#like a fucked up little advent calendar

[bantersnatch]

have you ever gone "gee i sure wish i could read a weirdly grounded prequel-slash-character study speculating about host!vic's relationship with their step family"?

...no?

well. that's what i wanted. i wanted it so badly, in fact, that i've gone and written it myself. if you've ever gone looking for a longer/multichapter vip fic, or you want to see host!vic start out bad and get so much worse, or you just crave bianca content -- there might be something here for you, too!

[theflyingfeeling]

fanfic rambling in the tags, nothing interesting really, just me talking to myself lol, okay to ignore or read as you please ✨

[rxmye]

" 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘 "

𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 — everything in the end comes down to you . . God why are you so fucking hot when you're in control?

nsfw / sixteen + content / smut / gender neutral reader / yandere content / sub!yandere / pathetic!yandere / vibrators / ruined orgasms / begging / choking (you choke him, bro is into it) / torture / dacryphilia (kink for crying) / pet names "good boy" (awakens something within him) / desperate yandere? desperate yandere. / yandere oc x reader

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: we are so back, coming back the way I started (with Yoichi)

"Fuck, please", his voice was hoarse as he begged, looking at you with those tear stained doe eyes, he let out another whine, "please, please, please", he whispered like a prayer as you turned the vibrator even lower—ruining another orgasm in it's wake.

Yoichi swore he had never felt this desperate in years, grinding into the vibrator, his hands struggled some more on the makeshift binds, his wrist already scarred with rope burn—he wouldn't complain though . . no . . why would he ever complain.

Yoichi grit his teeth, a whine leaving his throat and more tears threatening to fall, this time however it was because of frustration—he leaned his head back, his bangs shifting, covering his eyes, sweat forming on his forehead, as he let out a few heavy breathes.

A choked sob leaving his throat when you turned the vibrator back on high, broken moans leaving his hoarse throat.

Yoichi closed his eyes shut, his toes curling from the feeling, saliva escaping from the corners of his mouth as he let out a particularly loud moan—Only to be cut off with the feeling of your hand wrapping around his throat—muffled noises left his mouth, and it was honestly pathetic how fast he came, white cum spurting everywhere, it even got on your clothes.

It took a minute or two before Yoichi opened his eyes, still feeling a bit dazed. The two of your eyes locked, and he flushed with embarrassment and awareness, the events of the last half an hour catching up to him.

You looked at him, "What do you say?", you questioned, eyes narrowing into a glare—and it would be a lie to say that didn't turn him on a little bit . . at the very least.

Yoichi hesitated for a moment, before finally answering, "t-thank you"

You smiled, ruffling his hair, and Yoichi felt his blood rise to his head, "Good boy", fuck.

Yoichi's stomach dropped low, and those two words awakened something in him that he just couldn't undo.

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[parfaitblogs]

present enough for me ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you're decorating your apartment with your boyfriend, you're all too clumsy, and really, who makes glass baubles these days? 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. decorating a christmas tree. mentions of blood. joking about murder and prison (it makes sense i promise). puts up with your shit!spencer reid.  word count: >1k a/n: short n sweet little thingy to keep us going this holiday season ♡

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

Everything had happened so fast. 

One minute, you were hanging a bauble on the tree, Spencer's ever so familiar voice reverberating around the room as he recites information you had to applaud him for knowing. 

Facts like, "Did you know Germans celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve? Because technically, Jesus was born on the night of the 24th. It's like this for a lot of European countries, actually." And, "Orthodox Christmas is on January 7, because Orthodox centric countries like Serbia, Belarus and Russia follow the Julian calendar, instead of the Gregorian one we do."

And, unfortunately, Spencer Reid's info-dumping is not annoying, but attractive to you. You oftentimes find yourself keenly listening in as he rattles off facts about things you'll probably never understand to the extent he does. Though, he does love over explaining just so you can comprehend some part of it. 

It had, evidently, led to you becoming a bit too distracted by your boyfriend halfway across the living room, adorning the television with tinsel, and resulted in your hand slipping as it slid a bauble onto the faux snow tree branch. It had fallen, and shattered, shards of it exploding across the wooden floor. 

You curse aloud, taking an instinctual step back, eyebrows furrowing. 

"Are you okay, angel?" Spencer calls, and you cringe at the sight of the pieces of bauble on the floor, though nod your head regardless.

"Yeah. You should see the other guy," you mumble, crouching down to the floor to pick up shards of the bauble. 

"No, don't touch—" he's cut off by your hiss as the sharp edge of the bauble slices your skin, your other hand that was already nursing some pieces, closing into a fist around them.

"Fuck," you seethe again, all the shards dropping to the floor at your — arguably stupid — mistake.

"The first health and safety rule when you drop glass is don't pick it up with your hands," Spencer scolds, his slippers padding against the floor as he heads over to you. His hand wraps around your forearm and he picks you up, shaking his head. 

"Okay, well, what idiot makes glass baubles?" you retort. 

"What clumsy idiot buys them?" he shoots back, and you huff because, well, he's got you there. 

"You're supposed to be supportive and nurturing," you mumble, though you're sure if Spencer overbearingly attempted to console your injured hand immediately, you'd question if he's sick.

"I can multitask," he answers, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Up."

You jump off the ground as he picks you up, carrying your body over to the kitchen stool, where he sets you down, away from the crime scene that is a shattered, bloodied bauble.

"It looks like that bauble tried to murder me," you say, staring at the scene. 

"I'll put some caution tape around the tree until it goes to trial."

"I vote two consecutive life sentences."

"Two? What's the second one for?"

"Conning me," you grumble.

He laughs as he disappears into the guest bathroom, just to reappear with the bright red First Aid kit, placing it on the kitchen counter next to you.

"Hand, please," he says, standing in front of you, and you hold out your palm. "Oh yeah, this is pretty bad, huh?"

"I can handle it," you huff, puffing your chest up. "A soldier never shows fear."

"My brave girl," he says, using baby wipes to clean up the blood, gently. "Did it get you anywhere else?"

You shake your head, wincing at the pressure — however slight — over the cuts on your skin. "Just my hands."

He nods his head, and once the blood is cleaned, he's soothing them with some antiseptic cream, trying to keep his touch as featherlike as possible. 

"I liked that bauble too," you mumble as he begins wrapping a bandage around your hand. 

"It's the same as the thirteen other one's of its design in the pack."

"No. It was special," you reply, shooting a glare at Spencer, who surrenders almost immediately. 

"Okay," he slowly nods his head, only really indulging in your antics to humour you. And maybe himself. 

Once your hand was wrapped up, and Spencer had given you a kiss for your undeniable bravery, you were bounding back over to the tree to finish adorning it with trinkets and other decor. 

"Please be careful," he warns, though abandons his post on the other side of the living room to help you with the three. 

Just in case. 

"I'm super careful."

He shoots you a look, that you match with a shit-eating grin, and then you're delving back into decorating the tree. 

By the time you're done, you are not any more injured, and the tree is lit up with an assortment of colours and glitter, and you're smiling, leaning against the television cabinet to admire it. 

The television cabinet dressed with a collection of candles, candle holders, tinsel, and a festive table runner you forgot you even owned. 

A table runner your hand was resting on.

And Spencer was too late in warning you, and your hand swings forwards, before you trip and land flat on your ass.

He doesn't help you up this time.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 15th of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: If you are still here, I hope you are still enjoying your little advent calendar! Open the door, see if it is for you and I hope you like it!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 2804 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: cursing, drool, comfort sex, possessiveness, praise, pierced dick, raw fucking, creampie, taking pictures of you, Sam just wants to make you feel good because you are hurt, but don't worry, he is giving his best!

He just did not get it. Could not understand, no matter how hard he tried. And he probably never would – he would simply never understand how anyone could hurt you. Precious you with a glimmer in your eyes that made his head spin, a smile that lit up his world and a touch that made him melt, ready to be shaped and formed into whatever you intended him to be for the day. Yes, perhaps Sam was a little biased here with how down bad he was, but he was sure everyone in the damn town would agree that your piece of shit ex did not deserve you. Leaving you just before the feast of the winterstar? Sam was not a violent man, but he was willing to make well-placed exceptions. He had found you in tears in front of your house, phone clutched in one hand, face hidden by the other, sobbing quietly. It had broken his damn heart, had made his fist clench in a bitter rage he had never felt before, body already tense, ready to go scorched earth on what- or whoever had caused the scenery in front of him. But seeing you look up at him, pretty eyes still filled with tears, cheeks red and wet, lip wobbling dangerously, he knew he had to do something else first; be there for you. He had knelt down in the snowy dirt in front of you and had silently pulled you against his chest. At first you had tensed up, but that had quickly faded as you had melted into Sam’s embrace, sobbing into his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric as if you were scared that he would leave just as quickly as he pulled you into a hug. Truth was – Sam would have never left. His heart was absolutely breaking; it was like the pain you felt went over to him, running through his body, pinching at his soul, slamming its ugly fists against his heart. “I am here,” he whispered against your hair, his big hand stroking down your back and back up to your shoulders. “I am here now, promise.”

He didn’t know how long you had sobbed in his arms, and frankly, he didn’t care. What he had cared about was the fact that your sobs slowly had become more infrequent and quieter, that your body hadn’t shaken as violently anymore. You had slowly become more relaxed in his arms, and yet he had still held you tightly to his chest, his long fingers not stopping their brushing through your hair. “Sam?” You had whispered, making him tilt his head. “Yeah?” “I…I need you to do something for me.” “Anything-“ “I need you to f-…fu—I need you to fuck me, Sam.”

Sam also wasn’t sure how often he had asked you if you were sure. Five, ten, or even fifteen times? He had asked you as he had picked you up and pressed you against his body. He had asked you as he was carrying you inside. He had popped the question just before your lips had been about to collide, making you do that cute sniffle-laugh that both tugged at his heartstrings and at the corner of his lips. You had gripped strands of his hair and pulled him into a kiss that could have been described as nothing but desperate, and Sam was shameless enough to say that he had matched that energy. Biting at your lower lip to let his pierced tongue lick over yours, sucking at it to taste you, gripping your ass with those big hands of his in an attempt to press you even closer to his body. He probably shouldn’t have given in, but he was here to help, right? This didn’t have to do with his own selfish desires. Wasn’t connected in any way to the nights he had fisted at his cock, your precious name at the tip of his tongue. Not at all related to the times he had daydreamed about being your boyfriend instead of that prick he had never liked.

“Are you sure?” He asked, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses over your neck, enjoying the feeling of that preciously soft skin against his lips, the softness only inviting him to bite. Mark over where that fucking loser had been, reclaim what he had lost. “Yes, I a- fuck, Sam,” you whined, lulling your head to the side to bare more of it to him. Yoba, how could anyone be so stupid to let you go? But you didn’t need to worry – he would make sure you would know just how precious you were. How deserving you were of feeling good.

Turned out, you were showing him how good sex could feel. Sam’s eyes were rolled back in the far of his skull, his cock buried balls-deep inside of you, and holy fuck, he probably would never be able to fuck anyone that wasn’t you. He had to swallow several times to be able to even utter a word, Adam’s apple bobbing violently. “Fuck, baby, love, oh my fucking- you feel so good…” His dick was throbbing inside of you, pink, pierced tip shamelessly leaking pre-cum as he took a moment just to look down at you. Hair spread out beneath you like some sort of halo, pretty tits on display for him, thighs spread open for him to be accommodated. Slobber and freshly bitten bruises were forming on your skin, making his tongue feel heavy with split. Yoba, you were gorgeous, like a damn angel had crafted you. And yet you were in pain, pain you didn’t fucking deserve, but by hell, he was going to fuck that pain away.

He leaned down to press a quick, rather sloppy kiss to your lips, his cock throbbing dangerously in your cunt. He hadn’t moved much yet, and you still sucked him off so well already, squishy walls wrapping around him in a way that knocked the breath out of his lungs, and he had to fear he was going to fucking cum already. “S-sam,” you whispered, your hips bucking toward him in a loving grind, making him almost go cross-eyed. “Baby,” he whispered, breath quivering with his words. He slowly pulled his hips back, away from you, away form the grinds you gifted him; and holy fuck did it pain him to do so, especially when you whined his name again, lower lip wobbling just like it had done before. Sam gave you an almost soothing smile, one that was supposed to keep back the moans that were bubbling at the top of his throat. That first thrust would forever hold him in a chokehold – engraved in his brain, hammered in his heart. Oh, how your eyes rolled back and how your breasts bounced. He had even felt a quiver ripple through your thighs, so snuggly wrapped against his hips. He was fucking addicted in one stroke, forcing him to pull back, just to snap his hips forward again. His teeth were digging into his lower lip as he began to set a pace, blue eyes glued to your body, drowning in what his dick did to you. Your whole body seemed to react to him, your head thrown into the pillow as the pierced tip of his dick bullied forward, pushing deeper, deeper, deeper. You looked absolutely beautiful, and Sam forever fucking prayed that he would never forget that look on your face. That look that he caused. “You are so fucking- you are fucking- Yoba, fuck,” he started, eyes rolling as your walls squeezed him. Did you like that, huh? Liked being praised? Did that fucking douche dare not to praise you enough? Shit, he would praise you, promise. “You are fucking everything, baby- come on, touch me, baby. You can, let me feel those nails dig in my back.” His words seemed steady at the surface, but below there was a groan lingering, an animalistic sound of pleasure from the depths of his body. One he couldn’t keep in anymore when your eyes fluttered, those pretty orbs finding him, the look of sadness you had had being replaced by something more…primal and lustful. One that only grew louder when your nails did sink into his skin, scratching down along his spine. “That’s it, baby. Look so pretty, even prettier on my dick- hooo…fuck, you are squeezing me, baby. You like this? Yeah? You like my dick? Does it make you feel as good as you deserve, princess?” He panted, eyes slipping shut for just a moment, letting his instincts take over. Instincts to fuck you hard and deep, make you feel every. Damn. Inch. Of. His. Cock. He hadn’t even noticed that his thrust had gotten harder, fast, hard fucks of his cock deep inside of your pussy, making your body rut along the mattress, bed frame squeaking sounds of annoyed disagreement. But Sam didn’t care, the bed could break, he would buy you a new one, build it with his own two hands if you wanted him to, if you only kept looking at him like this – mouth open, eyes rolling and fluttering, but always with a dick-drunken look in them, a trail of spit on your chin as he pounded into you. He wanted to make you forget, wanted to make you feel as good as he did with his balls pulled tight and the thick vine on the underside of his cock throbbing, but he doubted he ever could, not when he felt like on cloud six and cloud nine, fuck that, whatever highest cloud there was, he was on that one.

“Sa-ham!” You squeaked, causing another groan to tear for him. He just had to. Just had to make sure you would have a reminder of this. His eyes wandered to the phone you had dropped only when he had started kissing you, tongue licking over your body as if he was set out to devour you, and now it was in his big hand. He looked at you, nodding at the phone, his hips stopping out of necessity – the blond tried to ignore the way his cock pulsed, the way your cunt squished and gushed, the sloppy wet having formed a creamed ring around his fat shaft. “Can I, baby? Gosh, you just look so pretty, look atcha…Want you to remember how good you can feel,” he rambled, licking over his lips, watching your face intently. You were panting, still in a daze, and yet there it was, a nod. Your thighs wrapped tighter around his hips, hands reaching up to grab his face and pull him into a kiss. Sam happily complied; he would have been stupid if he hadn’t. He grunted, shifting more of his weight on his forearms, adding some pressure on your body, just to make you feel a little closer. He needed it, and he hoped you enjoyed it, too, as your tongues clashed and bumped. Sam’s hips slowly began to resume their pace from before, heavy balls smacking against sloppy wet skin, cunt squelching whenever he drew back. “Gorgeous, wonderful girl. Ya deserve the world, baby. Gonna pick the stars from the sky for ya if ya want that,” he slurred, eyes watering with just how good your pussy felt. His fingers were fucking shaking as he pressed the camera button, pressing a small kiss against your lips before picking himself up just a little, allowing the camera to capture his cock pounding your pussy. Gosh, he was in love, with how you scratched him, how you moaned for him, how you snapped up your hips whenever he went especially hard – with you. “Good girl, good fucking girl, pussy taking me so well, holy fuuuuuck,” he panted. He felt the coils in his tummy twisting and turning, becoming tighter, threatening to snap, snap for you, ready to mark you up, cover the tracks of those who weren’t deserving. He was moaning your name quietly, the camera now lifted higher, trying to capture as much of your beauty as humanly possible, free hand groping your bouncing tit. “You are amazing, baby, hng- I am- oh fuck, you are going to make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that, princess.” His words were hissed through grit teeth, which was understandable with how close he was to the edge.

“You deserve the world, baby, deserve being pounded stupid by good dick every day, yeah? That’s it baby,” he cooed, hand leaving your tit to press his thumb against your throbby little clit, drinking in how your body twitched, back arching in, the moans that had fallen from your lips now mixing with mumbles of his name. That’s how he liked it, having you dumb on his cock, just how he was absolutely drunk on your pussy. “I can feel you squeezin’ me, babe. Gonna cum? Huh? Tell me. Look at me and tell me,” he ordered, whimpering at the way your nails dug deeper into his skin. Yet your eyes met, your head nodding. “Gonna-gonna cuuum! Oh FUCK, Sam!” You suddenly whined, your back snapping up again, an absolutely unholy whined sound escaping you. He knew he almost had you there, and he needed to bring you there – he was sure he would fucking die otherwise. “Yes, yes, yes, cum for me! Bless me like that, baby, please. Oh my Yoba, please cum for me, babygirl. Need you to drench me. Gonna do that for me? Are you? Pretty, pretty -fuhuuuck- pretty please,” he panted between harsh snaps of hips and quick flicks of his thumb, trying his best to hold back, trying not to pump you full just yet. Being begged like this did seem to do something to you, because it made you sob out his name as you were pushed over the edge, a wave of orgasmic bliss washing over you. Your toes curled as you pressed Sam against you, your legs locking him in as if you wanted to make sure he could not fucking escape you – as if he ever wanted that-, small begs and pleas leaving your kiss-bitten lips. Sam moaned in your ear, shamelessly so, kissing the shell as his hips sloppily fucked into you. If he had been precise before, he was nothing but humping you like a mere bitch in heat right now, kissing at your neck, your ear, whispering how good you were doing for him, desperately trying to keep the camera lifted steadily. “Made a mess on my cock, baby- ugh, so fuckin’ hot. I- shit, princess I am gonna fuckin’ fill you up, I am- mmpf-“ the last sound was drowned in the throaty moan that left poor Sam, the knot in his stomach finally snapping at a single word that left your lips: “please.” But who could blame him? It sounded so beggy, so whiny, so earnest. And shit, Sam would deliver.

He was left absolutely breathless as he came, nestled deep inside your squishy walls, ropes of cum filling your precious cunt. Poor Sam was shivering, phone shaking in his hand was he rutted, humping his cum deeper inside of you, hoping to fill you to the brim. Sam was just a man, after all, shamelessly milking himself with quick little thrusts, much softer than before. He could feel the world around him spinning, eyes watering again as he rutted, and rutted, and rutted, hoping to fuck a memory inside of you that you could hold onto. Only when he deemed himself drained did his hips slow, greedy Sam not able to bring himself to stop completely, even though he had nothing to give anymore. Until he saw your face. Lulled in the pillows, blissed smile on your spit-wet lips, eyes cross-eyed as you looked at where you connected. He had deemed it impossible, but his cock twitched, filling you with another rope of cum, bringing him close to sob. You were just perfect, weren’t you? Even in his fucked-out mind he was able to zoom in on your face, voice breathlessly whispering another praise. “You are absolutely perfect…Gosh, you are- you are the sun, baby. Fuckin’ hell.” It might not have made sense to you in that moment, but to him, it did. It always would. You were the sun and he was nothing like a mere moth, drawn to your light, ready to worship you, even if he would end up burnt in the end. A small smile tugged on his lips as he saved the video, panting still as he leaned down to kiss you. To his surprise, you kissed back again, your sweaty hands holding his cheeks affectionately. Hey, maybe he had fucked some of the pain away. And if not, he could always manage another round. Just for you, of course, sunshine.

[cranberrymoons]

hey sweetheart

prompt: meetcute at work (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: e (18+) word count: 896 words tags: modern au, line cook eddie/waiter steve, hooking up

welcome to Day 4 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

Steve is halfway through his first week when he meets him: the line cook with the long hair pulled back in a bun, the stark black lines of tattoos snaking up his arms, the flirty little smile that he flashes in Steve’s direction when Steve comes back to pick up Table 6’s starters.

It’s a hell of a time to start a job in the first place: mid-holiday season, no one around to train him except Robin who’s only worked there a couple weeks longer than he has and knows next to nothing about The Way Things Work.

But she’s Robin, and she’s familiar, and she knows him well enough to warn him to avoid the flirty long-haired line cook with the big brown eyes and the dimples and the million watt smile directed right at him and – 

Fuck.

“Sweetheart, you rang in Table Twelve wrong,” the guy says, leaning forward over the pass with a ticket in his hand. “This says no onions, but the special isn’t made with onions.”

Steve stares at him as he loads Table Six’s plates onto a tray. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only barely.

“My name isn’t Sweetheart,” he says eventually. “And so – just extra don’t put onions on it. Who cares?”

The cook raises his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side. “Thought it sounded nicer than ‘hey new guy’, but if you’d prefer that –”

“Steve,” he says. He shoulders his tray. “My name is Steve.”

The cook gives him a little smile, eyes flashing in the bright fluorescents of the kitchen.

“Alright, Sweetheart.” He tilts his chin up. “Extra no onions for Table Twelve, and you can call me Eddie.”

---

It continues on like that for a week or two: Eddie flirting, finding any excuse to ask a question about his ticket. 

Steve knows what he’s doing; he’s worked in restaurants before, and he’s fucked enough hot line cooks in his time that he should know better than to fall into the trap, but still, he finds himself drawn in, entertaining Eddie’s endless teasing and prodding and poking until he starts doing it back – little digs about his shift meal, questions about a menu item that he already knows the answer to.

“Dude,” Robin says, halfway through his first month. 

It’s rounding up on Christmas, and the place is packed, corporate groups out for holiday parties and couples on dates. 

“If you don’t stop flirting, I’m going to cut your fucking dick off,” she says. “Seriously.”

And – okay. That’s fair. 

Steve pulls himself away from where he’d been leaning over the pass, asking Eddie a question about the catch of the day that he’s already asked three times tonight. Clears his throat and straightens up. He tugs his tie back into place, claims the braised oxtail that’s destined for Table Two and clears his throat.

“Sorry.”

Eddie sends him a wink, and Steve feels himself flush.

“Please tell me you’re not going to fuck him,” Robin says as they exit the kitchen.

Steve sighs. “I’m not going to fuck him.”

---

And of course, he’s lying through his teeth.

The very next night, they’re both off work, and he gets a text from an unfamiliar number, just –

hey sweetheart 

Steve flushes as he stares down at his phone, scratching a hand back through his hair. He takes a breath.

Wonder who this could be , he texts back.

All he gets in response is a simple,

😇 

---

Two hours later, he’s flat on his back in Eddie’s bed, clinging to his shoulders and whining as Eddie fucks him so hard he loses his breath, so hard he feels like his brain is rattling around in his skull. He digs his teeth into Eddie’s skin, ankles locked around his back and not even bothering to hold back the noises that Eddie’s punching out of his chest, just –

“Fuck,” he gasps, voice coming high in the back of his throat. “Holy shit, I –”

Eddie’s mouth runs up the column of his neck, hands trailing over his skin, nails dragging sharp lines down his sides.

“You going to come for me, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low in his ear. “Show me how pretty you can be?”

And that’s – for some reason that sets Steve off, turns his skin over to fire as he grips tighter to Eddie’s shoulders, nails digging in, back arching off the bed, coming so hard he sees stars.

---

And then later, when they’re both fucked out and exhausted and Steve is preparing to take his cue to gather his clothes and make a graceful exit, he feels Eddie’s mouth skimming up the side of his neck, hand tangling in his hair, dragging him into another kiss.

A real one, with teeth and tongue and lips, a kiss that isn’t intended to go anywhere other than just to be , and his breath catches a little in his chest, hand skittering over Eddie’s back as he rolls over on top of him.

“Stay?” Eddie asks, voice quiet and hopeful and muffled where their mouths are still pressed together. He smiles, lips quirking up and drawing Steve along with him. “You know I know how to make breakfast.”

And Steve breathes out a quiet laugh, bumping their noses together. He sighs.

“As long as there’s bacon.”

[also on ao3]

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 8.

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content. It's a kinky writing challenge, so expect anything at this point, (nothing freaky, don't worry) but it's a surprise calendar so I won't spoil it! (Also, English is not my native language)

Advent calendar includes: headcanons, snippets, one shots, imagines, blurbs etc.

Words: 1,430

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

A/N: Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! And if you enjoy it so far, please let me know <3 On another side note; I didn't get to proof read it anymore, will do so tomorrow!

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

8th Dec. - Hex Play

“What now?” Dean asks, his eyes darting up from the small folded paper he had added to the hex bag in your hands. “We just… go to bed or what?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” You tightly wrap the red string around the leather pouch, sealing it for good so that neither of you will end up with a crows beak or a coyotes backbone in your face while you sleep. "And if we wanna leave, we just tear the paper apart."

The hex bag gets shoved under the mattress before both of you swing yourselves onto the bed and get comfortable, your hands instinctively searching one another to intertwine your fingers. For a moment, you both stay silent, your eyes glued to the ceiling in anticipation.

Then Dean’s (short) patience snaps and he grunts in annoyance, “This isn't wo-” “Son of a bitch,” he breaths out wide-eyed, taking in the sudden change of surrounding. One moment you were in your bed, next you both stand in the hallway of a hospital.

“No way,” you mutter just as befuddled, your eyes roaming the life like location while you turn around - just to get bumped into by a man in his white coat. “Whoa- watch it mate-”

“Nurse,” he nods at you with a sultry smile before he continues his way down the hall with his damn cowboy boots clamping against the floor. Wait. Cowboy boots? No fucking way this is- You whirl around to meet Dean’s face. And oh God, his green eyes were practically sparkling like the friggin’ vamp guy from Twilight.

“Dr. Sexy.” You say, hoping to snap him out of his swooning state.

“Doctor Sexy, M.D.” He corrects you. He watches him until he takes the corner at the end of the hallway and he finally manages to shift his focus to you for the first time, his lips parting at the sight. “Goddamn, honey.” His eyes widen once more, his tongue darting out briefly to swipe his lips, “This hex play’s workin’ like a charm.”

You look down at yourself, just now realizing that, right, the guy had addressed you as ‘nurse’. And lo and behold - you are wearing a nurse’s attire. Or well, let’s say a bit of a sluttier version of a nurse, but you had to admit, the short white skirt and the matching stockings had some sex-appeal. “So this is what you wrote down? This what you dream of?” You look up at Dean with a teasing smile as you notice him basically gnawing his bottom lip at the sight of you like this.

“Hell yeah,” he admits without hesitation, “You look so hot – I just – damn.” Yep, this was exactly what he had always dreamed of; the classic role play cliché of the sexy nurse. But it was you, it wasn’t any nurse, but actually you. Dean stares down at you, his mind seemingly short-circuited while you can make out a faint moan that he just tried to bite back. Your lips curl into a knowing smile while you begin to get into character. “Soooo…” you drawl in a sultry tone and taking a step closer until your breasts are pressed flush against his chest and his breath hitches at your unexpected move. You continue the teasing, your fingers slowly trailing up his doctors coat until they reach the first button of his shirt, playfully fumbling with it, “I think I need to do a check up on you… Doctor.”

“Y-Yes,” Dean stutters slightly, his breaths coming out in short, excited little huffs. You had barely even touched him and he is already so close to a whimpering mess. “Alrighty,” You chuckle while you grab him by the collar to lead him over to the next open door. “Time to get those pants down for your full body check.”

Dean stops in his tracks, trying – and failing – to hide the intense shudder that runs through his body at the way you play your role absolutely perfectly. “Damn, woman,” he mutters under his breath, his words underlined by a faint whine. “Wait- I know a better spot-” He grabs you around the waist and pulls you along, navigating you both past a dozen nurses and doctors until you two end up in the office of none others but Dr. feakin’ Sexy, M.D’s. Taking back the lead in this roleplay, you swiftly push him up against the wall, your red lips leaving a trail of lipstick kiss marks along his collarbone and all the way up to his cheekbone. Dean shudders under your touch, his voice a low whimper, “My God, hon-”

“Nurse,” you interject while you keep nipping at his pulse point, drawing another needy whimper from his lips. “I must be very thorough with my inspections...Dr. Winchester.” You announce against his skin and your fingers quickly go to work their way down each button.

Some minutes later, Dean is stripped completely naked, his entire body peppered with sweet red lipstick markings proving your thorough work. Your hands run along his inner thighs, the nails gently grazing his skin until one of them comes up to cup his testicles and the other wraps around his rock hard erection. Dean’s breath gets caught in his throat, his head falling back against the wall with a loud, strangled whimpering noise, halfway choked back by his teeth, biting his bottom lip.

You drop to your knees and your mouth quickly goes to work, earning yourself a row of guttural moans from him. With your head moving up and down in a tantalizing pace and your fingernails gently scratching the sensitive skin close by. “P-Please,” he starts to plead with you, his words laced with need and desperation, “Please- n-nurse,” each of his hands grab a fistful of your hair, his fingers tightening whenever you suck hard and his hips buck into your mouth. “W-wait,” he suddenly pulls you back, his voice breathless and his legs slightly trembling from how close he was to falling over the edge. You instantly stop, your eyes searching his while you lick your lips and wipe your chin clean with your thumb. “Is everything alright? You want me to stop?” You ask a little unsure while you stay kneeled in front of him.

“N-no, God no,” He clarifies quickly, still catching his breath, “But I don’t want this to end yet.”

Next thing you know, Dean scoops you up from the ground and with swift steps carries you over to the office desk where he sits you down on the edge of it. He leans over you, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss, smearing your lipstick across your face. When he breaks the kiss, his emerald eyes lock onto yours, making sure you enjoy this just as much as he does. “You… like it too? This?” he whispers against your lips, hoping for your reassurance. You smile, your fingers gently threading through his dark blond hair while you whisper back. “Hell yeah I do.” Dean’s lips twitch into that trademark smirk of his and he doesn’t wait any longer to push up the little fabric that your skirt offers before he slips your panties aside to slip his cock inside you with a shared deep groan from both of you. His strong hands keep you close to him as he rocks his hips, pushing in and out of you slow at first. But then the need quickly builds up and he moans and pants into the crook of your neck, “Fff-uck- Y-you’re so good, so beautiful, s-so tight-,” his fingers dig into the flesh at your hips while he starts to thrust into you, making sure to hit all the right spots to hear his sweet little nurse moan as well.

You dig your nails into the skin of his back, clawing at him as you feel him push you closer and closer to the edge, that knot tightening up more by the second. One of his hands suddenly lets go of your hip to snake down past your bunched up skirt and right back up to your swollen clit, his rubbing index finger determined to make you come undone in more than one ways. With a loud whimper your hips buck against him and your legs wrap around his waist to pull him in, needing him deeper, to fill you up all the way. “D-doctor,” you whine, your clouded brain trying its best to stay in character despite your impending climax. “I- I’m close-”

“Me too,” he pants breathlessly, his hips increasing their pace, now set on getting you both over the edge. With another hard thrust, you feel your body tense up and the next moment the crash of the orgasm waves through your body while Dean cums at the same time with your walls clamping around him.

“God…” he pants heavily, his forehead dropped to your shoulder, “That… that was amazin’… You are amazing.”

*** “Y’know what I don’t get… wasn’t this supposed to be like our dreams combined?” Dean looks around the hospital’s hallway, searching for something which didn’t fit into the setting of his favourite TV-Show. His hair dishevelled and his doctors coat put back on sloppily. “Or did I miss somethin’?” His confused eyes trail back to meet yours with a raise of his eyebrow, his arm draped around your back pulling you a little closer. You shrug it off with a wry smile, “Guess it just picked yours over mine.” Dean grunts, not entirely buying your explanation while he rummages through his capes pockets to grab the small pouch. Then he pulls your piece of paper from the hex bag and a faint smirk appears on his lips, “Can I see what you wrote down?”

You snatch the small scrap of paper from his fingers and dodge his attempt to attain it back, “Hey-!” “That’s my secret!” You snigger mysteriously, the crumpled paper disappearing in your back pocket. “Yours was better anyway.”

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Tags:

@ariasong11 @deansjacket @literallylexa @lmpala1967 @foxyjwls007

[lokischocolatefountain]

Seven

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: Gen (kind of a crack fic if you ask me)

Summary: You and Javi discuss children

“How many?”

“Hmm?”

“You keep saying children plural. How many do you want?” You asked, flipping through the pages of the magazine idly. You weren’t even reading, just looking at pictures and reading a gossipy headline about some of the other actress.

“Hmmm seven?”

“Fuck no!”

“Why not?”

“Why not? WHY NOT?” You asked, horrified. “Javier, I’m a human being, not a baby making machine. You have a government job and I’m just a lab tech. We will never have 7 kids money unless you pocket some of the cocaine you seize. God, can you imagine if they all wanted to go to law school? Or medical school?”

“I wasn’t thinking that far ahead,” he said, taking the magazine from you and setting it aside. He pulled you into his lap, kissing you neck from behind and making you squirm. “I was focused on how hot you’ll look pregnant.”

“Of course you were. Horndog,” you scolded, pinching the arm that held you close. He hissed, but didn’t loosen his hold, only pulling you in closer.

“Can you blame me? With such a hot girlfriend, a man is bound to let his imagination run wild.”

“Shut up.”

“Five?” He asked, making you angrier.

“Are you trying to have a family or form a basketball team?”

He laughed before kissing her lips. “Four?” He bargained.

“Three is the absolute maximum for me.”

“Then three is good.”

“Yeah?” You asked, softer when you heard the sincerity in the reply that came with no hesitation.

“Mhmm.”

“But everything is up for debate after the first one,” you added, just in case. Pregnancy did not look fun and you didn’t want him holding you to this if you were too fucked up from the first pregnancy to try again. “I might hate being pregnant and never want to have another one again. We might have to be satisfied with one baby.”

“That’s good too, baby. I only want as many children as you’ll give me. Whether that’s one or three or seven.”

“Definitely not seven.” You smiled, adjusting yourself to sit back on the sofa with just your legs in his lap. “And no bargaining on gender either. If we have three daughters, you can’t ask for another one just to try for a son.”

“I would love three daughters. Why do you think I’ll ask you for a fourth one after that?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging. “Men usually want sons. To teach them soccer or go fishing or whatever.”

“I’ll teach our three daughters soccer. Girls have legs. And I don’t care for fishing anyway. If they want to be with animals, they can take care of the ranch.”

“God, I planning my life out with a ranchero who wants a million kids!” You said, laughing.

“You’re just realizing that?”

“Oh god, I don’t know what’s worse— ranchero or DEA agent. Do you like chop wood shirtless or something? Cause I can’t handle that. I will end up having 7 kids if I saw that.”

“You’re mixing up rancheros with lumberjacks, baby. But I’ll learn to chop wood if you want. And I’ll teach our daughters to chop wood too. And how to shoot. And how to fix a car. Teach them plumbing and everything. So that they don’t have to call their boyfriends at midnight to ask them to fix their sink,” he said, making you giggle at the recollection of that night.

“Oh please, you weren’t complaining,” you scoffed, reminding him of the night he came over to fix your sink and ended up staying all night and all day in your bed.

“Exactly. No boy is slithering into my daughter’s bed like that. I won’t allow it.”

You scoffed. Oh you poor little fool… “You think my father didn’t teach me how to fix my sink, Javier? That I didn’t break it just to invite you over?”

“Fuck!”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. Let’s have three sons.”

.

.

.

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[allywthsr]

CHRISTENING | (l.norris)

summary: Lando wants to christen the Christmas tree

wordcount: 1.5k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: smut!

notes: the only smut this advent calendar.. what are we thinking?

advent calendar

”It looks beautiful, doesn’t it?“

”It does.“

”We should christen it.“

”The Christmas tree?“

”Yes!“

”Lando, what are you thinking?“

”I want you to lay down under the tree and open your legs, then I‘ll rail you until you’re screaming and begging for me to let you cum.“

You whispered a low ’fuck‘ and got on your knees, tugging on his waistband of his sweatpants. You pulled his pants and underwear down and licked your lips when you saw his cock springing towards you, he wasn’t fully hard yet, but that was something that could be changed in a few minutes. With your fingertips, you touched his dick lightly and teased him with it, tickling his tip and grazing all the way down to his balls.

”If you’re not touching it properly right now, I won’t let you cum today.“

With that threat in mind, you grabbed his cock, and licked from top to bottom, wetting it, so you had it easier when you were giving him a handjob. He started to make little noises, indicating he was enjoying what you were doing. The movements got faster and he grew harder in your hand, with every stroke you did, you were still teasing him by grazing his balls every now and then, you knew he was sensitive to touches down there. When you felt him twitch in your touch, you let him go and lay down on the floor, due to the underfloor heating, you wouldn’t get cold.

Lando was fast to sit on his knees between your legs, after removing his T-shirt, and pulling your pants down, just like you did to him. Your panty was thrown somewhere in the living room, and Lando took a second to admire your pussy. He often did this, taking his time and just looking at you, he couldn’t believe you were his. He laid down on his chest and his face was directly in front of your pussy, he grabbed your inner thighs and pushed them outwards, so he had better access to your core, brushing soft kisses on your legs and around your pussy.

”Fuck baby, you’re glistening“, with that he used his thumb and placed it on your clit, opening your pussy lips a bit more and letting his thumb swipe through it, collecting the juices.

You shivered at the contact, it already felt amazing.

”Look at how wet you are“, he held his finger to your face and you could see your fluids almost dripping off his thumb. You moaned quietly and he sucked his thumb in his mouth, licking off the juices. He wanted to tease you, so he blew on your pussy, the cold air made you shiver even more, and the sensation felt phenomenal.

Just after a whiny ’Lando‘, he finally got to work and licked across your slit, you let out tiny noises, he was a master at this. He opened up your pussy again and took a deep lick out of it.

”Are you enjoying this, babygirl?“

You could only moan and grip his hair, so he would start working on your pussy again.

He started off with kitten licks, teasing you to the fullest. With every lick he got deeper and at some point he even entered you with his tongue, breathy moans escaped your mouth, and started pulling on his strands, you needed to hold onto something. He drew little eights on your slit and when he finally arrived at your clit, that boy wasn’t stopping, he was licking all sorts of shapes on your bud, and you couldn’t hold it any longer. But before you could cum, he pulled his tongue off of you and let his pointer finger circle your clit, slipping it with the middle finger inside of you, slowly pumping them in and out while his tongue found its way back to your clit, toying with it.

”Are you close?“

”Y..Yes.“

”Do you want to come?“

”Lando… please…“

”Beg more for it.“

”Lando, please let me cum, I can’t contain it any longer, you make me feel so good.“

”Cum, babygirl.“

His words tipped you over the edge and you were left panting on the floor, while he sat up and looked down at you, seeing what he did to you, but you could also see what you did to him, his chin was glistening with your fluids. You were a mess and he barely touched you yet, again, he licked his fingers, so none of your juices would go to waste.

”Are you ready for my cock?“

”Yes Lando, I need it.“

With that he grabbed his dick in his hands and gave it a few pumps, getting ready for the sweet sensation he was going to feel in a second. He put his tip on your clit, and started moving it in circles, you were still sensitive because of your orgasm, and this brought you closer to your second orgasm of the night. He let go of your clit and focused on moving his tip through your lips, wetting his dick, so he had no trouble pushing into you.

You both were moaning when he slowly entered you, he stretched you out perfectly. With every centimeter he entered you deeper, you whined for more, he was so big, it surprised you every time how he fitted into you with no problem. When he was fully inside of you, he started kissing you with force, wet kisses were placed everywhere, on your face, along your jaw, on your neck, and after he pulled your T-shirt off, he clung his mouth to your nipple and sucked on it. While he focused on your right boob, he grabbed your left one with his hand and massaged it, pinching your nipple between his fingers.

”Move, Lando, I can’t hold it anymore.“

”Are you my needy baby?“

”Yes, I am. I need your big cock.“

”I‘m all yours.“

With that, he started snapping his core against yours, and you moaned at the force, he was not playing any games today, Lando was horny and you could feel it by the speed his hips met yours. The room was filled with the sound of your and Lando’s panting, as well as the sound of skin slapping against skin.

The little sounds Lando’s mouth escaped sounded beautiful and turned you on even more, Lando wasn’t that big of a moaner, only when he orgasmed, but short breaths always came out of him.

You lifted your legs and crossed them behind Lando’s back, forcing him to go even faster and harder. ”You need it fast and hard today?“

You could only nod, your mind was clouded in the post and pre-orgasm haze. You needed to hold onto something, you aimlessly reached around you, trying to find something. Without thinking about it, you grabbed a branch of the Christmas tree and with the other hand you found Lando’s back, pressing your nails into his skin, creating little crescents.

Lando was kissing your neck again, sucking slightly on it, but he was careful to not leave any marks.

You could feel yourself getting closer, just as Lando was, his movements became sloppier and his thumb found its way back to your clit, rubbing slight circles on it, stimulating you even more.

”Lando, you make me feel so good.“

”Ugh baby, you take me so well, your walls are clenching around me, I can feel it.“

You slightly pulled on the branch out of reflex and you could hear the baubles clashing against each other. That made Lando look up, ”Look at you, having to grip the Christmas tree because I‘m fucking you so good. But don’t pull on it too hard, or it‘ll fall over“, in your orgasm brain you didn’t really register what he said, just hearing him say to stop gripping the tree and you did, pulling on his hair instead.

With his last energy, Lando sped up his movements and thrusted even harder in you. Your walls clenched around him, your breath started to hitch with his every thrust, and he made you see stars.

”I‘m so close.“

”Cum for me, Y/N.“

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, your back was arched and the orgasm wave washed over you, your panting became harder, and moans escaped your mouth.

A few moments later, Lando also came with moans and he painted your insides white, now he collapsed on top of you, barely holding himself up. With heavy breaths he pressed kisses all over your face, stopping on your mouth, where he lingered.

His lips were puffy and red after a while, you probably looked the same, but you both had a satisfied grin on your face, while you went to the shower to ’clean up‘, but it really just was an excuse for round two.

[softpascalito]

Christmas Baking for Three - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You're tired, pregnant, angry and you mess up the cookies meant for Joel. He gets a full blast of your hormones - and still manages to surprise you.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader WC: 1800 Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Baking, Christmas Cookies, Christmas, Pregnancy, Female Reader, No use of y/n, Fights, Mention of normal pregnancy struggles, Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Nicknames, Kissing, Crying, Joel Miller in an apron Read on AO3 full advent calendar (updated daily)

notes: another lil calendar piece that is also dedicated to steph's winter writing challenge (@toomanystoriessolittletime) with the trope baking <3 i also wanted to mention a very short but very lovely pregnancy piece by SwiggitySwagNightmareStag with peña that i found really inspiring in regards to p characters and how they handle pregnancy. you can read it here! <3

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You swore under your breath as you opened the oven door, only to be met with a gush of heat and the smell of burnt dough. The cookies that you had so carefully prepared, cut out in the shapes of christmas trees and hearts, had taken on a dark brown color, the furthest row from you already smoking slightly.

“Fuck-” With a quick move, you maneuvered the try of burnt cookies onto the sink to let them cool off. Looking at them in broad daylight, it was clear that they were barely edible and in no way as enjoyable as they should be.

You ignored the surge of anger inside of yourself, anger at the oven for being so damn unreliable, at the timer that you’d meant to replace ages ago, at yourself. You’d been too distracted with cleaning up, then being forced to take a quick trip to the bathroom upstairs and getting sidetracked with laundry.

A groan left you at the realization. The laundry was still soaking in the bathtub, abandoned the second you’d caught a glimpse of the clock and realized how long the cookies had been baking for.

Angry tears shot into your eyes. It felt like a never-ending battle between you and your ever-growing list of things to do, to prepare, to keep track of. And this had been the one thing you’d wanted to do for him, to thank him for taking over so many of said things now that you were in your third trimester. Maybe you could start over, hide the failed cookies, to spare your another embarrassment in front of-

As if summoned by your thoughts, the door of the small mudroom bordering the kitchen opened with a creak. Merely a second later and clearly alarmed by the smell, he was hurrying into the room, eyes raking through the kitchen until they landed on you. His shoulders slumped slightly as he took in your form, checking you from top to bottom.

“Are you okay?” Joel's voice was soft, despite him being a little out of breath. You could see the basket filled with firewood behind him. Another task that used to be yours before your stomach had grown too big.

He watched your reaction, carefully making his way around the counter, glancing at the burnt cookies in passing. It was enough to make the tears finally spill from your eyes, rolling down your face and landing on the shirt that was already stained with flour. And the anger inside of you? It had finally found an outlet.

The poor man didn't even have time to brace himself before you started yelling.

“You arent supposed to be home, what the fuck are you doing here?!” He looked taken aback, but only for a moment. Then his face seemed to relax. You didn't want him to relax. You wanted him to be as angry as you were and in as much pain and misery. You knew it was a horrible, horrible thought, but you couldn't help it. You wanted him to have to run to the toilet upwards of twenty times a day, to have him woken up by a human kicking inside of him at the most ungodly hours.

“You said you'd be at work until five! You're not-” Another sob escaped you as the knot in your chest seemed to grow exponentially, “You're not supposed to be here yet and-”

You couldn't find a single trace of anger on his face. Not in the crease between his brows, not in the corners of his mouth, not even in his eyes. All you could find was concern.

“Hey-” Joel whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks. They were cold but you leaned into the touch regardless, “What's going on, darlin? Talk to me, please.”

You hiccuped slightly as you tried to speak, the words fighting hard to not get outside. As far as your body was concerned, there was no point in telling him, in making him a bigger part of your currently miserable experience than he already had to be.

“Burned- I burned the cookies-” You mumbled, “I wanted- wanted to surprise you.”

Your arms finally wrapped around him, your body fitting snug against his, even with your baby bump between you. Joel pulled you closer, one hand supporting your back while the other gently stroked your hair, “Shhh, it's okay. You're okay.”

He held you like that for a while, occasionally whispering words of gentle encouragement into your ear until the sobs had stopped. Then, he nudged you towards the living room, guiding you to sit down on one of the armchairs next to the window. He stayed by your side, kneeling down in front of you as he kept his hands on your legs, gently rubbing your thigh.

“There we are,” Joel mumbled softly, producing a handkerchief from nearby and wiping the last of your tears from your cheeks. He gave you a few more moments of silence before he spoke.

“Wanna talk about it?” You opened your mouth to decline, to push him away and deal with it yourself. It's what you would have done a few months ago. But, as he kept reminding you, you were a team now. No, not just a team. Parents. Soon-to-be-parents. He-was-once-before-but-you-were-new-to-all-this-parents.

“It's just been a lot,” you mumbled, watching as Joel nodded along, soft brown eyes radiating understanding. “And I'm already putting so much work on you on top of your normal duties so I thought- I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Joel hummed quietly, his thumb pressing into your thigh a little, “You do nice things for me all the time, darlin’.”

“I don't. Not with-” You helplessly gestured to your stomach. You could practically see Joel's expression getting a little more serious at that, “Baby, I promise you do. You're here when I come home, right? You fall asleep next to me. You kiss me when you wake up in the morning. Don't need more than that, baby.”

Almost instantly, the tears were back. A thick one rolled down your cheek and Joel reached up just in time to catch it.

“I appreciate you wanting to bake for me, godda-” He stopped himself from cursing, a habit he’d picked up in the last few weeks, with the due date coming ever closer and him insisting that you should at least try to bring up a civilized child. You had a feeling it had less to do with your child and more with the amount of curse words Ellie dropped on a daily basis, but if it made Joel happy, you wouldn't argue against it.

He sighed, “I really do appreciate it. And you know I think your cookin’ is nothing short of magic,” he mumbled quietly. Then he shook his head, his hand wandering to gently rest on your round stomach, “But it's not why I'm with you.”

“Besides, you're already doin’ a whole lot of baking in here,” he added with a small smile, gently patting your stomach and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

“I wouldn't exactly call it baking.”

Joel raised a brow, “No, ‘m pretty sure it is. I made a real nice dough, put it right in here, turned up the heat and now I just gotta wait for it to be done.”

“You're such an idiot, Miller,” you offered weakly as you leaned down towards him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He smirked against your lips, “If being an idiot gets you to stop crying, I'll do it more often.”

The kiss barely had time to get more heated before you gently pushed back against Joel's chest, “Gotta finish the laundry upstairs.” A small frown built on his face, “We agreed I'd do that. Ain't good for your back, baby.”

“I told you, I've been-” He actually cut you off this time, squeezing your thigh a little to make you fall silent, “Remember what I said? When you told me you were pregnant?”

You raised a brow, “Before or after you almost fainted?” Joel sent you a playful glare at that, causing you to sigh, “You said we were in this together. That you- that you'd be here for it all.”

“That's right,” he mused softly, his thumb still absent-mindedly caressing your thigh. 

“Now, let me go take care of the laundry and you take a nap, yeah? You look-” He paused for a moment, clearly trying to find a nice way to say it, “You look real tired, darlin’.”

You drifted off to the sound of clothes being washed in the bathtub in the next room and to Joel's soft humming of a lullaby he’d been practicing. If this works just half as good on our baby, you thought right before falling asleep, we’re not going to half a single sleepless night.

When you wake up, the rays of afternoon sun are filtering through the windows, giving the house the warm glow you like it so much for. Stumbling into the kitchen, you're met with a sight that you've never seen before.

Joel Miller, an apron tied around his front, kneading away on a piece of dough. Your small laughter alerts him to your presence and you swear you can spot the faintest blush on his cheeks as you practically skip towards him.

“If you wanted an excuse to wear that, you could've just said so,” you tease, leaning against the counter as you watch him. Joel grumbles softly but the small smile on his face isn't lost on you, “ ‘bout time you wake up. Wanna help?”

You frown slightly- and then you realize what he’s doing. Baking bread is something you do often, but this isn't that. The cookie recipe you'd been using earlier is placed next to him, the dough looks exactly the same yours had before you’d burned it.

“Figured we both like cookies. Plus it doubles as a Christmas activity and, well.”

You kiss him. Once, twice, only stopping when he forces you to. He's perfect.

You bake together this time, with you showing him how to get the cut-outs just right, him sneaking a few pieces of the dough into his mouth when he thinks you’re not looking. It’s cozy and relaxing and for the first time in weeks, you seem to forget all about the struggles of being a pregnant woman.

You both sit in front of the oven afterwards, you in Joels lap, your bodies intertwined, both watching eagerly as the cookies slowly turn golden. He kisses your head, his nose nuzzling your hair a few times.

“Next time you’re overwhelmed like that?” He mumbles quietly, “Just let me know, yeah? You know I'm here. For you and the little one”

You nod softly, resting your head against his chest, “I know.”

notes: as always, thank you for reading. i adore each and every one of you. if you enjoyed this, feel free to give me an early christmas present by leaving a comment or reblogging <3

[loonyloopylupin96]

Prompt: Advent | @moonwater-microfic | Words: 419

The October full moon had been particularly rough for Remus that year, but as he settles down in the library, just beside the door to the restricted section, he begins to feel like a normal student again. A normal student with a lot of work to catch up on.

After an hour, he's on a roll and his study is going well. Although he'd benefit from a bit of extra time he's loathe to request an extension - it wouldn't be fair to the others - so he continues on feeling quite focused in his own little world.

That is, until he senses someone approach.

"Are you an apparition? Or have you actually come back to school?"

He looks up to see Regulus approaching. There's a look on his face that gives Remus pause. It's some sort of twisted amalgamation of relief and… anger?

"I'm here-"

"Because I'm hoping you're an apparition. The real you would surely have sent me a letter or something to say you were okay, and not just hidden away in the fucking library when you got back."

Closing the book with a gentle sigh, he savours the silent seconds available to him as he sets it aside.

"I was going to come and find you once I'd made some progress on catching up, you know how it is-"

"No, I can't say I do," he argues. "You vanish suddenly, say nothing, and come back looking like you're at death's door. You don't tell me a god-damned thing. What am I supposed to think?"

The question hangs in the air between them.

"Right," Regulus continues, bitterly, "Forget it. I-"

"I'm sorry," Remus says at last, though he's speaking in such a low voice it's a wonder the other hears him at all. "I know you've been worried about me, and I know it's hard not knowing, but… I'm okay."

"Does that mean you're not going to be going off sick again?"

The silence answers on his behalf.

Regulus exhales, but as he stares furiously ahead of him, between the long row of shelves, he shuffles his hand over so his smallest finger can brush against Remus'.

"I had your return on my calendar, you know," he says, voice softening. "The advent of Lupin. Well, I just marked it as 'advent', the others think I'm senile."

It's only a matter of time before Regulus realises the truth, but he parks that thought aside - that's a worry for another time.

"I'm sure I'm not that important," Remus replies, breaking into a smile.  From the corner of his eye, he can see Regulus squashing a smile of his own.

"You are. To me."

[moonlight-records]

Secret Santa| MS36 (HAC #11)

pairing: ms36 x reader

summary: Mercedes is doing secret santa for their holiday party which is fine, typically. What happens when by some stroke of luck, you get your long time crush?

warning: fluff!

fc: none!

wc: 1.5k

a/n: day 11 of moonlight records holiday advent calendar!

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 |day 10 | current day | day 12

“...The limit for gifts is £100. Once again, this does not mean you need to spend £100 on a gift but if you want to buy something a bit more expensive you can.” Toto continues on. You, by some miracle, tune your boss out as you look back down at the folded piece of paper in your hand. It feels like it’s burning into your skin as you watch Toto drone on about the rules of secret Santa. 

“Finally,” you’ve never been more excited to hear those words leave your boss’ mouth, “do not share who you got for secret Santa!” Toto explains before staring at all of you and gesturing, “open them.”

You watch all your co-workers around you start opening their pieces of paper. All of them, in their own form, are tucking themselves away to read the name and you simply look down at yours before finally opening it. 

Mick Schumacher.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper with wide eyes looking at the paper. It was only your work’s secret Santa but you had to get it right. How else were you supposed to try and impress your crush if you didn’t nail Secret Santa right.

Sitting in the factory parking lot, you browsed your phone frantically searching for anything at this point. The party was tomorrow and everyone was raving about how good their presents were and you had nothing.

Somehow three weeks flew by and you still hadn’t bought your secret Santa present. You had found a lot of potential gifts but nothing really screamed Mick and it was driving you nuts since this was all you thought about when you weren’t at work. For fuck sake, you finished your holiday shopping for all your friends and family while trying to find the perfect Mick for gift but anytime you didn’t have money or the excuse, you could always find something for Mick. You were starting to accept the fact that you were going to botch this one attempt with Mick and make a fool of yourself in front of him.

Hitting your head gently against the headrest you sigh softly. Looking back at your phone, you refresh Facebook Marketplace and scroll through before seeing it. Your eyes widen as you read an ad before putting your phone into your cup holder. You start your car and you’re off. 

You manage to get to the location in 30 minutes. Getting out, you make your way into the building and talk to the first worker that’s available. You explain your situation and how your secret would absolutely love this and take such great care and has so many already but they’re with his family and how he’s been always talking about one. After a lot of paperwork and talking, you finally secure the gift. Getting your gift carefully in the passenger seat, you thank the worker once again before climbing into the driver seat and heading to the store to get a few last minute things to make a little basket for this gift before heading home.

You’re up late building your basket. Taking a step back, you smile at your hard work and how it’ll finally pay off. “Perfect.” You say aloud before laying down on the couch, too tired to make it to bed as you happily drift off to sleep, excited for tomorrow.

To say that everyone was more excited about the holiday party than anything else was an understatement. Honestly, it was a miracle that Toto didn’t get so annoyed at the entire company for horribly pretending they were working. It seems that the factory did annoy him enough that he had everyone go home early to get ready for the party. You thank Toto as you leave the factory before going home and changing for the party. 

You check yourself over and brush your red dress of little fuzzes that got on it. Putting your tights on, you slip some spandex on before your boots before gathering everything and packing the car. Coming back, you carefully grab your present and make your way back to the factory for the party. You park and grab your gift as you head inside, thanking a coworker who held the door open for you and find a table that’s tucked away closer to a corner and put your gift down, admiring how fast Toto and some workers decorated the factory. 

As more people arrive, the more lively it becomes before the party is in full swing. You have a drink in hand as you talk to some of your co-workers, occasionally glancing back at your gift that’s still resting on the chair. When you’re not overly anxious about your gift, your gaze finds its way to Mick and you can’t help but admire him. A stupid love sick smile appears on your face before his eyes meet yours and he smiles at you. You blink before smiling back, shyly waving before glancing away as your face burns in embarrassment. You look back and see Mick excusing himself from a conversation with Lewis and Bono as he starts making his way over to you.

Shit.

You brace yourself to embarrass yourself before Toto is loudly calling for everyone’s attention and everyone freezes to listen to Toto. You feel relief run through you but it’s short lived as he announces that dinner will be ready in a few moments so while everyone waits, they can finally exchange their gifts. You stand frozen as everyone erupts into chatter, zooming around to find their secret Santa. You turn to look at your gift before there’s a tap on your shoulder before turning and blinking. “Mick!” You were sure as hell he would’ve gone to find his secret Santa. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Mick smiles. He glances down at the box he’s holding, fidgeting with it slightly, “so um.” He offers the box to you a bit more rigid than he wanted and winces internally, “for you.”

“Me?” You ask, surprise, as you take it. “I–I was your secret Santa?”

“Yeah. Which–works because…” Mick’s voice trails off as you carefully untie the ribbon. You glance up seeing Mick shift anxiously before looking back down and opening the box slowly and gasping. Inside the box was a gold jewelry set. Simple gold hoop earrings along with a gold necklace that had your initials on a charm with hearts surrounding them. “Oh Mick,” you whisper after finding your breath again. Looking at him you’re smiling wide. “It’s beautiful. Oh–thank you so much. I’m. I’m truly at a loss for words with how beautiful it is–”

“Then go on a date with me? Please?” Mick blurts out.

“What?” You look at Mick. 

You’re both staring at each other with wide eyes. You’re staring in disbelief because you don’t think you heard Mick right and Mick’s staring at you with a sheepish smile because it seems that this wasn’t exactly how he wanted to ask you. “Me?” You point to yourself. “You.” Pointing to Mick, “a date?”

“Yeah. If you want, which I really hope you do. Though it’s totally fine if you don’t!” Mick says quickly, “might make things awkward. I don’t really want it to be but that’s also fine and–”

“Mick!” You finally cut him off. “I would love to go on a date with you!”

“Really?!”

Nodding excitedly, “yes!”

“Great!” Mick beams as he follows you to your seat. He’s rambling off date ideas before stopping when his eyes fall onto your gift basket. “Oh! Did you make this? This is so cute! Who’s it for?”

“You.” 

It’s Mick’s turn to be surprised as he points to himself. “Me? You had me for secret Santa?” He laughs when you nod, “Well, what are the odds of that?” He goes to pick it up but stops when you gently put your arm out and instruct him to just open it. He raises a brow but he does slowly before gasping and covering his mouth. “Oh my god. Y/N–are you serious?” He stares at you in awe before turning back to the sleepy Saint Bernard puppy who’s in the middle of a yawn as she looks up. She immediately wiggles in Mick’s gentle hold before cuddling into his chest and wagging her tail. “Y/N I–I don’t know what to say. How did you–”

“No kill shelter that was already overflowing. Someone had brought this litter in and given them away for free. I found the ad at the last second and the little girl was one of three left. It took a very long conversation and many pictures of you and your family dog for them to agree but they did. Completely free so I really spent all the money on stuff you’d need for her.” You gesture to the basket. 

“Y/N, this is the best present anybody could have gotten me.” Mick says earnestly, “I really don’t know what to say or how to thank you–”

“Maybe we could have dinner at your place and do some training with this girl,” you explain while petting the pup, “and we could call that our first date, yeah?” Mick looks up from his cooing and gushing over the pup. “Deal.” 

[clarkeyhill]

Advent| George Clarke

Heavy Smut ! (LONG) [KINKMAS]

Summary: You were gifted a Lovehoney advent calendar by your friend as secret Santa, although knowing that you weren't a very adventurous person in the bedroom. George is intrigued to test it, however you're skeptical.

It was December 1st, and you had been eyeing the small, velvet box for weeks. Your friend had given it to you as a secret santa and you felt a nervous flutter in her chest. The calendar was no ordinary advent calendar; it was one designed for couples, each door revealing a challenge meant to explore new levels of intimacy.

You didn’t have to look far to find George, his tall frame lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. You bit your lip, trying to fight off a blush. You’d been together for over a year now, and while your relationship was built on love and trust, you'd both fallen into a comfortable routine. They hadn’t been as spontaneous in the bedroom lately. And honestly? You missed the fire.

"Hey, George,” she said softly, sitting down beside him, holding up the calendar. “What do you think?”

He raised an eyebrow, eyeing the box with curiosity. “What is it?”

“It’s an… adventure,” she said, your voice teasing but nervous. “An advent calendar for couples. You know… it’s full of… challenges.”

George’s lips curved into a smirk. “Challenges? What kind of challenges?”

You hesitated for a moment, before answering with a shy grin. “The kind that will make us both a little… hot under the collar"

George smirked "how so?"

Y/N chuckled, glancing at the calendar. “Trust me, you’ll see. It’s not just about chocolates.”

He grinned, his gaze settling on her with a mix of desire and amusement. “I’m all in. Let’s start tonight.”

The first challenge was tame enough—“Give each other a passionate kiss that lasts for two minutes.” It sounded simple enough, but as soon as their lips met, the heat between them grew. The kiss deepened, slow and lingering, their tongues dancing together in an intimacy that made Y/N’s pulse quicken. By the time the timer went off, they were both breathless, their bodies pressed close.

“I like this,” George murmured, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “This could get interesting.”

Over the next few days, the challenges got bolder. Day 4’s task was “Give each other a sensual massage, focusing on the neck and shoulders.” You had never been one for massages, but as George’s hands worked over your skin, kneading the tension from your muscles, you realized just how much it turned her on. The soft touch of his fingers, the slow, purposeful pressure—it was as though his hands knew exactly what you needed. Him.

The last day soon approached, you had 6 days left of the calendar, but your body was aching for it to heat up more.

George had eyed up the calendar all day, excited to see what was in the last door, you see him eye you up and look down to the camera as you let out a giggle.

"Okay open it" you say walking over

The door revealed a satin black blindfold with a card that read "tonight, surrender your sight and let your senses guide you"

Holding the blindfold up George was intrigued and immediately placed it round his eyes, a grin appearing on his face, meanwhile the room glowed with candles as you crouch in front of him.

"Trust me?" You ask, curious of his answer as he nodded

"Always" his voice husky and low on anticipation

You started with a light feather touch, trailing your fingertips over his chest and arms, sending a shudder up his back, his bare chest lit up by the glow of the candles as you drop a hint of oil that came with the calendar, a droplet falling on his chest you massaged it with deep strokes as George inhaled sharply, his muscles twitching under your touch

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" He snickers

"Mmhm, too much" you murmur

As the night unfolded, the blindfold became a gateway to trust, exploration and intimacy. By the time George finally slip it off, his eyes were mixed with lust and desire.

"You're so fucking gorgeous" he mumbles as your breath hitches, his hands lay above your hips, eyeing up your body, like he was deprived of it.

The room still slightly dim, George leaned in his lips brushing against yours with a slow and deliberate tease, his hands slide down your sides with a firm but gentle grasp; pulling you closer until your bodies were flushed together. You let out a soft gasp as his mouth moved to your neck, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His fingers tangled in your hair as your head rocks back. The world outside disappeared leaving only the press of his body, the graze of his teeth and the intoxicating rhythm of desire building between you both.

George then lifts you up, laying you down on the sofa as he hovers over your, the oil still glistening on his chest as you smirk.

"You drive me crazy" he mumbled as he skips his fingers into the seem of your pants, edging them away from your body as your breath hitches. He bites his lip as he admires your body, taken under your spell.

His thumb finds its way to your core, as you gasp at his touch, he starts to make 8 figure motions as you grip his arms, the satisfaction of his face prominent as he watches you crumble under his touch. His tactics change as the sudden slip of his fingers has you choked

"Fuck" you whine

Georges eyes glow red, who knew a calendar could create this much friction?

He picks up the pace as you feel your self letting go "fuck me george, please" you beg, unable to hide the desire anymore you tug at his trousers. His fingers slip from inside you and he unbuckles his trousers

"It's so hot when you beg for me" he taunts as your face flushes

He slides his boxers down, revealing the tent underneath them, your lip curls in excitement as he teases your entrance with his tip

"Beg" he says sternly

"Please George, please fuck me" you whine once again? The break in your voice becoming more apparent

George licks his lips, as he trails his tip from your core to your entrance, slowly sliding himself inside your mouth drops open.

"You feel so good" he praises as your head rocks back once more

George moves slow, building up your desperation as your lip quivers "faster George!" You plea, your body crumbling with every thrust

"Good girl, use your words" he says as he picks his pace up as he cups one of your breasts, sliding his thumb over your nipple.

You feel yourself getting tighter as you hit your climax, your legs begging to shake as George grips them firmly

"I love the way your body reacts to me" he murmurs in satisfaction

"Fuck, George!" You screech as your climax peaks, you pant as George continues reaching his own climax, as he grunts he pulls out. Leaving his hair disheveled in sweat. He pants as he pulls his trousers up. Kissing your thighs as he looks up at you

"Good job baby" he mutters as you smile at him panting

"Maybe the calendar was a good idea after all" you chuckle as he lays next to you in the sofa, pulling your pants up as he does so.

"It definitely was" he chuckles, planting a kiss on your head.

-

🫶🏻

[pentrologram]

What Normal People Do - 8

You're so, so pissed.

warning/cw for user having a panic attack- basically hurt no comfort

never mentioning how long it takes for me to write a chapter again because wow hi guys it's been two months... i'll be real, it's not my best work, but if i try to nitpick anymore this chapter'll be out when i graduate haha (additional: this is day 25 of my advent calendar! i know this was supposed to be out on christmas day, i'm sorry, i'm sick 😭)

ao3!

ghost/soap/gn!reader (established ghoap)

(Why Did I Like You? Breaking it Off)

Your realization is a scary one.

It takes you taking an Uber home, collapsing in your bed and passing out and waking up before you realize the consequences:

Holy fuck, you loved them.

Them being a couple.

An established couple.

Who got along like water in a stream.

You came to another realization not too shortly after: there’s no way in hell you can tell them if you want your friendship to remain the same. And if you don’t want them to think of you as a creep- because that’s exactly how you feel. 

You feel like a creep, wanting to be a part of their undoubtedly closed, private relationship, wanting to get closer than what’s acceptable, at least in your head. You don’t know when or how or why these feelings have arisen- all you know is that they are just there. And you certainly don’t appreciate them at all.

No, you determine yourself to push down these frankly irrelevant feelings. There’s no use for them by either party, anyway.

Little do you know that on the other side of the plaster and drywall , Johnny’s feeling the same as you .

He’s a lot less in denial about his feelings than you are, though. He came to terms with his feelings a long while ago, and he’s been a lot less subtle about his feelings, too. What with the way he had snuck food from his plate to your own when you ate dinner with them just because you said you liked a certain dish or how he had stopped you from paying for anything while at the countless (literally, countless) art fairs you had been dragged to or the hopelessly-in-love looks he gave you from the other side of a room.

However, much like you, he’s scared.

He’s been stockpiling, hoarding random facts about you and committing them to his memory, just to randomly delight you with something you assume he’d forgotten .

He and Simon have had thirds before, multiple times. People that had left well before morning, whatever. They’d never seen anyone like you before—sweet, little you. You who had barged into their hearts with your broken one, nestled deep, curled up and settled.

Still, he’s scared. He and Simon had never talked about their relationship like that before, because they never needed to.

You, though, were making him question things. He had always thought- assumed?- that Simon was the one and only person for him. Only Simon could fill a persistent ache in his heart, could soothe his overactive mind and lull him into rest. However, when you came along, suddenly Johnny felt the same way he had when he first met Simon. Suddenly, he was poking the bear that was the 6’4 masked Lieutenant in base after being transferred into the 141, giddy off of boyish nerves and fickle puppy love that soon turned into something more.

Suddenly, you make Johnny feel as though he’s a lot younger than he is.

And don’t get him wrong, it’s bloody amazing . He adores you- well and truly , he does. He’s scared of how Simon will react, though.

He and Simon are birds of a feather, really, and he knows that Simon likes you a fair amount. The real question is if Simon thought of you the way Johnny did, or if to him, you were just a good friend. It’s that thought that makes Johnny scared- that if he introduced the idea of including you in their relationship, Simon would be disgusted, maybe even offended. It’s that thought that gives him pause and stops him from bringing it up to Simon.

More fuel to the fire of your trepidation: you're so anxious about the sculpture. You know they know that it was someone else (technically), but the memory of throwing that sculpture- god, you feel terrible about it. Yeah, you were maybe a lot intoxicated, but it was still insanely terrifying. You just knew that if you were to go up to them unguarded they would split your brain open and see everything within you. They would be able to tell that you broke the sculpture and they’d see your weakness and then they’d hate you for it. You’re convinced that they’d hate you about it so much that they will get you kicked out of your lovely new apartment somehow, maybe from a friendship with the landlord, and then convince your job to drop you for being a deplorable sculpture-shatterer. Maybe they'd even go as far as to go onto the news about you and your deplorable-ness since Johnny had gained internet reach via the homophobic outburst. Maybe they’d turn you in to the cops. Maybe you’d get locked up, like how Simon was trying to get the original vandal to be. Needless to say, you didn’t talk to either of them about the incident, going rigid whenever it got mentioned, going to yourself ‘god, maybe they’ve found you out’ when all it is is Simon grumbling about the local police being little to no help. You’ve also been sort of avoiding them, not responding to Johnny’s texts as much or purposefully timing taking out the trash to catch Simon and Riley on their afternoon walks. You don’t think they notice, since they’ve been caught up in a sudden wave of support on practically all ends- you’re sure you saw a few strangers loitering on their doorstep a few separate times. 

Despite all of your anxiety, life still moves on. You worked nearly every day for the past two weeks before getting two days off. The clinic had been swamped because a nearby elementary school had a lice outbreak; first-time moms who had never heard about lice shampoo came flocking to your practice. It probably would’ve been funny, you supposed, but it was just tiring to deal with back-to-back upset toddlers with upset parents. You were so tired that when Johnny reached out to invite you to watch a horror movie in preparation for Halloween, you couldn’t even bother with your anxiety declining, just wanting some sort of comfort. 

Now, you’re at the boys’ apartment, contemplating the benefits of leaping out of their balcony; just to rid yourself of the near-crippling anxiety of being so close to the two of them. You're settled into the couch to watch Jennifer's Body with the boys, and Simon is lounged with his mask off and he has one burly arm over the top of the couch , practically over Johnny's shoulders as Johnny sort of sits right in the divot between Simon's cushion (since he’s buff enough to warrant his own cushion) and the cushion he should’ve been sitting on, enticing you to sit closer than normal to Johnny.

Knowing what you know now, you don't. Feeling what you do now, you don’t. You even take the opportunity to put a little space between you two, sitting purposefully on the other side of the couch. You’re honestly scared that if you do sit close to him, they'll take you sitting shoulder to shoulder with Johnny wrong.

You settle in, kicking your stocking-clad feet up onto the couch as you watch the first scene of the movie .

You zone out for a while and it’s not until Simon huffs a gruff chuckle at something or other- you weren't really paying attention- that you zone back in. Then, as if recalling something, his brown gaze bores directly through the fucking tissues of your face, right over an asleep Johnny, who had leaned in his sleep, his head now on your shoulder. He’s kind of (really) scary like this, just staring at you. It’s more tense without a lighthearted Johnny to diffuse the tension.

“You’re jumpy,” he observes.

“I’m not.” You’re not.

“Are y’ sure? You haven’t been seeming like yourself for a while, bun.”

“I’m fine.” You are. He scrutinizes you and you can feel a pit of anxiety in your stomach, which quickly turns into an irrational sort of anger. “Don’t look at me like that.” You half-snap. He had just looked at you so closely that you’re utterly convinced he knows exactly what you’re thinking, which only serves to irritate you further.

“Sorry.” He says, but he doesn’t seem sorry, only surprised.

“No, you’re not.” He’s not . His brow furrows.

“Bun, are you-“

“Stop.” You say, and he does. Johnny starts to drool. You look back to the movie. Simon doesn’t, and it ticks you off- his eyes are analytical but soft. Like he’s pitying you, which confuses you- what about you is there to pity? You’re convinced he knows everything about the sculpture now, what with the intensity of his gaze earlier. He should be feeling angry at you, not sorry for you.

“ Stop looking at me like that!” You burst out, making Johnny flinch awake, his head stuttering as it rises up from your tensed shoulders. He blinks blearily at you and your heart stutters, because even mostly asleep, he’s drop-dead gorgeous. He’s so pretty. It shouldn’t be allowed. Unexpectedly, it just adds more fuel to the fire that is your anxiety-driven rage.

“Wh’s-” Johnny starts.

“Bun, it’s okay- hey,” Simon cuts in.

“Fucking stop! I don’t get how you can be so- so calm all the time when you hate me,” you say, traitorous tears pricking at your eyes. “I know you know that I broke the vase, a-and it’s so infuriating when you act like nothing’s wrong! Like it doesn’t matter! Like you’re just- waiting for the perfect moment to strike on me and force me to pay my dues or something! Being quietly pissed off is shitty and rude and dehumanizing!"

You fight through the rising nausea and-

"-I hate that you know that I love you!" Embarrassment rises to your cheeks. It's slick and toxic, because *what the fuck*, no way you just said that?! You're fuming as you get up on unsteady feet and leave their apartment, narrowly avoiding the next wave of trick-or-treaters. You fumbled with your key before prying open the door of your apartment , falling onto your bed and crying into your pillow, frustrated with yourself.

That was awesome. That was great. You'd just confessed everything you knew they knew- if they didn't, they surely did now. They'd hate you. You really had to start detaching yourself from your apartment now, because you were almost 99% they would be reporting you for harassment or something to your landlord.

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

Both Simon and Johnny are confused as they sit on the couch in stunned silence in the aftermath.

"Well." Simon murmurs.

"Yeah.”

“I mean… well, fuck. Right bloody mess, that.”

“Only a mess? More like-” Johnny stops himself and bites his lower lip , hesitating .

“Well? Go’n, then,” Simon interjects, bumping Johnny’s shoulder. “More like what?” 

Internally, Johnny berates himself for the slip-up, since the plan has never been to tell Simon the truth. To confess that he-

No, he’s sure Simon must have an inkling of the direction of the secret he’s concealed for the better half of a month. Simon knows him too well, too intimately, their souls too closely intertwined for any secret to survive longer than a month. He should just fess up, he knows, but speaking the words would only be painful and he feels like they both could do with a lot less pain.

“Si, it’s-”

“Bullshit,” Simon says nearly immediately, his eyes glaring daggers through Johnny’s skull, making him gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Jus’ spit it out.” He hisses.

“I… Si,” he sighs out. “Si, Ah really like them. Like, really,” he says sulkily. “Ah still love ye the same, an’ I still think you’re my soulmate an’ all, But…. Somethin’ abou’ them, Si, I dunno.”

“Ah, Johnny,” Simon says, sighing, drawing Johnny closer to his side. “Tha’ isn’t anything to worry about,” he rumbles, “I feel the same, y’know. Thought you clued it out by now.”

“Really?” Johnny asks, peering up at his lover.

“Yeah, really, with your dumbass.”

“Oh. Well. I think- I think they feel the same.”

“You think ? They fundamentally confessed, love,” he mutters.

“Yeah, ollright,” Johnny huffs. “What d’ya suppose we do, then, if yer all-knowing?”

“Well, we tell 'em, don’t we? Get them a nice dinner. Some wine. The works.”

“Uh-huh. I think they’re scared of us, though, Si,” Johnny says quietly.

“I think you’re paranoid.” Simon presses a kiss on Johnny’s forehead. Johnny huffs again but offers no further cheek. “I say we take ‘em out to Ivy Springfield’s. Alright?”

“Alright.”

<- back next ->

[phone4pills]

NUTCRACKER DAY 3

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ slow’s advent calendar! no warnings apart from nerves and cringy dancing, but we all love ballerina!Reader

Behind the stage, there was an overwhelming buzz in the atmosphere. Girls were circling around you, running from one place to another and back again. Costumes. Makeup. Hair. Pointe shoes. Practice. Lighting. Sound. It was all so much to handle and your brain was becoming foggy with the thoughts that practically sprinted and hurdled around your mind.

“Six minutes before opening. First call!” The blood rushed through your head when the speakers rung to let you know how close it was until you’d have to get on that stage in front of thousands of people. You hurried into the dressing room, searching your shoulder bag for your phone. You quickly hit Chris’ contact. Your shoulders relaxed when you found that he’d already texted you. You didn’t think you’d text him otherwise.

Chris

How you doin’ back there, flower?

Chris, I’m really nervous.

Give me a minute the crowd is massive.

Not helpful :|

Sorry :(

You waited a couple minutes, eventually hearing a knock at the door. You opened it to find yourself boyfriend, Chris in the doorway. He had a suit black shirt and pink backwards hat on. You knew he’d refuse to wear a suit the one night you actually wanted him to. It’s as if he knew what you were thinking because he retorted, “Y’know I look cute.”

“Whatever, Chris. I’m really stressed out. What if I fuck up?” You shook your head, pulling him into the dressing room with an exaggerated huff. He tutted, taking a seat on one of the sofas and pulling you into his lap and stroking your thigh with utmost care.

“You won’t. Every time I’ve come to your house you’ve been practicing. I mean, I haven’t really seen you without those pointe shoes in months!” You realised how right he was. You’d been practicing like there was no tomorrow. The steps were basically engraved int you, and your muscle memory was… well, impressive. To say the least. But that was when you were in the comfort of your own home, or the studio. Now you’d be on a stage in front of a crowd that wasn’t even imaginable in your head. And you couldn’t pretend they were all pineapples, there would never be that many pineapples in a room together.

Chris noticed how your hands shook, and when they weren’t shaking they were fidgeting with your tutu, or picking at your tights. He felt bad, knowing how much pressure was in you when it came to playing Clara. It was the biggest part you’d landed in your entire career. Luckily, he had an idea.

“Hey, you remember when you first danced the Nutcracker? In eighth grade? You were the sugar plum fairy. And you’d forced me to spot you for hours?” Your eyes lit up, remembering your teenage self who was so dedicated to perfecting ever single step. Every detail. From the first toe to hit pointe to the highest finger on either hand. And you could vividly remember when Chris had had enough and threw you over his shoulder before taking you to your bed and warning you not to leave it again for the next hour.

The welcoming music snapped you out of your thoughts, playing quietly in the background from the speakers on the stage. That meant everyone was seated already. “3 minutes before opening. Second call!” You heard from the hallway. Chris hoisted you up in a rush, pulling you close. He began to rock side to side, dancing lousily. You giggled, laying your head on his shoulder as the two of you moved around the dressing room to the notes of the piano that were barely ringing through the walls.

After a mere minute, he was spinning you away from him. And you pirouetted with little effort. The smile that spread across his face was heartwarming. You looked so gorgeous just turning in your baby pink costume, gold adornments gleaming under the warm lights.

“One minute before opening. All dancers in positions. Final call!” You gave Chris a kiss, and the two of you swiftly left the dressing room, he sped down to the audience’s seats while you made your way towards the left entrance. In that moment you knew it. You felt it. You were ready. And then the lights came on and the music pulled you onto stage.

Thank you for opening this part of the calendar, there will be more to come ! In the meantime, you guys should tell me about your Christmas. Also I love ballerina!Reader so credits to anyone who writes for her. I might do more but this is to for now. ALSO THIS IS NOT PROOF READ, sorry for any mistakes.

- ©phone4pills

[dreaminrainbows]

Happy 28th!! This month is so long how is it still not over???? Here are some amazing fics that got me through January

Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top)  by angelichl/@angelichl | [113k]

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

I like the way you say my name (when you soak it in grace) by louisismycat (tiflamomet)/@liminalkittyfics | [73k]

“It’s like I’m fucking orbiting around you, you know? Like you’re some huge, beautiful planet, and I’m a piece of space junk lucky enough to be pulled in by you somehow, and now I can’t leave, even if I wanted to. And I really fucking don’t want to leave.” OR Louis is transferred to a new city to temporarily cover for his counterpart while he is on maternity leave for the next six months. His new co-workers talk endlessly about Harry, the omega who he’s covering for. And Louis finds himself jealous of whatever alpha as snatched him up. Until he learns Harry is actually an unmated omega three months out from becoming a single parent. Title from “Say My Name” by Prince of Eden

2024 Advent Calendar by larryftnoctrl/@the-larry-way | [47k]

25 independent one-shots with wintery/Christmas themes centering Larry Stylinson

I am adding the whole calendar since I've read most of the fics in it, strongly encouraging you to do the same

A Frail Farewell by Rearviewdreamer/@all-these-larrythings | [44k]

Louis can’t believe his luck when he is offered one of the easiest jobs he has had as a long-term house-sitter for the wealthy. He loves the money, and the peace and quiet of the empty mansions he looks after. Most of all he likes that there are no surprises until he gets the shock of his life from ex-pop star Harry Styles who isn’t supposed to be home.

Buried Like Treasure by QuickedWeen/ @becomeawendybird | [40k]

Prince Harry Styles is very private. He chooses to keep himself out of the public eye but feels lonely and isolated while surrounded by people in his hectic royal life. When he finishes his dissertation, he decides to take a solo holiday to one of the royal family's properties in the Swiss Alps. Semi-retired thief Louis Tomlinson has been pulled in for one last job: steal a painting from an uninhabited mansion. Neither one of them expects a natural disaster.

If I had no love to give (I wouldn't give it to you) by kingsofeverything/@kingsofeverything | [30k]

Small town restaurateur Louis Tomlinson needs someone competent to work in his kitchen. Chef Harry Styles needs a job.

Want It Flowing Through My Streams by screwstyles | [30k]

Wimbledon ABO AU: Harry has just qualified for his first Grand Slam, and he’s prepared to make the most of it – that is, until his heat unexpectedly hits him only a few days before his first match. And it’s just his luck that Louis Tomlinson, the resident bad boy of British tennis, is the only person around to help him.

Cold Calls by xunorthodox/@ltwritten | [17k]

Harry tilted his head, his green eyes scanning Louis' face in a way that made his skin crawl. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?" Against his better judgment, the cracks in his composure widen as he says, "What do you want me to say, Harry? You've got a job to do. I'm not going to sit here and guilt you into staying." OR Louis is nearing the severe stages of touch depri and alpha drop. Harry just can’t stay away.

No Bunny But You by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks)/@crinkle-eyed-boo | [13k]

“So you saw the bunnies then?” Harry clarifies, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, those were a bit of a surprise,” Liam huffs. “I mean, they definitely weren’t part of what we commissioned from him, but they’re kind of cute, right?” Harry sputters a laugh. “What?” Liam asks, the furrow in his brow deepening. “They are cute little bunnies!” “Cute little bunnies that are fucking,” Harry snickers. “What?” Liam gasps. “Liam,” Harry says, trying to school his face into a serious expression. “Those bunnies are fucking.” A slow Monday night behind the bar turns into something else entirely thanks to a new mural and a new customer.

sip it slowly and pay attention  by vintagehistories/@adoredontour | [12k]

“So I’ve got a guy I think you might like,” Louis says. He’s standing in the doorway of Harry’s office, drinking from what is most definitely Harry’s mug. “You’re going to set me up?” Harry asks, rightfully wary. He can’t imagine that this could end well. “Don’t look so afraid.” Louis takes a sip from his mug, wincing as it burns him. Harry rolls his eyes. He’s always warning Louis to be more patient before he loses all his taste buds. “I know you better than anyone else. Who better to set you up on dates than me?” “I guess you’re right,” Harry says, still slightly hesitant. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Louis, but. He doesn’t trust Louis’ taste. Louis has about the same track record with men that Harry does, if not quite as extensive. or, harry is a guidance counselor, louis is an english teacher, and harry just wants to go on one successful date

Tease You, Please You by homosociallyyours/@homosociallyyours | [12k]

Marcy is the best assistant Louis could ever imagine having, and it’s not just because she’s good at her job, though she is. No, what really makes her the perfect fit for Louis is just how easy it is to make her blush and squirm and fall all over herself, and Louis rarely misses an opportunity to get a rise out of her. It’s not until a new drummer joins the band at the last minute, taking away some of Marcy’s time and attention, that Louis starts to wonder if there might be more to it than she’s realized. But has she already messed things up with Marcy with her teasing? There’s only one way to find out.

Fix Me Up by heartbreakwthr | [10k]

Prompt 96: omega harry is in love with the sexy alpha maintenance man named louis who is no doubt a little older than him with the sexiest beard and tattooed hands he has the peaky blinder haircut!!! for the love of god pls and at first harry is so content with his dreams and fingers because stuff in his flat breaks a LOT, harry is quite clumsy you see? so louis has to come fix stuff allllllllll the time so harry gets plenty of wank material when he’s around, can’t help slicking up at just the sight of him (louis tries very hard to ignore this the first 10 times because he was raised to be a respectful alpha but harry just smells so good and he’s so goofy and sexy, so hard to eventually resist) but then harry gets the real thing from louis and they fuck so hard and amazing that they break something and louis is like lmao i can fix that and harry is like swoon

I Roll 'til I Change My Luck by larry_hiatus/ @larry-hiatus | [8k]

Dating is hard enough when you're gay. When Louis reveals to his Tinder matches that he uses a wheelchair and has a service dog, things tend to get even more complicated. Too bad the guys on dating apps aren't as sweet and understanding as his best friend Harry...

i met a superhero. by Anonymous | [7k]

Harry has fibromyalgia and Niall is an idiot, leaving Louis to bump into Harry at 6am in a hospital corridor. It ends up as something much more wonderful than Harry ever could have expected, stood with a walker in his ratty PJs after a nasty flare-up, and he finally finds someone who can love him just the way he is.

You're Music To My Eyes by FallingLikeThis & RecycledStardust/ @fallinglikethis | [5k]

Louis' life is made so much easier when he finally starts using the amazing app for the visually impaired that Niall had him download months ago. Harry discovers a new way to treat people with kindness when his mother introduces him to the app as a sighted volunteer. Is it inevitable that their paths will cross?

Just Two Stars Passing By by QuickedWeen/ @becomeawendybird | [5k]

Harry blew up on TikTok and became a fashion commentator during the pandemic. Now, all of a sudden, big channels are asking him to cover their red carpets and premieres. Somehow he ends up covering arrival fashion for the 2024 Euros, and somehow Louis Tomlinson already knows his name.

a little bit stressed out by orphan_account | [1.8k]

Shawn takes a deep breath. “He’s scaring me.” “Harry’s scaring you?” Niall frowns. “Listen, he might be a global pop phenomenon and have been part of an Oscar-winning film, but he’s just a regular guy. You saw that in rehearsals. What’s changed? Oh, I know. Does he keep telling you the story about how he used to be a baker?” Shawn shakes his head. “No, I’m not talking about Harry. Harry’s great. I’m talking about his boyfriend.” “Louis? Louis is 5’8.” “And what about it?” ~ Or, Harry is starring in a romcom, and Louis keeps terrorizing his poor co-star.

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