #dilf anakin x reader #alternative wolrd #dilf anakin #star wars #hayden christensen #christmas #anakin smut #merry christmas #merry xmas

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ineedtherapydesperately · 6 months ago

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desperately wanna write a childhood friends to lovers au w chloe and red in the timeline where bridget never goes evil and is still besties w ella

like imagine all the hangouts and sleepovers they have, crying and whining when they have to be separated because red, dear, we really must return home or chloe, love, we've been in wonderland for a week already

imagine little chloe bursting into her parents' bedroom declaring that she'll always be red's knight in shining armour, because every princess, especially a crown princess, needs a knight to protect her and ella and christopher just KNOWING that chloe is gonna stay by red's side forever and ever

so they start planning the wedding with bridget, thrilled to have the opportunity to bring their families even closer together. they're gonna be in laws! a family, just like they've always dreamed.

imagine little red telling her mum that chloe has a really pretty smile and really pretty eyes, and it makes her happy to see chloe happy, and that chloe is the bestest friend in the whole wide world and bridget has to stop herself from squealing and pinching red's adorably flushed cheeks, because her daughter was so in love already, even if it was just puppy love. that doesn't stop her from screaming gleefully into her pillow later that night tho

imagine them growing up together, attached at the hip, never straying from the other's side. imagine them going to auradon together, everyone already knowing that red and chloe, chloe and red, are a package deal. you can't get one without the other, a known fact since the duo were old enough to travel through the rabbit hole on their own

imagine chad walking in on them cuddling, watching a movie and cooing at them, snapping pictures on his phone before they notice him, yelling at him to leave them alone. alright, alright, I'll leave you lovebirds alone and red flushes in mortification and shut the fuck up chad, we're completely platonic and you know this because little miss goody-goody would definitely be rougher around the edges, growing up with red, and she'd definitely cuss up a storm at chad, but she loves him, she swears, just maybe not as much as she loves red

imagine them going through all the motions of a romantic relationship, cuddles, cheek kisses, hand holding, cute dates and all that, but insisting that it's just platonic, and that's how they've always been because they're best friends and their parents are so very done with them, just praying for them to get together, and chad has even started a betting pool for when they'll realise they love each other. he thinks it'll take them until at least their second year at auradon prep - at least, it'll take chloe that long

imagine chloe and red having matching lock screens, and having each other set as their home screens as well. imagine red baking chloe anything she asks for, like peppermint cookies and flamingo feather cupcakes and blueberry muffins, because chloe, her princess, her knight, has a raging sweet tooth that red can't help but indulge every time. imagine chloe taking red on ice cream dates, because red LOVES ice cream, and refusing to let her pay for it because red was a princess and deserved only the best treatment, thank you very much and red has to point out that chloe, you're a princess too. but, red, you're the crown princess and im your loyal knight <3

imagine red finally realising her feelings and ranting at the council of parents because holy shit aunt ella, your daughter is so dense?? and christopher can't help but cringe because he knows exactly who chloe got that trait from and he's like I'm sorry but while we charmings are quite, charming, we're also quite oblivious, especially to matters of the heart and bridget can't stop laughing because darling, you may need to hit her with glass shoes for her to figure it out, which makes ella blush because that's exactly what she had to do that night at castlecoming

god I have so many feels about this I am totally normal about glassheart. final part absolutely inspired by @strugglingsapphic's recent post bc I love the idea of oblivious chloe not knowing shit

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dreamescapeswriting · 1 month ago

Text

You Make Me Feel Like Christmas || BC

WORD COUNT: 1.5K

PAIRING: Chan x GN!Reader

GENRE: Seasonal piece, drabble? cute, fluffy, reader not feeling the season and chan does everything he can to fix it, established relationships

SYNOPSIS: Struggling to find the Christmas spirit, you feel disconnected from the holiday magic you once loved. Bang Chan notices and spends a day dedicated to rekindling your joy, from decorating a tree to making Christmas s’mores under the stars. Through his unwavering care and creativity, he reminds you of the warmth and magic of the season, culminating in a tender moment by the fire.

⤜MASTERLIST

The chill of December had settled firmly in the air, snow gently blanketing the streets outside the window. Twinkling lights adorned every corner, the world around you buzzing with Christmas cheer—except for you... You sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs and a mug of hot chocolate in your hands, staring at the television playing yet another holiday movie. You forced yourself to watch it trying to push through your mood as the same storyline played out right before your very eyes.

It wasn’t that you hated Christmas, but this year, the magic seemed distant, leaving you feeling more like a spectator than a participant. Chan noticed. He always noticed, he noticed every single thing there was about you so you weren't sure why you thought you were going to get away with hiding this from him.

“Not even a smile for your favourite holiday movie?” he teased gently as he entered the living room, carrying a tray of cookies he’d baked earlier. The sweet scent of sugar and cinnamon wafted through the room, but it wasn’t enough to lift your spirits. You shrugged, offering a small, apologetic smile.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just not feeling it this year.” You stared back at the screen as the couple finally got together at the end of the film. Something that had once brought you to tears but this time it didn't even bring a lump to your throat.

Chan’s brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a determined line. He set the tray down and sat beside you, pulling you close. His arm wrapped around your waist and he sighed a little,

“That’s not like you,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder. Every year you were usually going over the top for Christmas, sometimes even counting down to it from July onwards but this year he'd noticed you hadn't. He'd put it all down to stress but as the date crept closer he was starting to worry.

“Christmas is your thing. Remember last year? You made me dress up as an elf for your Instagram post.” A small laugh escaped you at the memory, but it quickly faded.

“Maybe I’m just tired.” He leaned back, his dark eyes locking with yours.

“Tired or not, I’m going to fix this,” he declared. “You deserve a Christmas that feels like Christmas.” Before you could protest and tell him that he didn't have to do that he was on his feet, his mind clearly already buzzing with plans.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of cheerful Christmas music blaring from the living room. Still groggy, you shuffled out of bed to find Chan dancing around in a Santa hat and a ridiculously festive sweater adorned with blinking lights. He was decorating the tree, which, until this moment, had stood bare in the corner of the room. The two of you had been to the tree farm a few days ago and picked out the short tree together.

You'd done it thinking that picking out a tree would put you in the mood but it had done nothing but stress you out more.

"Good morning!” he called out, twirling around with a strand of tinsel.

“I’m making breakfast in a bit, but first, come help me with this tree!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him like this. His enthusiasm was infectious, even if your Christmas spirit hadn’t fully returned yet. You joined him, and together you started adorning the tree with ornaments.

Every few minutes, Chan would hold up a particularly ridiculous decoration, like a sparkly reindeer, and insist on putting it front and centre.

“This one’s perfect,” he said, his grin wide as he placed it on a branch. “It’s so ugly it’s cute.” He told you before kissing your cheek softly and giving you a soft squeeze.

By the time the tree was finished, it was a masterpiece of mismatched ornaments - ones you collected every year you were together, a small tradition that the two of you had together - twinkling lights, and an impressive amount of tinsel. Chan stood back, hands on his hips, looking proud.

“There. A proper Christmas tree. What do you think?” He nudged your arm softly as he wiggled his eyebrows in your direction, you took in the sight and bit down on your lip, it might have been the worst decorated tree in the world but it was YOUR worst decorated tree.

“It’s... perfect,” you admitted, your smile growing little by little as Chan smiled, pretty proud of himself for what he'd managed to do.

“Told you I’d fix this,” he said, dropping his lips to yours for a quick chaste kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.

The day didn’t stop there though, no. Chan had an itinerary, and he wasn’t about to let you escape it. First, he dragged you outside to build a snowman, complete with a carrot nose and a scarf he insisted was stylish and something he'd seen all over Pinterest.

When your hands started to go numb, he'd been quick to whisk you back inside, wrapping you in blankets and placing a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands. Claiming he'd found the recipe for Judy's hot chocolate from the "Santa Clause" movies and wanted you to try it.

“Now, the most important part of Christmas,” he announced, holding up a stack of Christmas cards and a box of pens.

“Spreading cheer.” You groaned playfully but took the markers, letting him guide you through writing cards for friends and family. Each card turned into an art project, Chan doodling little snowflakes and stars in the corners while you added heartfelt messages. He even decided to add his little snake doodle but instead of a crown above it's head, he added a Santa hat instead.

The day went by pretty quickly and as it started to get dark outside, Chan still wasn’t done yet.

“Time for the finale,” he said, holding out his hand to you. You raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes looking at his outstretched hand as you wondered what else he had planned for you.

“Finale?” You questioned, still not moving yet.

“You’ll see.” He smirks and you giggle taking his hand and jumping up with him.

He led you outside to the small backyard, where he’d set up a little fire pit. The flames crackled warmly, and next to the fire sat a basket filled with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate. There were blankets set up on seats so that the two of you wouldn't freeze to death in the snow or get sick.

“S’mores?” you asked, smiling as you noticed just how much effort he was putting into all of this for you.

“Christmas s’mores,” he corrected, pulling out a bag of peppermint-flavoured marshmallows and waving them around, smirking at you. “Trust me, they’re amazing.”

You sat by the fire, the two of you roasting marshmallows and laughing as Chan’s first attempt caught fire and eventually dripped into the firepits below. When he finally got it right, he made a s’more and held it out to you with a grin.

“For you. The honorary first Christmas s’more.” You took a bite, the mix of chocolate, graham cracker, and peppermint melting in your mouth, you shut your eyes and let out a moan. It was surprisingly good.

“Okay, you were right,” you admitted. “These are amazing.” Chan’s grin grew even wider.

“Told you. I’m always right.”

As the fire burned low, you leaned against Chan, the warmth of the flames and his arms warming you up fully. For the first time all season, you felt a spark of that Christmas magic that you'd been yearning for. Maybe it was the tree, the s’mores, or the fact that Chan had spent the entire day making sure you smiled. Whatever it was, you were grateful.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft and shaking a little as you looked up at him. Chan looked down at you, his eyes warm and filled with affection as he ran his hand over your cheek and rubbed his thumb over your skin.

“For what?”

“For this-" You gestured around at the fire and over at the house,

"For everything. I needed it more than I realized.” You whisper and he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“Anything for you. Always...So are we feeling festive?" he questions softly as he holds your face in his hands. Your only response was a shy nod, and then his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow and sweet, the kind that made time seem to pause and the world fade away. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he pulled you just a little closer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your stomach was flipping in all kinds of directions as you let out a small giggle,

“How’s that for Christmas spirit?” he whispered, his eyes twinkling mischievously. You laughed softly, your cheeks warm from the fire and his touch.

“Alright, alright. You win. It’s definitely feeling like Christmas now." Chan beamed, pulling you into a side hug as he cuddled you into him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” And as the fire continued to burn, you realized maybe—just maybe—Chan was your favourite part of the season.

A/n: Still on hiatus but wanted to write something cute for the holidays <3

#skz #skz x reader #skz imagine #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan imagine #chan #chan x reader #chan imagine #chan imagines

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