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lis-likes-fics · 1 day ago

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eddie munson drabble

cw: smut, swearing, aftercare. 1.5k words.

Eddie Munson is a talker.

Eddie doesn't know how to shut up during sex. When he's balls deep inside of you, your arms pinned over your head as he fucks you, he's a constant spout of curses and pants and groans and words of “you're so tight” or “you're so pretty” or anything along those lines.

It's nice, though, and you enjoy it: his constant praise, his reassurance that you're making him feel good just by the way he breathes.

But you're not loud. You can't help it—you're shy. When Eddie's making love to you, you express your pleasure in gentle sighs and tiny moans. Sometimes you whine a little louder than you mean to, or a gasp is sharper than intended. You don't need to say much. Eddie speaks enough for the both of you.

But there's something about this position that gets you.

He doesn't do it a lot—mostly because you don't end up in this position a lot. Eddie is usually between your legs, or maybe you're on top of him, something simple and effective. You enjoy it either way.

But in times like these—which you seem to keep rare—where he's got you on your knees, one hand on your hip and the other wrapped gently around your throat, you seem to lose control.

It's not on purpose. You enjoy the little sounds, the gentleness. Eddie does, too. He loves his shy girl more than anything.

But when you're on your knees, you're nothing but shy. It surprises him so much that he's the quiet one compared to you.

Eddie's fucking you nice and deep, fast thrusts that have you gasping and seeing stars. You grip the sheets and let your head fall limp on his hold as you moan and whine loud enough to be heard clearly in the living room. (Granted it's a small trailer, but usually Eddie has to focus in to hear you when he's only inches away.)

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry, your breaths rough and raspy. “Oh, fuck, don't stop. Please, please, please.”

Your words are pitchy and loud. They sound like you might actually be crying as his hips slam into yours. He has to keep checking to make sure you aren't.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” he asks, his grip tightening on your hip. “You like bein’ fucked like this?”

You nod quickly, a tearful huff slipping out of you. “Yes, Eddie! Yes, so much. Feels so fucking good, baby. Please don't stop, please.”

He's drunk on the sound of you. There's something so special about hearing you express your pleasure so much. He loves you shy, but this version of you also has a very special place in his heart.

“Won't stop, sweetheart,” he huffs. “Won't stop ‘til you fuckin’ cum for me. I'll have you cryin’, huh? You wanna cry for me, baby?”

You nod your head into the pillow, gripping the sheets until your knuckles pale. “Yes, yes, yes. Yes, make me cry for you, Eddie. God, fuck.”

Eddie's breath is thick, coming out in harsh puffs at the sound of your pleas. He reaches one hand to your clit, rubbing at it and grunting at the way you cry out.

“Fuck. Fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Eddie. You're gonna make me cum, Eddie.” Your voice is thick with pleasure, your breaths shaky.

Eddie's thrusts are unsteady now, shorter and rougher as he nears his own release. “Yeah? You feel good, baby?”

You're chanting “yes” over and over like a prayer on your tongue, each one more faithful than the last. His name slips from your lips again, and it feels like an orgasm on its own with the way the E erupts, the way the D’s stick on your tongue like honey, the I drags out in a desperate cry.

You choke on the pleasure, and you do it with joy. “Oh, God, Eddie,” you gasp. The names so close together, an interesting pair, makes sense in this moment when his cock thrusts into you and makes you see stars you could easily be convinced he placed in the sky himself.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, please,” you beg, burying your face in the sheets on the mattress as he grips your hips and smacks his hips into them. You bite down on the, the cheat cotton indented with the shape of your teeth as your pitchy moans turned into a sound that mimics a growl.

Eddie's going to lose it, looking down at you and seeing the way he's making you so feral. You're like a wolf tasting lamb for the first time, a delicate and addictive taste that has your mouth watering and your hunger running deeper than instinct.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his thrusts sloppy and his finger a messy, almost rough circle on your clit. “You look so—fuckin’ pretty like this. So fucked out on my cock, screamin’ my name like a fuckin’ angel.”

Tears have unblurred your vision as they slip down your cheeks. You can't help it. What you're feeling is reaching down into your soul and unleashing a lust that you hadn't known existed until the very first time he had you like this. It takes you by surprise each time, fills you up and leaves you wanting.

“Eddie. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, my God, Eddie.” Your voice will be sore in the morning, if the roughness of its sound now is any indication. “I-I'm gonna cum for you, Eddie. Eddie, you're gonna make me fuckin’ cum, Eddie.”

Your words are climbing higher and higher, the pitches rising like the prayers you were just sending to him ascending to the sky. You echo his name as the waves grow, charging on you with force and speed, but bating you all the same.

A harsh thrust makes you choke, and as you take a breath in, the water consumes you, and then you choke on that. You cry out his name, claw at the sheets—which fall from your mouth in disregard as you gasp around the pleasure.

The waves wash over you, crash after crash after crash, a swell of pleasure all over you. You go blind with it, your hands flexing straight.

Eddie keeps rubbing at your clit, slamming into you. As you clench down around his cock, a tight, crushing hug that makes him stagger, he follows right after you. “Ah, fuck, sweetheart,” he huffs, a moan squirming out of him as he buries himself to the hilt, listening as your pussy squelches around him.

He curses as you gasp, riding the high together as every atom in your body buzzes with pleasure. You cry out his name, rambling “I love you. Fuck, you're fucki—Ahh, I love you. S’fuckin’ perfect.” Half your words are cut off by moans or more words, other times they're blurred into the same until you're not quite sure what's been said.

His sounds are relatively the same. Stacked on top of each other, you both ramble as you burst, mewling as you're filled to the brim with his warmth and his love.

Your eyes blur as the crashing ends, and you fall down against his sheets. You feel yourself losing time, losing all feeling but the delightful buzz of your release. The feeling of his hands pawing at your flesh comes into focus later, along with the weight partially bearing itself onto you in his own creeping exhaustion.

You blink heavily, humming when you feel the warmth of chest on your back and the love of his lips at your neck, tickling behind your ear. “So pretty,” he whispers between kisses to your skin. “You did fuckin’ amazing for me, princess. So good, baby. So perfect.”

You bask in his care, in the haze of his cooing. His knuckles brush against your sides, rubbing into your hips as if apologizing for the bruising touch you hadn't even realized before. “Thank you for lettin’ me touch you, sweetheart,” he smiles. “So good for me.”

Your answer is a deep dumb that sits in your throat. Eventually, he turns you over and begins wiping away your tears with gentle thumbs. “You still with me?”

You nod, though your eyes are glazed and your smile is sticky. “Yeah,” you manage. “Just feel–” You take a deep breath. “Feel r’lly good.”

His smile rivals the sun. “Yeah? That's good. I'm glad.”

He leans down, kissing you so gently as he continues to embrace you with the gentlest fingers. You lift one hand, carding it through his tangled hair and rubbing the pads of your own fingers into his scalp. He hums.

“I love you, sweetheart. You know that?” He smiles. “Even when you're screaming.”

The delicacy is broken by a shocked laugh, snort included. “Sorry,” you say between bumpy giggles. “I just get excited.”

His gentler laugh is rough with the roll of his uvula at his throat. “Don't apologize. I said even when you're screaming—shoulda said ‘especially’.”

You hum again, your laugh still present but reduced to a tiny chuckle. “I love you, too.” You scratch his scalp at the back of his head so lightly, watching his lashes flutter. Then you reach up to kiss him again, his lips, then his forehead.

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coquettepascal · 2 days ago

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cranberry christmas

part iii of my series "texas sweet!" texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

summary: it's your first christmas with the miller family, which brings all sorts of new feelings out of you and joel. he relieves your anxiety in a few giving ways (tis the season!)

tags: 18+, smut, anxious!reader, dilf!joel, joel is kind of a flop (but in a cute way), gentle!joel, found family (a little), the miller family being cute, reader has an anxiety attack, mentions of troubled family life, dorky christmas cheesiness, reader celebrates christmas, heavy on the f!reader for this one, reader has boobs, reader has hair, reader wears lingerie, dryhumping, almost powerbottom!joel (?), begging, nippleplay, hickeys, coming untouched, praise kink a little, realistic people in unrealistic situations, establishing of relationship

part i -> part ii -> part iii

a/n: this honestly got way out of hand, but i LOVE IT!! i hope you all have a lovely holiday season <3

(5.1k, not beta read)

“How long have you been a dad again?”

You’re staring at the pile of gifts that Joel has “wrapped” so far. The striped paper is wrinkled on a few of them like he balled up the paper before wrapping the gift, other ones have glaring bald spots that reveal what they are without having to unwrap them.

Joel huffs, grumbling to himself as he’s hunched on the floor, cutting out another square of paper to wrap a book.

“Long enough to know that if I stay down here too long my back’ll hurt tomorrow,” he responds.

The Christmas tree in his living room has been thoroughly decorated, leaving the lights to reflect from glass ornaments onto his face. Joel looks stressed tonight, but he’s just been stressed all the time lately. The colder months have brought shittier weather, which has him worried about snowfall on sites that couldn’t take it at the moment. Anytime you’ve seen him recently, his skin has still been cold from the outside, his nose slightly red.

He looks at your pile of gifts, which have been neatly wrapped and finished with stick-on bows, and then scrunches his face, quietly mocking your words. You laugh, feigning offense as you tilt your head.

“Oh I’m sorry, I just assumed you would have been better with your hands, Joel,” you retort in return. Instantly his head is back up so he can look at you, a shocked expression on his face.

“You sayin’ I’m no good with my hands?” He asks, a bit incredulous.

Your eyes are rolling before you can help it, smiling as you shake your head.

“No–” you start.

“I can prove that I got perfectly fine hands. Fingers too for that matter,” he dares.

Joel shoves the wrapping paper out of his way as he scoots his way over to you, his knees scrubbing the hardwood floor. He’s smiling stupidly, clearly excited to get out of wrapping gifts.

“Joel!!” You huff, trying to squirm away from him as he gets closer to you. You’ve learned he has a serious personal space problem.

“What, angel? S’not like anybody else is home,” he grins, nosing at your cheek.

And God. Yeah, finally, nobody is fucking home.

You and Joel have been something for the past however many months. Time has flown quickly, with life and love brushing past your skin in a wind of smiles. Work takes over Joel’s life before he realizes it, and it happens a lot. Maybe that would be a problem for most people, but you live right next door. It’s not like there’s space between you, especially since you can knock on his door whenever you want to.

But you’re both adults, and spontaneity requires energy that you both lack.

The current schedule you’ve fallen into is seeing him on Friday evenings, whenever he gets home from work, a small date on Saturday if you have the energy, and family dinner on Sunday. Yes, you’ve now worked up the courage to look his daughters and brother in the eye. After you started showing up more often they began to bond with you more, especially his girls. Ellie and Sarah are both young, both smart, and as different as they are, it just makes for a firecracker-y relationship that’s hard not to interact with.

You’ve fallen into place as Joel’s something, as someone to his family.

The only problem you and Joel have is actually getting alone time. Since you both work so much, and he’s so family oriented, it’s been hell actually trying to get alone time with him. Not even just time to… do stuff. Just having a private moment is tough. Someone is always in his house, and as much as you have your own house, his feels more like home.

You didn’t even set up your tree this year. The living room is bare of holiday cheer, save for the growing pile of presents that you’ve built in the corner near the couch. Finding home in Joel has not helped you find your place in Austin still, the lack of familial familiarity has sucked the love from your walls. The whole house just feels like dead skin that’s ready to flake away anytime you’re there. You want to brush it from its plot of land and go back to the place next door, where warm light and voices hold the roof down and raise it all the same.

So yeah, your house isn’t really where you want to be, ever. Sacrificing sex with Joel isn’t the best, but you want to be around him more than anything. As long as he’s there, you don’t care so much if he’s getting you there. At least not usually.

“Yeah, no one’s home,” you repeat back to him.

The incandescent bulbs that are strung onto the tree are casting light through his hair. Tiny flecks of grey are all you can get a view of right now as he pushes his nose beneath your jaw, pressing kisses to the tender skin that tingles under his lips.

“Mhm,” he grunts, biting at your skin then kissing over it when you wince slightly. “N’they won’t be home for at least an hour.” His hands are skimming over the waistband of your pajama pants, warm fingers dipping to touch the band of your undies.

“Yeah,” you say again. You’re losing words. It always feels like you lose your words, breath, and brain around him, but maybe it’s because you don’t need it. Joel keeps kissing at your neck as he reaches around, tapping your bum so you lift up for him.

The lights in the room flash into pink as your eyes slide shut and your pants are tugged down more. It’s been too long, you need this, he needs this.

Joel doesn’t hesitate. As soon as your pants are down enough, his hand is in your undies, skimming the hair there and then pressing against you. A surprised huff puffs into your neck as he feels how wet you’ve gotten, how quick.

And then keys. And then the front door is swinging open. And then your pants are shoved up and everyone’s home and you aren’t in your mind, but it’s fine. It’s fine.

You’ll find time before Christmas.

—

Today is Shitmas.

“Shitmas. Y’know, like the day in Christmas week where you do a bunch of Christmas-y shit,” Tommy had informed you about a week ago, after you had slowly turned to look at him in the living room.

The Miller family does Shitmas on the 23rd of December, and supposedly it includes, but is not limited to, family pictures in the living room, cookie baking and decorating (lead by Sarah), and sock snowman making.

They do this every year, and you can tell because as soon as you show up on Shitmas, you’re greeted by little sock snowmen. They line the stairs, each one with a year labelled on the belly. The first few are singular snowmen, but somewhere along the way it turns into two, marking when Ellie joined their family. Over the years they’ve obviously improved, but there’s something special about the first few on the stairs. Mismatched eyes, splattered glitter glue, and Joel’s printing on their bellies, instead of Sarah’s, all grace the earliest dated snowmen.

Ellie was the one to let you into the house today, since apparently Joel is helping Sarah bake and his hands are “nasty,” in Ellie’s words.

“Kinda ugly, huh?” Ellie teases as you crouch to look at them on the stairs. Sarah calls out somewhere in the house, over the noise of the electric mixer, and it makes you huff a laugh.

“I think they’re endearing. It’s nice that Joel keeps these,” you reply. She somewhat agrees, an “I guess,” begrudgingly leaving her lips before Joel finally walks up and she skips off back to the kitchen.

Joel’s drying his hands with a dishtowel still as he embraces you, sighing deeply.

“Hey angel, sorry. Fuckin… Raw egg all over my hands,” he mutters as he squeezes you tight. The two of you pull apart for a moment, but not before Joel’s going back in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. As your palms settle against his chest, you can’t help but notice how warm he is, the skin beneath his shirt, hot and giving plushly under your fingers.

“I like the girls’ snowmen,” you tell him fondly, peeking over your shoulder at them. When you look back at him, he’s looking at them, a softness in his eyes.

“Ellie hates doing those, she only does it because Sarah likes to.”

—

Shitmas has been stupidly fun so far. Watching Tommy and Joel try their best to decorate cookies while Sarah makes Great British Bake Off worthy ones, all while Ellie smears smiley faces onto each one in an effort to make her sister proud has raised your spirits infinitely. You decorated a few cookies, but mostly watched in awe as Sarah expertly pressed sprinkles into each of the cookies and piped patterns onto them. It kind of felt like wasting cookies to not let her decorate them, even though she bakes them each year so everyone can participate.

Now, you’re sitting on the couch. The cookies are all sitting on the kitchen counter, abandoned as each family member bustles around the house getting ready for the picture they’ll take in front of the tree.

Surprisingly, Tommy is done getting ready first. Honestly you figured it would have been Joel, but maybe he’s putting some extra effort in today, rather than just running a comb through his hair. Tommy’s appearance at first is only surprising because of how meticulous he can be with his hair. Joel has told you about the times they’ve been late because his hair was “fighting” him some mornings.

“Hair cooperated with me,” he says as he takes a seat next to you on the couch. Sometimes it feels like Tommy can either read your mind, or just says shit to take up space. You respond with a nod and a mild expression of acknowledgement, a little off in your own world.

“You forget your flannel or somethin?” Tommy asks next. You almost nod again, on auto-pilot, but then stop.

“What?” You ask, head turning in his direction. He laughs in disbelief, and for a moment you feel embarrassment start burning at the base of your neck in fear he’s laughing at you. Were you told to bring something and didn’t?

“Hold on,” Tommy says, grunting as he curls up and off the couch a second later.

He leaves you alone in the living room, left to listen to the crackling fireplace channel on TV and the sound of Ellie protesting over Sarah wanting to put hairspray on her.

Tommy’s heavy footsteps clomp around upstairs, leading into Joel’s bedroom. Not dissimilar to the girls downstairs, the rumble of Joel’s voice hits the floor and you roll your eyes, holding a laugh. There aren’t words you can make out, but you’re sure that Joel is mightily unhappy at the random intrusion of his brother.

The more you learn about this family, the more you feel like you’re falling into place, and the more you experience being in it, the farther away your own family feels.

You sit on the couch, still as can be, as you listen to the sound of Tommy rummaging around his older brother’s room, the sound of the hairspray being spritzed while Ellie groans. The sounds are feeling increasingly farther away, even though the girls are downstairs and the boys are only upstairs. Your eyes move to the cookies sitting on the counter, the messy dishes in the sink, and suddenly the stickiness from the icing beneath your nails is too much.

What are you doing here? What is this Hallmark movie family you’ve found yourself in?

The thump of your heart ramps up, pumping blood to your ears and making it rssshhhh in the back of your mind just as you begin to chase your breath. It’s all too nice, and maybe you aren’t entirely undeserving, but this is all so unfamiliar. Your own family isn’t terrible, but in comparison to this, it feels so dull. Christmas was just lights and presents before, not tradition and excitement the way that fucking Shitmas has been so far. You’re one activity into the day and it’s already so much better than what you can remember from back home.

Maybe this is what influenced your decision to stay in Texas for the holidays. Maybe somewhere in you, you knew that this would be better. You’re sitting here, in another family’s home, taking your own family for granted, and for what? Some cookies and some pictures? For the sake of a relationship that isn’t even labelled yet? You deserve this, you deserve to chase your breath and wipe your tears. Selfish girl, if you didn’t feel right in your own family, what right do you have to find a place in theirs?

Nobody in this house asked you to be here but Joel, and really, you just showed up on his doorstep.

Your eyes are shut as you catch your breath, squinched together so tightly that you see sparks of colour behind your eyelids. Tears keep slipping out and you wipe under your eyes politely, trying not to choke on any noises. The bathrooms are occupied, don’t make a fool of yourself in the living room.

Tommy and Joel’s voices increase in volume until they’re in front of you, and you open your eyes to see the pair staring at you. Tommy avoids your eyes as soon as you’re looking back at him, while Joel just seems a little shocked.

“Hey,” Joel says, a festive red flannel in his grip. “Why don’t we head upstairs for a second?”

—

You cry for a long while before you actually manage to tell Joel what’s upset you.

Sat on the edge of his bed, you cry into your palms until your cheeks are red and blotchy, and snot covers the inside of your palms and the bridge of your nose. It’s ugly, nasty, and not what you want to be doing at all. Your family is fine, just boring and emotionally detached, and you’re crying about it to the hardest working single father you know, who has essentially built his life on his own with the help of his brother.

“I just feel so stupid and– and totally out of place. What have I done to earn my place here?” You ask him, eyes puffy and sad as you stare up at him.

Joel looks hurt. He has looked hurt for a long while, but you couldn’t see it when you were buried in your palms. His brows are pinched, his eyes wrinkled at the outer corners as he looks at you, almost seeming to pity you. For a moment his eyes flash away, not to anything in particular, but just to gather himself.

“Earn your place? Baby, what?” He questions. You stay quiet, feeling just as confused as he sounds.

His hands clench where they rest on his thighs, then relax as he sighs, head tilting to the side so he can look at you again.

“You don’t… earn your place in our family, darlin, you’re invited.”

How could you be so fucking dense?

Anyone that’s in Joel’s life, apart from Sarah, is somebody he actively invited in. His allowance of Tommy to be a near second father figure to Sarah and Ellie, his adoption of Ellie on its own, the majority of his family has been let in. It could have been just him and Sarah, but he wanted more so he allowed more, and he allows more because he loves what the more in his life is.

Joel takes a deep breath, again, and seems to steel his nerves.

“You are so much more than invited into our family, angel, you’re welcomed wholly. But, if that’s too much right now and it’s bringing you worry, it’s fine for you to just be my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

That is not the topic right now, that is so not the topic right now, but he said the word.

Joel loves the more in his life, and now he’s added you to that “more” officially. A label, a name, a little add-on to your identity. You’re putting “Joel’s Girlfriend” on your imaginary nametag in a million different fonts in your head before you realize he’s still talking.

“You fit right in with us, baby. The girls love you, Tommy loves you, I love you, but you know that one,” he laughs. “It’s up to you if you wanna think of yourself as a part of our family, but know that we already do.”

A smarter response should come out of your mouth here. Joel has just said a lot of touching things that have sunk into the meat of your body, warming you, but a smart response isn’t something you can manage.

“I’m your girlfriend?” You ask.

Joel’s brows furrow. “Yeah?”

He says it the way an eighth grader would say “Duh.”

Your look of “When did this happen?” meets Joel’s look of “Where have you been?” at the same time, and only then does he realize.

—

His apology for completely forgetting to ask you to be his official girlfriend for the last however many months is by cleaning you up really nicely for the photo.

Joel starts by fixing your hair, letting you sit between his knees as he gently pulls it away from your face. His hands run through it so carefully, a tenderness that only an experienced girl-dad like him could provide. When he’s finished, he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head, adding a mumbled “sorry” in, just to really save his ass.

With anyone else you’d be upset at them for forgetting something so pivotal in a relationship, but with Joel you lend as much patience as he gives you. He’s busy, stupidly so, and with how close and intense the two of you are with one another, it’s not absurd for it to have slipped his mind. In some ways it’s flattering, and you’d like to ask how long he’s been thinking of you as his girlfriend.

You’re just about to when he holds up the flannel in front of you, the one that he and the rest of his family are apparently wearing for the photo.

“You don’t have to. Seriously. We just talked about family and stuff and if you aren’t ready for that, then that’s–” He’s talking fast, but not as fast as you move to grab the flannel from him.

“I’m your girlfriend, of course I have to be in the picture.”

—

The rest of Shitmas was less, well, shit.

Ellie and Sarah did their yearly sock snowmen after the photo was taken and they turned out lovely, or at least Sarah’s did. Ellie purposefully overstuffed hers with rice just to see how big she could make the snowman before he exploded, which resulted in him exploding later that evening when his rotund body toppled down the stairs.

Now it’s Christmas Eve, and you’re prepping for tomorrow morning. Your house still isn’t decorated in the slightest, the only festive thing about it being a laundry basket full of gifts that you’ll tote over to Joel’s tomorrow morning.

Your lower back is absolutely killing you from wrapping the last of Joel’s gifts, something he had warned you of, but you had foolishly ignored. You figured it was an old man thing, not a consequence of too many presents. It feels like heaven when your back finally rests against the couch, your head leaning back as you sigh.

Since talking with Joel yesterday about the family stress and what the two of you are, you feel a hell of a lot better. Your lungs almost feel like they’re more open than before.

Just as you’re relaxing, eyes sliding shut in stressless bliss, someones at the door.

You grunt as you peel yourself off the couch, trudging to the door and opening it. It’s strange that anyone is at your door, especially since Joel is out with Tommy and the girls going Christmas light spotting.

Or at least he’s supposed to be.

Joel stands at your door in a loose shirt and grey sweatpants, looking sheepish.

“Do you want to come over for a bit?”

—

Alone. Finally, alone.

You’re sat halfway on Joel’s lap, sucking a mark into his neck as he leans back, cursing softly.

“Fuuuckin’ god, you know I missed you,” he groans. You nod into his skin, teething at the skin softly before pulling back to lick at the reddened spot.

Your hands grip up his sides, feeling the solid width of his body, the plushness of his tummy when your hands sink into the right spot, and you want to whimper. He’s so stupidly big, and you’re so grateful he took his shirt off almost as soon as you both started making out.

Under the lights of the tree, he already looks fucked out. Joel is almost completely limp against the back of the couch, head leaned back to expose his thick throat, bitten down and bruised with marks he might regret in a few hours. His eyes are halfway shut, but dark as ever even in the warm glow of the room which also illuminates the contours that form along his tanned skin.

He feels your eyes on him, his own opening in an attempt to meet yours, but it only brings attention to his face. Pink lips sit pretty on his face, slightly parted and puffy from kissing you dizzy earlier. Again, his eyes squeeze shut as you drag your nails up across his chest, only to fly open.

“Wait– Wait I have something,” Joel sputters. He slides you off his lap, scrambling to the Christmas tree with boyish urgency.

Joel returns with a red present, one that he actually wrapped fairly neatly.

It’d be sweet if you weren’t literally two seconds from tearing his grey sweats off his body and riding him into next year before he had shoved you off.

“It’s not Christmas,” you point out, but he shakes his head and shoves the gift into your hands.

Begrudgingly, you unwrap the gift and lift the lid off the box beneath the paper. Laying flat in the bottom of the thin box, cushioned by white tissue paper, is a red, babydoll, nightie. A blush lashes across your cheeks as you lift it out of the box, discovering that the top of it has no bra cups, or really anything to support your tits at all. Red ribbon frames the bust of the nightie limply in a triangular shape, a fluttery mesh making up for the remainder of the piece. It looks and feels expensive, and on top of that it’s totally sexy, even more so since Joel is the one that bought it for you.

Joel had gone out and picked this just for you, he had probably thought about you wearing this every night for the past week. The idea of it is making you increasingly more aroused, your eyes flicking to his, then down to the bulge in his pants.

“If it’s too much then I’ll return it but,” Joel’s chest is heaving with excitement, biting his lip as he looks at the nightie, “but I kind of want to fuck my beautiful girlfriend before Christmas.”

The two of you are upstairs quickly, with Joel settling in bed and you changing in the bathroom.

You look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror once you’ve put the ensemble on, if you can call it that. The underwear that came with the nightie are barely a scrap of fabric. Normally you’d feel really uncomfortable in something like this, hyperfocusing on small things, like how the pouch of your belly looks, or how your tits don’t look nearly as full as you want them to, but not right now.

Joel Miller just gave you, his official girlfriend, lingerie for Christmas. Because he wants to fuck you in it.

Shamelessly, you open the door into Joel’s bedroom, basically bouncing onto the bed.

“It’s so nice,” you tell him right away, wanting to show your gratitude. He’s down to his boxers as he lays beside you, eyes scanning up and down your body as you sit in his bed, almost as sexy as you are naked.

Joel is still like that for almost a minute, making your brain run haywire. Tonight, he’s left the bedside light on. It’s probably so he can see you, but it’s always special when he lets you see him while you both get intimate. He doesn’t touch you at all, just scoots up the bed so he’s sitting upright and unblinking, until finally:

“I want you to use me,” Joel blurts out.

It’s more surprising than the gift. Your voice is a tiny whine in the back of your throat, your mouth forming the word “what,” but before you can finish, his hands are on your hips, lifting you onto his thigh.

“There, I want you to use me there,” he near-demands.

You’re speechless. Joel is vocal in bed for sure, always talking a lot and never really quiet, but he hasn’t been so… commanding before. He’ll ask for things occasionally, a certain position or act, but not like this. Your hips are still as he pushes you down onto his thigh, the hair on it smushing into the softness of your skin.

“C’mon, angel, I can feel you. Fuck my thigh, use me, I want it.” He encourages.

Joel’s hands grab onto you tighter now, starting to make you move your hips until you do it on your own. It feels like you’re making a dumb face, eyes wide and brows pinched together, but you can’t help but feel surprised.

This is Joel, your Joel, who was hesitant to have sex with the lights on, or even let you look at his dick in general, and now he’s making you hump his thigh? It’s completely new to you, but you aren’t mad.

Once you’ve picked up your own pace, and stabilized yourself with your hands on his shoulders, he reaches up. Joel keeps his eyes trained on your face as he takes advantage of how your tits are on full display in the nightie, plucking and rolling your nipples in his fingers all while talking you through what’s going on.

“I know, I know you needed this,” he nods at you, “I needed it too, baby. Missed you like this.”

It feels awfully good grinding against his thigh, and something about this newfound side of Joel with the added fact that you guys haven’t had a moment alone in probably a month, is making this so much more explosive. You roll your hips just right and gasp as one side of the undies slips into the slit of your cunt, the less soft edge of the elastic brushing your clit. A pathetic noise is ripped from you as your hips stutter, body shocked from the sudden direct stimulation.

“No,” Joel says right away. His hand reaches around and cups the bottom of your ass, letting his fingers sink into the crease between your butt and thigh as he drags you forward again.

“Want your messy pussy all over me, please angel I need it so bad,” he says, guiding your movements as you start to go limp, head falling back. You barely register the feeling of his hand on your waist, trying to balance you as he fucks your wet cunt onto his leg.

You let out a tiny noise as the elastic of the undies bites into your clit again and for whatever reason it makes Joel groan too.

“S’exactly what I wanted, angel. Wanted my pretty girlfriend to come all over me an’ have her tits in my face.”

Whatever the hell has gotten into him you hope it gets into him again. He keeps rubbing you into his leg until you’re begging for more stimulation, your limp arms reaching to grab at his hand and push it up to your breasts again.

“M-my nipples,” you beg softly, tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation on your clit. He doesn’t hesitate, half smiling as he starts playing with your nipples again.

“Like this? Is this gonna make my pretty baby come?” He teases as he rolls your nipples repeatedly between his fingers.

All of it is too much, but it’s exactly what you wanted at the same time. Your orgasm completely fucks you out as you keep your eyes on his, mouth hanging open dumbly as he keeps one hand playing with your nipple and the other reaching down to cup your ass and grind your cunt harder on his thigh.

“Good girl, fuckin’ God,” Joel says, staring down as your ruined undies mash into his skin. You can’t tell if you’re coming down or if this orgasm is just super long for no reason, but if it was ending, it’s extended the moment Joel’s thigh clenches up.

You look down as you whimper, wondering why he’s chosen midway through your orgasm to fuck you up again, but then realize that he didn’t choose.

A fat, pearly, translucent bead, sprouts from where the head of his cock lays beneath his black briefs. You can see it grow bigger in the light, listening as Joel groans and curses, his lower half thrashing beneath you. His chest is heaving and the hand on your ass is digging deep.

“Jesus– God, baby, what you do to me,” he grits through his teeth as his back finally hits the headboard again.

Frankly, you’re speechless. You didn’t realize that would happen, or really that it could happen. You weren’t even touching him and he came, he was only watching you. It isn’t like he shot a huge load of come, but still, something came out.

Joel seems to be coming to the same conclusion as he breathily laughs, looking down at the mess before tugging you down onto him anyway, burying his nose in your hair.

“Good gift,” he mumbles, maybe to you, maybe to himself. “Definitely buyin’ you another one next year.” [ <3 ]

----

please leave comments, rbs/tags, or drop into my askbox ! i love to chat and listen <3 tags (people who i think will like this?? maybe??) @bambisweethearts , @pascalssbabyy , @ajps-posts , @starcaviar , @hisvision , @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal , @joeloverture , @mochamadeleines , @taeslarityy , @theweedisasterxoxo , @pawnshopb1ues , @hellishjoel , @slutty-express , @kyloispunk , @rainbowcosmicchaos , @stefanibear003 , @pedrostories [i plan on making an updates blog or something soon, apologies!]

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader smut #ellie fic rec box #tlou #joel miller: texas sweet #texas sweet #pedrostories

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daisymbin · 3 days ago

Text

tell me you love me! - kim mingyu

genre: friends to lovers!

wc: 1.7k

check out my masterlist! // gyu's m.list

“wanna bet?” mingyu’s voice is playful, his smirk cocky as he watches you with that glint in his eye that always makes your heart skip a beat. you try to keep your cool, but your pulse is already quickening.

you swallow nervously, not sure where this is going. “depends. what are the stakes?”

“whatever the winner wants,” he replies, leaning back against the couch, crossing his arms casually. his tone is confident, as though he knows exactly what he’s doing.

you raise an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “anything? that’s a bit risky.”

“trust me,” mingyu says, his smile turning more confident, like he's enjoying this moment of control. "it’ll be worth it."

you hesitate, but only for a moment, before nodding. "fine. i'll bite."

“good choice,” he says, leaning forward with that usual cocky grin on his face. “so, here’s the bet.”

you wait, unsure of what’s coming, but bracing yourself for whatever he throws at you.

“arm wrestling,” he says, suddenly, and your eyes widen.

“that’s not fair!” you exclaim, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. you were expecting something—well, anything—else. something that didn’t involve you getting completely embarrassed in front of him.

mingyu chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. "you already agreed, sweetheart. don’t back out now."

“but you’re way stronger than i am!” you argue, arms flailing slightly as you try to explain why this isn’t fair. “there’s no way i’m going to win!”

“a bet’s a bet,” mingyu shrugs nonchalantly, not even fazed by your protests. "you agreed to it. c'mon now."

you feel a mixture of frustration and a nervous, fluttery excitement as you sit down across from him, your eyes narrowing at his smug expression. he stretches out his arm, flexing his muscles just to tease you further.

you try to steel yourself, but your hands are already shaking. this wasn’t what you had in mind when you agreed to the bet, and now the thought of losing—especially in front of him—feels like the worst possible outcome.

“you ready?” mingyu asks, his voice dropping slightly as his fingers curl around your hand.

you bite your lip, casting a quick glance toward the door, as if you could escape from this situation, but then you look back at mingyu. his grin only widens, and you can see the playfulness in his eyes.

you press your lips together, determined to at least try. you might not win, but you weren’t going to back down without a fight.

when you both lock hands, the challenge is set, and mingyu’s grip feels like a vice around yours, making you feel smaller and weaker in comparison. you brace yourself, trying to summon the last of your courage.

the countdown begins. “three, two—”

before you can even blink, mingyu’s hand crashes down to the table with ease.

you blink at him, stunned for a moment. “...you’re kidding me.”

he laughs, the sound deep and triumphant, and leans back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself. “that was way too easy.”

“you didnt even give me a chance,” you complain, but mingyu doesn’t let you wallow for long. his cocky grin only grows wider as he leans in slightly, his gaze now fixed on you.

“so,” he begins, drawing out the word with exaggerated suspense, “since i won, i think i’ll collect my prize.”

you look up at him, panic flashing in your eyes as the realization hits you. “what do you want?” you ask with a sigh.

you barely have time to process it when he leans forward, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“i want a kiss,” he says simply, and the air feels like it’s been sucked out of your lungs.

you freeze. for a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe. you open your mouth to protest, but the words don’t come. all you can do is blink at him, utterly caught off guard by his casual request.

“i-i can’t,” you stammer, taking a step back instinctively, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

“why not?” mingyu teases, his voice a little softer now, but still carrying that cocky edge. “it’s just a kiss.”

“but that’s... i just can’t,” you say, your voice shaking now, feeling vulnerable in a way you’ve never felt before. you’re in love with him—how could you not be? but the thought of kissing him, of letting him have that piece of you, knowing it could never be enough, feels like you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak. and you’re not ready for that.

mingyu’s expression falters slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his features, but then he just shrugs, clearly thinking it’s just nerves.

“why not? it's just a kiss. you've kissed plenty of people before.” he teases, taking a step closer to you, his presence overwhelming in the best and worst way.

you swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing. “yeah but... why do you want one? ” you ask, your voice barely a whisper as you meet his eyes.

“isn’t it obvious?” he asks, his smirk returning as if it’s second nature to him. but there’s something different in the way he looks at you, something softer beneath the teasing.

“well... no?” you reply, unsure of yourself. “that’s why i’m asking. why did you—” you trail off, suddenly too scared to say the next words. to admit what you’re too afraid to admit even to yourself.

mingyu’s expression hardens for a brief second, before his gaze softens again, his cocky smile vanishing as his eyes narrow slightly, like he’s seeing right through you. “aren’t you in love with me?” he asks, his voice low and piercing, leaving no room for denial.

your heart stops. you feel like you’ve been slapped, the world spinning around you. you try to speak, to deny it, but the words stick in your throat. instead, you just stare at him, completely blindsided.

“what? that’s—” you begin to protest, but mingyu cuts you off, his voice now serious and commanding.

“i’m going to kiss you,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “back out now if you don’t want it.”

you stand frozen, all the words swirling in your mind but not leaving your lips. your heart races, thundering in your chest as your thoughts spiral. you don’t want to back out. but you don’t want to risk having your heart broken, either.

you don’t say a word, but your silence says everything.

mingyu shifts closer, closing the gap between you, and you can feel your breath hitch as he leans down, his lips brushing gently against yours. the kiss is slow, almost tender, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away, but you don’t. you can’t. you kiss him back, feeling the warmth of his lips, the softness that you never expected, the connection you’ve always wanted but never dared to dream of.

when he pulls away, you’re breathless, your heart pounding wildly. you step back, your face flushed, and look away from him, suddenly feeling too exposed.

mingyu watches you carefully, his eyes searching yours. “do you regret it?” he asks, his voice soft and vulnerable but masking it by carrying that teasing edge.

“no, i just...” you start, but the words don’t come out the way you want them to. you feel the weight of everything you’ve kept hidden pressing down on you.

“hey, look at me,” mingyu says, his voice gentle now, almost like he’s comforting you.

reluctantly, you meet his gaze, your heart still racing in your chest. but now, it’s different. it’s not the same cocky mingyu you’re used to. there’s something deeper in his eyes.

“tell me you love me,” he says quietly, almost expectantly, like he already knows the answer.

your eyes widen, your mouth falling open as you try to make sense of what he just asked. “w-what?”

“you do,” mingyu insists, his gaze intense, his voice firm but soft. “i know you do. you look at me the same way i look at you. so just tell me you love me.”

you blink, your mind racing. “mingyu, what are you—”

“i said what i said,” he interrupts, his voice steady and confident. “you heard me loud and clear.”

you stand there, speechless, feeling as though the floor has been ripped from beneath you. so many thoughts are running through your head, but nothing makes sense. what does he mean 'you look at me the same way i look at you.'

“i... i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper, backing away, your heart in your throat as panic and fear hugs you like a thick weighted blanket you can't shake off.

before you can take another step, mingyu’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist firmly. “don’t walk away from me,” he says quietly, his grip gentle but unyielding.

you freeze, your chest tightening. you want to pull away, but his touch is grounding you, making it impossible to move.

he pulls you back toward him. “i love you,” he says, his voice clear and sure. “everyone knows i do. you’re the only oblivious one.”

your heart stutters, your world spinning. “what?” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips.

“and i know you do too,” mingyu continues, his gaze unwavering, his tone confident. “are you still going to tell me you don’t know what i’m talking about?”

you stand there, caught in his gaze, unable to move or speak, but in that moment, everything changes. the fear fades away, and something new takes its place.

mingyu encourages again, “tell me you love me,”

you swallow, your voice trembling as you finally admit out loud, “i love you.”

mingyu’s grin widens, and for the first time, it’s not cocky—it’s soft, full of relief and happiness. he pulls you into his arms, holding you close, and whispers, “you don't know just how bad i've wanted to hear you say these 3 words.”

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lila-lou · 3 days ago

Text

✨Family✨

Summary: This Christmas is your first with Emily, Beau’s teenage daughter. Between her shy smiles and sharp wit, she’s learning to trust you, and you’re creating a home together.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Beau x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 3377

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. ❤️

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts, filling the air with a cozy warmth that made the chill of the Montana winter seem far away. Emily stood next to you, carefully arranging cookies on a tray. Her focus was intense, her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrated on making each cookie look just right. It was the kind of detail about her that always made you smile—a reminder that, even at sixteen, she still had that playful spark beneath her teenage independence.

“You think Dad’s gonna notice if I sneak one of these?”, she asked, glancing at you with a sly grin.

You laughed, rolling out another batch of dough. “Oh, he’ll notice. Beau’s got a sixth sense when it comes to cookies. Besides, don’t you want to save some for tonight?”.

Emily groaned dramatically, clearly unimpressed with your reasoning. “Fine. But the gingerbread man with the crooked smile is mine. Calling it now”.

Through the frosted kitchen window, you could see Beau and Cole outside in the snow. Your three-year-old son was bundled up so tightly in his navy-blue coat and matching hat that he looked like a tiny snowball himself. He was giggling uncontrollably as Beau helped him roll a massive snowball for the base of their snowman. Beau’s laughter was just as loud, echoing across the yard, a warm contrast to the cold landscape. You could see the way his breath fogged in the air as he crouched down, ruffling Cole’s hair every time he clapped his mittens together in excitement.

Emily noticed you watching them and sighed, setting the spatula down. “They’re having way more fun than we are. Why do we get kitchen duty?”.

You smirked and nudged her playfully with your elbow. “Because you agreed cookies were more important than frostbite”.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “That was before I realized how boring baking is. I don’t know how you do this for fun”.

“It’s not boring if you put your heart into it”, you teased. “Besides, you can’t tell me those cookies don’t look amazing. You’re doing great”.

Emily looked at the tray, a hint of pride creeping into her expression. “Yeah, I guess they do. And I’ll admit… it’s kinda nice being here”. Her voice softened at the end, almost like she was testing the words out.

You paused, glancing at her carefully. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment for Emily. This was her first Christmas with you, Beau, and Cole—her first away from her mom. While she didn’t talk about it much, you could tell it weighed on her. The little things gave her away: the far-off look she got sometimes, the way she’d hesitate before fully relaxing around you.

“I’m glad you’re here”, you said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s different, but it wouldn’t feel right without you”.

Emily shrugged, but you caught the flicker of a smile. “Thanks. I mean, it’s not bad or anything… I just—”. She stopped herself and focused back on the cookies. “It’s nice to feel like part of something, you know?”.

Your heart ached for her in that moment. She’d been through so much this past year, but she’d held it together with a strength that amazed you. “You are part of something”, you said gently. “And we wouldn’t trade you for the world”.

Emily didn’t respond, but her shoulders relaxed just a little, and that was enough.

Outside, Beau lifted Cole onto his shoulders, spinning him around as the little boy shouted with glee. The snowman project had apparently been abandoned in favor of an impromptu snowball fight, with Beau pretending to dodge the tiny handfuls of snow Cole tossed at him. The sight made you laugh, and Emily turned to the window, her expression softening as she watched her dad and Cole.

“They’re such dorks”, she said, but there was no malice in her voice—just affection.

“That they are”, you agreed, sliding the tray of cookies into the oven. “But they’re our dorks”.

Emily smiled, a small, genuine one that made you feel like maybe things were starting to fall into place. This Christmas might not be what any of you had imagined, but for the first time, it felt like the start of something real, something good.

Eventually, you set the rolling pin down, brushing flour off your hands as a mischievous grin spread across your face. Emily looked up, raising a curious brow.

“What?”, she asked, watching as you wiped your hands on a towel.

You nodded toward the door, your grin growing. “Come on”, you said, a playful spark in your voice. “Let’s show them what a real snowball fight looks like”.

Emily’s face lit up, and for the first time all day, she looked completely carefree. “Oh, you’re on”, she said, already tugging her sleeves down to head for her coat.

The two of you quickly bundled up, Emily grabbing a pair of mismatched gloves and tugging them on as you zipped up your jacket. The moment you stepped outside, the icy air nipped at your cheeks, but the laughter from Beau and Cole made it easy to forget the cold. They were crouched behind a pile of snow, clearly in the middle of their “battle”. Cole had a snowball in each hand, and Beau was dramatically shielding himself, shouting, “Mercy! Mercy!”, as Cole pelted him with what looked like more powder than ice.

“They’re not even going to see it coming”, you whispered to Emily, who crouched beside you, already scooping up a handful of snow.

“Divide and conquer?”, she suggested, her grin matching yours.

“Always”, you replied.

Together, you moved swiftly, using the yard’s uneven snow piles as cover. You watched as Emily targeted Beau first, her snowball hitting him square in the shoulder. He whipped around, stunned.

“What the—”, he started, before you launched your own snowball, catching him in the chest.

“Reinforcements?!”, Beau shouted, laughing as he scrambled to grab snow. “Oh, you two are in trouble now!”.

Cole, catching on to the new dynamic, screamed with delight. “Get ‘em, Daddy!”.

But Emily was fast. She ducked behind a snowbank, expertly avoiding Beau’s counterattack. Meanwhile, you were busy distracting him, tossing snowball after snowball, laughing so hard you could barely aim.

“You think you can take me down?”, Beau called, his Southern drawl coming out in full force as he lobbed a snowball in your direction. “I’m the king of snowball fights!”.

“King? You’ve already been dethroned!”, you shouted back, dodging his throw and quickly crafting another snowball.

Emily, ever the opportunist, took advantage of Beau’s focus on you. She came out of nowhere, launching a snowball right at the back of his head. The soft thud of snow hitting his hat was met with a stunned silence before he turned slowly, his mouth open in mock betrayal.

“Et tu, Emily?”, he said dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded.

“Every man—or dad—for himself!”, Emily shouted, laughing so hard she could barely keep her balance.

Meanwhile, Cole was toddling over to you with his own version of a snowball, which was really just a clump of powdery fluff. He tossed it at your leg, giggling uncontrollably. “Gotcha, Mommy!”.

“Oh no, I’m hit!”, you cried, pretending to stumble backward into the snow. Cole squealed with joy, climbing onto your legs to “finish the job”.

Beau took the opportunity to scoop Emily into his arms, spinning her around as she shrieked, “No fair! No fair!”. The laughter echoed across the yard, a perfect mix of chaos and joy.

By the time you all called a truce, your cheeks were red, your gloves soaked, and your sides ached from laughing. Beau walked over, his arm slinging around your shoulders as Cole clung to his leg, still chattering about his “big win”. Emily joined you, shaking the snow out of her hair and grinning like she hadn’t a care in the world.

“Well”, Beau said, his voice warm and low, “I don’t know about you, but I think that might’ve been the best snowball fight this family’s ever seen”.

“It’s the only snowball fight this family’s ever seen”, Emily pointed out, but the teasing tone in her voice made it clear she’d loved every second.

You leaned into Beau, glancing at the three of them, your little makeshift family. “Well, I guess we’ve set the bar pretty high, haven’t we?”.

Beau smiled down at you, his eyes soft. “Good thing we’ve got plenty more years to top it”.

And as the four of you trudged back inside, shedding wet coats and boots, you couldn’t help but feel it: the warmth, the laughter, the love. This was Christmas. This was home.

Inside, the warmth of the house quickly thawed the chill from your cheeks. Snow clung stubbornly to Cole’s little hat and mittens, and his face was flushed bright red from the cold and laughter. Beau grinned as he scooped him up, effortlessly hoisting him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Cole squealed, kicking his legs playfully as Beau said, “Alright, buddy, time to get you warmed up and in some dry clothes before you turn into a popsicle”.

You followed them up the stairs with Emily trailing behind, her footsteps light and quiet as she watched the scene unfold. Beau pushed the bathroom door open with his elbow, still holding Cole, and plopped him down on the edge of the tub. The little boy wiggled as you knelt down next to him, gently brushing the snowflakes from his hair.

“Hold still, Cole”, you said, laughing as he squirmed. “We’re trying to help you, you know”.

“But I’m not cold!”, Cole protested, giggling as Beau wrestled with the tiny, wet socks that clung stubbornly to his feet.

“Not cold, huh?”, Beau teased, holding up one soggy sock like it was evidence in a trial. “Then what do you call this, Mr. Snowman? A fashion statement?”.

Cole’s laughter filled the small bathroom as he tried to kick his feet free, but Beau caught them easily, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve been like this since you were born, you know. Always wiggling around, never staying still”.

“Cause I’m fast!”, Cole declared proudly, pumping his little fists in the air.

“You’re definitely something”, Beau muttered, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he finally got the last sock off. “Now, let’s get you into some dry clothes before you speed your way into a cold”.

Emily leaned casually against the doorway, her arms crossed as she watched the two of you fuss over Cole. There was something soft in her expression, though she tried to mask it with her usual teenage coolness.

“You two are such parents”, she said, her tone laced with mock judgment.

You glanced back at her with a smirk. “Is that a bad thing?”.

Emily shrugged, but there was no edge to it. “No. Just… funny, I guess. You’re both so good at it”.

Her words made you pause for a moment, your heart swelling. It wasn’t often that Emily said things like that—openly kind and vulnerable. You met her gaze and gave her a warm smile. “Well, we’ve had a lot of practice with this one”, you said, nodding toward Cole, who was now giggling uncontrollably as Beau tickled his belly while trying to pull his shirt over his head.

Beau looked up at Emily, his grin wide. “And for the record, I’d say we’re pretty good at being your parents too. Even if you don’t let us put your socks on”.

Emily rolled her eyes, but you caught the way her lips twitched like she was fighting back a smile. “I think I can manage my socks, thanks”.

“Good to know”, Beau replied, finally managing to get Cole into a clean, dry shirt. He scooped the little boy back into his arms and stood, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Cole’s head. “There. Warm and toasty, just like a marshmallow”.

“I’m a marshmallow!”, Cole shouted, making you and Beau laugh.

Emily chuckled too, though she tried to hide it behind a shake of her head. “You’re all ridiculous”, she said, turning toward the hallway.

You stood, brushing your hands on your jeans, and caught up with her as Beau carried Cole back down. “Ridiculous, maybe”, you said softly, nudging her shoulder with yours. “But happy. And that’s what matters, right?”.

Emily glanced at you, her expression softening again, though she quickly masked it with a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sappy on me, okay?”.

“Too late”, you teased, following her down the hall. But deep down, you knew she felt it too—this warmth, this connection, this new sense of family.

As the evening settled in, the house glowed with the soft light of the Christmas tree, its twinkling bulbs casting warm colors across the room. The scent of cinnamon lingered from earlier in the day, mixing with the woodsy aroma of the tree. The four of you were sprawled on the couch, cozied under a thick, patchwork blanket.

Beau, of course, had taken up the role of ultimate family snuggler. He sat in the middle, his left arm wrapped firmly around Emily, who had only agreed to the arrangement after a dramatic eye-roll and a mumbled, “Fine, but just this once”. Despite her protests, she leaned into him, her head resting lightly against his shoulder.

You lay on his other side, his right arm draped around your shoulders as you nestled close, your legs tucked up under you. Cole, ever the little king of chaos, had stretched himself out across both your laps. His head rested on Emily’s knee, his little hands clutching his favorite stuffed dinosaur, while his feet occasionally kicked up as he babbled about the cookies he’d eaten and the snowman that “almost stayed up”.

“Almost doesn’t count, little man”, Beau teased, ruffling Cole’s messy hair. “Next time, we’re getting it to stand no matter what. That’s a promise”.

Cole giggled, his voice sleepy but full of excitement. “You’re gonna help me, Daddy?”.

“Always”, Beau said, his voice soft and steady. “Always, buddy”.

You smiled at the exchange, feeling the warmth of Beau’s hand rubbing small circles on your shoulder. This was it—the quiet, perfect moment you’d been hoping for all day. Emily glanced at you briefly, catching your expression, and she smirked in that way only a teenager could.

“What?”, she asked, her tone playful but curious.

“Nothing”, you said softly, though the smile on your face betrayed you. “Just… this”.

Beau’s hand stilled for a moment, and he looked down at you, his gaze filled with a tenderness that never failed to make your chest ache. “Yeah”, he said quietly, “this is pretty good, isn’t it?”.

Emily groaned in mock disgust. “Oh, come on. You two are so gross sometimes”.

“You love it”, Beau said, leaning down to plant a quick, noisy kiss on the top of her head. She wrinkled her nose but didn’t pull away, and you noticed the small smile tugging at her lips.

“Do not”, she muttered, clearly lying.

Cole let out a loud yawn, his little arms stretching wide as he snuggled deeper into the blanket. “I love it”, he announced proudly, his words slightly muffled by the stuffed dinosaur he was still clutching.

As the evening wore on, Cole’s babbling grew softer, his eyelids drooping as the warmth of the blanket and the steady rhythm of Beau’s voice lulled him closer to sleep. He shifted, nestling deeper into the crook of your lap, his stuffed dinosaur still clutched tightly to his chest. You brushed a hand gently over his hair, smoothing down the messy tufts that stuck up from his earlier adventures in the snow.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Cole’s sleepy voice broke the quiet moment. “Emmy?”, he asked softly, his words slurring a little with tiredness.

Emily’s head popped up, her eyes widening slightly as she looked down at him. “Yeah, bud?”, she replied, her voice uncertain but kind.

“Will you read me a bedtime story tonight?”, Cole asked, his little voice so sweet and tentative it made your heart squeeze.

Emily blinked, caught off guard. “Me? Not Mommy or Daddy?”.

Cole shook his head against your knee, yawning widely. “I want you. Please, Emmy?”.

The room fell quiet for a moment, everyone waiting for Emily’s response. She glanced at you, then at Beau, like she wasn’t sure she was the right choice. Beau’s expression was warm and encouraging, and he gave her a little nudge with his elbow. “Looks like you’ve got a fan, kiddo”, he said softly, his tone teasing but gentle.

Emily hesitated for only a moment longer before giving a small shrug, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her. “Yeah, okay. Sure, I’ll read to you”, she said, her voice carefully casual.

Cole’s sleepy face lit up in a soft smile. “Yay”, he murmured.

As Emily and Cole disappeared upstairs, their voices trailing off as Emily tried to convince Cole that she wasn’t going to do all the silly voices, you turned back toward Beau, who was already shifting under the blanket. Before you could say a word, he stood up, effortlessly scooping you into his arms with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Beau!”, you laughed, clutching at his shoulders. “What are you doing?”.

“Kid’s occupied, we’ve got at least twenty minutes”, he said, his voice low and teasing as he headed toward the basement stairs. “I’m taking advantage of a rare opportunity”.

“For what?!”, you giggled, your heart racing more from the way he was looking at you than the movement.

“To spend some uninterrupted time with my wife”, he replied, his drawl making the words feel softer and warmer than they already were. “That’s what Christmas miracles are all about, right?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, resting your head against his shoulder as he descended the stairs. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”.

“Yeah”, he said, his grin widening. “But also horny".

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he nudged the guest room door open with his foot and stepped inside. The room was small but cozy, its faint glow coming from the single lamp on the nightstand. Beau set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your waist as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours.

“Finally”, he murmured, his voice dropping even lower. “A little peace and quiet”.

You raised a brow, still smiling. “You think twenty minutes is enough for peace and quiet? With our kids upstairs?”.

Beau smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll take what I can get. Besides, I don’t need long to remind you how much I love you”.

The warmth in his voice melted any teasing retort you might have had. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “You’re pretty good at that, you know”.

“Good”, he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. “Because I plan on doing it for the rest of my life”.

And for a moment, the world upstairs faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in the quiet, perfect stillness of the moment. It wasn’t long, of course, before the faint sound of Cole’s giggles echoed down the stairs, followed by Emily’s exaggerated sigh as she tried to coax him to sleep. But for those few minutes, it was enough—just you and Beau, tucked away from the chaos, stealing a little piece of Christmas magic for yourselves.

———————————

A/N: Let´s welcome Beau to the family. Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373

#jensen ackles #big sky #beau x you #beau x reader #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x y/n

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1425fivefive · 1 day ago

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oscar and max fuck and are both wearing cock cages, while mark fujos out. i feel like i need to personally apologize to god after writing this (inspired by this ask) (for the kink prompt asks)

“Touch him,” Mark says.

Both Max and Oscar turn to look at him, wide-eyed, like they can’t figure out which of them Mark’s addressing. Christ, Mark wants to laugh at how useless they are. He would, if it didn’t make his jeans go uncomfortably tight.

“I’m talking to Oscar,” Mark clarifies.

Oscar swallows thickly, but he turns back to Max and brings a hand up to Max’s pec, dragging a thumb over Max’s nipple. They’re really more like tits, Mark thinks. Soft and ripe.

“Suck his nipple,” Mark orders, settling back in his chair.

Oscar whimpers, but he listens, leaning forward and wrapping his lips around the puffy pink bud. Max moans, a raspy, desperate thing, and pushes his chest against Oscar’s mouth, a wet spot already darkening the front of his panties.

Mark tries not to groan at the sight, taking a sip of his whisky instead. He really ought to send Charles a thank you card after this. Let Charles know how much he appreciates Charles for letting them borrow Max. The panties were a nice touch. Simple white cotton with a little bow on the waistband, thin enough that Mark can see the outline of Max’s cage. Mark makes a mental note to get a pair for Oscar.

Oscar’s whining as he sucks Max’s nipple and Max lets out an answering whine, bringing a hand up to play with his other nipple.

Mark shifts in his seat, cock already aching in his jeans. He’d promised Charles he wouldn’t get involved, that he just wanted to watch and tell them what to do to each other. But he can’t stop imagining how well Max would take it, the way his tits would bounce when you fucked him.

Mark distracts himself by saying, “Take his panties off.”

Oscar gives Max’s nipple one last suck before shuffling down the bed, fingers playing with the waistband of Max’s panties.

“Take them off,” Mark says. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Oscar flushes, clearly embarrassed. Mark wonders if Oscar’s humiliated to have Max see him like this, letting his almost fifty-year-old manager order him around. Almost fifty, Mark reminds himself.

But Oscar peels Max’s underwear down his legs, revealing Max’s cock locked away in a tiny silver cage.

Mark groans at the sight. The cage is smaller than Oscar’s and Mark wonders if he could ever get Oscar into something that small. Lock his cock away into a tiny, perfect package. Mark shifts uncomfortably in his chair, taking another sip of his whisky.

Oscar’s staring down at Max’s cock with a slack-jawed expression and Max whimpers under him, hands coming up to clutch at the pillow under his head.

“Give it a kiss,” Mark says. “Show Max how pretty you think he is.”

Oscar glances over at Mark with a desperate expression. But he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to Max’s cage.

“Oscar, fuck, please,” Max moans. It’s the first thing he’s said since he got undressed and climbed on the bed.

Mark huffs a laugh. “Don’t think you should be begging Oscar.”

Max looks over at Mark, eyes hooded, cheeks pink. Mark thinks he sees a flash of something in Max’s eyes before Max whines, “Please, Mark.”

Mark flushes and coughs, once, making sure his voice comes out steady. He ignores Max’s small, pleased little grin.

“Suck his cock, Oscar,” Mark says, relieved when his voice sounds normal. Oscar and Max moan in unison, but before Oscar can follow Mark’s instructions, Mark adds, “It’s not really a cock, though, is it?”

Max’s head swivels toward Mark, a stunned expression on his face.

“Charles told me it was more of a clit,” Mark says.

Max lets out a low, gut-punched noise, a shiver running through him, his little cock leaking over the bars of its cage.

“Oh my god,” Oscar breathes. “Charles really calls it—”

“Lick his clit, Oscar,” Mark says, pleased when Max lets out another devastated moan.

Oscar listens, finally, running his tongue over Max’s cage. Max whimpers, shaking, hands clutching so tightly at the pillow his knuckles turn white.

“How’s his mouth?” Mark asks, looking at Max.

Max and Oscar both whine, but Max takes a shuddery breath and moans, “Good. So good, Mark, fuck.”

There’s something heady about having Max like this, the reigning world champion, strung out and needy, hanging on Mark’s every word. It reminds Mark a bit of Seb, how it was between them before it all fell apart.

Mark can’t think about Seb, though, not now, and he distracts himself by telling Oscar to take off his briefs.

Once Oscar’s naked he stays kneeling on the bed, hands on his thighs, both him and Max looking over at Mark like they’re waiting for their next instruction. Like they have no idea what to do without Mark telling them. Probably for the best they’re locked up, Mark thinks. They wouldn’t have any idea what to do with their cocks even if they had them.

“Jesus,” Mark mutters. “Look at the pair of you.”

Oscar whines, hips thrusting uselessly. It gives Mark an idea.

“Get on top of him,” Mark orders. “Sort of like you’re going to fuck him.”

Oscar whimpers, probably going through whatever self-pity he cycles through whenever Mark reminds him that he can’t fuck anyone, that he’s only good for getting fucked.

But Oscar plants his elbows on either side of Max’s head, his caged cock brushing against Max’s, startling whimpers out of both of them.

Yeah. This’ll work.

“Good,” Mark says, voice strained. “Now try to make yourselves come.”

Oscar and Max make twin, devastated noises, but Max digs a heel into Oscar’s thigh, urging their cocks together. Oscar whines, even as he starts to move, rutting his caged cock against Max’s, letting out awful little whimpers with each thrust.

“Good boys,” Max murmurs, reaching a hand down to squeeze his cock through the denim. “You can kiss.”

Max throws his arms around Oscar’s neck, dragging Oscar in for a messy kiss, mouths and tongues sliding together, sloppy and overeager. Oscar’s panting into his mouth, rutting frantically against Max’s cock.

They look good together, Mark thinks. Sweet and young. Needy and useless, their pale skin flushed a pretty pink, whining and moaning into each other’s mouths. Always desperate for it, chasing a pleasure that’s forever just out of reach.

“Close yet?” Mark asks.

Oscar sobs against Max’s mouth, hips stuttering, and Mark sees how wet their pretty cocks are, slick with pre-come. Oscar’s constantly leaking when he’s in the cage and Mark reckons Max is the same. They’re gorgeous like this, marking each other the only way they can.

Oscar gets a hand under Max’s thigh, dragging Max’s leg around him, and ruts desperately against him, both of them whining and crying out.

“You must need it so bad,” Mark says, voice ragged. “Must be so desperate for it.”

Oscar and Max are still kissing, still panting against each other’s mouth, but Oscar’s thrusts are slowing and he’s making tiny, hurt noises, like he knows it’s useless, like he knows neither of them can come like this.

“Why’re you stopping?” Mark asks, twisting the knife. “You didn’t come yet.”

Oscar whimpers, pulling away from Max to look over at Mark, his eyes huge and wet. “I can’t.”

“Huh,” Mark says, spreading his legs, trying to show Oscar how hard he is, exactly what Oscar’s missing out on. “Too bad.”

Mark can’t help but grin at Oscar’s devastated little sob.

#kink prompts #maxcar #plus mark webber?#i should do fia community service for this #oscmark #oscarmark

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pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou · 2 days ago

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Bad Sanses x Reader who is going to wear a very revealing Mrs. Claus costume for a Christmas party? (Maybe with some Jealousy and Mistletoe too >:3)

Featuring: Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Ted, Error, Cross

Masterlist

Nightmare

Back into the bedroom you go.

He's not letting you out wearing these revealing clothes and no you are not seeing a bulge on his pants it's just your imagination.

The king of negativity would never let his partner walk around with such provocative wearing... Especially with his servants around.. he doesn't want them staring at what's clearly his!

Nightmare doesn't let it slide- even if it seems he does throughout the night- just enjoy the party while you can, before your legs stop working for some time..

Killer

If I tell you that he decided to wear the same thing..

The rest of the gang definitely were eyeing you two up and down with a "what the fuck" expression, Ted may even ask what on earth are you two wearing.

"Whatcha mean? We're just matching."

Is it possible that he convinces you to make out in front of everyone? Maybe. Will Nightmare kick your butts if you do? Absolutely.

Ted

At first he doesn't really realize, of course he asks if what you're wearing isn't it too fresh for this epoch of the year? but he brushes it off.

Yet when he sees Killer flirting while holding a mistletoe up between you two, he doesn't think twice before snatching you away to the bedroom. There's a "talk" he wants to have with you..

It didn't take long for him to be rubbing himself against you, pinning your arms on top of your head with his claw while he leaves bite marks all over the visible skin.

Now, he may finish the job right there.. or let you go back to the party with his mark all over your body and needy for the rest of the night.. it depends on his mood at the time.

Dust

He comes from the shadows and hugs you from behind while you're putting the costume on.

"Where do you plan on going with that? Exactly, nowhere."

He's not the type to care about the clothes you wear, yet he's not going to let you go almost naked to the party, not with Killer there! So either you switch clothes or he entertains you with something else..

I mean it's not a surprise that you find yourself moaning into a pillow while Dust rapidly thrusts into you, is it? Seems like you two will open your gifts on the 26th this year..

Cross

Quick to find you a sweater to cover you up, how can you come so exposed to a party in the middle of the winter??

Now, Cross is no innocent, he knows what you're trying to do, but it won't work, not with him! Or will it?

It's so convenient that you're bending down to pick something up when only he is present in the room, don't you think?

Killer already told him- "It's a win Criss-Cross, you get your gift now or only next year huh?" Yet he's sure that's only Killer being slightly perverted, no way you got him to be a type of cupid did you??

In the end, you get what you wanted. He cursing you out while thrusting deep into you, congratulations I guess?

Error

Bitch cover yourself.

It's almost NEGATIVE temperature outside and you're wearing a top with a mini skirt?? OH HELL NO.

He's surprisingly giving you his coat. You better be grateful idiot, it isn't everyday the god of destruction gives his precious clothes to a mere mortal.

Error's eyeing you up and down without you noticing, you think you have the right to provoke him like this?

"Ʉ₲Ⱨ ..ɎØɄ ฿Ɇ₮₮ɆⱤ ₱Ɽ₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ⱧɆⱤɆ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ ł₥ Ⱨ₳Vł₦₲ ₦Ø ₱ł₮Ɏ Ø₣ ɎØɄ ₩ⱧɆ₦ ₩Ɇ ₲Ø ฿₳₵₭ ₮Ø ₮ⱧɆ ₳₦₮łVØłĐ ɎØɄ łĐłØ₮.."

#undertale #undertale au #sans au #sans undertale #sans #sans x reader #x reader #bad sanses x reader #cross sans x reader #killer sans x reader #nightmare sans x reader #dust sans x reader #ted sans x reader #horror sans x reader #error sans x reader

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cece693 · 17 hours ago

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Let Me Draw You (Ken x Male Reader)

Just saw the Barbie movie and tell me why I felt so bad for Ken. Like all he wanted was to feel appreciated and seen by Barbie :( So, I plan to change the movie slightly to include Ken finding happiness for himself.

Summary: While Barbie was off exploring the real world, Ken was left to his own devices. Roaming the streets, he stumbles upon a coffee shop where you decide he is your next muse.

tags: Barbie movie, reader is a man from the real world, Ken is a confused puppy, he finds someone who thinks he's enough

Ken wandered through the streets of the real world, his wide eyes brimming with curiosity. Everything around him seemed larger, louder, and busier than anything in Barbie Land. People hustled past him, some throwing strange glances his way, probably because he was still dressed head to toe in his *new* favorite cowboy outfit. But Ken didn’t mind.

As he continued walking, his blue eyes caught sight of something—or rather, someone—staring directly at him from inside a small café. A man sat by the window, his gaze locked onto Ken with an intensity that made Ken freeze in his tracks. For a second, Ken thought he might’ve done something wrong. Did he accidentally break some unspoken real-world rule? Did he have something on his face?

Before Ken could decide whether to bolt or keep walking, the café door flew open, and the man came rushing toward him. His expression was filled with excitement, and he seemed so eager that he nearly tripped over himself. “Hey! You!” the man called out, breathless, as he came to a halt in front of Ken.

Ken blinked, pointing to himself in confusion. “Me?”

"Yeah, you!" The man was practically bouncing on his feet, his eyes scanning Ken up and down as though he couldn’t believe his luck. “I’m sorry to stop you, but I just have to draw you.”

Ken tilted his head, his confusion deepening. “Draw me?” he repeated slowly, trying to make sense of what the man was asking. “Why?”

The man smiled, clearly amused by Ken’s innocent bewilderment. “Because you’re perfect, just stunning. Your features, they’re unreal. You look like a sculpture or like a doll.” His eyes twinkled as he took in Ken’s sharp cheekbones and the way his hair perfectly framed his face.

Ken’s mind was spinning. He’d been called many things in his life—cool, fashionable, maybe even handsome once or twice—but no one had ever stopped him on the street just to draw him. He stood there, helpless and unsure, like a puppy who didn’t quite know what it was supposed to do. His big blue eyes darted from the man to the café, then back to the man again. No Barbie in sight to guide him.

“I…I guess?” Ken finally stammered, still sounding more confused than anything. Before he could say anything else, the man gently grabbed his arm, his touch soft but insistent, and began guiding him toward the café.

Ken allowed himself to be pulled along, stumbling slightly as he tried to keep up with the man’s eager pace. His mind was still trying to catch up to the situation, his heart fluttering in his chest with a strange mix of nerves and excitement. The man’s enthusiasm was contagious, and though Ken didn’t fully understand why he was being dragged into this café, he found himself smiling a little.

Once inside, the man ushered Ken to a small table by the window. “Here, sit down,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. Ken sat down awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his vest as he looked around.

“So, um…what do I do?” Ken asked, his voice soft and unsure, as he shifted in his seat. His feet fidgeted under the table, and his hands hovered in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them.

The man smiled, already pulling out a sketchpad and pencil from his bag. “Just be yourself,” he said simply, glancing up at Ken with a soft chuckle. “You don’t have to do anything. Just sit.”

“O-okay,” Ken mumbled, still unsure but trying his best to relax. He watched the man as he began sketching, his pencil moving quickly over the paper. Ken was used to being looked at, but this felt different. The way the man’s eyes flickered back and forth between him and the page made Ken feel…special, like he was worth paying attention to, not just because he was with Barbie, but because he was him.

As the man sketched, Ken found himself staring at him with quiet admiration. There was something calming about the way he worked, how his whole focus seemed to be on capturing Ken on the page. It made Ken’s heart flutter in a way that was new, unfamiliar, and a little overwhelming. Time seemed to slow down, and for once, Ken didn’t feel lost or unsure of himself. He didn’t feel like he needed to be anything other than who he was, and that was kind of nice.

When the man finally finished, he turned the sketchpad around, revealing the drawing to Ken with a proud smile. Ken’s eyes went wide as he stared at it. The drawing wasn’t just accurate—it captured something more. There was a softness in his expression, a vulnerability that Ken hadn’t even realized was there.

“Wow…” Ken whispered, his voice barely audible. He didn’t know what else to say. The sketch was beautiful, and it was him, but somehow, it made him feel more real than he ever had before.

The man smiled at Ken’s reaction, seeming pleased with his work. Then, almost as an afterthought, he tore the page from his sketchpad and handed it to Ken. “Here. You should keep this.”

Ken blinked, staring down at the sketch in his hands as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “Really? I can keep it?”

“Of course,” the man said with a soft chuckle. “I made it for you.”

Ken’s heart swelled with a warm, unfamiliar feeling, something that made his chest feel light and tingly. “Thank you…” he mumbled, still staring at the drawing in awe.

The man stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’ve got to run, but…maybe I’ll see you around?” He gave Ken one last smile before turning and walking out of the café.

Ken watched the man go, his gaze lingering on his retreating figure with a quiet sense of longing. There was something about him that made Ken feel safe, like he didn’t have to be anything other than himself. He stared after him, feeling that same flutter in his chest, something warm and hopeful.

As Ken sat there, clutching the sketch, he noticed something scribbled on the back of the paper. He flipped it over, and his eyes widened. There, written in small, messy handwriting, was a phone number. Ken’s heart skipped a beat, his cheeks flushing as he stared at the numbers. He glanced up again, watching the man disappear into the busy street. A soft, shy smile crept onto his face as the realization slowly sank in.

Maybe the real world wasn’t so bad after all.

#barbie #x male reader #male reader #barbie movie #barbie 2023 #barbie ken #barbie the movie

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lost-in-fandoms · 2 days ago

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Winter warmers day 23 version 2: small cock(erel). aka a chick. No pairings. About 1.2k words. This is very silly and partially inspired by this post.

It happens on a Sunday, luckily after the race is over. One moment Max is standing beside him, distractedly grabbing his bottle while looking at the data GP is pointing at, and the next he's gone.

GP blinks, startled and confused, as the sound of the bottle falling to the ground gets swallowed by the noise of the busy garage.

He looks around, sure that he will just find Max one step away, but Max isn't there. The mechanics are still there, as is Jonathan, hunched over his notes just two stools away. Everything looks the same it did ten seconds ago except...no Max.

GP blinks again, rubbing his eyes. He knows he's tired, it's been a long weekend at the end of a long triple header, but he is not this tired. There is no way he would just imagine Max being there, especially since the water bottle is still very much on the ground, and there is no way he would just miss Max leaving.

So the only explanation is that Max has disappeared in thin air. Which is not much of an explanation at all.

"John?" he calls, reaching over to tap Jonathan's arm. He's not sure what his face is doing at the moment, but it must be something weird, because Jonathan's expression goes from distracted and mildly annoyed to very focused immediately.

"What's happening?" he asks, reaching for the headphones around his neck as if he's expecting to have missed some information from there.

Except it's much worse, and weirder, than that.

GP opens his mouth, pauses, then closes it again. He knows there is no way to make this sound less crazy than it is, but he would love to find a way anyway.

"Have you, uh, seen Max?" he starts cautiously.

Maybe he is more tired than he thought. Maybe he did miss Max leaving, or maybe he's been speaking to himself the whole time.

Or maybe not, given how Jonathan is looking at him.

"Max? Verstappen? Who was here just a second ago?"

"Do we have other Maxs?" GP can't help to ask back, rolling his eyes a little. Okay, he is acting weird, he knows that, but there's no need to ask stupid questions.

Except, maybe there is.

"He was here, right?"

Jonathan's left eyebrow jumps towards his hairline, as he swivels around on the stool, giving GP his undivided attention.

"Are you feeling okay? Do you need medical?"

Yeah, that's fair. Maybe GP does, because this is absurd.

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face and sitting on the stool right next to Jonathan's.

"I am fine, but..." he pauses again, but it's useless to hesitate at this point. "I lost Max."

The second eyebrow joins the other high up on Jonathan's forehead.

"You lost Max," he repeats, skeptic but not dismissive. Yet.

"I know how it sounds, but he was here right next to me," GP finally explains, pointing at the very clearly empty space near them, "and then he dropped his bottle and disappeared."

Jonathan looks down at the bottle, still on the floor, then up again at GP.

"He didn't step away?"

GP is very grateful for Jonathan for many reasons, but the fact that he is actually listening and not just dragging him to medical is one of them. He doesn't think there would be many people willing to entertain this madness just because they trust GP.

He shakes his head, then points to the bottle again.

"I swear, he grabbed his bottle, and one second later he was gone. He wouldn't have had time to get to the other side of the garage."

Jonathan nods, frowning now, and then he stands up.

"We better find him, then."

And maybe they're both crazy, but it's nice to not be crazy alone.

It's Calum in the end who finds him.

When it's clear that Max isn't anywhere around the garage, Jonathan and GP give up and alert everyone else. They still try to keep it on the down low, because losing the current world champion isn't a great look for the team, but it's all hands on deck, spreading around the paddock trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

Christian gives them an hour before he alerts the police.

Calum finds the chick when the time is running out and they're regrouping in the garage. He bends down to pick up Max's abandoned water bottle, and finds it there, right under the desk, hiding scared in a dark corner.

"Hello, buddy," he croons, trying to not scare the little chick even more. "How did you get here?"

He's expecting to have to do some serious coaxing to get the baby out of its corner, except that as soon as his hand is close enough, the chick is scrambling for it, high-pitched chirps falling from its little open beak.

Calum emerges from below the desk with a ball of agitated yellow feathers in his palm, and a puzzled expression on his face.

"Where did you find that?" someone asks, as he's trying to calm the little chick down, shushing it and brushing its ruffled feathers with one finger.

"Under the desk, right next to Max's water," he explains. As soon as he says Max's name the chick, who had started to settle, chirps again, louder and more distressed than before, pecking lightly at Calum's hand.

It takes them a while longer to understand what it means, and it's actually Jonathan who figures it out.

"Max," he calls, looking at the chick still safely in Calum's hand, a circle of team members around them.

The chick chirps, flaps its little wings.

Someone swears.

"Can you peck Calum's hand lightly if you are Max?" Jonathan asks, maintaining an impressive straight face.

The chick chirps, then pecks Calum's hand. Not very lightly.

Yeah, that's definitely Max, the little shit.

Turns out that someone had slipped a potion into Max's water. Which is a relief, because they could easily find an antidote, and very worrying, because that could have easily been something more dangerous.

As it is, Christian tells the police Max has been found, everyone agrees to be more careful with what gets handed to Max to drink, eat, or even just wear, and GP is the one who ends up with the task of keeping Max safe until the antidote is found.

"Stay," he tells Max, using his best stern voice, when he tries once again to fling himself off the desk to go wander around. GP is not too afraid he will hurt himself falling from this height, even if he's pretty sure Max can't fly, but he's so small, just a handful of feathers, and GP would probably get fired if he lost him again. Would definitely get fired if someone stepped on him.

"Don't make me put you in the cup," he threatens, pointing at an empty cup on the desk holding a few pencils, "you can still pay attention to the data, I'm pretty sure."

Max chirps at him, something surprisingly sassy for a thing so little.

A couple hours later, when Rupert comes find them with a little vial of antidote in his hand, GP is still looking at data and Max is a soft ball of yellow feathers, asleep in the cup.

#my writing #winter warmers 2024 #this came to me in a dream...sort of #yes it is very silly and no i dont know if there are other maxs in the garage #if there are then they were sick or something idk #yes i know this is still a day late but a) idc b) i wrote two for the same prompt to compensate

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c0rvus-corax · 1 day ago

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First Summit (Milo x Sweetheart)

First summit

Charakters: Milo greer, Sweetheart, Asher, David Shaw, Christian

Pairing: Milo + Sweetheart

Summary: it's Sweethearts first time at the summit, and with that, their first time meeting Christian. Let's just say that Milo is having a great time watching Christian trying to flirt with his Swh.

Warning: none (maybe a bit spice), also this is my first fic ever, so yea.

Words: 1.466

Christian arrived shortly after Sweetheart, who was currently talking to David, and Milo, who was standing in the corner of the room talking with Ash. After a short glance through the room, he walked toward David to greet him, just to head towards Milo and Ash a second later.

Milo and Ash greeted Christian. Ash was about to say something when Christian interrupted him.

"Are they David's mate?" Chrisi asked looking at swh.

Asher tried to talk again, but this time was interrupted by Milo.

"No." Milo said with a slightly cocky undertone noticeable in his voice. Jet clearly not noticeable enough for Christian.

"Good because they're fucking hot." He said, a big smile on his face.

This sentence brought all of Milo attention towards Christian. He was practically starting at him. At this moment, his confidence multiplied by ten. His heart started banging in his chest, and he could feel his excitement rush through him. There was something about Christian just outright calling his partner hot that made his blood rush. (In a got way) Especially because Chrisi loves to tease Milo about his height. For him, this was like a fight he won before he started to compete.

"Damn right, they are." Milo said, now clearly cocky.

"Hey, get your dick back into your pants, I saw them first." Chrisi tried to scold Milo, which clearly didn't work. Instead, it made Milo more and more cocky. Every single one of Milo's muscles was now waiting for Christian to find out who really had to keep his dick in his pants.

"Oh, don't worry about me, shoot your shot."

Chrisi didn't even listen to Milo's last words, already walking towards Sweetheart.

Ash, who was still standing next to Milo, was clearly confused by his actions.

"Aren't they with you?" He asked.

"Oh yeah." Milo said. He was not just looking but staring at the scene. With every step Chris walked toward Sweetheart, his confidence got a bust, and his heart started racing more and more.

"Then why didn't you tell him?" Asher questioned.

When he looked away from Christian and faced Milo again, he probably was able to answer his own question. Milo loved the fact that he had something Christian wanted. And this wasn't just a new car or something like that, no, this was his partner. And Christian was just openly thirsting over them in front of Milo. For Milo, this was Christian admitting that he is dating the hottest person in the room. So yea, Ash could practically see the blood pumping through Milo's body.

Seeing his friend in this state, Ash started to grin like an idiot (he is definitely going to find a good opportunity to use this against him later).

"Didn't this kind of stuff would get you off like that." He teased.

"Omg you really have to shut the fuck up, with the stuff you pulled." Milo bashed out.

"What, me?" Asher's tone was clearly sarcastic. Asher was really big on the subject of accidental public humiliation.

"Yea, you, though I could imagine you would prefer to be at the other end of the scenario." Milo teased back.

In response, Asher only gave a few angry puffs and let Milo be.

Christian, who just arrived at the table, where Sweetheart and David were talking just a minute ago, positioned himself in front of Sweetheart. David left just a second ago to fill up their drinks.

Sweetheart was a bit confused about the sight in front of her.

"Hey, there." Christian started. "This is the first time I saw you here."

Sweetheart, who was leaning against the tabel, looked at him with a perplex expression. "Yea?" They said in a questioning tone, nodding slowly.

"So, are you having fun?" He asked with a slight smirk.

"Yea, you know it's great to get to know everyone. I mean, I met David before, but I haven't been introduced to the rest before. " They smiled at him, wanting to leave a good first impression.

"If you want to I could introduce you to the rest." Christian offered.

*Why would he offer that?* Sweetheart thought.

"Thanks, but if been introduced to all of them already." Sweetheart declined the offer.

"Bye, who? David."

"Milo." Sweetheart was visibly confused, and her answer was more cold than before. *Why the hell would he think that Milo didn't introduce me?*

They both looked over at him.

"Milo, huh." Their answer clearly seemed to have upset him. "That little..." He mumbled to himself, still looking in Milo's direction.

"Well he didn't introduce you to me." He paused. "I'm Christian."

"Nice to meet you, Christian."

He started to smile again, forgetting the grunge he held before.

"You know I noticed you while I was standing back there with Milo and Ash. You have quite the pretty face, you know that." Christian finally reveals his original intentions. "That's why I came over here in the first place."

His honesty shocked Sweetheart. Why would he say that and the bigger question, what the fuck are they gonna say? They didn't want to be mean!

*He must know about Milo and them so telling him they are in a relationship might be rude. Especially because it could just be a nice ment compliment and not a flirt.*

In that case, they absolutely can not say that because it would mean that they think he is flirting.

After a few seconds of silence, Sweetheart tried to give the most neutral answer they could think of.

"Thanks for the compliments." They respond, smiling again.

*Where the fuck is that slightly possessive Werewolf when I need him* They glanced over at Milo again, who was still standing in the same corner staring at them.

"Oh, you don't have to thank me! Sometimes, it just comes out naturally." Christian stepped just a tiny bit closer to them. They were about to say something when finally, they hered footsteps approaching. They turned their head around, facing Milo.

Christian threw Milo a barely visible look of anger before focusing all of his attention on Sweetheart again.

"So, are you two having fun." Milo exclaimed with a smirk.

"Come on, don't make this weird." Christian roled his eyes.

And finally, Sweetheart was able to feel Milo's hand on their back. It was like 3 tons fell of each of their shoulders, when his fingertips brushed against their lower back. They breathed out all the air they had kept in their lungs due to the pressure.

Christian was a mixture of confused and angry when he saw his hand on their back. The first of which faded, when Milo grabbed Sweethearts face and started to kiss them.

Christian watched the scene dumbfounded. They are in a relationship with fucking Milo Greer. And he didn't care to let him know about this. *Shit*

Milo was still very occupied with showing of his partner by kissing them and with that marking them as his.

Christian was reasonably upset, but before he could say something, David was already back with the drink for Sweetheart.

"Thank you." Sweetheart said, taking the glass out of his hand.

At this point, Milo didn't even care about Christians reaktion anymore. He just looked at Sweetheart with a wyr smile.

"Could you excuse us for a minute?" Milo said, taking a few steps back with his hand still on their back. He then proceed to grab their hands and pull them away further.

"Sorry for waiting so long before saving you, but for me, the scene was quite pleasant." He whispered into their ear so that no one could her him.

"What the fuck just happened." Sweetheart gasped out. "Pls tell you didn't send him towards me."

"Send him towards you? Oh no, sweetheart, he did that all on himself. He even called you hot, and when I agreed, it told me to keep my dick in my pants. And you know, after that, I thought he kinda deserved it. Oh, and seeing this man walk towards you on his little mission, knowing damn well you mine gets me hot Sweetheart. I love showing you off." He whispered the last part again.

"Oh god, Milo, I think you really do have to keep your dick in your pants sometimes." Sweetheart tried to sound responsible but couldn't help to smile.

"I'm sure we'll see about that tonight." He smirked.

"Milo!" They hissed.

"Come on, Sweetheart, we have to get you back to your drink." Milo laughed.

"No, I can't just, you can't just send me there after you said shit like that!"

"You'll be fine, Sweetheart! Just relax." Milo's hand went to their back again, slowly moving up and down in an attempt to calm them down. Yet Milo clearly wasn't opposed to the state his Sweetheart was in.

Yea, so this was my first fanfic ever. I hope there aren't a lot of spelling issues in there because English is not my first language. (So if there are words that don't make sense, my phone probably "corrected" them and ended up with the wrong word)

Hope you enjoy this little fic.

If anyone would like to have the continuation of this, just ask.

Yours truly (or something like that :))

@daawwn

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fandom #redacted wolf boys #redacted wolf pack #redactedverse #redacted asher #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted david #redacted christian #milo greer #david shaw #asher talbot #redacted fanfic #sweetheart #redacted shaw pack #shaw pack

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sylsoddsandends · 2 days ago

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Life series fanfic below the cut!

Well, to be clear– it's not a Completed Oneshot, it very well may never be finished, I just had a few Thoughts that desired to be expressed as scenes from a longer fanfic I don't really want to write. Which is why I'm putting it on Tumblr instead of on AO3.

Anyway. Pearl's bodyswap with Lizzie but I thought way too hard about it. The fic.

"Pearrrlll?"

Lizzie's (could she call them hers? She was calling them hers) eyes widened. BigB was here!

"Hiii?" she called back, trying to match his tone. "I'm... upstairs." His voice was coming from somewhere down, so presumably he was downstairs. It was a little confusing. Everything was confusing– she fiddled with the enchanter in her hand, bouncing the floating book up and down.

Did this look like Pearl's handiwork? It was crusted with sea salt and algae– Lizzie remembered Pearl being more... tidy than that.

Sure enough, BigB peeked out from a stairwell. "There you are!"

"Heyyy, BigB," Lizzie began, "I can't help but notice... I'm holding an enchanter?"

"You don't remember stealing it? From the Mean Gills?" (Who were the Mean Gills?) BigB raised an eyebrow. "...Have you become British all of a sudden?"

Lizzie coughed in surprise, before attempting to put on her best Australian accent. "What? No! I'm not British! ...Mate!"

Did Australians say that? She was pretty sure they said that. Did Pearl say that? She'd never paid attention to how Pearl talked, specifically!

—

"Can we all agree: no murder at the tea party." It seemed reasonable enough to ask. Even if Lizzie was the boogeyman– she resisted grimacing at the memory of frantically swiping at Pearl at the bottom of a hole– she wouldn’t dream of killing anyone in the middle of Martyn's special ten minutes.

Well, someone clearly did not agree, she realized a moment too late. Somewhere behind her, an explosion rocked the ground and sent a shiver through her spine.

Involuntarily, Lizzie whirled around, clutching her arms close to her chest. She was shaking, throat tight.

What was going on? She wasn't scared of a little TNT! Annoyed, certainly, at whoever would ruin the sanctity of an almighty Birthday Party, but–

Another explosion followed, and another, right next to her, and she yelped, covering her face as her whole chest tightened up.

Was Pearl frightened of explosions?

Now that Lizzie thought about it, she recalled Scott coming back from Double Life looking shaken, explaining how he'd gone and blown up himself and Pearl in the end. That Pearl had won by less than a second as the pain traveled through their soulbond.

Surely something like that had to stick with you a little.

Lizzie managed to get Pearl's legs to move, shuffling, then running to a safer distance away from the now-destroyed party plaza. She took several deep breaths, ate a bite of bread, and did her best to relieve whatever deep-seated response Pearl's body was having.

"Lookoutlookoutlookout! Pearlescent! Moon!" Skizz yelled, shoving her roughly. Lizzie didn't even have time to snap at him before she noticed the creeper that had come right up next to her, which a couple of others were now frantically killing.

She was still shaking, trying to get her bearings. Did Pearl get like this every time she heard TNT?

She looked down at Pearl's legs, at Pearl's hands, for the first time inspecting the scars they were riddled in. Jagged marks of explosions, the long sharp lines of swords and arrows, even patches that looked as if they may have been frostbitten, told a story across her body.

...Maybe after this madness was over, she should send the poor woman a care package.

Lizzie had never imagined winning one of these things could be so... bad for you, before.

#limited life #trafficblr #life series #life series fanfic #ldshadowlady #lizzie ldshadowlady #pearlescentmoon #ok i think that's all the Tags So Strangers Can Find This time for the personal tags #syl speaks #syl writes

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nomoreusername · 2 days ago

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A Perfect Pair

Pairing:Minho x female reader

Summary:Even though all he wants is you, Minho realizes how much trust rumors can hold.

“You two have so much in common.”

It was a phrase you heard far too often. It was one you rolled your eyes at every time too. You and Minho? Seriously?

His arms crossed over his chest, a flash of jealousy shining in them before just vanishing, being replaced with a deep sadness. Because he already knew what came next.

“It’s not like that,”You insisted, staring at the ground to hide your smile.

A/K was your perfect match. You both worked the same job, seemed to like most of the same things, had the same beliefs, the same humor, the same everything. You two were like puzzle pieces that were made to be.

Minho wanted to scream. He wanted to point out that it puzzle pieces are the same shape they have no chance of fitting. He wouldn't to tell everyone it wasn't fair.

He didn't. He sat there, staring down at his drink. Needing it, he chugged the rest of it down, a sour expression on his face.

“Oh come on. You’d be so cute together. Right, Minho?”

Minho was sure the universe wanted him dead. While he knew the reason was that he was closest, it seemed like taunting. Surely it was a cruel, cruel joke.

“Yeah. They’d go alright together,”He shrugged. Your face flushed as you met A/K’s. He was biting his lip to hold back his smile too, both your eyes gaining this glint that twisted his stomach in knots.

Thomas and Newt exchanged a worried glance before looking at Minho. His face was neutral, no sign of his heart breaking in his chest.

“You two will be together one day for sure. The perfect boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m heading to bed,”You siged, rolling your eyes and standing up, brushing off your pants.

“Oh come on. It's early,”Fry complained.

“Yeah. And I already want away from you shanks,”You said simply, walking off.

Minho stood, calmly making his way to his hammock. He glared at the ground as though it spit on him. Something it was so hard not to do the more he heard those words.

Thomas and Newt also left without a word, their concern only growing. Jogging over, they caught up with him not too far away.

“Minho, wait a second,”Thomas called, placing a hand on his chest as he caught up. Minho resisted the urge to shout at them to leave them alone as he sharply asked what they needed, clearly just wanting to get to the point.

“It's just we've been thinking, and it doesn't have to make sense, right?”

“What are you talking about?”He asked, sure they were the ones speaking gibberish.

“Y/N smiles when someone teases her, but that doesn't mean it's true. People smile all the time when they're embarrassed,”Newt pointed out.

A hint of skeptical shown, his interest clearly peaked.

“They're not together. So what if it's that?”Thomas continued.

A trickle is disappoint when through him, along with fear.

“What if that doesn't mean anything?”He whispered.

“What if it means everything? What if you confess and she feels it too?”Newt pushed.

“You really think she could?”

“Only one way to find out. Right?”

Minho didn't say a word as he left the other direction this time. At each step he found a nervous grin crossing his lips as he thought about the possibilities. You could feel the same. You two could be something. You two could be great together.

You two could be the perfect match.

Almost running now, he found himself in front of your hut. Too eager at the thought of his dreams coming true, he didn't think as he swung the door open, ready to proclaim his love.

He was met with a sight that made him sick to his stomach. One that he would never recover from.

You were in A/K’s lap as he sat on your bed, both your lips pressed firmly together. His hands were around your waist, traveling under your shirt, as you kissed with an undeniable passion. You had your arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him close.

Of course you and A/K were cute together. Of course you fit so well.

You already are.

You both pulled apart, your faces flushing in embarrassment as he stood there, paling under the moonlight.

“Please don't tell anyone?”

“I’m-I’m sorry.”

His voice cracked as he shut the door. Refusing to let his tears spill, he did his best to swallow the lump in his throat as he wished to just disappear.

He’s so stupid. He’s such an idiot for ever thinking he had a chance.

He never wanted to see you again. The chances of breaking were too likely.

Yet he would see you and A/K tomorrow, whether he liked it or not.

#tmr minho x reader #minho x y/n #minho x reader #minho x you #the maze runner #tmr #one shot #pure angst #unrequited love #hurt/no comfort

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ascianmoon · 2 days ago

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Unmasked

AO3: Here

Pairing: Lucanis x Crow!Rook

Genres: coffee sipping n flirting hehe, let spite join in

Rating: SFW

Summary: "He could practically feel Spite purr at this new view of Rook, behind the mask she clutched to her chest among him and the others back at the Lighthouse. What more could Lucanis do to peel it away?"

authors note: this is the first of many drabbles and chapters i'd like to write for my crow!rook & lucanis. pls lemme ♡/share and lemme know what you think!!

“I’ll clean house if that’ll make you happy, I have this under control.” A snide glare was thrown across the table, “Maybe you could try doing the same, De Riva.” Illario didn’t deign them with a farewell, shooting up from his seat to storm out of the cafe.

Burning. Crackling ocean and tang. Crisp and burnt and ROOK-

He could practically feel Spite purr at this new view of Rook, behind the mask she clutched to her chest among him and the others back at the Lighthouse. What more could Lucanis do to peel it away? Petty jabs and snide comments like Illario’s were crossed from his list. He’d never forgive himself.

Sap.

The air felt heavy with a static charge, his own shoulders hunching from an unfavorable habit in tense moments before he forced himself to shake them loose. Swirling his coffee once more he inhaled deeply, the aroma settling whatever else stormed inside him as Spite preened and cooed around Rook. “He’s gone. Drink your coffee,” Lucanis encouraged softly.

Rook slipped a hand around her own cup, fingers curling around it almost delicate and elegant if not for the tension making her move rigidly. A few tentative sips later and she was back to herself again, cradling the cup as if it comforted her and the corners of her lips no longer downturned. “He’s just so…” Her lavender gaze flickered over the vined awning above them, probably searching for an appropriate word to describe his cousin.

“Stubborn?”

“Yes,” heaving a sigh, Rook twisted in her seat to face him. “To put it politely, he’s very stubborn and would do well listening to us. It just makes no sense that Zara would be back in Tevinter so quickly. As far as I’m aware the Venatori don’t have eluvians like we do.”

Lucanis shrugged and sipped on his coffee, Spite badgering beside him at the mention of the Venatori witch. “He will come around, Illario’s always been clouded by emotions when it comes to family. He will see what we see soon enough.”

“Right.” Kohl lined eyes narrowed at him from across the table, clearly unconvinced but relenting in favour of keeping the newly acquired peace of their coffee date.

Date? With Rook? Let’s take-

“No.”

“I’m sorry?

“Spite is acting up as usual, ignore it.”

She seemed amused at that, staring into her coffee with a tiny smile, finger tracing the rim of the cup slow and methodical. A blanket of quiet settled over them, the soft hum of the cafe surrounding them filling the space between them. Spite thankfully sulked back into wherever he hid inside Lucanis’ head.

Lucanis fought (and lost) to keep his gaze from following the movement of her finger, trailing up her slender arm to her face. The way her mouth tilted at one side as her expression turned wistful, something cheeky and mischievous glinting in her eyes as she caught him staring. He flushed at being caught and escaped behind the rim of his cup to savour his remaining coffee.

“What was it you said the blend was again… bitter and sweet, like a kiss goodbye?” Had Rook leaned closer? Her head was tilted coyly, her hair falling over her shoulder as she inched forward. “I’m curious. What would you say a first kiss is then?” Another slip of her mask, whether it was genuine or teasing Lucanis couldn’t say and found in that moment he didn’t care.

“Honey and lavender cream,” he rasped in an effort to play it off coolly, head suddenly a thousand miles away from the quaint cafe and somewhere dangerously enticing. A lavender gaze twinkling at him in the dark. Spite poked his head from his refuge, the scent of a game luring him out. “It’s sweet and… intriguing.” His eyes dipped to her lips and back to hers again, cursing inwardly as Rook’s smile only seemed to widen, yet again caught.

Rook plays! You. Want!

“And you, how would you describe it?”

Sighing almost longingly Rook leaned back in her chair, lithe fingers toying with a strand of dark hair as her eyes roamed over him. Lucanis had noted she wasn’t shy when it came to staring and throwing looks when people weren’t watching, he was her main target as of late much to Spite’s enjoyment, preening from her attention. “First kisses,” she mused and let her hair twist around her finger slow, enchanting. “I’ve had a couple but it’s been a while. I can barely recall the last, perhaps I need a reminder.”

“Is that so? I see.” The insinuation wasn’t lost on him, he stared bashfully into his cup. After a moment he cleared his throat, gesturing to her forgotten cup, “How is your coffee?”

Rook flicked her hair back over her shoulder. She reached once more for her coffee, taking a final sip as she watched him from over the rim. “Bitter, dark… invigorating.”

His pulse jumped at the clear double meaning and teasing lilt of her voice.

Spite answered with a howl of elated and delirious laughter.

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #dragon age #dragon age veilguard #crow!rook #da4 lucanis #lucanis romance #dragon age lucanis #rookanis #dragon age rook

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devildomwriter · 2 days ago

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Hark! The Herald Angels Sing | Luke, Raphael, & Simeon x Reader

1.3K Word Count | GN! Reader | CW: none just fluffiness

Caroling. You’d gone once before but stayed in the back and mouthed the words. That was no longer an option as you’d gotten wrapped into caroling with actual angels.

Luke suggested it after seeing a group of them in the human world. With just the four of you—Solomon wormed his way out of it—you weren’t sure how impressive it would be. You just hoped your voice would be ignored or drowned out by the talent surrounding you.

The songs were already rehearsed and you weren’t sure you were doing it right at all, you were far too distracted by Raphael’s brilliance with the sung word. You could only hope this would be the case for other humans too.

Raphael designed and prepared special outfits for you as well. Thankfully they weren’t tacky or old fashioned and were cute and warm looking. He’d made sure to get your input on what was normal for human carolers.

As far as you’d seen carolers wore normal clothes or very old fashioned ones like they were singing on the street corner in 1800s London. There was no in-between until Raphael made one himself.

Michael was delighted to hear the angels he’d sent to the Devildom were going to carol in impoverished neighborhoods to lift humans’ spirits so he’d given you a route to follow without being asked.

It was now expected you follow this route. Luke was more than happy but Simeon and Raphael looked stressed as though they had just been given homework. They more or less had and now you had to live up to Michael’s expectations too.

“So…do we go door to door and how many songs do we sing each? Do we gather neighbors instead…” you asked, hoping that in the elaborate route, there’d be some indication of how caroling should be done from an angel’s perspective.

Simeon sighed and shook his head. “No…I suppose we’ll play it by ear. I’m not sure what sort of neighborhoods he’s sending us to…”

“I can look it up!” Luke declared and pulled out his D.D.D. as it would be much faster than asking Simeon to do so.

Raphael studied the map while Luke’s expression turned frightful and he handed you the phone.

“What the fudge…” you covered a curse since there was a child in the room as you looked at the neighborhood crime reports. “Michael wants to kill us apparently…”

Raphael held out his hand to look at what the website had found and shook his head. “I see. Michael knows what he’s doing it seems.”

You looked dumbfounded and prodded for an answer.

He looked confused that you hadn’t put it together and explained, “These are clearly humans who need to hear us the most. Our voice may inspire them to spread kindness.”

“Yeah, crime report doesn’t necessarily mean these people are the perpetrators…more like they get robbed and…stuff…a lot.” You said avoiding eye contact with Luke.

Luke was shaking a tiny bit but quickly straightened himself out and nodded determinedly.

“Sir Michael knows what he’s doing! We’ve been given this task. If he trusts us with it it means we’ll all be fine.”

“Yes, we are angels after all,” Raphael nodded and Simeon gave you an apologetic look.

“Umm…no?” You retorted and Raphael thought for a second.

“This will give you the chance to be…” he thought aloud but changed his mind when you looked horrified by the implications. “You already are…in a way. You are descended from one, so…you should be fine. And besides,” he summoned his spear to his hand. “I’ll protect you.”

Luke nodded in agreement and Simeon continued to look more worried and sighed at his fledglings’ lack of understanding.

“That’s not the point,” Simeon argued for your sake as the two didn’t seem to get it.

Eventually, the night of caroling had arrived and you sat in the minivan rental, stressed for more than one reason.

Luke sat next to you giddily bouncing to release excited/nervous energy. You tugged at your shirt collar, feeling a little anxious and Simeon stepped out of the van to open the doors for you. You gave him a look and he nodded, smiling.

“You’ll be just fine, I promise. Besides those reports could have been old. This neighborhood doesn’t look so bad to me.”

You looked at the dilapidated buildings but decided to take a page out of Simeon’s book as you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Especially not surrounded by joyful angels in cute Christmas outfits.

You decided to set up on the street corner instead and you felt hot with embarrassment. You’d never put on a show spontaneously like this. Everything was always planned and expected by the people in the audience but you had no idea how this was going to go.

Even though only a few people were walking around, kids getting home from school, people walking their dogs, and people watching the snowfall, it was still enough to get their attention when four random strangers appeared in their tight-knit community.

Luke began as planned. You made no announcement or attempt to call people over. This was for the best as you’d be more embarrassed if no one even looked your way after something like that.

Simeon followed Luke’s lead and then yourself much more gently in case you missed your keys again. You had gotten much better through practice, enough that Raphael complimented your vocals but you were still very shy about a public performance.

At first, an elderly couple stood and listened. They smiled and held hands. Then a dog walker stopped and took out their earphones to see what was happening.

A group of young adults stopped next and stayed through the song you’d been singing as they walked by.

Little by little a small crowd formed and someone brought out a metal chair to sit in while their kid sat on the street next to them.

It was quite an unexpected sight. A group of people of all different ages with different agendas that day were stood frozen in amazement listening to the angels and yourself sing praises of their Father.

Some appeared skeptical and like they wanted to stay out of it at first but turned back around when they heard Luke’s solo piece as they were too impressed with it regardless of what he was singing.

Simeon smiled at you as you received a round of applause. Luke addressed the crowd this time, thanking them for listening and announcing the next song you’d be singing as the snow fell gently around you.

A few left after the announcement but a few more joined as more people came back from work and school.

Several dozen people stood in silence as you sang songs to them for an hour’s time. When you were done you bowed to the happy crowd.

As Michael had suggested, this was the best place you could have been. One woman thanked Simeon tearfully as this had been just what she needed and a few kids complimented Luke.

The elderly couple gave you taffy and wished you a good night and slowly the crowd dispersed as you, Luke, Raphael, and Simeon shared smiles and headed to the minivan.

“See. This neighborhood is great! Everyone was so nice! You can’t trust the internet!” Luke declared, happy with this win.

You nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes. I suppose Michael did know what he was doing this time…where else is he sending us?”

You asked and Raphael held up his D.D.D. to show you the route he’d input.

“That’s like five hours away? Does he realize how big this country is?”

Simeon laughed and Raphael sighed, annoyed at this revelation.

“Teleport us then?” Simeon asked you sweetly and you sighed.

“I guess.”

Without expecting it, you caroled the night away with a smile on your face as people from all walks of life were moved to tears by the voices of angels.

#obey me shall we date #obey me angels #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x gn!reader #obey me shall we date x reader #obey me drabble #25 days of obey me Christmas #obey me 25 days of Christmas #obey me simeon #obey me raphael #obey me luke #obey me simeon x reader #obey me Raphael x reader #obey me short story #obey me shorts #obey me fanfic

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supernova2205 · 18 hours ago

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Mistletoe Shenanigans

Summary: After finally convincing price Task Force 141 rents a cozy winter cottage for the holidays, filled with laughter, team bonding, and Soap’s relentless attempts to catch someone under the mistletoe.

The cottage was picturesque, like something out of a winter postcard. It was nestled in the middle of a snow-covered forest, its chimney puffing out soft curls of smoke into the crisp December air. Strings of warm fairy lights lined the roof, casting a soft glow against the early twilight. Through the frosted windows, you could see the twinkle of a Christmas tree and the flicker of a fire dancing in the hearth. It was everything a holiday getaway was supposed to be.

Inside, the cottage was just as charming. The wood-paneled walls and overstuffed furniture gave it a cozy, lived-in feel. Garlands of greenery adorned the mantle, and the scent of pine and cinnamon wafted through the air. The place was perfect—and filled with the unmistakable presence of Task Force 141.

“Oi, Soap, stop messing with the thermostat!” Price’s gruff voice echoed from the living room as he fiddled with the firewood.

“I’m not messin’ with it!” Soap protested, though his mischievous grin said otherwise. He was perched on a stepstool near the doorway, adjusting a small sprig of mistletoe he’d apparently decided was an essential part of their holiday décor.

“Then what are you doing, Johnny?” Ghost drawled from the couch, his tone dry but amused as he flipped through a book he’d found on the coffee table.

“Enhancin’ the holiday spirit,” Soap replied, hopping down and admiring his handiwork. The mistletoe dangled precariously from a crooked nail above the archway. He rubbed his hands together, clearly pleased with himself.

You exchanged a knowing look with Gaz, who was lounging in an armchair near the window. He raised an eyebrow, and you both stifled a laugh. Soap’s antics were nothing new, but they always managed to add a layer of chaotic charm to any situation.

The first evening in the cottage was a blur of activity. Price, ever the team dad, took charge of unpacking supplies and organizing the kitchen. You helped him, chatting as you set up the space with mugs for hot cocoa and a stash of cookies you’d brought along.

“Thanks for organizing this,” you said, glancing at him as you stacked plates in a cabinet. “It’s nice to have everyone together like this.”

He grunted, but there was a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We’ve earned a bit of a break. Thought we could use some proper downtime.”

Meanwhile, Soap had roped Gaz into helping him string more lights around the living room, the two of them bickering good-naturedly over the best way to hang them.

“You’re makin’ it crooked!” Soap exclaimed, gesturing dramatically at Gaz’s handiwork.

“Maybe it’s crooked because you keep yanking the other end!” Gaz shot back, rolling his eyes.

“That’s the artistic touch, mate!”

Ghost, true to form, stayed out of the fray, content to watch from his corner of the couch. He’d swapped his usual mask for a black balaclava, and though he wasn’t participating, the faint shake of his shoulders suggested he was quietly laughing at their antics.

By the time the tree was decorated and the fire crackling, the group had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Soap broke out a deck of cards, declaring it was time for a game, while Price brewed a pot of tea. You found yourself sitting on the rug by the fire, feeling a sense of warmth and camaraderie that was rare in your line of work.

The next morning, Soap’s mistletoe scheme began in earnest. You found him lurking near the archway, his expression a little too innocent as he waited for someone to walk by.

“You’re up to something,” you said, crossing your arms as you caught him red-handed.

“Who, me?” he said, feigning shock. “I’m just enjoyin’ the holiday ambiance.”

“You’re literally standing under the mistletoe.”

“Just thought I’d, y’know, spread a bit o’ holiday cheer,” he said with a wink.

Before you could respond, Gaz walked into the room, his eyes on his phone. Soap lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Gaz, mate! Fancy seein’ you here!” he said, stepping forward to block his path.

Gaz looked up, immediately clocking the mistletoe and Soap’s hopeful grin. He raised a hand and sidestepped smoothly. “Not a chance, Johnny.”

Soap groaned as Gaz walked off, leaving you to chuckle at his disappointment.

“Better luck next time,” you teased.

“Oh, there’ll be a next time,” he promised, already plotting his next move.

Over the next few days, Soap’s attempts to catch someone under the mistletoe became increasingly elaborate. He moved the sprig to different doorways, tried to redirect foot traffic, and even attempted to casually dangle it from a stick at one point. Each time, his target managed to evade him, much to his chagrin.

“Why’s everyone so bloody fast?” he lamented one afternoon after Gaz ducked under his outstretched arm with the ease of someone who’d been avoiding Soap for years.

“Maybe they just don’t want to kiss you,” Ghost deadpanned, not looking up from his book.

Soap clutched his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Simon. Truly.”

The rest of the team took great delight in watching Soap’s schemes unfold, offering running commentary and occasional sabotage. Even Price got in on the fun, deliberately walking in the opposite direction when he saw Soap lurking near a doorway.

“Not even under threat of court-martial, Sergeant,” he said with a smirk as he passed.

Despite Soap’s antics, the week at the cottage was full of laughter and relaxation. There were snowball fights in the yard, long walks through the forest, and plenty of shared meals around the table. Ghost turned out to be surprisingly good at baking, and you all took advantage of his talent by requesting everything from cookies to mince pies.

One evening, you all gathered by the fire for a game of charades. It was a predictably chaotic affair, with Soap hamming it up and Ghost refusing to participate unless forced.

“Come on, Simon,” Soap said, practically dragging him off the couch. “Don’t be a Grinch!”

Ghost sighed but relented, standing stiffly in front of the group. His performance as “a snowman” consisted of standing still with his arms at his sides, much to Soap’s dismay.

“You’re terrible at this,” Soap declared as the rest of you laughed.

“Or maybe you’re terrible at guessing,” Ghost replied evenly, returning to his spot on the couch.

It wasn’t until the last night at the cottage that Soap’s mistletoe plan finally worked. You were all gathered in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner, when you noticed him lurking near the doorway again. This time, he seemed more determined than ever.

“Don’t tell me you’re still trying,” you said, shaking your head.

“Patience is a virtue,” he replied with a wink.

Just then, Gaz walked through the doorway, not paying attention as he carried a stack of plates. Soap stepped forward triumphantly, blocking his path.

“Ah-ha! Gotcha!” he said, pointing upward at the mistletoe.

Gaz sighed, clearly resigned. “Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Before Soap could move in, you reached out and tapped Gaz on the shoulder. “Actually, you owe me for skipping cleanup duty earlier.”

Gaz shot you a grateful look and immediately handed off the plates, slipping away while Soap gaped in disbelief.

“Not again!” Soap groaned, slumping dramatically against the doorframe.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Better luck next time, Johnny.”

But as you turned to walk away, Soap grabbed your arm gently, his expression shifting from playful to hopeful. “Wait a second.”

You froze, suddenly hyper-aware of the mistletoe hanging above you both. Soap grinned, a little sheepishly this time, and tilted his head toward it.

“Rules are rules,” he said, his voice softer now.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine. Just this once.”

Leaning in, you placed a quick kiss on his cheek. Soap’s face lit up like Christmas morning, and he practically bounced on his heels.

“Finally!” he declared, pumping his fist in the air. “Took all week, but I got one!”

The rest of the team burst into laughter as they watched from the doorway, Price shaking his head in mock disapproval. Ghost, of course, looked entirely unbothered.

“About bloody time,” Gaz said with a smirk.

Soap turned to you, his grin as wide as ever. “Best holiday ever,” he said, and for once, you couldn’t argue with him.

Authors note: hi guys I thought I’d make a little Drabble for Christmas my gift to you more fics are coming if you guys have any suggestions on what you’d like me to make next please leave a comment

#cod 141 #ghost #soap mw2 #task force 141 #captain price #gaz cod #mw2 141 #tf 141 x you #141 x reader #cod x reader #ghost cod #price cod #soap cod #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare

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