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infoblogifyzen · 2 years ago

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Ultimate Wedding Florist Directory for New York Brides

Are you a New York bride-to-be in search of the perfect blooms to adorn your special day? Look no further than the bustling city's array of talented wedding florists. Among these, a standout name that shines is Lenox Hill Florists. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore the enchanting world of wedding floristry in the heart of New York, with a special focus on the exceptional offerings of Lenox Hill Florists.

The Importance of Wedding Floristry

Wedding flowers are not merely decorations; they tell a story, evoke emotions, and symbolize love. Your choice of flowers can set the tone for the entire event. Whether you're dreaming of a romantic garden affair, a chic modern celebration, or a timeless classic wedding, the right florist can transform your vision into reality.

Why Lenox Hill Florists?

When it comes to wedding florists in New York, Lenox Hill Florists is a name that resonates. With their years of experience and commitment to excellence, they have established themselves as a premier choice for brides seeking that extra touch of floral magic.

1. Elegance and Expertise

Lenox Hill Florists understand the nuances of New York weddings. Their team of expert florists crafts arrangements that reflect the city's sophistication while adding a personal touch. From the bridal bouquet to the centerpieces, their creations exude elegance and artistry.

2. Variety and Versatility

A noteworthy aspect of Lenox Hill Florists is their vast selection of flowers and arrangements. Whether you envision a bouquet of classic roses, a modern mix of succulents and orchids, or a wildflower-inspired ensemble, their versatility ensures that your preferences are met, no matter how unique.

3. Tailored to Perfection

Every love story is unique, and your wedding flowers should reflect that. Lenox Hill Florists excels in creating bespoke floral designs that align with your theme, color scheme, and personality. Their attention to detail ensures that every petal is perfectly placed.

4. Stress-Free Experience

Planning a wedding can be overwhelming, but your floral arrangements shouldn't add to the stress. Lenox Hill Florists offer a seamless and stress-free experience, from the initial consultation to the final setup on your big day. Their expertise allows you to focus on enjoying every moment.

5. Capturing New York Vibes

Lenox Hill Florists understands the essence of New York. Through their floral arrangements, they capture the city's energy, style, and vibrancy. Whether you're having a rooftop celebration with a skyline view or an intimate gathering in a charming venue, their creations blend seamlessly with the surroundings.

Finding the Perfect Fit

As you explore wedding florists in New York, keep in mind the unique offerings of Lenox Hill Florists. However, it's always a good idea to consider multiple options. Here's how you can approach your search:

1. Research and Reviews

Start by researching florists in New York and reading reviews from past clients. Pay attention to feedback regarding not only the floral arrangements but also the overall experience.

2. Schedule Consultations

Narrow down your options and schedule consultations with your top choices. This is an opportunity to discuss your vision, ask questions, and gauge their understanding of your needs.

3. Portfolio

Ask to see their portfolio of previous weddings. This will give you a sense of their style and capabilities.

4. Customization

Inquire about their ability to customize arrangements to fit your theme and preferences. A skilled florist should be able to bring your vision to life.

5. Budget Considerations

While quality is important, it's also essential to stay within your budget. Be transparent about your budget during your consultations.

Your wedding day is a reflection of your love story, and the floral arrangements play a significant role in this narrative. When it comes to wedding florists in New York, Lenox Hill Florists stands out as a beacon of creativity, elegance, and expertise. As you embark on this exciting journey, remember that the right florist will not only create stunning arrangements but also contribute to the unforgettable memories of your special day.

#florist #floral arrangements #flower delivery #bridesmaids #wedding #events #special occasion #best florist #Local florists #New York Florists

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luveline · 4 months ago

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Have you done a drabble on Reid and bombshell r wedding day?? I just read the proposal one and :(( it warms my heart

Ty for requesting!!! fem

The morning of your wedding day isn’t the chaos you’d both pictured. Spencer wears the finest suit he’s ever had. You wear a white silk dress with drops of diamonds hanging in your hair like the rain. There are no morning drinks, no catastrophes to correct.

You sit on a chaise lounge. He sits in a wooden chair, dragged to you, his hands on your knees careful not to wrinkle the skirt of your dress.

“It's so quiet,” he whispers.

“I know.”

Somewhere in the venue, Penelope and Luke are waging war on the florists —you did not order yellow geraniums. Hotch is explaining to Jack that you and Spencer met years ago, and have been smitten with one another pretty much every moment since. Derek’s cradling his toddler before he takes stage as the best man. JJ, Emily, and Tara are debating the kiss; will you make a show of things, pulling him in by the tie for a smacker, or will Spencer tame the excitement?

There’s a whole team of people making sure today goes smoothly. And still, Spencer‘s worried about some thing.

“You know how beautiful you look?”

“I should say that to you.” You reach for his tie, rolling it gently between your fingers. “My beautiful husband.”

“This is… I don’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Spence.” Anything he has to say about you, you know it all. The same way you’ve told him every thought you’ve had about him for years. He’s part of your psyche.

“I’m so nervous about my vows,” he confesses then.

“Don’t be.”

“What if yours are better than mine?”

“They will be.” You raise your hand tentatively to his face, fingertips drawing in the hollow of his cheek. “But you’re the academic, baby…”

“I can write them again.”

You smile at him keenly. “If you don’t like them, you can try again on our anniversary. Or in a few years when we renew them, yeah? It doesn’t have to be perfect. You’ve promised me all this stuff for years.”

“My speech isn’t good enough, either.”

“Your speech will be perfect. It’s Morgan’s you should worry about, he’s gonna rehash all the embarrassing things… Savannah said he’s been practicing when Hank’s sleeping. That he,” —you laugh, in love with not just Spencer but the world— “keeps waking him up laughing at his own jokes.”

Spencer dips toward you at the sound of your laughing, he can’t help himself. “If it didn’t wrinkle your dress, I’d really try to have you in my lap,” he admits in a whisper, nothing salacious, just the honest truth. “We could sit on the floor, like we did that time in New York.”

“Where would we get dessert now?”

“That’s what we’ll do tonight, right?” He looks for your thigh in the dress, squeezing nicely.

“Yeah, Spence. Yeah, I’ll even put the dress back on.” You tilt your chin up and follow your nose down, meeting his gaze with an unnamed emotion. Total devotion, perhaps. Something too soft to describe accurately. “We’ll share the spoon, just like New York.”

Three kisses and a careful hug, his hair tickling your forehead as he curls over you. “This is the best day of my life.”

“It’s the best day of mine!” You let your hands climb his back, aiming for the mop of his hair to play with. “You’re everything, sweetheart. You’re just perfect. I can’t believe you’re seeing me in my dress though, everybody says that’s bad luck.”

But you and Spencer don’t worry about what everybody says anymore. Not for a long time.

“It’s good to see it now. I… I know I’ll cry, but this is taking the edge off.”

“Don’t cry, honey. You’ll make me cry, and if I cry up there I’m gonna feel so silly all day.”

“Silly,” he says, beginning to rub your back in swoops. “If you don’t cry, I might feel jilted.”

“So I have to choose between mortal embarrassment or hurting my husband?”

He hugs you tighter. You aren’t married yet, but by the end of the night you will be. You’ll order desserts to the hotel room and sit in his lap on the floor by the heater, your white dress surely wrinkled, his tie either side of his neck, undone, neck exposed to be caressed with the tip of your nose.

“I can’t not cry,” he says now. “Don’t expect me not to.”

“I don’t really expect you not to.” And no one will expect it of you when you cry like a child as he slips on your ring, but it makes sense to him. You and Spencer always make sense to each other.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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hrrtshape · 2 months ago

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insane, dream-like things that were normal in my better cr . . . in other words, what it was like being part of the 1%

i never carried cash : i didn’t need to. if i ever found myself in a situation where cash was required, idk, a farmer’s market or bribing someone, i’d just apple pay!?

i never waited for anything : reservations were booked months in advance. lines were always skipped. at clubs we just walked right in. theme parks? VIP passes only. i have never stood in a queue longer than 90 seconds in my life...or...in my better cr.

my closet was bigger than a new york apartment : and everything was colour-coded. yep. yep !!!

i never read price tags : not because i was being reckless, because i simply did not need to know. it was always fine.

if i wanted something, i got it : saw a dress in a magazine? had it by the next morning. craved a specific croissant from a bakery in paris? it was flown in. life had no delays.

luxury was so normal i had to actively remind myself it wasn’t : by the 13th day, i would have moments, small ones, where i’d be like, " wait, not everyone has their own perfume custom-blended by a french artisan? " and then i’d move on.

the ‘poor kid’ still had a trust fund. . . they just had less in it.

errands? what errands? dry cleaning, post office, buying toothpaste. these were not my problems.

skincare was medical : not just a ‘good moisturiser’ situation, i mean dermatologist-designed, prescription-only, lab-created serums. my facials involved lasers. my face was someone’s full-time job.

my mom had a florist on retainer : fresh-cut flowers appeared in my room like magic. i never asked for them. they just were.

celebrity run-ins were painfully normal : “oh yeah, we had dinner next to tilda swinton last night.” “who?” WHO?

we never parked our own cars : valet, always. i had a friend who didn’t even know how to use a parking metre.

there was no such thing as ‘saving up’. in those two weeks i never thought, “hmm, should i buy this now or wait till christmas when i get 50 euros from my grandma?” PFTTTTT.

everyone had a ‘family office’ : financial advisers, lawyers, accountants. my money was managed. someone in my school had three.

coffee orders were wildly specific : not ‘latte with oat milk’ specific. i mean custom-roasted beans, flown in from a single farm in costa rica, brewed at a precise temperature, delivered in a monogrammed cup.

doctors made house calls : i have not seen the inside of a waiting room. ever. feeling sick? someone arrived.

vacation homes weren’t a flex, they were a given : there’s the paris apartment (1st arrondissement, obviously), the villa in lake como, the chalet in gstaad. the only real estate question was, “are we summering in capri or st. barths?

your signature scent is impossible to buy : it’s either a discontinued hermès perfume from the ’70s that you miraculously still source, or a custom blend from a perfumer who only takes five clients a year.

flying commercial is a horror story, not an option : tsa? baggage claim? delays? these are foreign concepts. you had a netjets membership at the very least, but most likely, you have a family jet with an interior designed by someone who also did a yacht.

your tastebuds have standards : your daily coffee comes from a faema e61, your eggs are from a private farm, and your idea of a snack is burrata flown in from puglia that morning. did i mention my private school had michelin chefs?? yea.

you own art. like, real art : not prints. not posters. actual, museum-worthy pieces that are either inherited or sourced through galleries that don’t even have websites.

most people don’t know what anything costs : a gallon of milk? no idea. a metro ticket? couldn’t tell you. you swipe, tap, sign, and never check.

you don’t shop in stores like normal people : you go to private showrooms, have pieces sent to your home, or shop off-runway. waiting in line… horrendous.

i’ve had a ‘house account’ somewhere : a boutique, a jeweller, a tailor. places where you don’t pay on the spot, just ‘put it on the account’ and settle later.

i was taught how to eat properly : which fork for what course, how to use a butter knife, the correct way to hold a wine glass. it’s not something i learned. it’s something i absorbed from watching adults at endless dinners, benefits, and polo events.

i don’t remember learning how to ski or ride horses : because i was doing it before i was fully conscious. i have childhood photos in full equestrian gear, little skis strapped to my feet in gstaad or zermatt. it’s just something i always did.

an art education by osmosis : grew up hearing adults talk about rothko, basquiat, and duchamp in casual conversation. dragged to the louvre and the tate before i could even read. instinctively know the difference between an original and a print.

i have a family lawyer on retainer : and not because i ever committed a crime. they exist to handle things. NDAs, reputation management, keeping your name out of the papers. they know where the bodies are buried, metaphorically (or not).

most families’ wealth is so old and so layered in offshore accounts that even they don’t fully understand it : trust funds? sure, but also shell companies in the caymans, art holdings in geneva, real estate portfolios under LLCs. money isn’t in banks. it’s spread across continents.

most parents’ have had affairs with each other for decades, and it’s not even a scandal anymore : it’s just part of the ecosystem. marriages aren’t about love, they’re alliances. the wives turn a blind eye, the husbands keep it discreet, and the real betrayal is talking about it.

i’ve been name-dropped in a deposition : it was a divorce case. i was never involved, but my name was adjacent to power, so it got dragged in. the case was settled out of court, of course.

most families has multiple passports : not for fun, not for aesthetics. because sometimes you need an exit strategy. a villa in capri, a château in france, a penthouse in dubai. doors are always open, should you ever need to disappear.

i’ve seen actual generational feuds play out in real time : my parents have enemies. their parents had enemies. the grudges go back decades, and nobody even remembers what started it.

i grew up around people who have gotten away with actual crimes : white-collar, mostly. insider trading, fraud, tax evasion. but sometimes things darker. people go to rehab, people “retire early,” people take extended trips to monaco until things cool down.

i’ve seen billionaires (and their kids) break down over the pettiest things : a bad seat at a gala, a misplaced monogram on their jet, a slight from someone whose family has less money than theirs. the richer they are, the more fragile they get.

my family has a pr strategy : this is largely because my mom is a ceo of a billion dollar company. and everything is managed. what photos are released, what stories are planted, which journalists are “friendly.” nothing is random.

i know that philanthropy is often just money laundering with better optics : charities set up for tax reasons, “foundations” that quietly funnel wealth back into the family, billionaire donations that conveniently coincide with favourable legislation.

i’ve seen people lose their fortunes overnight : one wrong deal, one lawsuit, one scandal that sticks, and suddenly, the private jets are getting repossessed. the real old money…they watch from a distance. they never risk everything.

i know that some billionaires don’t actually have liquid cash : they’re over-leveraged, playing financial gymnastics with their own net worth. yachts, art, mansions. but the second they need actual money? suddenly, things get complicated. this is why everyone in my school donated possessions instead of actual money.

met people who don’t own their clothes : couture is loaned, jewellery is borrowed, yachts are rented to themselves through shell companies. it’s all about optics. they don’t need to own when they can access.

heard rich kids joke about things that would make normal people physically ill : laughing about tax evasion, casually mentioning private rehabs like summer camp, making bets on stocks that could ruin lives.

met billionaires who are bored of being rich : the thrill is gone. the yachts, the jets, the parties. it’s routine. they start chasing danger. high-stakes gambling, extreme sports, secret societies. anything to feel something.

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ailoda · 3 months ago

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updated: 09.03.25

ᯓ★ fluff

His Sweet Girl (❤): Bucky taking care of his best girl. (@brnesblogposts)

Marshmallow (❤): her bed is too comfy for Bucky. But she has a solution. (@vivwritesfics)

Wallpaper (❤): Bucky finds out how to change the wallpaper on your phone, and takes every opportunity he can to do so. until one day he doesn't have the heart to. (@cosmicbucky)

Clean Shaven (❤): you shave Bucky. (@your-highnessmarvel)

Dog Tags and Drunkenness (❤): you go clubbing with some of the girls from the team to try and find Nat a date, but Bucky has a pretty specific routine in place whenever you leave his side. (@buck-buck-buckaroo)

Sanctuary (❤): we all need a safe place to rest, even when some of us don't believe it. (@eat-limes-bitches)

My Responsibility Is You (❤): Bucky’s girl has to get her wisdom teeth removed, and he would go to all lengths to protect her from that experience—but he has to deal with the aftermath and takes care of her in the best possible ways. (@eviesaurusrex)

Snowfall (❤): you refuse to go outside on a cold day and Bucky is more than happy to keep you warm. - florist!bucky (@navybrat817)

The Marriage Bet (❤): if in three years time both of you were still single, you will marry your best friend, Bucky. That's the bet. (@brunchable)

Loverboy (❤): Bucky, a lovesick, pining super soldier, vows to keep his feelings for you a secret — no matter how obvious his crush may seem. Those plans are ruined between a meddling Sam, an embarrassing fall, and a visit to the medbay with you. (@thevillainswhore)

From Me, To You (❤❅): as Bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received. (@retrosabers)

Hold My Girl (❤): Bucky comes home from a mission and needs time to hold his girl. (@pellucid-constellations)

Magnetic Mishap (❤): you bought magnets for Bucky's arm, forgetting that vibranium is not magnetic. (@rinasauruss)

The Life (❤): Bucky Barnes and the domesticity he deserves. (@hesthermay)

Pluvial Kisses! (❤): Bucky being the absolute fuckin dream of a man. (@mercurial-chuckles)

Yours, Whether You Know It Or Not (❤): you’ve been running missions with Sam and Bucky for a while now, and everything was fine—until John Walker started showing up and taking an interest in you. Bucky isn’t having it. Not because he’s jealous. Definitely not because he’s jealous. He just doesn’t trust Walker. Right? (@magical-reid)

new! Bucky's Quiet Love (❤❅): after a painful breakup, Bucky offers quiet comfort and unconditional care, showing you a love that's patient and gentle. He mends the ache in your chest and reminds you that you deserve so much more. (@mugglebornmarvelite)

new! Five Days, Five Bouquets (❤): "Do I need to remind you that we're not actually married?" (@marvelstoriesepic)

new! Weakness (❤✧): you use Bucky’s only weakness to your advantage until it bites you in the ass. (@marvelstoriesepic)

new! The Soldier and His Mission (❤❅): when a trigger sends Bucky back into the grip of the Winter Soldier, he shadows you with an unyielding protectiveness that leaves the team on edge, though he doesn't harm anyone. After days of tension and careful steps, Bucky finally breaks through the icy barrier, returning to himself in a quiet, tender moment, finding solace in your presence. (@magical-reid)

new! Forever Sounds Good (❤): Bucky Barnes had been called a lot of things in his lifetime—soldier, assassin, hero—but when you called him your husband, everything else ceased to exist. (@billionairebratenergy)

new! Baby, It's Bad Out There (❤❅): your best friend Kate has always been good at attracting trouble and this time, it’s starting to become your problem, too. Then again, what’s Christmas in New York City without meet-cutes and gunfire? (@intrepidacious)

new! Your Girl (❤): you're very vocal about wanting Bucky Barnes. (@navybrat817)

new! All American All-Star (❤): falling for the club’s American striker, Bucky Barnes, was never part of the plan— especially since your father happens to own the club. (@aquaticmercy)

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cinnamanz · 3 months ago

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# DARLING, I — chapter fifty-two!

when new york city’s widely-known spider-woman's life becomes unknowingly entwined with a member of the rising global girl group katseye, she learns that juggling superhero duties, university, and a sudden crush may or may not just be the downfall of her. but hey, at least she's helping people, right?

THE END

frozen at the sight of manon holding one of the red spider-woman masks, y/n shuffles around the room awkwardly, slowly backing up to the window and slipping a leg out of the ajar space. “sorry, wrong room.”

“i know that’s you, y/n. come back here or i’ll drag you back inside myself.” y/n sighs as she pulls her leg out of the window, following the other’s command obediently as she tugs her mask off, revealing her band-aid littered face. manon clicks her tongue. “and here i thought you were cheating on me.”

confusion washes over the taller’s features, head tilting as her lips pressed into a thin line, shaking her head. “seriously? you think i’d ever cheat on you? i mean, i might have hit my head many times from being spider-woman, but i haven’t hit it that hard that it compels me to cheat on you.” she retorted, the thought of cheating on manon highly offensive.

manon scoffs at her witty response, brows raising at her as if to challenge her, crossing her arms over her chest. “please. the past dates we’ve had, you either cancelled or left halfway through. who wouldn’t think you were cheating?”

“okay, valid. but if i were cheating, i wouldn’t come back all bruised and shit.”

“shut up about cheating now. i thought you joined some kind of fight club. you know, like the movie?” manon said with a sigh of irritation, running a hand through her braids. “i mean, it was the only thing that made sense at the time.”

“manz, i’m a university student that part-times as florist. you really think i’d have the time to join a fight club?” y/n responds, flabbergasted at her words, something that grows bigger every word that escapes her lips, while manon takes the initiative to approach her and grab the mask from her hand, tossing it somewhere behind her shoulder.

“shut up.” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around the superhero’s neck, eyes raking over every single feature, as if engraving it in her memory. she brings a hand up to her face, the pad of her thumb running across y/n's cheek adoringly.

“you’re annoying.” pressing her lips against the other’s soft ones, she leaned up slightly on her tip-toes, a hand snaking its way to the back of y/n’s head and pulled her even closer, lips moving in a slow dance as she poured every single bottled feelings into the kiss.

y/n’s arms instinctively wrapped around the singer’s waist, smiling into the kiss before manon had pulled back for air. “be my girlfriend?”

“took you long enough to ask.”

pressing a quick peck on her lips with a chuckle, a light bulb appears on y/n’s head. “hey, wanna go on a swing around the city? i wanna show you something i made earlier.”

manon nods, willing to go wherever the superhero takes her. “if you drop me, i'll kill you.”

“it’s fine. i’ll catch you anyway.”

“i don’t care. drop me and i’ll break up with you.”

"thought you said you'll kill me?"

"ugh, stop being smart and carry me already!"

masterlist 🕸️🕷✮⋆˙ next

imagine being accused of cheating when yall arent even dating yet n e ways ID LIKE TO THANK EACH N EVERY ONE OF U WHO'D SUPPORTED THIS SMAU TILL THE VERY END I LOVE U ALL SM <333

taglist : @yeetaberry127 @urmom2314 @lararajjj @artrizzler19 @ninguitar @ohmyhaely @firstclassjaylee @meganskiendielsbtc @sed7ction @modanisgf @vrtualstar @ssamlovr @grahstumhurts @sixflame438 @fearnotfearmore @c-yerim @taikabui @saturn-projector @uchinagai @goofymickeyr @rosiehrs @lunawriteskstuff @meiyoksnumberone TAGLIST CLOSED!

#katseye #katseye x reader #katseye smau #manon bannerman #manon katseye #manon x reader #meret manon #wlw #katseye x female reader #spider woman #smau #manon bannerman x female reader #manon x female reader

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bangaveragewhitewine · 4 months ago

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⋆⁺₊❅ mistletoe mayhem

Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: My third contribution to @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas is best described as ‘meddling and mistletoe’

Content: Sneaking around and secret relationships. Yearning! Flirting! Ghosts of sexy-time past. Supportive but annoying friends! Loverboy Steve Harrington.

✨ bang average festive fics ✨ Dividers by @strangergraphics ✨

Sylvia Harrington loved Christmas.

She loved the bright gold lights, regal red baubles and gifts wrapped in shiny paper topped elegant bows. She loved playing hostess at the Annual Harrington Christmas Soiree, when her dress always matched her husband’s tie and her son’s sweater. She loved the spectacle of it all, the champagne and the meticulously put-together canapes. She loved the praise for her perfection.

Every year, their house in Loch Nora had the best decorations in the neighbourhood - she would wager the best in town - with a huge tree on the front lawn, adorned with bright lights and a shiny star the same hue as her favourite champagne. Sylvia Harrington loved her golden life, her successful husband and her gorgeous golden son.

But the very thought of coloured Christmas lights and non-matching tree ornaments made her stomach churn. Chintzy, tacky decor gave her hives.

Steve had always been in awe of them, the way multi-coloured string lights danced and popped in the dark winter light. He liked how the colours blurred behind his eyes when he gazed out the car window. When Steve was eight his father called him ungrateful for asking if they could get coloured lights that year, snapping unfairly at his son before Sylvia could let him down gently. He quickly learned not to bother asking again.

Tonight, the Harrington house is an explosion of colour, and while Steve misses his Mom - he hopes that she is enjoying her shiny gold Christmas in New York - he would much rather be here, watching Max and El wrap tinsel around their scrunchies and hang bright baubles from their ears like earrings, listening to Mike bitching that this was slave labour, that Steve could decorate his own damn tree.

He would much rather be here, watching how the colourful lights shine on you as you perfect the garland running along the mantlepiece. How you throw your head back at something Lucas said, your laugh melding into the cacophony of noise and Chrismas cheer.

“Oooh, mistletoe!”

Robin’s voice cuts through his dreamy daze, louder than teens laughing and squabbling and the Christmas music drifting from the speakers. She holds a sprig aloft over her head and shares a grin with Vickie, whose cheeks heat up beneath her rosy blush.

“Who brought mistletoe?” Dustin asks, looking up from where he has been methodically planning the most efficient use of the extension chords and outlets.

Shrugs and shaking heads ripple around the room. No one owns up to it. It’s not like Vickie’s aunt owns a florist that she works in at the weekends. Everyone seems to have conveniently forgotten that, even Vickie herself.

Steve catches your eye and smiles a little before you turn back to the garland, adding one more silver bauble before backing up a few steps with your hands on your hips.

“Is it too much?” you ask, seeking out Steve’s opinion. It’s his house after all, and although he has given his friends free reign it is only fair he should have his say now that he is the man of the house.

The garland is a little lopsided and homely, far from the primped-to-perfection monstrosity his mother would insist on.

“I love it,” he says, smiling. He joins you by the fireplace to take in the masterpiece. “You’re a natural.”

Your cheeks heat up as you feel the warmth of his body next to yours.

Behind your backs, your friends share secret smiles. The plan had spread quickly and quietly before they arrived, weeks of planning how to get you and Steve together. All you two needed was a little push, right? It was going to be a cakewalk. (Max had full-on screamed into a pillow when Dustin called it a ‘Christmas Cakewalk’ with that shit-eating grin of his).

“Let’s hang some,” Lucas says, taking a sprig from Robin. “Max, wanna help me?”

The couple (back together after their post-Thanksgiving fight) peel away from the group with mischievous smiles, partly because of their genius plan and the rest because it’s a perfect excuse to make out a little bit in Steve’s big house.

“I’m going to hang some over your mirror so you can kiss your reflection without shame,” Robin teases, messing up Steve’s hair as he goes back to placing mismatched ornaments on the tree.

As everyone returns to their tasks, you catch Steve’s eye again and share another little smile.

Within the hour, the decorating has been completed, with the addition of the mystery mistletoe strategically placed around the house. Friendly kisses have already been exchanged - Dustin kissed Vickie’s hand in the most gentlemanly way, and Steve earned himself a wet smacker on the cheek from Eddie when he arrived just as the hard work was done.

Everyone has drawn a name for your Secret Santa gift exchange, another get-together in Steve’s house on the day before Christmas Eve. There have not been many obvious swaps, but a few whispered “who did you get?’s”

There is far too much pizza, and laughter rings throughout the cozy house. Steve looks around, sees his friends bathed in colourful light, and feels the joy that had been missing from all of those other Christmases. The big empty house is no more, lived in and adorned with reminders of each of his friends even when they are not there; character sheets and forgotten dice, scrunchies and sweaters and guitar picks. Robin has all but made one of the guest rooms her second home.

He thinks about how his mother’s eye would twitch at the explosion of colour, the noise and chaos that comes with The Party. Steve loves it. He thinks of how she would plaster on a smile and pretend it’s fine, and play hostess with the mostest while gritting her teeth so hard that her teeth might crumble.

He does not let himself think of his father’s barely contained hatred of it all, or how he would hurl insults at his idiot son and his degenerate friends. Richard Harrington was worse than the Grinch, who at least had the capacity for love in his heart. Steve was not about to let the memory of him ruin tonight.

“Hey.”

Steve smiles when feels the warm press of your arm against his.

“Hey yourself.”

Your voices are loud enough for each other, squished side by side on the sofa with your friends crowded on either side and on armchairs and the floor.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask.

Steve looks fond, still a little far away. “Just thinking. It looks good, huh?”

You look around the room with your own enamoured smile before looking back at Steve, the lights reflected in his cocoa-coloured eyes. “It looks like Christmas threw up. I love it.”

“I love it too.”

You hear your friends quieten just enough so they can try to eavesdrop on your quiet exchange, and you both smirk. They’re not as slick as they think.

“I’m getting a drink. You want anything?” you ask him.

His eyes sparkle with recognition before he says, “Yeah. I’ll come with.”

There are a few calls for extra sodas and more pizza, and even more furtive whispers as you leave the room.

“He likes her, it’s so fucking obvious!”

“Mike, shut up!” Erica hisses.

And Robin hisses, “Max, did you put any mistletoe in there?”

You both manage to hold your laughter until you reach the safety of the kitchen, down the hall and out of sight. Your shoulders shake silently as you try to hold it back and not make a noise.

“These fucking kids!”

“I know,” you giggle, warm-cheeked, “It’s kinda sweet.”

Steve double-checks that the coast is clear before taking your face in his hands to kiss you like he has been wanting to all evening.

You need not be goaded by a plant to kiss Steve Harrington.

Beyond the taste of pizza and soda, the kiss is a sweet relief. It is a lungful of fresh air after holding your breath beneath water. It’s a blissful sip of a cool drink after a day in the sun, or hot chocolate after sledging. It’s perfect. All those hours without each other, since you left his bed this morning to help your Mom with groceries and gift wrapping, since you stepped back into his house with Nancy’s arm in yours in your cute skirt and sweater, have been absolute torture.

Your hands settle on his ribs, almost creasing the forest-green knit with your grip, and you smile against each other’s mouths.

“One more,” he begs, whispering, “One more.” One more is never ever enough.

You squeeze his trim waist and bless him with another kiss, much less frantic than that first one. His tongue against yours makes your body zing; you are hooked on him and finally, you have got your fix.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whisper, fighting back the urge to nip his jaw and run your tongue along the barely there stubble. The urge to mark him above the collar and let the secret slip.

“I missed you more.”

Steve’s thumbs brush your cheeks, marvelling at you like the most precious treasure before you both prise yourselves apart with bone-deep reluctance.

“I think you’re going to need to kiss my cheek or something to shut them up,” you say, piling pizza on paper plates for the teens—Margarita for Dustin, Hawaiian for El, and Pepperoni for Eddie and Max. You take another slice for yourself to keep your mouth busy, though it aches for Steve’s lips.

He gathers sodas, resisting the urge to shake up Mike’s for the hell of it - he would be the one to clean up, and his bitching is not worth it.

“I guess I can do that,” Steve says, “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

It pains him to keep his hands to himself, to not kiss your face and play with your fingers, to see your knee bare without his hand to keep it warm. He is beginning to ache from carrying the weight of not telling everyone how fucking in love with you he is, even though they all know it, they see it.

It was never supposed to be more than a late summer hook-up, a once-off. But then neither of you could quit each other, or bear to not spend time together after everyone else had gone home or gone to bed, back to school. Neither of you could push your long-held crushes back after they had breached the surface. So you committed to each other and keeping it quiet until you knew it would not ruin your friendship and threaten the group dynamic. But by then sneaking around was too fun to stop, too exciting to almost be caught. The fizzy feeling of keeping a secret was addictive, and you were both too good at lying. Not to each other, but to your friends. You both suppose you should feel a little bit bad about that, but being together, alone, is a balm for the guilt.

You feel the warmth of Steve behind you, his chin on your shoulder and his hips pressing snuggly against you. He is a tease, a temptress, reminding you through touch alone of the other day when he had you over the kitchen island, a day of playing house together.

“Who do you have for Secret Santa?” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck. Steve smiles when you roll your eyes at him. He bites his lip and wishes it was your mouth instead.

“It’s not a secret if I tell you, is it?”

You turn your head and peck the corner of his mouth. He feels seared and branded as you slip away from him, too far away to pull you back in. You can tease too.

You wink at him, balancing plates of pizza with the skill and poise learned from your shifts at the diner.

“C’mon, big boy. We’re going to miss the start of Gremlins.”

Steve watches the swish of your skirt, how it brushes your thighs as you walk back to the living room. The extra swing in your hips is for him, another tease. You’re staying over tonight; you will circle back to Loch Nora after bringing El and Will home. Steve has no idea about the red wine lace surprise beneath your clothes. An early Christmas gift.

Neither of you clocks the mistletoe strategically placed in the living room door (it was definitely not there when you left). The living room is swollen with baited breaths and bubbling silence as they wait for your reaction. They are on tenterhooks to see you both kiss (which should be fucking weird) and realise that you would be perfect together.

Little do they know.

The weirdness of it all directs your eyes up to the green leaves and white berries above, slapped onto the doorframe with scotch tape.

They watch you present your cheek to him, and Dustin mutters ‘on the lips, dummy’ before getting smacked with a cushion.

“You’re all perverts,” Steve says simply, before closing the gap to press a kiss to your warm cheek. His lips are still buzzing from how you kissed each other in the kitchen. Pizza and soda in your hands stop you from touching each, fingers itching to gently stake your claim.

You rock up on your toes to press a matching kiss to Steve’s cheek, making it shimmer with what is left of your lipgloss (there is already some on his mouth if anyone were to look close enough).

Exasperated by you both, there is a deflated feeling in the room. As if they expected an earth-shattering realisation prompted by meddling and mistletoe.

“Can we sit down now?” you ask, undeterred by their disappointment.

The lights are dimmed and your friends make room for you and Steve on the big squishy sofa. The opening credits of Gremlins roll up on the television as popcorn and candy are passed around and shared, soda cans are cracked open and they fizz quietly alongside the sound of chewing.

Pressed up close, with El’s feet in your lap and Robin and Vickie curled together on Steve’s other side, you have never felt so comfortable, so loved. After a little while you rest your busy head on Steve’s shoulder and feel him release a held breath. You are both sugar-crashed and tired of hiding.

He offers you his hand, palm up on his thigh, and wears a private and pleased little smile when your fingers slot between his. You pull your joined hands into your lap, holding his big hand in both of yours. He squeezes three times and you squeeze four back, though neither of you has said it yet.

It does not take long for your friends to notice, a ripple of nudges and mouthed ‘look!’s’ around the room, silent celebrations and barely-contained excited laughter.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Eddie murmurs, smiling to himself.

You let them have it, their faux victory.

You will figure out how to answer their questions, how to break the news that you have been a few steps ahead of them all this whole time, and how to apologise for lying and keeping secrets.

But for now, instead of the film, you look at how the coloured string lights shine on Steve’s face and share one of your secret smiles with him when he catches you looking. You share it with your friends too and bask in the warm glow of it all.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs and likes are all like little christmas gifts to me! I love you, byeeee!

#thetwelvedaysofpromptmas #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #bangaveragefestivefics #bangaveragefics #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #masterlist #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve stranger things #steve harrington x f!reader

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elixirfromthestars · 5 months ago

Text

─ ⊹ ⊱ Series ⊰ ⊹ ─

The Biker's Tulip ☼ ୨୧

biker!bucky x florist!reader

A small town. A biker and a florist, each one carrying the burdens of their past, and yet despite that, finding solace in one another along the way...

─ ⊹ ⊱ Collections ⊰ ⊹ ─

In the Name of Love & Law ☼ ☽ ✧

detective!bucky x lawyer!reader

This collection follows the love story between Detective Bucky Barnes and you, one of the most notorious prosecutors in New York, working alongside the detectives of the Brooklyn homicide precinct. In the midst of navigating the chaos of your jobs, you also have to navigate the growing feelings between you and Bucky that seem to be going nowhere no matter how hard you try to ignore them...

─ ⊹ ⊱ Two Parts ⊰ ⊹ ─

A Night Of Frights and Delights ☼ ୨୧

athlete!bucky x artist!reader - college au

It's Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can't stand is also there?

Part II ♡ ☼ ✧

You and Bucky have danced around the lines you've placed ever since that weekend camping trip. Months later, when Tony Stark hosts an extravagant party, he finally makes a move to cross them.

─ ⊹ ⊱ Oneshots ⊰ ⊹ ─

One Call Away ☼

agent!bucky x journalist!reader

You’re a journalist in the late 1950s working for a gossip magazine. You write an article about the actor Steve Rogers, and his agent Bucky Barnes is not happy about it. He confronts you and offers you a deal.

In Five Years ☽

bucky x enhanced!reader

Bucky was having a hard time expressing his feelings about finally being free from the Winter Soldier program. To help him out, you suggested writing a letter to his future self and burying it in a time capsule to visit this moment again in the future. The plan was to open the time capsule five years from now. That was until Thanos showed up.

My Dearest ☼ ✧ ☽

duke!bucky x lady!reader

On the night of Lady Maximoff’s ball you find yourself in the gardens, troubled by your emotions. As if by fate, the rain pours down reuniting you with the one who is the very object of your troubles.

Written in the Stars ☼

bucky x avenger!reader - established relationship

Your boyfriend, Bucky, takes you on a date full of surprises under the stars.

Boulevard Confessions ☼ ୨୧

40s!bucky x nurse!reader

Being a third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn't your ideal Thursday night fun. However, when they tell you Bucky is tagging along you eagerly decide to join them. That is until a third party makes its presence known.

Sink Your Teeth In Me ♡ ☼ ୨୧

bucky x neighbor!reader

You and Bucky are supposed to attend Sam's party on Halloween. However, when you show up to his place looking like temptation itself—he gets other ideas on how to spend the night with you.

Crossroads ☽ ✧

bucky x neurosurgeon!reader

On a rainy night on your way home, fate decides to cross your path with someone who used to hold the dearest place in your heart.

Dancing Embers ☼

40s!bucky x nurse!reader

A cozy cabin, the love of your life, and the warmth of a fire. What more could you ask for on a cold winter night?

By The Warmth Of The Oven ☼ ✩

bucky x avenger!reader

You are baking cookies for the Avengers holiday party when a certain super solider comes into the kitchen tipsy for the first time...

In His Embrace ☼

agent!bucky x journalist!reader

As a new day begins and the snow cascades beyond your windows, you know there's no place you'd rather be than in his arms.

A Snow Day With You ☼

athlete!bucky x artist!reader - college au

The end of the semester has you stressing beyond belief, so Bucky decides to cheer you up by spending a snowy afternoon sledding.

─ ⊹ ⊱ Drabbles ⊰ ⊹ ─

Together ☼ ✧

bucky x wife!reader

It’s been a month since you had a baby with your husband, Bucky. On the first day he went back to work, however, you can’t get her to stop crying—that is until Bucky comes home.

Lucky Day ☼ ✧

bucky x reader - college au

Bucky, your childhood best friend, takes you to a baseball game to thank you for helping him with his chemistry class. However, between bets and kiss cams, luck seems to be the real game being played.

Tranquility ☼

bucky x avenger!reader - established relationship

On your day off from saving the world, you decide to have a date in the park with your boyfriend Bucky.

─ ⊹ ⊱ Blurbs/Moodboards ⊰ ⊹ ─

No matter when or where, Bucky will always be there at your call. ☼ ✧

Escape Room Date Moodboard ☼

Fancy Dinner Date Moodboard ☼

Planetarium Date Moodboard ☼

Aquarium Date Moodboard ☼

⌞‼⌝ I do not give consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app.

⌞‼⌝ All images/gifs used are not mine, and come from google unless specifically stated otherwise.

⌞‼⌝ Heart divider by @/enchanthings

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wandasslut3000 · 7 months ago

Text

Welcome home

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, fluff, mommy!kink, semi-clothed sex, pet names, sub!reader, praise, hair tugging, scissoring, cunnilingus, fingering, marking, teasing, choking, long distance relationship?

WC: 2.4k

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Lizzie was coming back home today. She'd been out of state for the past few weeks for her new movie, and although you couldn't be more proud of her, you’d missed your girlfriend painfully.

She'd FaceTime you every night before bed and wake you up with a good morning text.

Sometimes she'll call just to ask how you've been or if you'd eaten yet, always making you smile for how much she cares.

Lizzard🦎💚: Good morning princess, I'm boarding my plane. I can't wait to see you <3

Y/n: Yayy I'm so happy! Text me when you land baby, have a safe flight!

You bring your phone up to your chest, a wave of excitement flowing through you. You head into the kitchen and decide to make yourself breakfast, a simple eggs and toast.

Tapping your feet on the tile floor, you munch happily on your food, humming your own tune and thinking about all the things you'd do once you're back in Lizzie's arms.

Your mind starts to drift off into more explicit train of thought, imagining how her slender fingers would feel around your throat, how sweet she'd taste on your tongue, how fast she'd make you cum after so much time apart.

You blink rapidly, trying to ignore the growing wetness between your legs and regain your focus back to your eggs. You finish them in record speed, popping hints of toast into your mouth with each bite.

Once you finish, you wash your dishes. You then leave the kitchen and grab your keys, making your way outside and down the stairs of your complex. You get inside your car, start it and back out of the parking lot.

You drive yourself over to the nearest flower shop, parking your car in front of it and stepping out.

Heading inside the store, your nostrils are instantly flooded with the smell of all the surrounding plants.

You go straight for the roses, Lizzie's favorite, also making sure to grab some gardenias, mixing them in with the bouquet to help it pop.

You ask the florist to have a custom tag written on the side of the bouquet, a smile on your face as you wait patiently for him to make it and ring you up.

Once you pay, you drive over to your local grocery store, grabbing a shopping cart and pushing it to the candy section. You grab a large chocolate bunny, and the cliche heart shaped box and put it inside.

You notice a wooden basket in the aisle across from you, grabbing it, you continue shopping till you're left with a stuffed teddy bear, a card, a fluffy blanket with little dogs on it and the chocolates from before.

You check out and drive back home, starting to set up your gift basket. You put the everything inside and start writing in the card you bought.

I'm so proud of you for being the big beautiful star I knew you'd always shine to be. I love you Lizzie.

You sign it, drawing a little heart next to your name, putting it in with everything else.

You grab your flowers, "Welcome home" written on the ribbon wrapping it, and place them next to basket on the table for the moment.

Your next task is getting yourself ready. You rush into your bathroom, stripping yourself of your clothes and going to take a shower.

As you make quick work to shave and keep yourself clean for her, the thoughts from earlier start coming back, a blush tainting your cheeks as you feel your core tingle.

Still, you regain your composure, finishing your shower and drying yourself off. You take a quick glance at your phone, knowing the flight from New York to L.A is only a few hours, and you'd already spent a good chunk of them shopping.

You find yourself a pair of white underwear with a tiny pink bow on it and decide to not to wear a bra, knowing that if anything were to happen, she wouldn't want to waste time on the pesky garment.

You throw on her burgundy NYU sweatshirt, and grey sweatpants, smiling when you realize her shirt still smells like her.

Sitting at your vanity you start to do your makeup, nothing too much, just a natural look.

You couldn't look a mess for the love of your life now could you?

Just as you finish up, you get a text from Lizzie telling you she'd landed and was in an Uber on the way home.

Your heart flutters, that rush of excitement returning to you as you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You sit on the couch, facing the door, the flowers in your hand as you wait for her like an obedient puppy, clutching your phone as you fight the urge to call her and ask how much longer she'd take.

As if right on cue, you hear the front door handle jiggle, Lizzie stepping inside with her luggage, your first instinct is to run up and practically pounce onto her.

"Baby!" You squeal.

She gasps, letting go of her bag and catching you as you wrap your arms around her, the flowers almost falling out of your grasp. She presses a kiss to your cheek, making you blush before you turn to kiss her.

"Well hello to you too." She grins, pecking your lips a few times, closing the door behind you two with her foot and setting you down, noticing the gifts you'd gotten her.

You hand her the bouquet and her smile widens. "Is this for me?" You nod, suddenly feeling shy as you notice the adoration in her eyes. "Got you presents."

Lizzie sniffs the flowers and her smile widens, she steps further inside your shared apartment, she makes her way up to the coffee table, her mouth opening slightly as she notices all the things you put together for her.

"You're so good to me." She turns to you, tears welling up in her eyes as she pulls you into a hug, kissing the crown of your head.

"You work so hard Liz, you deserve it." Gently, she backs away, turning to examine your gift basket.

The first thing she picks up is your card, opening it and a pout forming on her face. You look down at your feet bashfully, waiting for her to see the rest of her treats.

Slowly, she takes each out one by one, the chocolates, the bear and the blanket. She bites her lip in thought. You look up, "I would've gotten more but.. I didn't know if I had enough time."

She shakes her head, turning to you with her arms wide. She pulls you into her and picks you up again, your legs wrapping around your torso as your arms wrap around her neck, foreheads pressed against one another.

"This is more than enough babygirl, you make me feel so special. I only wish I'd gotten you something."

You shake your head, "You being here is a gift in itself, I'm so happy you're home." You kiss her again, leaving little pecks all over her face, making her giggle.

Lizzie walks the two of you over to your shared bedroom, laying down in bed together with your arms still securely around each other, you straddling her lap.

You start to press kisses onto her neck, sucking at the skin at the column of her throat, little marks forming in their wake.

Lizzie groans, pushing your head closer as she feels your hands slip under her shirt, your cold hands on her hot skin making her shiver.

"I missed you so much." You murmur against her, "Wanted to feel you everyday."

Lizzie backs away for a second to unbutton her blouse, revealing a gray laced bra. You moan at the sight, looking up at her for approval before you reached behind her to unclip it, discarding the fabrics.

You leave your marks on the tops of her breasts, moving downwards and circling your tongue around her areola, Lizzie throbbing at the feeling.

Just as you switch to the other breast, you're flipped onto your back, pinned underneath her as she kisses you, tongue swiping your lip, asking for entrance.

You grant it to her, whimpering into her mouth as she takes over. Your hands go to her hair, tugging the silky brown locks as you wrap your legs around her to keep her close.

She breaks the kiss, slipping off her pants and panties, leaving her bare in front of you. She shifts down between your legs, spreading them and rubbing up and down your thighs.

"So pretty like this, in my shirt all precious, my gorgeous girl." You blush at her praise.

"Lizzie please-"

"That's not my name is it now?" She mockingly pouts at you, tilting her head

"I'm sorry.. mommy."

"Much better." You're practically plead for her to give you anything, begging her and trying to reason that it's been too long without her, you'd missed her touch, her hands on you.

You needed her.

Lizzie finally gives in, bunching the sweater up and pushing it past your breasts, revealing them to her. You try to pull it off but she grabs your hand.

"Don't. Keep it on." You obey and lay back onto the pillows.

She takes a nipple into her mouth, the other getting twisted by her slim fingers. Your body quivers, little moans escaping you at the feeling of her toying with your chest.

Still, you craved more. "Mommy touch me... please I need it so bad."

She chuckles "Am I not touching you right now darling?" She pinches your nipple, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Yes.. j- just need you down there." You tilt your head downward trying to gesture what you wanted.

"Down where princess? C'mon you can tell mommy, use your words." Your face flushes red in embarrassment, taking her hand and bringing it between your legs.

"Need mommy to play with my.. my big girl parts." She lets out a faux gasp, almost taunting you, tugging at the hem of your sweatpants and pulling them down.

She notices your underwear and bites her lip, fiddling with the little bow. "Such a pretty princess." You whine, bucking your hips up towards her as your wetness made the fabric almost transparent.

Lizzie rubs your slit through your panties, teasing you with two fingers and watching as you writhe underneath her, a dark smile drawing itself onto her face at your whimpers.

"P-please don't tease, I need you."

She pushes your panties to the side admiring your glistening cunt. Finally she makes contact with you, making you throw your head back, moaning at the feeling of her fingers on you.

"F-fuck." You groan when she dips two fingers into your entrance, not even giving you a moment to adjust as she pumps them into you.

"God I love this tight little pussy, no matter how many times I fuck it, it still grips mommy so good." You whimper, your hand reaching down to grab onto her forearm as she keeps a steady pace.

"Unh- mommy.. please don't stop." She smirks before bringing her head down, taking your clit into her mouth. "Oh my god."

Her tongue swirls around your bundle of nerves, your hand moving to grip onto her hair as she takes you. Your hips grind against her tongue while your legs tremble, the feeling of your climax approaching quickly.

"Fuck m’gonna cum, gonna cum on mommy's pretty face." Lizzie takes this moment to nibble on your throbbing pearl, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you let out a guttural moan.

You feel the waves of your orgasm rush through you, your walls clenching around Lizzie's fingers as you slowing come down from your high.

You feel her press her lips to your pussy before trailing back upwards. Leaving quick kisses up your stomach and chest.

She pulls her fingers out of you, bringing them to your lips and watching as you suck the digits clean. Moaning at the taste of yourself.

Her free hand reaches down to wrap itself around your throat, gently squeezing the sides of your neck. Her tongue melds with yours when she kisses you.

Lizzie positions her wet heat onto yours, grinding against yours, making your nails dig into her forearm as you convulse in pleasure.

"M-mommy.. s-still sensitive..." She shushes you, licking a stripe from the column of your neck to your earlobe before taking it into your teeth.

"Take what I give you princess, good girls let their mommies handle them as they please."

You whine, your folds fluttering as you feel yourself getting closer. Lizzie's sloppy wetness brushing against yours in the best way, making you see stars.

"Mmph- ah.. fuck mommy!" You cum, your body trembling. She follows soon after, both of your breathing heavy and ragged as you come back down to earth.

"I love watching you fall apart." She cups your cheek making your heart flutter at her endearment.

"Mommy?" She looks down at you adoringly, raising her brow. "What is it baby?"

"Can I.. Can I taste you?" Her smile returns, nodding her head. She positions herself above you, your mouth watering when you notice the build up of her arousal between her lower lips.

You grab onto her thighs, pulling her down as Lizzie grabs onto the headboard. You start to lap at her cunt, her eyes rolling into her head as she praises you.

One of her hands reaches down and tugs on your hair, pulling you closer to her as feel yourself get drunk off her juices.

"Oh there you go angel, so fucking good." That last bit comes off in a growl, her body rocking against your face as she feels her climax wash through her, a blissed out grin on her face.

Lizzie drops back into bed, kissing your puffy lips, the both of you moaning into eachother's mouths.

She finally takes this time to take off the sweater, pulling your now naked body into her arms and cuddling you.

She traces invisible lines onto your back and the two of you sigh happily at the skin to skin contact. She presses a kiss to your forehead as you slowly start to feel yourself drift off into sleep.

Your eyes start to shut as you lose yourself in the safety of her arms. "I love you." Is the last thing you hear her whisper before you fall in a deep sleep.

#wlw post #marvel #saphic #smut #wlw ns/fw #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff #wandavision #elizabeth olsen smut

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xoxosimp · 9 months ago

Text

Element of Surprise

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: After everything that went wrong today, there is no way Bucky is proposing…. Right?

Warnings: fluff, feels, reader is implied to have curly hair, soft bucky is a warning, no description of body parts but reader is called beautiful, and referred to as a wife

A/N: this is part two of this fic. Beta read by @h4miltonsbabe , but all mistakes are my own.

~~~~~~~~~

It was always interesting seeing Bucky mad. He never really showed anger towards you, not you two didn't go without any fights, but he always kept his composure . Bucky rarely raised his voice at you, not that you've haven’t overheard him yelling at his “business associates” over the phone. He never raised a hand to you, even though he’s come home to you with bruised knuckles.

But this particular mad: his jaw was clenched, the hand that rested on his thigh held the fabric of the couch in his fist .Usually when you’re cuddling up to him, all the tension in his body would evaporate. Not this time.

Your day with Bucky wasn’t great.

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong today, went wrong. Bucky’s been planning your anniversary for months. All he needed from you was to show up and look beautiful, as you always do.

What he didn't need was for the weather channel to be wrong, ruining your blowout with the rain. Your curls reverted back to their natural state, running two hours of blow drying and fussing with your hair. Bucky thought you still looked beautiful.

What he didn't need was for the florist to be out of your favorite flowers and your favorite bagel spot ( which is in another city) to be closed the day of your anniversary. And that set the theme for the entire day.

What he did not need was your favorite restaurant to double-book your table on the rooftop. When the hostess told him they had accidentally double-booked, Bucky looked like he wanted to explode. Honestly, he did.

“I need to speak to your manager,” he huffed. The poor hostess scrambled away like a mouse, leaving your boyfriend fuming.

Part of you thinks he’s going a little overboard, considering this was a mistake you could easily made yourself. But you know he wanted today to be perfect for you. That's how he wants everything to be for you.

“Bucky,” you grabbed his shoulder so he could face you, “ Let’s go somewhere else.”

“Light-”

“It was an innocent mistake, Jamie. Imagine if I was the hostess and some rich, billionaire loser had nothing better to do than yell at me?”, you stated, knowing you had him there.

Bucky cracked a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, “Are you calling me a loser, light?”

“You are a loser if you berate that poor hostess even more! Besides, if you take someone else’s table you could ruin their anniversary.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration, “ What do you wanna do then, light?”, deep down he felt guilty, knowing he had unleashed his anger about not this particular mistake, but of all of today’s mishaps on the poor hostess.

“Go somewhere else,” you smiled. “There are hundreds of restaurants in New York, I’m sure one of them has an open table.”

After the manager profusely apologized for the error, Bucky slipped a hundred-dollar bill to the hostess and grumbled, “Don’t let it happen again.”

Usually all it took was a snap of his fingers and his command and anything Bucky wanted was his (and by proxy, you). But even criminal kingpin’s are victims of circumstance, sometimes.

You turned to look at Bucky and pinched his cheek. “ Is something wrong, Bucky?”

He shrugged, Bucky’s eyes not leaving the movie playing in front of him. He’s pouting.

“ I had a great day,” you pondered, “ I had a burger from Margarita’s and….”

“It was supposed to be perfect!,” he said, slightly raising his voice. “ All of fucking days there are suddenly no more flowers or-”

“Jamie,” you touched his chest, snapping him out of his rage. “It’s not a big deal,” you giggled.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “You think this is funny, light?”

“I know today didn’t go according to plan, but I’m just happy that we spent the day together. I mean, thanks to the heavens, my boss let me have a day off.”

If he hadn’t, Bucky would have ‘suggested’ to him to let you have the day off. .

“Even though I didn't get any flowers, any bagels, or dinner on a rooftop, I think I’d rather have none of that than my hair getting ruined. It took me two hours to blow dry my hair!”

Bucky let out a chuckle. “I just wanted it to be perfect,” he reiterated somberly.

“It was perfect.” You know Bucky would move mountains to make you happy. Today proved that very fact. “ But I got to spend the day with you. How can I be sad about that?”

Damn, could you be any more perfect? Everything went to shit, yet you still look at him like he handed you the moon on a silver platter.

“I’m gonna’ get water,” you stood up from the couch and walked to the kitchen.

“It’s actually kinda funny how everything went south today,” you shouted, grabbing a bottle of water from the shelf.

“How’s that, light?”

“Because I thought you were going to propose.” Bucky stayed quiet.

“I mean, hello, you told me to do my hair, do my nails, you told me to dress up really nice,” you rambled, “when you tell someone to get all dolled up and you have an extravagant day planned, it’s a classic sign that you’re proposing.”

You plopped next to Bucky, “ Which means you don't have the element of s-” You looked at him, holding a ring box with a beautiful princess cut diamond with a solitaire gold band in the middle. Were your hands sweaty or was that the condensation from the water bottle?

Bucky adjusted himself so he can face you with a soft smile on his lips. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. “ I can’t imagine waking up everyday and not having you by my side. You’re the light of my life. You make every one of my dark days better with your presence. I want to be there with you when you have your good, bad, and dark days.”

Bucky thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. If it did, he would hand it to you. “Will you marry me?”

Tears were flowing down your face like a waterfall. You wanted to break out into song and dance, jump off of a building without any fear, you wanted this. You wanted him.

You nodded, swiping your tears, “ Yes! I’ll marry you!” You smashed your lips on top of his, as if not another moment could be wasted. Bucky kissed you back with just as much vigor, but pulled away. “ Let me put the ring on you, Light!” he exclaimed.

He took the ring out of the box and slid it onto your ring finger. It was a perfect fit. “ I can’t wait to marry you, Jamie.”

“ I can’t wait till you’re my wife, light.”

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