#this song was one of the first i loved by them and its one of the songs that most shows the beatles' influence on their style

[sunshinehaze1]

Unwrapped

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (f. Marcus Acacius & Lucilla Aurelius)

Summary: You attend your friend Lucilla's annual holiday party and meet someone new.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. Modern AU, no outbreak or battles in the colosseum, meet-cute, fingering, unprotected PiV (do better), creampie, no use of y/n

a/n: This is my Secret Santa gift for my beautiful friend @ak-vintage. Her Pedro faves are Joel, Marcus A., and Din. I hope you like it, Ash! ❤️ and that you'll forgive me for not elaborating further on the party bathroom smut 🤭 tysm to @80ssong for the beta! 🥰 and big time thanks to @pr3ttynpiink for organizing! ❤️

word count: 4,386

ao3 | ml

As you walk up the driveway, you admire the lights trailing along the edges of Marcus and Lucilla's house. They live in a large, luxurious home decked in over-the-top opulence. Roman columns frame the front porch, wrapped in garland and accented with gold bows and lighting. Glittery white lights perfectly line the edges of the house, and more are draped meticulously over the immaculately trimmed shrubs. Their house practically lights up the whole neighborhood. It's hard to imagine their electric bill; you're thankful you don't have to pay it.

You met Lucilla earlier this year while volunteering at the local food bank. You decided to volunteer to meet people after moving to the area recently. Lucilla comes from money; her father was the CEO of a local business, and she inherited a large amount of money when he passed. So she has plenty of free time to give back to those in the community who are less fortunate.

After one of your volunteer shifts, Lucilla invited you for coffee. You found her to be surprisingly down to earth. It's not typical of your experience with people who come from money and have had things handed to them. She's very grounded and wise. You quickly became friends, and she's like the big sister you never had. She has at least a decade on you, and you've often turned to her for advice as you assimilate to Austin. It's comforting to have a support system in the area.

You've been invited to her beautiful home for dinners numerous times and met her handsome husband, Marcus. He's around Lucilla's age with soft, greying curls, always perfectly coifed. His face is framed with Romanesque features and a prominent nose. Having retired a couple of years ago as a general in the Army, he still maintains a thick, sturdy physique that offers an intimidating presence. He's anything but. You've only seen him as soft, gentle, and welcoming. You've spent enough time with them that you've been able to observe their relationship quietly, and it's nothing short of "relationship goals." You hope to find a loving relationship like theirs for yourself one day.

They throw these holiday parties every year, and this is your first time attending. You're bound to have a great time based on what you've heard about past years' parties. And you look forward to meeting new people. Who knows, maybe you'll meet someone.

Lucilla and Marcus go all out. The outdoor decorations were only a precursor to what awaits you inside. It looks like a Christmas store blew up. Garland is wrapped around the staircase banister and the fireplace mantle with perfectly placed ornaments. Every door frame is adorned with mistletoe dangling over the threshold, waiting for unsuspecting guests to pass through. Santas and snowmen of varying sizes sit on tables and shelves. Silvery snowflakes decorate the walls, and you spot not one but three different Christmas trees. Each has its own theme.

The expansive kitchen island has a beautiful spread of charcuterie, wines, and liquors and a punch bowl of spiked egg nog; holiday songs, clinking glasses, and the smell of mulled cider waft through the air.

--

Joel is a good sport. He's not a fan of large gatherings. He'd much rather hang out in the backyard with a beer, catching up with his brother. Or when Sarah was still at home, a night on the couch watching a movie. Nights that would end with Sarah falling asleep halfway through the movie and Joel carrying her upstairs to bed. With his reserved nature, he tends to be a wallflower at parties and a quiet observer. This one, which his employee, Marcus, invited him to, is no different.

He's found himself in a corner, making small talk with another partygoer who, unfortunately, found out what Joel does and has since been bending his ear about house renovations. Joel spots you as you walk through the door, ignoring the man in front of him, who continues to prattle on how he can't decide which faucet to place in his half bath.

Joel finds himself gawking at you. You're a vision in your eggplant velvet wrap dress with a satin sash tied into a bow on the side of your waist. The dress hugs every curve of your body, with a skirt that falls to your mid-thigh, providing Joel a view of your shapely legs. The dress's neckline cuts into a deep v, hinting at what's underneath. You're a fucking knockout.

He observes as you juggle a wrapped gift box for the white elephant exchange and a hostess gift in your other hand. It's a lavender-scented candle. You've noticed Lucilla wears the scent often. You greet Lucilla with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Offering her a wide, glowing smile. Oh god, you're beautiful. Joel is shaken from his enamored haze when the sound of broken glass interrupts his thoughts. He must find a way to talk to you before he leaves tonight.

--

Over the last hour or so, you've had a chance to meet everyone at the party—neighbors, family friends, Marcus's old Army buddies, and their spouses. All of them were very nice, but the small talk was exhausting, so you're thankful when you hear Lucilla quiet the guests with a shout, "ALRIGHT EVERYONE TO THE LIVING ROOM! It's time for the gift exchange."

You enter the living room and look for a place to sit. Various chairs are lined up around the couches, almost all already taken. You decide to remain standing rather than scramble to find an open seat.

While Lucilla explains the rules, a basket with small pieces of folded-up paper is passed around the room, with numbers 1-30 written on each. You select yours and pass it to the man beside you; rough fingers graze your hand as you complete the handoff. He thanks you, and you turn to get a better look at the owner of the deep, gravelly voice.

You're struck by how ruggedly handsome he is. A sharp nose, plush lips, and patchy facial hair sprinkled with greys. He's wearing a crisp light blue button-up and dark jeans that hug him just right. It seems you haven't met everyone at the party yet. How did he escape your notice?

He catches you staring, "What number did ya get?"

"Um…" you look down at your paper, "29. How about you?"

"Looks like I got lucky tonight," he turns his piece of paper around to show you, "30." He winks.

Uh oh. He's handsome and charming. You're in trouble.

"Name's Joel. How do you know Marcus and Lucilla?"

You introduce yourself and tell him about your volunteer work and how you met Lucilla. "And you?"

"Marcus works for me." Your surprised reaction amuses him, and he continues. "After he retired, he was looking for part-time work to keep himself busy. I own a contracting business."

That explains his rugged appearance and calloused hands. You take in his broad shoulders and biceps, which cause the seams of his shirt to work overtime to stay together. Lucilla interrupts your thoughts, "OK, now that everyone has their number, we'll go ahead and get started!"

A woman named Simone starts things off. After selecting a gift from under the tree, she tears the wrapping paper to reveal a cat-shaped ice cube tray. The crowd erupts in laughter when she shows it around the room. It's not a very appealing gift, which likely means she'll be stuck with it. You doubt anyone will want to "steal" it from her, but at least it has practical use. 

The game continues with half the participants taking their turn. Lucilla's son, Lucius, is next. You met him briefly when Lucilla introduced you earlier. He's in town to spend the holidays with his mother. After over a decade apart, he reconnected with Lucilla a few years ago. The relationship is still in repair but moving in the right direction. You know how important it is to Lucilla to have him here.

You haven't gotten the full story from Lucilla, but you know it's a sensitive subject for her, so you've never pressed too hard. You've left the door open for her to share if and when she's ready. He and Marcus seem to have an agreeable relationship and get along fine, which you're happy to see. Stepparent and stepchild relationships can be pretty fraught. He's a handsome kid who resembles Lucilla, but you think he inherited most of his looks from his father.

Lucius takes his turn and decides to steal a gift that was already stolen, securing it himself. The game continues as the room works through the numbers. A steady din of laughter echoes through the room as the exchange becomes more cutthroat. It's all in good fun, though.

Finally, it's your turn. You walk over to the tree where two gifts remain. One is a box covered in teal wrapping paper with a gold diamond pattern and embellished with a twine ribbon. The other one is a tall, slender gift bag that is the perfect size to hold a bottle of wine. You choose the box and return to your spot next to Joel.

All eyes in the room are now on you as you unwrap the gift. Pulling the paper away, you squeal when you see it's a Funko Pop figure. You try to remain calm when you remove the rest of the paper and recognize it is The Mandalorian and Grogu.

This is a score, and you can't believe your luck. You love Star Wars, especially The Mandalorian. And it's not just because you have a crush on the actor who plays him. You love the storytelling and the world-building. This isn't something you'd buy for yourself, but you'll proudly display it in your home. With Joel as the last person left, you hope your brief interaction with him has earned you enough favor that he won't steal your gift.

However, you don't know that Joel and his daughter watch The Mandalorian over Facetime every Sunday night. It's a way for them to stay connected now that she's miles away. They're on their third rewatch, and he treasures these nights with his daughter. He eyes the Funko Pop in your hand and thinks Sarah would get a kick out of this cute figure. Even if he has no clue what a Funko is.

Joel hems and haws, trying to decide if he should go for the last gift under the tree, which he suspects is a bottle of wine. He wouldn't have much use for it as he's more of a beer guy. Or steal your gift and potentially derail any opportunity he may have had to get to know you better. After a few moments of quiet deliberation, he opts to steal.

You huff in defeat, bummed that you lost out on your gift, and hand the box over to Joel. You know it's all in good fun, and Joel had no malicious intent behind his decision. You retrieve the last gift from under the tree, confirming your suspicion of what was inside.

After the gift exchange is complete, the guests disperse throughout the house. You're looking over the wine's label when you feel an elbow nudge your bicep. Your attention turns to Joel, who has a sheepish look. "Sorry for that. My daughter and I love The Mandalorian. We watch it together every Sunday night while she's away at school," he sighs.

Now, how can you be upset about that? Of course, he had a heartwarming reason behind his decision to steal. "Oh, it's no big deal. I'm just happy he's going to a good home."

Joel chuckles. "Would you like a drink?"

You nod and follow him into the kitchen.

--

With your cup of eggnog, you settle at a threshold out of the way of party traffic. He tells you more about the contracting business he owns with his younger brother. You share more about yourself and how you moved to Austin for a job opportunity. He's incredibly handsome, and you get lost in his brown eyes. His quiet confidence and sense of humor are extremely sexy.

Joel recounts a time when his brother screwed up an order for a job. He ordered the incorrect size of lumber and set the project back a week. Joel took over placing orders after that. He shares his hunch that his brother purposefully messed up the order, so he no longer has to do it.

His retelling is endearing. Through it, you get a good sense of his love for his brother, but as with most sibling relationships, some things drive him crazy. You can relate.

A silence falls between you two for the first time since you began talking. You're not even sure how much time has passed. However, it's been long enough to cause a crick in your neck since you've had to look up at Joel this whole time. You tilt your head, rolling it back and forth to stretch it out. When you open your eyes, you're frozen as you realize where you and Joel have been standing. Your chest begins to warm at the implication of where this could lead.

Joel follows your gaze to see what's caught your attention. He gulps when he spots the leafy instigator. His palms sweat as he straightens, and you make eye contact.

The warmth in your chest has moved up your neck as Joel's eyes lock with yours. The swirl of the party moves around you two, and you feel frozen in time. At this moment, it is just you and Joel. A soft smile appears on his face. "Welp. Do you know what this means?"

You swallow, take a deep breath, and offer an inviting smile. "It can only mean one thing."

Joel leans in. You feel his hot breath as his face nears yours. This sweet, funny, handsome man is about to kiss you, and you remind yourself to breathe. His index finger lifts your chin toward him, his lips brushing over yours. It feels like hours have ticked by at this standstill when only seconds have passed. But your patience still wears thin, "Well…what are you waiting for?"

Joel laughs and finally closes the distance. His lips capture yours in a chaste kiss, aware you are not alone. You press your lips to his and let out a soft moan. The sparks you've only read about in novels start to fly, butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you see fireworks shooting off behind your eyelids. You keep them shut out of fear that you'll wake up from a dream if you don't.

You blink back as you pull yourself away from Joel. Knocked on your ass over a kiss. If his kiss can feel like that, you can only imagine what more would feel like. And you would love to find out.

Wide-eyed, you coo, "That was a really good kiss."

Joel nods, brushing his thumb along his bottom lip. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind doing that again."

"Me either," you giggle, feeling bold, "and maybe more?"

Joel quickly grabs your hand, determination in his eyes, "Follow me."

--

There's no shortage of privacy in a house of this size. The large amount of guests allows you and Joel to sneak off unnoticed. With your hand in his, he pulls you behind him in search of a more conspicuous location. At the end of the hall, you spot an open door that leads to a beautifully appointed bathroom: marble countertops, travertine tile, and a glass-enclosed shower with a waterfall showerhead. Large mirrors with an intricately designed gold frame sit over each sink. This is just the guest bathroom?!

He whips you around to face him and pulls you in for a kiss, not chaste this time. This kiss is brimming with passion. A mix of tongues dancing around, exploring each other's mouths. Playful nibbles leave their marks on each other's lips.

Your palms flatten against his firm chest, and you grip the lapels of his shirt and yank it open. The top buttons fly across the counter's surface and bounce every which way—ping, ping, ting—until they land flat on the surface. Hiding your giggle behind your hand, you look up at Joel apologetically. "Hey! I liked this shirt!" he bemused.

You walk your fingers up his now bare sternum and pinch his chin mischievously. "Oops, my bad!"

"Oh, you're fucking trouble, aren't you?!"

"Only one way to find out," you tease.

"Oh, honey, you bet your sweet ass I will." His hands caress your waist and hips, enjoying the feel of the velvet over your soft curves. "But first, I want you to see how gorgeous you are." He kisses you before he turns you to face the mirror.

Joel stands tall behind you. His hands roam along your body when he captures your gaze. With pleading eyes, he asks, "Can I unwrap my gift now?"

You nod. He pulls down the neckline of your dress and frees your tits from the cups of your bra. You let out a small gasp. He looks at you in the mirror while he kneads them, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and index finger. He nuzzles into your neck and ascends with featherlight kisses to your earlobe, and whispers, "You're so fucking gorgeous."

With a gentle squeeze of your breasts, "gorgeous tits." His husky voice sends a shiver down your spine.

One of his hands moves down your body. His fingertips trail up the back of your bare thigh and underneath your skirt to your ass. A sly grin appears on his face when he doesn't feel any fabric impeding his exploration. You decided to wear a thong tonight to avoid panty lines with the way the fabric of the dress clings to your figure. With a firm squeeze of your bare cheek, "gorgeous ass."

You whimper at his attention and praise, overwhelmed by his adoration of your body. Both hands make their way to your neck, and he turns your face toward him, "gorgeous lips," and he devours you in a toe-curling kiss.

He hisses when your ass backs into him in response. His hardened cock straining the front of his jeans. You suck in your breath, apologetically, "I'm so sorry."

He chuckles, "It's ok, baby." He brushes his lips over your nose and tilts back with a glint in his eye, "You can make it up to me."

You quirk your eyebrow, "oh yeah, how so?"

He doesn't answer you. Silently, he grips your hips to turn you back to face the mirror. He grabs your hands and places your palms flat on the cool marble. He watches your tits bounce in the mirror and feels his cock get impossibly harder. "Stay. Just like this."

You feel the arousal pool in your belly at his command. His hands travel down the sides of your thighs and up under the skirt of your dress. His fingers slip under the elastic band of your thong, and you hear the lace fabric rip.

He slides a calloused finger through your slick lips. A growl escapes him as he feels how wet you are. "This pussy's just drenched for me, isn't she?"

You whimper out a strangled "yes." Overwhelmed by the feel of his thick fingers through your folds, teasing your entrance and brushing against your clit.

Finally, he shows mercy and slides a finger inside you. You clench around his thick digit as he enters you to his last knuckle, his fingertip reaching that spongy spot just right, sending an intense wave of pleasure through your body.

He leans forward, his whole chest pressed against your back. The heat from his body envelopes you. His husky voice vibrates in your ear, "Fucking dripping."

You groan when Joel pulls his finger out to taste you. "Such a sweet fucking pussy. I can't wait to make a whole meal out of her."

He breaches you again with two fingers, and you buck forward at the pleasurable stretch. He begins to thumb against your clit while his two fingers thrust inside you at a steady pace.

"Fuck. I can't wait to get you out of here. I want to take my time with you. The things I want to do."

"Tell…" breathless, "…me."

"I want to eat your pussy until your legs shake." he continues his exploration of your cunt. "Suck on your perfect tits. Fold you in half while I fuck into you until you scream my name."

"Yes, fuck…Joel, I want all of that." Your imagination is running wild at his ideas, the tension is building, and you're ready to snap.

"You'll get it, but I need you to come for me, darlin'." Desperation in his voice, "My cock needs to be inside this perfect pussy."

His words were all you needed to push you over the edge. You brace yourself on the counter as your orgasm moves through you, your walls fluttering around his fingers.

As you come down from your high, Joel quickly unfastens his jeans and lowers them along with his boxer briefs, releasing his throbbing cock. You feel his length bop against your ass. His fingers run through your pussy to coat his dick with your arousal. He lazily strokes his dick while bunching up the skirt of your dress over your waist with his other hand.

His palm runs over your bare ass cheek and slowly navigates your curves to your other cheek. You whimper when he pulls his palm away, already missing the warmth of his skin against yours. The unexpected strike of his palm causes you to jolt forward with a whine.

"Fuck! This is a juicy ass," he growls as his fingers dig into your flesh.

"Do it again. Harder." you pant.

You catch his devilish grin in the mirror as he lifts his arm with a flattened palm. The din of the party muffles the sound of it moving through the air before it lands on your other cheek. Harder. Just like you asked. You feel another wave of arousal rush through you.

"Oh, baby. We're going to have so much fun."

Joel takes his cock and runs the tip through your folds, You haven't seen it, but you can feel it's big as he teases your entrance with just the tip. Your mouth begins to water as you fantasize about taking him between your lips, the heavy weight of it on your tongue as you take him down your throat.

You're so distracted by the thought of choking on his dick that you yelp in surprise when his cock enters you with a forceful thrust; his pelvis slams into your luscious cheeks.

"Oh, she's fucking…" Joel pants, "she's fucking, tight."

He begins a steady pace of fucking you. His hands gripping your hips, fingertips digging in with a bruising force.

He reaches around your waist to rub your clit while he continues a relentless pace. Your walls clenching around him. Breaths increase, and your chest is slick with sweat. His thrusts push you into the counter, driving into you while he rubs your clit. The marble cooling your heated chest. "C'mon, baby. I feel you squeezing me. Let go for me."

You wail out his name as your climax takes hold. He pulls you up against his chest, his hand cupping your breast as he fucks you through your orgasm. Hot breath against your ear as he seeks his release. You wrap your hand around his neck and pull his head toward you. Your lips brush against his ear, and with a whisper, eyes fixed on him in the mirror so you can see his reaction, "Fill me up. I want to feel you dripping out of me."

Joel whimpers. He fucking, whimpers. He's at the precipice of his orgasm and grasps onto your tit tighter. You squeak at the pressure. One. Two. Three more thrusts before he spills into you, drenching your pussy with his seed.

His forehead collapses onto the back of your shoulder; his labored breathing begins to even out. When he looks up, your eyes meet his in the mirror. You both are completely fucked out. Half dressed, tits hanging out, disheveled hair, smeared lipstick. He leans back to get a good look at his spend leaking from your pussy. A boyish grin expands on his face into a toothy smile as he pushes his cum back inside with his finger. "Gotta keep my gift wrapped up."

You roll your eyes and laugh.

Joel grabs a clean washcloth from the towel bar and runs it under warm water. He gently runs the damp cloth over your inner thighs and sensitive folds, cleaning himself before tossing the washcloth in the hamper.

You notice it's after midnight, and you'll need to get home soon—even though you don't want the night to end. You both scramble to dress. Joel stops short when he realizes he can't button his shirt back up all the way. He looks around to find the loose buttons on the counter and pockets them. Softly, you brush his forearm and coo, "I can sew those back on for you."

He winks and kisses the tip of your nose. "Worth it."

--

You accept Joel's offer to walk you to your car, but not before you say your goodbyes. The two of you part to find Lucilla and Marcus to thank them for the party.

When you find Joel again, he guides you toward the door, holding his gift in one hand and the other against the small of your back. He leans toward your ear and teases, "We'll need to discuss visitation arrangements." shaking the figurine in the air.

You playfully swat his chest at his teasing.

You and Joel are unaware that Marcus and Lucilla are watching this exchange from afar. Lucilla turns to Marcus and wonders, "Now, why didn't we think to set those two up? They're perfect together."

"It doesn't look like they needed our help anyway." Marcus wraps his arm around his wife and kisses her temple. "Another successful holiday party, my lady."

Lucilla rests her head on his shoulder and lets out an exhausted but contented sigh. "Until next year, my love."

--

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏻

I've got an idea brewing to revisit these two (four)...if I get a wild hair, I may take a swing at it. 😏

npt for folks who were interested in this WIP: @baronessvonglitter @kilamonster @half-moon16 @peepawispunk

[wszczebrzyszynie]

Hey!! Could you give a little context about this drawing??: https://www.tumblr.com/wszczebrzyszynie/770499218761711616/brutus?source=share

Btw, beautiful drawing <33

thank you for the kind words and the interest! its a bit long as i went into more detail about the relationships between Kowalewicz family members... thought that might be nice, as i dont really share much about them. peace and love. its under the read more

its Eliza in three stages of her life; childhood, her wedding day and present time (around 1895). "Brutus" is a reference to the song by the buttress because its the song i associate with her (mostly in her relationship with Artur and her former husband). Shes the oldest of the Kowalewicz siblings and the one who against all odds ultimately inherited the palace, even though she seems to stay as far away from it as possible; as a character she doesnt come back until spring, so about halfway of the story, but her presence is always there. The main theme of DNS is loneliness and she as the owner of the palace is kind of the epitome of that; someone who felt sidelined for the majority of her life and even after decades have passed isnt able to feel normal and create what she considers "normal" relationships (the way she treats Stanisława and Artur come to mind; The first one is her lover she leaves in charge of the palace when shes away, unable to stay with her for long periods of time, and Artur is her brother she somewhat hates, mostly for being what she couldnt and for depending on her). Even her child-self is meant to resemble Mika (titular ghost of the attic), as being a "ghost" is the repeated motive for loneliness (all "ghost" characters, so Mikita, Eliza and Jelena are the ones whose loneliness is so central to their character it fundamentally changes them). The blood on her wedding veil is there because she killed her husband (family friend and Arturs artistic mentor). it sounds like a lot but its not very important to the main plot, it happened ages ago but its probably one of the many reasons she doesnt like the palace. but well she would never get rid of it either

since im already talking about the Kowalewicz family i feel like i should also mention Piotr, the other brother; hes not really too important to the story but he does show up and Eliza hates him as well. He got richer through foreign investments. Eliza doesnt really like her brothers in general but with Artur its more quiet and she still respects him, with Piotr its more open and well known among everyone living and working in the palace. which isnt a lot of people. He doesnt like her either and would like to buy off the palace just to spite her. Well he doesnt like Artur either. Artur doesnt care for whatever Piotr is doing but hes slightly hurt about his relationship with his sister, though he is also intimidated by her. Not exactly because of the murder hes always been a bit intimidated by her but well the murder doesnt help? but he doesnt hold that against her either. Stanisława is intimidated by all of them except for Eliza, though i imagine she has a rather lovely relationship with Helene even with the language barrier. Helene and Dominic only know Eliza; she likes them both, though its a pretty distant kind of "like". its just generally positive but nothing deep or special, though she always tends to treat women better, and she also isnt the kind to hate on a 13 year old. also i think i should mention Mikita in the picture? I feel like she couldnt care less about what he does. I wouldnt be surprised if she forgets hes there. Not in a malicious way shes just like that i suppose. Stanisława likes him plenty for her own reasons. He respects both of them deeply and tries not to cause them much trouble

[engie-ivy]

949 words

Sirius Black is known as the office Grinch, so what has suddenly gotten into him?

You Make It Feel Like Christmas

You Make It Feel Like Christmas - Gwen Stefani

“You're delusional.”

“I'm not!”

“You must be.”

“No, I swear,” Benjy hisses.

“Well, maybe you misheard,” Hestia offers.

Benjy huffs. “You think I would not recognize ‘Jingle Bells’?”

Emmeline shakes her head. “Anything is more likely than Mr Black humming that song.”

“He was in front of me at the coffee machine,” Benjy says. “And I swear I heard him do it!”

You see, the reason why the mere idea of Sirius Black walking around the office humming ‘Jingle Bells’ is so preposterous, is because Sirius Black is known as the office Grinch.

The man dislikes everything that's even remotely related to Christmas.

When Mary and Dorcas were hanging the Christmas lights, Mr Black commented on energy savings for the office and the necessity of cutting down on the electricity bill. In his opinion, Christmas was a huge waste of energy in its entirety. No one actually knew if he was still talking about electricity.

When the first Christmas song was played on the radio, Mr Black pointedly put on his noise canceling headphones. Plus, he actually has no idea who Mariah Carey is, which is shocking in its own right.

When Edgar came to work wearing his Christmas jumper, Mr Black reported him for inappropriate work attire (though luckily Lily from HR simply told him to get over it).

Moreover, Mr Black constantly complains that Christmas Day is an obligatory day off, instead of him being able to save his vacation hours for, in his words, ‘when he actually needs them’.

He has also called Christmas markets a trick to sell junk no one needs, he's known to think that a gift certificate makes for the best Christmas gift, and that black coffee tastes better than any hot chocolate ever could.

“Okay, I'm actually getting really worried,” Caradoc whispers as they convene at the coffee machine.

“Me too,” Edgar replies in a concerned voice. “Maybe he's come down with some sort of illness?”

“Did you guys hear what he said when he saw the little Christmas tree on my desk?” Mary hisses. “He said it looked ‘nice’. Nice! No eye roll, no sarcastic undertone. Just nice.”

“I almost had a heart attack when I saw his tie this morning,” Emmeline says faintly. “I mean, tiny snowmen?”

Dorcas bites her lip. “Could it be some sort of brain disease?”

“Or maybe he hit his head and he has a concussion?” Benjy offers.

“Should we like… take him to the hospital or something?” Fabian asks.

“Gosh,” Hestia says. “Why are you all so negative? Maybe he just finally caught the Christmas spirit!”

“Excuse me?”

Everyone pauses their work to look at the man who appeared in the doorway to their office. He's got floppy, honey-coloured hair, is wearing a rather tattered coat and is carrying a box with a bow tied around it.

“I'm looking for-”

“Remus!” Mr Black jumps to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

A light colouring appears on the man's cheeks as he looks at Mr Black and he smiles a little sheepishly. “I hope I'm not disturbing you?”

Mr Black closes his laptop without giving it a second look. “Not at all! I can always make time,” says the man who once almost made Gideon cry because he dared ask him a question while he was in the middle of an Excel sheet.

“Great,” the box-carrying man, Remus, grins, and despite the scars on his face, it makes him look strangely endearing. “My mum and I baked Christmas cookies, and we, of course, made way too much for just us, so I thought I'd drop by your office to bring some?”

“That's so sweet of you!” Mr Black happily takes over the box. “I absolutely love Christmas cookies,” says Mr Black, who has never even touched any of the cookies Caradoc baked for the office.

“I see you're wearing the tie I gave you,” Remus says.

“Of course,” Mr Black replies. “It's my favourite.”

“That's good,” Remus smiles softly.

They both just look at each other for a moment, while the rest of the office exchanges looks.

Then Remus averts his eyes and looks down at his shoes. “You know, I was wondering…” He begins. “Would you like to go and look at the Christmas lights together tonight? It may sound cheesy, but they're actually really pretty and it's one of my favourite Christmas activities to-”

“I would love to!” Mr Black replies a little breathless. “I've been really wanting to go and see the lights.”

Mary makes an indignant sound, but both men hardly seem to notice there's anyone else in the room.

“Great!” Remus looks up and beams at Mr Black. “And I was thinking that maybe we could visit the Christmas market and drink some hot chocolate together?”

“I love the Christmas market,” Sirius replies without skipping a beat. “And I'd love to drink hot chocolate with you.”

“Good. Great. Perfect,” Remus says. “So, it's… it's a date?” The colouring on his cheeks increases.

"It's a date,” Mr Black agrees.

Both men stare at each other for a long moment, having completely forgotten there's a room full of people looking at them, people who start shifting uncomfortably in their chairs.

Remus is first to snap out of it. “I… I

I should let you get back to work.”

“Work,” Mr Black repeats, like he's trying to remember what the word means. “Right. Work.”

“See you tonight?” Remus asks.

“Can't wait,” Mr Black replies.

As Remus leaves and Mr Black turns back to the room, everyone immediately turns to their computer, pretending to be working.

Hestia exchanges a look with Emmeline.

Sirius Black definitely caught something alright, but it ain't Christmas spirit.

[eunimaybe]

──── santa baby

IN WHICH ━━━ you and sunoo bake christmas cookies whilst listening to nostalgic 50s christmas songs

( pairing ) - sunoo x f!r 729wc + fluff, christmas contains ! skinship, kissing / archive

the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg and sugar lingers in the warm air of the kitchen, clinging to every surface. it’s cozy in here, lit by the glow of fairy lights strung across the cabinets and the warm glow from the oven’s light. you can see the snow outside the window, soft white piling up outside reminding you that the temperature outside is icy and cold. a world that seem impossibly far away compared to the warmth and coziness inside.

“it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas,” perry como’s voice croons softly from the anciest speaker perched on the kitchen counter- a rare basement find. the crackle of vintage recording only adds a sense of nostalgia to the moment. it feels as if you and sunoo have been transported back in time to a simpler and softer moment in christmas history.

“y/n, are you sure we’re doing this right?” sunoo’s voice cuts through the music, tinged with suspicion as he eyes the flour-dusted counter. his hands are midair, covered in dough as if he’s scared that moving them will make an even bigger mess. “it’s too sticky. we did something wrong, i’m sure of it.”

you bite back a laugh at his dramatic pout and tap his nose with flour dusted fingers.

“it’s supposed to be sticky, sunoo. we’re making gingerbread cookies, not cardboard sticks.”

sunoo’s eyes narrow, a hint of a smile betraying his dramatics. “you’re just saying that so i won’t give up and leave you to clean all this alone.”

you roll your eyes and turn back to the dough in front of you as the music transitions from “let it snow” to “santa baby”. you survey the various cookie cutters spread out before you: a cute little star, a christmas tree, a reindeer you know you’ll feel to bad to eat.

“if you want to abandon me,” you said teasingly, pressing the rolling pin firmly into the dough. “i guess i’ll just have to bake all the cookies myself. maybe i’ll eat them too, without you.”

sunoo lets out an exaggerated gasp and gives you a little glare before starting to press the cookie cutters into his dough. he starts with the reindeer, holding it up proudly once he’s done. you can't help but smile. such a perfect christmas.

“look at that,” sunoo says, beaming. “it’s a cute little reindeer. it’s a special cookie- do you see the little bow i stuck on its antlers? look-“

“a special coquette cookie that’s about to lose its head if you’re not careful,” you tease, pointing out how it wobbles dangerously in his grip.

you start singing the lyrics to santa baby as you cut your dough. you know the lyrics by heart after listening to you and sunoo's christmas playlist since the first week of december.

“santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me,”

it isn’t long until sunoo joins in, singing the song with that soft voice of his that you love so much.

“been an awful good girl,”

“santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.”

the oven lets out a little ding, pulling you from the moment. the smell of melted butter, sweet vanilla, and a slight bjt of cinnamon fills the kitchen with the faint nuttiness of toasted sugar weaving through.

you slip on an oven mitt to take out the first batch of cookies, hit and golden. it’s not perfect- the gingerbread man’s arm is crooked, the tree is wonky and the reindeer’s antlers look weird, but it doesn’t matter.

“that smells so good,” sunoo says, leaning in for a whiff. you nudge his head away with your elbow, setting down the tray on the counter.

“of course they smell good,” you say, giving sunoo’s flour covered cheek a little kiss. “we’re professional bakers, aren’t we?"

sunoo picks up one of the cookies, holding it up for you to bite. it’s good, the perfect mix of cinnamon-y and buttery. you watch the corners of sunoo's crinkle with a smile when he tries some of the reindeer's antlers.

“alright sunoo, get the tv turned on. it’s time to watch old disney christmas movies.”

✉️ : @icyy-hoon

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

Vi x reader

Info Post

Moodboards

Part I

TW: Brief mentions of mental illness (anxiety, PTSD), military induced injuries, self harm, hospitals, death, and fighting.

WC: 5k

Part II

the black dog

“Alright, pick your poison, doll.” Vi spoke the moment we made it to the packed bar, my hands already shakily pulling at the long sleeves of the flannel.

“Umm, I don’t really know much about alcohol besides whenever Caitlyn used to steal from our parents stash whenever we were younger.” I shrugged a bit, glued to the counter for dear life.

“Well, let’s see… did you like something more sweet or sour or-”

“I think I don’t mind a little bit of sour.” I spoke up, cheeks glowing with a slightly embarrassed flush, meanwhile the permanent smirk on Vi’s face never seemed to slip as she turned towards the bartender.

“I think I’ve got something you’ll like.” She voiced before waving him over. A few moments later I held onto a orange colored fruity drink called a Rum Runner that seemed to be the perfect combo of sweet and sour. I guarded it for dear life as she lead me towards the jukebox tucked in the corner away from the dancing uni students in which the bar staff had cleared out an entire space now being used as a makeshift dance floor.

Vi passed off a shiny coin for the jukebox in her hand once we reached it, leaning a casual shoulder against the wall. “Give ‘em hell.”

My own little grin stretched on my face as I took the coin with a flourish, twisting it in my fingers as I weighed the options in my head. “Now, with great power comes great responsibility. Or whatever it is Kurt Cobain said.” I joked just before sliding in the coin to its slot just before the screen lit up to display the option to cue up a song.

“Well, I also hear that Kurt Cobain was a bit of a liar so-” I heard her whispering in my ear nearly causing me to shiver. I don’t think I had ever been so close to another girl’s lips before the moment I turned my head to face her. Hands freezing on the dial as if awaiting them to press to mine.

Vi was patient though, testing the waters but not moving out too deep. Though I wasn’t sure if it was respectful or teasing as I flicked my doe eyes upwards to meet hers. And it was then I noticed the tattoo inked just below her eye along her cheekbone, either a number 6 in roman numerals or her nickname. Perhaps even both. A few tattoos of various gears crawled out from underneath her leather jacket, and I had the sudden urge to reach my hand out and brush my fingers along the inked lines.

“You know, one of my sister’s first criminology reports was on the conspiracy theory of if Courtney Love killed Kurt Cobain or not.” I muttered almost nervously, it’s what I did whenever I got flustered, I usually found something to say about Caitlyn. So far the tactic had been unsuccessful though. Turns out talking about how your sister was much better and smarter than you in every way was a turn off. Not that I had been in really a ton of situations to warrant me getting flustered, but I was definitely flustered now.

Vi’s muscular chest stood right at eye level as she stretched herself back up to her normal height. Still so close, like she was hovering. “And her conclusion?”

“Inconclusive.” I answered, finally getting myself to spin around and face the jukebox once more. My brain had suddenly gone blank of all music so I quickly decided to queue up Heart-Shaped Box. “She still got an A.” I added with a little sigh before I could spin away from it to finally free up the space.

“She’d make an excellent lawyer.” Vi almost laughed as she shoved her hands into her pockets.

“Maybe if she wasn’t so obsessed with working in the field… doing all the dangerous stuff, you know, running into the line of fire-”

“Okay you know detective work isn’t like in all the movies and crime shows, right? Caitlyn’s gonna be just fine. She can hold her own, you know that.” Vi stated, her hand being pressed to my lower back in some attempt to comfort me whenever it only just felt like it was sparking my crush-induced nerves all over again. Or maybe it was too soon to call it a crush? I wasn’t entirely sure what a crush was even supposed to feel like.

From the same table I could already hear a hefty amount of arguing and chatter as I sipped away at my fruity drink, an offended groan breaking from Ellie’s mouth as she snatched up what looked like a tarot card from another spread already laid on the table. “Mills, can you believe what Jinx’s tarot deck just called me?!” She exclaimed as she held up the card with an almost comical pout.

“The Fool?” I wondered with a head tilt. “I don’t think that’s what that means.”

“I told you it’s not.” Jinx huffed as she stood up to pluck the card from Ellie’s fingers. “The Fool represents innocence, new beginnings, you’re a free spirit… a little naïve, definitely not level-headed. Are you a water sign by any chance?” She wondered curiously as she seemed to study her face.

“Sagittarius.” She answered with a scowl causing Jinx to nod.

“Actually, you know what, that makes sense.”

“Why? Literally what does that mean? I’m not a zodiac gay!” Ellie exclaimed almost as if the conversation was stressing her out.

“Try living with her, she blames most of her problems on ‘mercury’ being in ‘retrograde’.” Vi went on with her fingers raised in quotations. I couldn’t help but lean forward curiously to scan the rest of Ellie’s spread. The Wheel of Fortune and six of cups in reverse… interesting.

“Vi, can I have a word?” Caitlyn spoke up from her spot across the table next to a boy with strikingly white hair who seemed to be leaning into Jinx every opportunity he got.

The chorus of sounds that sprung up from the table was reminiscent of a primary school classroom whenever someone gets called to the office. It was almost comforting to know the childlike aire of people never seemed to fade in university. It wasn’t comforting to hear Caitlyn’s request however as she pushed her slender body up to her feet.

Vi only took it all in stride though, meeting her with an equally as hard stare as she followed suit. “Why not? Lead the well.”

“I will.” Caitlyn added, whipping around to head towards the stairs leading towards the first level of the pub.

“Oh this is way better than tarot.” Jinx responded after only a quick passing moment before flying out of her seat so fiercely I almost thought she was going to knock the entire couch over. “C’mon new girl, you’re probably gonna wanna hear this.”

My breath hitched in my throat as she managed to hoist me up to my feet. My hands instantly darting outwards to grip Ellie’s wrist to drag her along with me, naturally. “Ow, Millie! That hurts!” She winced as she wrestled her arm out of my grip. “Don’t worry, I’m right behind you.”

Jinx immediately flashed us a stern look with a finger to her lips before she could climb the stairs. A duo of voices already carrying from around the corner where the two stood. “What part about ‘off limits’ do you not understand?!” Caitlyn was snapping immediately as she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Your sister is a grown adult, Caitlyn, you don’t have to play protector 24/7 anymore!”

“Oh that’s fucking rich coming from you.” Caitlyn practically sneered.

“It really is.” Jinx mouthed back to the two of us.

“Is it, Cait? Because even I tried to be semi normal with Jinx after all of our trauma and let’s not act like there wasn’t a hefty amount of it. What is this actually about, Caitlyn? Be honest. Is this about her or us?” My heart seemed to lurch in my chest at the one singular word. Us? What did she mean by ‘us’? Did I even want to know what she meant? Was it stupid to feel the sudden crushing weight of that one tiny word?

From one step below me I could feel Ellie’s fingers lacing through mine in a silent declaration. I’ve got you. No matter where this conversation leads I’ve got you.

“There is no ‘us’, Violet. There never has been and there never will be. And even if there was you know damn well I’d choose her happiness over mine every single fucking day. Got that? You don’t get to hurt her. I swear to god if you hurt her-”

“What am I actually going to do, Caitlyn? Do you think I’m this big bad supervillain-”

“I’m talking about your underground dealings! Your little underground fighting ring that Sevika somehow still lets go on even though someone was literally killed-”

“Keep your voice down!” Vi exclaimed in a whisper yell as she held up a finger, eyes encircling around the area as if looking for somebody. Such as three meddling freshmen hiding behind a corner. “We have company.”

“You guys go, I’ll take the fall.” Jinx whipped around to shoo us away. Ellie was already grabbing my arm, wanting to waste no time.

“A-Are you sure?” I stammered, a little bit more hesitant as I slowly let Ellie pull me down the stairs.

“It’s okay, won’t be the first time I’ve been caught, won’t be the last.” Jinx shrugged before slipping off into view and I finally let Ellie tug me from view just in time to see my sister’s cold blue eyes peering around the corner to investigate.

“Holy shit…” Ellie let out a long gust of air as she pressed an anxious hand to her chest. “I feel like I just got sucked into a thriller dark romance dark academia novel or something. Sevika has an underground fighting ring? S-Someone died!?”

“Who’s Sevika?” I wondered, my mind slipping into several directions all at once as I lifted a hand to my lips as if to bite my already chipped nails.

“Sevika’s our coach. She’s hard as shit, doesn’t take crap from anybody which is needed because we have a couple spoiled nepo babies on the team.” Ellie seethed a bit to herself before letting her eyes briefly glance over towards the same blonde haired woman who had supposedly ‘knocked her lights out’ during practice. “Are you okay? I know that was probably a lot.” She gently wrapped her hand around my upper arm as if to ground me in some way. And I hadn’t realized how badly my heart was pounding so intensely until I finally felt it behind my ribs. “Mills, you’re shaking.”

“Yeah I um- I think I just need some air.” I stammered, swallowing a dry lump down my throat. Ellie’s slid a protective arm around me before my knees could buckle as she pulled me towards the back door. Tangling my fingers up into her flannel as I wrapped an arm around her waist.

I gulped down a heavy dose of chilly night air the moment she pushed through the double back doors. From above us a lively back patio stretched on, tufts of smoke filtering downstairs through the gaps of the railing. I felt something plastic and metal at the same time being pressed into my hand. My seldomly used inhaler that I frequently forgot… and Ellie and Caitlyn never did. With a shuddering gasp I placed the opening between my lips and sent a gust of the medicated air through my lungs.

“You okay?” Ellie spoke up once the tense moment had passed.

Ellie wasn’t nearly as tall as Caitlyn or even Vi, in fact she was exceedingly average. Still I had to catch myself tilting my head upwards to meet her eyes as my own furrowed together in worry. “Are you okay?” I directed the question back at her as I lifted a hand to place against her freckled cheek.

Ellie sighed and encircled a hand around my forearm as if to hold it in place. “I- I don’t know… I guess. It’s just- I-I thought this shit only happened in books and movies and stuff.” She frowned, running a hand through her unkempt hair before whirling around to take a seat on a nearby ledge that encircled a mostly dead garden. Slowly I trailed over to take the spot next to her causing her eyes to lift towards me ever so slightly. “Millie?”

“Hmmm?” I hummed in response as I laid my head against her shoulder.

“Promise… Promise me if you do get involved with her that you’ll be safe? I mean I know I make a lot of jokes and I talk a lot of shit but- if something actually happened to you, i-if I lost you I-”

“Ellie-“ I shushed just before I could feel her voice break, slipping my arms around her shoulder as I pulled her in closer with a tight squeeze. It wasn’t like her to get emotional too often, it definitely wasn’t like her to cry. Sometimes I almost wondered what she was like before she met me, if there was any correlation to be found. But I knew she had been through a lot.

All of the doctors and nurses at the retreat we were at mainly kept her diagnosis at PTSD, she referred to it as that even herself. She was a US Army veteran who had been stationed in the UK and sometimes I wondered if my parents hated her strictly for that reason alone. Sometimes I almost thought about why she was discharged too and what could’ve really been behind it. An explosion near base that left her with a gunshot wound to the side, a perforated eardrum, a traumatic brain injury, and a shit ton of shrapnel scarring that she now had covered up by a tattoo that spanned the length of her forearm. If anyone knew pain it was Ellie.

I hadn’t been able to stop crying the night she told me and even then I felt bad because of how she comforted me during the whole thing. It should’ve been the other way around and I knew that. But I still thought it could’ve attested to the kind of person she was. And a lot of the times I looked at my own measly self inflicted scars and wondered how I even deserved to stand next to her.

“You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me, Amelia.” She muttered as she leaned her head against mine with a long and shaking breath.

“Ellie, love.” I sighed as I placed another hand against her cheek to peer into her green eyes. “You aren’t on the battlefield anymore, nothing’s going to happen to me or you. I promise. You’re safe now.”

“I hope so.” She whispered after another moment of hesitation. Carefully she wrapped her hand around my wrist and I tried to ignore the sting in my heart once she removed my hand from her face. “We should be careful, in case Vi comes out here. You do like, you know, like her, right?”

“I don’t know.” I answered as I leaned back on my hands slightly. “She’s certainly a looker. But I just- what if it’s too soon to tell? How do you even know whenever you fancy someone?”

“That little ache you felt in your chest whenever Vi called her and Caitlyn an ‘us’? That’s one way you can tell.” Ellie answered as she gave my ankle a little nudge with her combat boots.

“How did you know, you creep?” I nearly giggled as I looked towards her with a lifted brow.

“Because I’m your best friend? Plus, that’s also whenever you started reaching for my hand.”

“I didn’t think I- I thought you grabbed my hand-“

“I did, because you started reaching for it. I mean, either way it does kind of check out doesn’t it?“

“Yeah… I guess you might be right.” I huffed, gnawing on my bottom lip as I fought the urge to stretch my fingers out to Ellie’s all over again. Before I could make contact though the back door swung open once more causing both of our heads to turn in unison.

“So, how much did you hear?” Vi said simply as she strode outside, still as calm and collected as possible with her hands shoved into her pockets once more.

“Oxford has an underground fighting ring?” Ellie blurted out before I could even construct some way to cover up our probably suspicious disappearance. If I wasn’t curious enough myself though I probably would’ve rolled my eyes. She was already a pretty shitty liar though.

“You surprised?” Vi wondered next with a slightly tilted head.

“Why were you so secretive about it in the hallway if you’re being so casual now?” Ellie wondered next, almost rather bravely as she fiddled with the evil eye bracelet around her wrist.

“I didn’t want the wrong person to hear.” She added, her blue eyes briefly sweeping over to me before she took the seat on my other side immediately causing Ellie to tense up almost protectively. “Whatever you think it is though, it isn’t… generally.”

“Caitlyn said somebody died though-“ Ellie stammered next in disbelief.

“It was a freak accident. It had nothing to do with the fighting or- or anything like that.” She propped her elbows up on her knees, sore subject it seemed. Vi knew more than what she was letting on though, neither of us seemed willing to push at the moment however.

A moment of hesitation passed before Ellie cleared her throat and shook her head, “I think I’m gonna go back in, I’m freezing my dick off out here.” Ellie remarked as she pushed herself up to her feet and let her eyes scan over me briefly. “You gonna be okay?”

The thought of being alone with Vi only made it feel like my heart was being sent into overdrive all over again. I didn’t even know why the thought of being alone with someone I liked scared me so much. She was older, more experienced, hard and cold yet inviting at the same time. A curious kind of inviting. “Yeah, I-I’ll be okay.” I stuttered with a nod.

“Okay, call me… if you change your mind.” Her hands curled into fists briefly, like she herself was about to change her mind. Something else lingering, but whatever it was she didn’t act on it. Only turning her head to drag herself to the door.

“You know there’s definitely some sexual tension between you two, right?” Vi questioned as she pulled a half used pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her ripped black skinny jeans.

“Excuse me?” I questioned in shock with my jaw neatly dropping. “But Ellie’s- Ellie’s not-“

“Don’t try to tell me she’s not a lesbian.”

“Oh no, she’s definitely a lesbian.” I almost snickered, the thought of Ellie ever being with a man nearly sending me into fits. “But just so you’re aware, two lesbians can definitely have a super close friendship and not be in a romantic relationship.” I huffed in response as I crossed my arms and shook my head. “I mean honestly, I’m really starting to question your intentions.”

“Oh doll, you should always question my intentions.” I nearly shivered at her words. A tremor shooting through my legs that I hadn’t felt before leaving me clamping them shut as if to silence the irregular feeling.

“So… do you just have a thing for Kirammans or something?” I wondered, wringing my hands on my lap in some way to think of something else. Anything else.

Vi scoffed and rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, “Yeah I was waiting for that one to come up.”

“I mean it’s a valid question, is it not?”

“Caitlyn and I slept together a few times last year… that’s all we did, that’s all it was.” She placed a cigarette between her lips and lit up the end. “It was a hookup, a good hookup which is why we did it again but- it didn’t go any farther than that.“

Anxiously I fiddled with the ring on my finger, stimming in every way I could it seemed to distract from the clench in my chest as she described her relations with my sister. “So, why else would you be interested in me then?”

“I’ve seen you around occasionally. Whenever you go to games with Caitlyn or jack the university library where you either obsessively write on your computer or read some book that’s bigger than your entire forearm.”

“Do you watch me or something? Like a creep?” I couldn’t help but smirk slightly as I stole a glance over at her.

“You’re hard not to look at.” She answered, blue eyes meeting mine as she withdrew a long puff of smoke from her lips, the cigarette dangling in between her fingers haphazardly. That same churning feeling seeming to overtake my entire body now, my eyes briefly glancing down towards her lips for the most minuscule of seconds. Not minuscule enough for Vi not to notice though as I watched them curl up in a tiny smirk. “I saw that.”

“Saw what?” I murmured innocently, bringing a hand up to my lips to bite at my nails again. Vi only let out a chuckle of her own though before taking another drag of her cigarette.

“Nothing darlin’.” She added, the pet name causing my toes to curl in my Mary Janes. “Anyways, then from like, May through July you disappeared for a while. So I wondered if your parents might’ve actually let you take another year off or you managed to actually break the cycle of Oxford alumni.”

“Not quite.” My face fell at the mention of the summer’s events, catching my bottom lip between my teeth as I dropped my hand back towards my lap. “No, the uhhh… the summer was rough. But I met Ellie though so- I guess it worked out. I just, you know, wish it could’ve been under better circumstances. That’s why we aren’t a thing, if you’re wondering. It’s usually a bad idea to date the friend you meet whenever you’re in a psychiatric facility.”

Her expression seemed to come with a subtle understanding, softening momentarily as she flicked out the remainder of the cigarette. “S-Sorry, i-if I just trauma dumped on you o-or anything.”

“You didn’t. You aren’t.” Vi shook her head, rough fingers finally brushing on top of my fidgeting ones. I never knew it could feel so comforting having them stroking my knuckles in the way she did. “How are you now? Like… in the aftermath?”

I wanted to groan and fight and kick and scream at the frustrating sting that always crept into my eyes whenever someone would ask if I was okay. I should’ve been tired of hearing it by now. It shouldn’t have had an effect the way that it did but still somehow it had felt like forever that someone had actually asked me that. How are you afterwards? I know you went through hell. But how are you now?

“I think… all things considered, I could be worse. But- I think I could be better too.” I answered with a small shrug. A strange feeling of warmth seemed to envelop over me as she slid her fingers through mine. Each small touch inching closer and closer like she was giving me the chance to protest, to pull away, to do whatever I needed to do to feel comfortable. But I enjoyed her touches, her big hand overtaking mine and I wanted to feel it on my cheek, knotting through my hair, around my waist, against my thighs. Fuck, I didn’t understand why. “Vi.” I muttered her name like it was the only thing I knew how to say, lifting a shivering free hand but not knowing what to do with it, where to put it. What was I even supposed to do? “I-I’ve never done this before- f-felt this before. W-What do I do?”

“Shhh…” Vi whispered, softly brushing her finger underneath my chin so I had no choice but to look up at her. Transfixed in her blue eyes until I crumpled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

The last time I felt anything similar was with Ellie, over the summer, where I shouldn’t have felt for anything besides trying to get better. Even then it was completely different. Ellie was sunshine. Ellie was laughing and jokes and making all of the nurses’ lives hell as we snuck around the ward and fell asleep in each other’s beds.

Vi felt like the opposite. She was the moon. Hauntingly curious and dark. Like she was beckoning me forward with every subtle touch setting off sparks against my skin. She was a new experience, unfamiliar territory just begging to be explored.

“Tell me what you want.” I shivered as I felt her hand against my cheek and I didn’t know if it was the cold or just her. “If you want me to leave you alone, I’ll leave you alone. But if not-“

“Will you- W-Will you kiss me?” I stammered all over again, it was like I couldn’t get any of my words right as I kept shooting glance after glance at her lips. A noticeable scar running through her upper lip.

That same telling smirk crept back into her expression, my chest clenching as I watched her rise up to her feet as if she was about to tell me no. “You ever been kissed before?”

“Ummm… n-no, not really.”

“Not really?”

“No, n-no I haven’t.” I finally answered fully, peering down at my lap as if in shame. Waiting for the rejection. The declaration that I wasn’t at all what she wanted and the inevitable and probably unnecessary heartbreak that would follow afterwards.

“And you want me, some good for nothing chick you met at a bar to kiss you?”

“Why did you ask me what I want if you’re just going to challenge me about it!” I wondered as I finally launched myself off of the bench but I only lost all sense of authority once I realized our height difference again.

“I just want you to fully understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

“It’s just a kiss!”

“You seem like the kind of person who takes that thing kind of seriously.” Vi voiced with a casual shrug as if she already knew she was right. She didn’t have to ask for confirmation because she already saw right through me. It’s not like I haven’t had a ton of opportunities. I could’ve easily kissed Ellie now countless of times but I hadn’t because I knew what would happen afterwards. She’d look at it as ‘getting my first kiss out of the way’ and I’d probably just fall in love with her. How dangerous could it be to fall in love with somebody so quickly? I was a disaster, a ticking timebomb waiting to happen.

“You’re right, it’s stupid.” I spoke, finally pulling my eyes away from her to face the ground. My body was a tense wreck, my chest hurt, I was definitely going to get sick from being out in the cold for so long, and I didn’t see any good in staying out here for any longer.

I turned on my heel to head back inside as I tried to hide the disappointment and complete idiocy on my face. Before I knew it though I could already hear Vi clearing her throat from behind me, “Wait.” She ordered, and if that wasn’t enough to halt my steps I could feel her hand snaking around my wrist. My breath caught in my throat as I felt her whirling me around to face her with ease.

My body pressed to hers and suddenly I could feel every inch of every muscle beneath her clothes. Her hands overtook my waist, sliding around me until I couldn’t smell anything but the nicotine on her breath and the expensive cologne that wafted from her pulse points. Before I could even contemplate what was happening I could feel her lips on mine. A gasp froze in my throat as I registered what was happening, shivering gasps for air the moment she broke away, scanning my face as if to determine where I was. If I was okay. And before I knew it again I was clamoring for her lips once more.

My arm flew around her shoulder as if to hold myself up, not like her hands gripping my waist weren’t already doing a great job at that. I just wanted to touch her, seeking out her warmth. My hand slipping underneath her jacket as if to drag across the flimsy material of the wife pleaser she wore underneath. Her lips were so much softer than I could’ve ever predicted they would be, but electricity felt like it was coursing through my veins at the sensations of her pulling me in by the waist anytime our bodies naturally separated. It was warmth and disaster at the same time. A forest fire burning up all around me as our lips moved in sync. Her hands leaving a burning trail as they seemed to settle on my hips. God, how was I supposed to ever get enough whenever she felt like this?

My breathing came out in shaking gasps of air once our lips broke apart. The feeling without them was almost unnatural they felt so perfect and made for my own. I wanted more, I was desperate for more but too scared to speak the words as I stared up at her with widened eyes. “Vi…”

“Fuck, you say my name like it’s only meant for your lips alone.” She whispered, my hand curling against her chest as she traced the outline of my lips with her thumb. “Should probably get you inside before you freeze to death.”

My lips seemed to burn as she stepped away, every inch of the cold sweeping back into me as I nodded in response. Vi’s warm hand pressed to my back to lead me towards the back door and instinctively I couldn’t help but bring my hand up towards my lips that I could’ve sworn were still tingling.

She was going to ruin me, wasn’t she?

A/N: Elmelia girlies I have got some good shit cooking up for you next. Vimelia girlies also don’t stress though because I am nothing if not messy! 🖤

[mixes-archive]

SUPER GRAPHIC ULTRA MODERN GIRL ✰

Arcee x fem! human! reader

SUMMARY: Being unabashedly feminine while working in a male-dominated field is EXHAUSTING. But thank Primus Arcee and you have each other to cope.

TAGS: winners possibly winning, cute fluff, the stove is not even on yet-burn, shitting on men a bit in spirit of this song

A/N: I BET THIS WASNT THE COMBACK ANY OF YOU WERE EXPECTING LOLOL - I won’t bore anyone with a long story, my ask box is open if you’re curious about anything.

This is my first fic in years, and my first for Transformers, so I hope its atleast somewhat enjoyable??

Arcee was, well…

confused, if an Autobot can be, at herself and her emotions.

Servos tracing the round part of her helm as she loses herself to her thoughts - about you.

The little human who had somehow, some way, crawled itself into the deepest parts of her processor. And with no great difficulty either, she was almost enamoured with you since she’d first laid her optics on your little form.

Finding reason for that wouldn’t be as hard as anyone would think either - for being such a tough and independent bot, having purely masculine friends doesn’t get tiring. (After you’d told her about the human equivalent of her experience, she was glad she lacked a sense of smell)

Now, she loves her crew, she really does, but first being one of the few feminine-presenting cybertonians and now seemingly the only one on earth (with exception of Airachnid) - it would have been hard not feeling lonely, while also admired by too many.

It was overwhelming and so, so lonely.

They’d previously brought a few humans in on their situation, to put it mildly. Unfortunate souls that couldn’t overlook the brightly coloured, obscenely tall and heavy machines shifting almost magically, in a badly hidden spot.

Of course, luck had been on their side, because they were all willing to stay silent, sometimes even helping out with stuff the autobots couldn’t do themselves.

Yes, they were lucky. But Arcee did not feel that way because as it turned out, they’d all ben men.

Not that she’d treated them as anything less than because of that of course, but she still couldn’t help but crave that true connection of someone likeminded.

So when Bumblebee came crashing into their hideout with a frilly, pink… thing in his servos, she was excited.

You’d looked so adorable, sharing her colour-way even, as if sent by Primus himself, saying: ‘Here Arcee, for all your troubles.’

Arcee made it no secret that she’d claimed you as hers. From the start she was by your side, giving you a comforting glance when Optimus gave you the run-down, and having her servo on the small of your back when you’d eventually met all the others. The others don’t think they’d ever seen her talk that much.

And the sentiment wasn’t one-sided either.

As much as it was upsetting to be basically kidnapped by a (admittedly very cool-looking) Camaro because you’d spotted it- him shifting to bend into a humanoid shape to pet a cat, you did have to admit it wasn’t a terrible situation to be in. At least you now had the confirmation that aliens wouldn’t cause harm to you.

Though once you’d been informed that really, they hadn’t planned on staying on earth as a long as they did, and really, really couldn’t afford to be known about on a bigger scale, you felt sympathy for them.

And something deeper for the nice, pink robot comforting you through all these plot-developments.

You ended up chatting so much that the night ended at dawn, along with a private lesson in motorcycling from Arcee herself. Turned out you actually lived close by and you promised each other to meet again soon.

Maybe it was the excitement of finally meeting someone that you clicked with so well and so quick, maybe the tiredness clouding your brain or maybe the fact that the first person you’ve found yourself attracted to is a 9 foot tall robo-woman, but you kissed her display before running into the safety of your house.

If she had speakers, Arcee is certain the entire neighbourhood would have woken up to hear Katy Perry playing.

[pskmonika]

I saw the post you made abt MHA boys’ type and thought it was so cute and accurate (at least how I envision it too) I loved your vision for Shinsos s/o and was wondering if you had any hcs about his type/what he finds attractive? I love this purple haired boy sm you have no idea

-🫐

Shisou's type / him having a crush:

Because of shinsou's calm personality, a lot assume that he'd be into someone who's more outgoing and extroverted that makes him get out of his shell, but i dont think thats true

trying to think of it in a canon way, shinsou is sooo similar to aizawa and we saw that aizawa had no feelings towards the bubbly girl that like him, so thats why i think similar to him, thats simply not shinsou's type

Shinsou wouldn’t fall for someone who blends into the crowd—he needs someone who sees the world differently, someone extraordinary in their own quiet way, shinsou doesn’t crave noise; he craves depth.

well at first You was quite, that all there was in you , that all everyone saw, but shinsou unlike everyone else, pays attention to the smallest details, like the way u loved to draw whenever u got free time, like the way u chase cats outside and always leave a piece of cheese or tuna in ur backpack just in case u found hungry stray cats, or the way u loved to come to class earlier than everyone just to listen to ur fav songs while staring out the window, u loved the sky, he for sure knew that, from the way u stare at it, the way u drew it

maybe it was drawing, writing, making music or even photography.... but you certainly was someone artistic, someone that sees beauty in things, someone that doesnt just look around the world, someone that sees the world, someone that holds so much inside

You were fascinating, just like your quirk: Nightmare. It brought your enemies’ greatest fears to life, turning them into a reality you controlled, it was scary, it made him wonder if people thought you have quite the vaillin quirk, just like they thought about him,

But unlike him, you was quiet but never unkind, and he was curious

So he got closer, started from borrowing a pen, to a random chat in the rooftop to being partners for a school project, and the more time he spent with you, the more, he’s sinking, deeper and deeper, into you.

you made him feel at ease, you were like a gentle breeze on a warm day, he felt like with you he can breath

He loves that no one knows you like he does, Your laughter, your secrets, your vulnerabilities—they belong to him. He’s possessive, and he knows it. its no secret how insecure he is, so knowing that he got to see sides of you that no one else sees, hear a laugh that no else hears, making inside jokes with you, hearing your secrets and discovering all the diff sides of you, it all make him feel so special

But the moment he sees you with someone else, it feels like his insecurities explode, the jealousy start consuming him like gasoline igniting on an open flame, and when the wild fire consumes him, it all came bursting out his chest, as a messy unexpected confessing and a sudden passionate kiss

N.B: i hope u enjoyed this! I always try to keep the character's true personality and stay canon and make the s/o kind of special, so sorry if this wasnt exactly what u wanted! Everyone feel free to request any other characters! This is the previous post and sorry for any grammar mistakes, if u got any other thoughts on shinsou's type comment it down below! Id love to hear your thoughts

[nerdanel01]

No. 10 - Tipsy

Still holding his hand, grinning playfully, she bent her knees and bowed her head in mannered, practiced curtsy. Emmrich matched her smile and bowed his head in kind, before wrapping his free arm around her waist—and then, they were off, Agnes keeping time with her humming, Emmrich wheeling them around in the grass to match the pace she set: one, two, three; one, two, three; taking extra precautions to make sure he did not trample her bare toes beneath his dress shoes. 

…Strange, wasn’t it? Emmrich had done all of this for her, for Agnes. And yet somehow through his vicarious experience of her joy, through the dizzy, fizzy freedom of the champagne swimming in his blood, he found himself feeling so present, so whole, so much fuller than he had in a very long time. 

The melody of the song shifted—driving, mounting, a crescendo towards its conclusion. Emmrich lifted their hands once more, spun Agnes once, twice, three times in a row, her skirt rising with her momentum to twirl like a black wave around her knees as she laughed again in delight. Then Emmrich drew her back to him, and—hands tight about her waist to secure her (they were both, after all, a little tipsy)—dipped her body low over his bent knee. 

Cricketsong and river-breeze. Time had not stopped, but it felt like it had: like Emmrich’s heart had stopped beating, like he could not draw a breath. In a flash their dance had transformed from a fancy into… he did not know what. All he knew was that he could not pull his eyes away from the silver moonlight caught in her hair, the nervous smile on her face… the cold, then warm, then cold again shock of the world-tilting look of breathless anticipation, of hope in her eyes. 

The intrusive, wholly inappropriate urge to draw her warm, slender body against his and kiss her deeply. [read full fic]

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

I've been in a little bit of a creative rut lately, but I really want to end the year on a positive note—I'm really proud of all the writing I did this year! So for the last ten days of 2024 I'm going to be reblogging my 10 favorite pieces that I wrote.

This chapter from for no mere mortal can resist is one of my favorites. I'm pretty sure it's the first time I wrote Emmrich's POV, and I loved the way shifting to his perspective at that point in the fic really shifted the dynamics of the story. It's also the first time I sent them to the opera. <3 And also, of course, I love Emmrich's little "oh, shit" moment here, which sort of kicks off the final action and climax of the fic.

[astracora]

A Mandated Holiday Break - Chapter 3

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1094

Written: 21st December 2024

Notes: Post-relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

His arms feel lighter, colder... sluggishly opening worn eyes. The bed is empty, his hand reaches out but there's no ghost of warmth.

This has happened before. You hate to wake him up when you get up, alarm not needed because your hours as a hunter have permanently ruined your sleep patterns.

The first time, he'd felt fear grip his heart in an icy hand. Tightening, twisting and tearing. Now he just sighs into the air, turning over in his bed to look for phone. Checking there's nothing imperative that requires him, shooting off a message to the prince that you need some clothes brought over.

Your hunter uniform was beginning to resemble scrap, and he'd laid one of his shirts out for you to use until the prince could deliver more options.

Or he could buy you more... still you frowned at him when he suggested such a thing, telling him with a little laugh that you had plenty of clothes.

He hadn't yet worked out how to explain that dressing you was a satisfaction for him. Seeing you wearing things he chose, he paid for? He was still a dragon through and through. Decorating his lair and his greatest treasure.

He understood, however, that certain things you owned were picked because you liked them, found comfort in them. Safe things. So if it meant dragging the prince out here with a bag in tow, he didn't think either of them were too put out by it.

Reluctant to leave his bed, but yearning to have you close by again, Sylus pulls himself out of his nest. Flick of the hand righting his covers, and padding out in slippers and sweats.

As soon as he leaves the room, music drifts towards him, accompanied by very familiar voices, and he follows its call like you're a siren.

Even if you were, he knows he'd drown blissfully for and with you.

His kitchen is filled with the scent of sugar and bread, hitting his nose as soon as he swings open the door. The twins are sat on the kitchen counters, bobbing their heads to a song he doesn't know, and he's pretty sure they don't know either, judging by the 'do do do's' they're singing along with it.

He almost wants to complain, because they're loud enough to cover some of the notes you're singing, but you're laughing and smiling amidst the words. Cheeks dimpled...

Your shoulder is bared because his sweater is too big, slipping down, and covering the tops of your thighs. Shorts underneath, long fluffy socks up to your knees. Foot tapping the floor as you mix dough in a bowl.

You're like an angels song.

Head bobbing, tilting as you sing out to words he doesn't recognise. Not that he needs to.

I'm on my knees waiting for the sound.

It's a strange feeling, he's tried to replicate how your voice makes him feel with his own. He's learned how to sing to music that he doesn't really understand. Tunes that he can't quite replicate. Sylus listens to everything he can find because he wants to understand. It's a strange dim sensation on his own, with his records playing. Though they remind him enough of you that he is comforted anyway.

Stuck in a world gone wrong.

It is like he's chasing your shadow, and he never can seem to catch up.

So lift me up, I'll never let you down.

A feeling that blooms like fresh flowers, brings him to ease, reminding him of days where he learned what love was.

Calmed and riled and fragile but so warm and safe. The feeling is chaotic and terrifying but if he could spend his life feeling it, his very very long life. That only you can end, and when you choose to, he hopes it's alongside yours.

So he can never feel it without you, though he feels it's shade when he remembers you.

Searching for the words that I can say.

Instead it licks flames up his skin when you sing in front of him, when your voice fills the air and wraps around him and he understands. He always understands with you.

How it feels when you're with me.

The twins look up at him, pointing at him as they sing non-existent words and his kitten doesn't notice until he pulls up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, chin on your shoulder, hunching over to look down at what you're doing.

Mostly just so he can feel the rumble of your song through his chest.

The music falters for a second, as your hand reaches up to touch his cheek. He thinks he might purr in response but wouldn't admit it outloud if asked.

"Sugar cookies." You answer his unspoken question. "They're easy, but I'm testing the recipe with less sugar."

"The doctor will be happy." He murmurs against the skin of your neck. Biting absently, in protest as you stop singing for him. Not too harshly though, after all your voice is beautiful when you speak too. Always a song for him. Always lighting that unusual sensation in his chest.

"We've been taste testing!" Luke calls out, and he tilts his head just enough to watch the twins sticking raw dough in their mouths.

"Hey! Don't eat too much you'll make yourself sick!"

"S'fine." Kieran speaks with a full mouth, spraying some dough over his brother, who wipes it off and glares. "You missed a spot." And he flicks him in the forehead.

The two begin to scuffle, leaping off the counters and chasing each other out of the room, the sound of their yelling is head down the hall.

You begin to laugh in his arms, eyes twinkling with affection, and lean back against him with a contented smile.

He wishes the fish were here to paint you. He debates going to grab his phone that he's left on the side, just to take a photo for him later. It would mean releasing you though... he supposes there's more chances to see you like this.

His whole life, he hopes.

"Thank you." You speak, tilting your head to press a kiss to his head, and he turns you quickly, one hand moving to your neck to keep you there while he kisses as much of your skin as he can reach.

Cheeks, lips, forehead, neck. Quick pecks with no heat.

His chest, his heart. He's molten, melting, burning. It would hurt, he thinks, if it didn't feel so delightful. His heart, his soul, his home.

[ohblimeygeorge]

Was gonna put it on ao3 but thought tumblr can see it first, so here’s fluffy festive gewis 🌟🎄

Merry Christmas!!

——————

Christmas time was the couple’s favourite time of year. It was an excuse for them to spoil their loved ones, to be able to see the excited expressions on their faces. They also loved decorating. Come the first weekend of December, Lewis would be up in the loft bringing down the boxes of decorations whilst George rearranged the living room furniture and gave everything a tidy ready for the tree to take centre stage. They’d wrap up snug and head towards their local garden centre and spend a very considered time choosing the most perfect tree for that year, Roscoe helping them out by peeing near the ones he didn’t like. Once the tree was selected, they’d take it home and set it into place, when Lewis would connect up his music to play Christmas songs before heading into the kitchen to make hot chocolates, leaving George to start decorating.

George took this job very seriously. Every bauble had its spot and not one could look out of place. Amongst the standard ones, there were a few special baubles that the couple had bought together over the years - from places they’d been, or ones with dates on to commemorate occasions or just miscellaneous ones that reminded them of a funny memory. They all held a fond space in their hearts and George was adamant they would all be shown off every year. Lewis loved watching George at work. The little furrow in his brow from concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out when he was trying to hang a bauble just so, whizzing from the front to the back of the tree so every inch was covered. He’d even sometimes involve Roscoe, who would patter over and sit next to the boxes of decorations, inquisitive to see what his human was up to. George would take a bauble out, hold it up to Roscoe to let the dog sniff it then ask him where he thinks it should go, pausing almost as if to genuinely wait for a reply before responding, you’re so right, boy. I think it would look perfect here too. Lewis loved him so much. Once all the decorations were deposited on the tree and around the house, the couple would settle down on the sofa with another hot chocolate and watch a Christmas film, Roscoe snoozing across their laps.

Throughout the month of December, they would meet up and take part in festive activities with their friends and make sure to see family they hadn’t seen in a while, sharing stories from throughout the year. They loved it - that feeling of being around those they cherish the most and being able to soak it all in and relax as the year came to a close.

On Christmas Day, they switched it up every year. One year, they’d visit George’s parents and spend the day there with his siblings and nieces and nephews, then the next year they’d do the same with Lewis’ family, then the next they’d host themselves and both families would attend. It was crazy when that happened but their families got on well together and they adored the chaos of the kids running around and Roscoe basked in the attention.

This year was their turn to host and so the couple spent Christmas Eve preparing food ready for the big day and making sure all their presents were accounted for under the tree. On Christmas morning, they woke up bundled in each other’s arms, warm and cosy, a shared ‘merry Christmas’ mumbled between them. They revelled in the calm moment they knew they’d only be able to enjoy for so long before having to get up to start the preparations for their guests. Once they’d laid there long enough, they got up and trundled down the stairs, Lewis letting Roscoe out for his morning relief whilst he started on breakfast and George was in charge of tea. Sitting down on the sofa, a plate of breakfast on their laps and cups of tea in their hands, they each took a moment unbeknownst to the other to think of what the day would bring.

Soon enough the families started arriving and the whole house was filled with noise. Warm and comforting. Joyful and safe. They all sat down to open their presents together, gathered round the big table for Christmas dinner and played games until their stomachs hurt from laughter. The evening begun to close in, the siblings with their children and eventually their parents saying their goodbyes and leaving to venture home after a full day. Once it was just George and Lewis again, they decided to tidy up what little mess was left behind before sitting down to enjoy the rest of the evening. After all the jobs had been done, they moved back to the living room where some Christmas special was humming low on the tv in the background, fairy lights twinkling softly as George was about to sit down but then: “wait.” He looked up as Lewis spoke, feeling quite daft as he was half crouched half stood, frozen in place. “There’s one more gift I’ve got for you. But I wanted to wait until everyone was gone.” Lewis explained.

“Oh.” George said simply.

“It’s under the tree, right at the back.”

Lewis stood still as George manoeuvred himself onto the ground and looked for the gift Lewis was referring to. Finding it, he showed his partner with a raised eyebrow who encouraged him to open it with a gentle nod. Turning back around to face the Christmas tree, George slowly undid the bow before tearing at the paper. Upon reaching the box inside, his hand instantly stalled, cheeks feeling warm as his mind went to one thought only. He carefully lifted the lid of the box only to start to see what looked like a bauble inside and feeling his hope deflate. However, as he fully opened the box and read the inscription on the face of it did he understand. Letting out a gasp, George whizzed back around to ask for clarification on what this meant but found he didn’t need to. As Lewis was already down on one knee, ring box in hand, the dazzling jewellery catching the colours of the tree lights.

“George, you are the love of my life and I cannot imagine spending Christmas or any other day for that matter without you by my side. Will you do as the bauble asks and do me the honour of marrying me?”

Eyes instantly welling up, George brought his hands to his face in shock. But he knew what his answer would be. What the answer would always be.

“Yes.”

Grinning, Lewis took the ring out of the box and slipped it onto George’s finger, it fitting perfectly, before he took his fiancé’s face in his hands and kissed him. George kissed back with as much passion and the two broke apart only to catch their breath, foreheads close together as they basked in what just happened. “You know,” George began in a whisper, the mood not calling for anything louder. “It’s funny you said you had something to give me once everyone was gone, because I do too.”

Lewis looked at him quizzically as George once again crawled over to the tree but instead of looking under it, went rifling through Roscoe’s toy box which was placed next to it. As confused as he was at seeing his partner rummaging through his dog’s toys he couldn’t help but smirk at the ring catching the glow of every light along the way. Once George found what he was looking for, he knee-walked back to where Lewis was and handed him his own special gift. Biting his lip with nerves as Lewis copied his previous actions, carefully undoing the wrapping, the younger began to absentmindedly twirl the ring around his finger for comfort. As Lewis got to the box and lifted the lid he saw he was also greeted with his own bauble. But this one said: “Baby Hamilton due 2025…” Lewis was in shock as he looked up at his love, “George are you serious?”

Nodding softly, George tried a smile, “One hundred percent serious.”

He didn’t receive an answer after that just another all encompassing kiss before being gathered into the strongest, most safest and loving embrace he’d ever felt. “Fuck I can’t believe it.” Lewis chuckled wetly, and that was when George realised he was crying.

“Please believe it. We’re gonna be parents!” He grinned, feeling himself relax. But then Lewis got a funny look on his face, “but, you had that done without knowing I was gonna propose?”

“Uh yeah..”

“Well then how did you know it would be Baby Hamilton?”

George placed his warm hands onto Lewis’ cheeks, thumbs sweeping away the stray tears and making sure he was looking directly into his eyes as he spoke. “It was always going to be Hamilton.”

That night as the last hours of Christmas Day passed, the two newly engaged parents-to-be were cuddled up on the sofa watching the last Christmas film before bed, Roscoe snoring at their feet.

The two new baubles placed proudly at the top of the tree just so.

[yaoireview]

Glinda and elphaba

...excuse me?

Glinda and- elpha... what are you SAYING RIGHT NOW?

...Those are WOMEN.... NOT MEN.... i'm god damn YAOI REVIEW..... NOT YURI REVIEW... oh my GOD..

This isn't funny! You've got a SICK sense of humor!

I think some people need a lesson on Yaoi right now.

(boys kissing. dont like, dont read)

WHAT IS YAOI?

its boys kissing.

just boys kissing.

And I don't mean it metaphorically or rhetorically or poetically or theoretically or any other fancy way. Its boys kissing. Straight. Up.

please let it be known that yaoi in some forms is innapropiate artwork of boys.. i dont see it that way.. its just boys kissing. keep your sick selves out of this.

you may not know this, but glinda and elphaba are NOT boys. check again, they're girls. (unless im wrong, in which COMMENT DOWN BELOW and tell ME what your favorite boys kissing is.)

You wicked fans... i cant even CALL you wicked.. you're STRAIGHT UP DEMENTED.. You people make me sick.

Look.. I'll do it but if you're not satisfied with what you find, just go over to Yuri Review's house since you LOVE them so much

GELPHIE, THE EVIDENCE AND REVIEW

I think this is gonna be pretty easy to prove the existence of, so im just gonna do this QUICK and simple.

What is This Feeling? Beginning Lyrics

This is definitely one of the smaller pieces of evidence but the lyrics at the beginning REALLY make it seem like they were gonna say they are in love.

You might just say "oh its just a joke its a joke of the song!! musicals LOVE jokes!!" but your pal in high school "jokingly" hit on a man, and now they're married? Still think its a bit?? ....yeah... me neither..

They literally kiss in the first novel

look man.. you're gonna have to take my word for this one.. because im not opening that book.. I've heard of the things that happens in the books and I'm not taking any chances. An article about it said this.. it may be false.. it may not be its kinda a guessing game with that sorta stuff

i may have also just grabbed the wrong quote though because they said it was heterosexual but I'm SURE it'll be fine

Ariana Grande's Comments

Ariana Grande HAS claimed that she thinks that her character is 'a little in the closet'.

You can trust Ariana Grande. She would never do anything bad

Ariana Grande is CLEARLY the most important person to speak out about the canonical ideas of yuri in this story

CONCLUSION

look... you must understand that i REALLY didn't enjoy this. I like wicked just fine i watched it opening weekend its just... not what i review... I review BOYS kissing.. not girls kissing..

Yaoi: 0/10

Yuri: 8.5/10 (or something like that as i said this isnt my profession, im kinda like a substitute teacher that just turned on a video)

[tumbleweedsthesecond]

CLONE HIGH CLOTHING SWAP!!(I'm gonna lore drop abt them but more importantly Anna )

Yayy lore time. So Anna is the clone of Anastasia Romanovna but she says she's the clone of Anastasia Romanov. This is because the other Anastasia Romanov is more well known and I like to include historical references in stuff. From what I know her body was never officially found, she was considered a mystery she was important because of that. Many people think she lived and escaped instead of being killed. Some people also pretended to be her or tried to for money from the aunt as is shown in the Disney movie. specifically Anna Anderson I think which is why I nicknamed her Anna. (If anyone needs to correct me on some of this stuff Ik its been a while since I've done research on the topic I've been researching other stuff.)

When Anna was cloned her foster father believed she was that Anastasia, so up until she was like 11 or so she believed she was Anastasia Romanov, she felt important. She watched the movie and loved the idea of being a princess, of being the one everyone was waiting for. Until one day scudworth told her she was wrong and got the names mixed up. So Anna saw Ivan and cried her eyes out. She didn't want to be the clone of some guys wife. She wants to be more important than that and not live in his shadow. She thinks she's important and seeing her dad disappointed about that really hurt her. So she decided that she was going to just cope. She'd forget everything scudworth said and live that lie. And it felt great for her, she brags about it alot. Though she's gone so far into coping she does almost believe it. because of that she's obsessed with popularity and living up to the real Anastasia Romanov. She wants to be famous, she studies hard and everything. She's even a cheerleader. Because of the coping thing it does make her view other people just as extensions of their clone parents. She thinks everyone thinks the way she does cause she's preppy. Also on why she expects people to be extensions of the clone parents is also due to some self loathing because of who she really is. That doesn't make her any less annoying though but I forgive her❤

Orginally Anna and Ivan were a ship because she couldn't fight her genes or whatever that's been erased actually I decided it'd be more interesting of she was a lesbian. ivan and her are still rivals. She doesn't know she's a lesbian yet tho cause comphet she's also Topher stepsister!! Basically they hate hate each other at first for obvious reasons and Topher even blackmails Anna. Then he does reveal who he's a clone of and she full on ignores him and calls him disgusting for like a week. But eventually they talk and they become a little closer? Anna starts understanding people aren't just their clone parents and she still like trying I guess? Topher also learns to not blackmail her so yay They have some solidarity, a little. They still don't like each other but its more in a sibling way.

Okay now Fyodor. Gonna guess no-one(but like one person) knows who Fyodor Basmanov is. I learned about him through some movies, basically Ivan the terrible had this alleged male lover. He was in the Oprichnina, like a secret police Ivan had made, and he rose in ranks fast. He was known as the favorite of the Tsar many people thought they were a thing(probably). There was rumors he'd wear skirts and dance for Ivan and stuff. Whether or not that's true in the Ivan the terrible movies he's in they actually do address it. In the 1940s two part one he sings this song abt killing people in a dress and a mask that is supposed to resemble Anastasia Romanovna in the beginning of the film. Which is actually why I made them do a clothing swap in the post. In the 1991 version he is sooo pretty and I can't understand everything in the film because no subtitles but I was able to get some context to what was happening. The story from what I know goes Fyodors the favorite and he uses that alot over other people, he sits next to the Tsar during meals and stuff, poisons people for him etc, then he tries to trick this other guy to get rid of him with witchcraft but word got back to Ivan and now they think Fyodor committed treason. So hes like no not me!!come on Ivan listen to me I'll tell everyone about us or something like that I don't know I could only understand some and he's dragged away. Real Fyodor apparently did get accused of treason by Ivan and he was ordered to kill his father. Some say then Fyodor was executed others say he was just sent away I don't know what really happened. Shrugs. Anyway

I made a clone of him just because I can ❤yay❤ he's Ivans ex friend they don't hang out anymore because Ivan thinks he's better than him. Fyodors just a chronically online guy that uses discord too much(gamer). He wears skirts too not for Ivan just cause I like gnc characters. Yay❤. Also Ivan and him weren't a thing though Fyodor probably does have a crush on him for a bit, the most Ivan does for him is buy him discord nitro. Which he doesnt do anymore. Fyodor does still sometimes try be friends with the bleacher creatures mainly cause sometimes he feels like he's nothing without Ivan so. Yeah. He's unsuccessful tho he's annoying af. He's cringe. He thinks it's funny tho

Anyway just realized I made three clones of Ivan the terrible lovers and I don't ship any of them with him(Maria's the third ill post about her another day. Her and Anna get together tho) this guy had like eight wives. I should really just clone all of them and make them a polycule(minus Ivan ofc) this is why I shouldn't study historical figures

[woso-story]

Mila's Norwegian Christmas

Ingird Engen x Mapi Leon x BabyMila

It was the kind of December morning that promised magic—crisp, clear skies and a chilly breeze that danced through the streets of Barcelona. In their cozy apartment, the morning sun stretched its golden fingers through the windows, spilling light onto the living room floor. Inside, there was a beautiful chaos: Mapi was sprawled on the floor with Mila, their three-year-old daughter, alongside her. And, of course, Bagheera, their fluffy, sassy cat, was curled up in the middle of it all, soaking in the sun too.

Ingrid had just come home from running errands, her arms full of shopping bags. As she entered the living room, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight before her. There was Mapi, still in her warm oversized sweater, lying down on the floor next to Mila, who was in her own little world, chattering happily. Bagheera was stretched out between them, her fur catching the rays of the sun like a golden halo. 

It wasn’t a typical morning, but Ingrid adored moments like this—simple, cozy, and full of love. But even though it looked peaceful, she knew there was an underlying challenge ahead. This was going to be their first Christmas in Norway and Mila had never experienced winter there. 

Mila had met Ingrid’s parents before, on the few occasions when they had visited Norway in the past. However, those trips had been in the warmer months, and Mila had never known Norway during the winter chill, the snow, or the frost-covered trees that Ingrid had grown up with. Ingrid had always talked about her family’s Christmas traditions in Norway—how magical it was to wake up to snow-covered streets, how fun it was to go sledging, ice-skating, and to sit by the fire with family. It all sounded wonderful, and Ingrid was determined to share it with Mila. But there was one small problem: Mila was very much a Barcelona girl. She loved the warmth, the sunshine, and the comfort of her familiar surroundings. The thought of a snowy Christmas in a freezing Norway didn’t excite her in the slightest. 

“Maria,” Ingrid said with a mischievous smile, leaning against the doorframe of the living room. “Do you realize that Mila and Bagheera are both the same—perfectly content to just lay in the sun all day?”

Mapi laughed, her bright blonde hair falling softly over her shoulders. “I guess I did pass on my love of sunbathing,” she replied. “But I can’t blame them. It’s the best part of the day.”

Mila, noticing that her mom was talking to Mapi, bounced up on her little feet, her curly hair bouncing with her. “Mama!” she said in a sing-song voice, running over to Ingrid, “Look! Bagheera is sleeping with us!”

Ingrid smiled at the way her daughter’s face lit up at the simplest things. Mila was still young, but her spirit was already so vibrant. She was curious, always on the move, and had a fierce love for her family—especially for Bagheera, their black cat who had been with them since Mila was a baby. 

Ingrid took a deep breath, watching Mila curl back up beside Mapi. The thought of the cold, snowy trip ahead weighed on Ingrid’s mind. They had talked to Mila about their plans for Christmas in Norway, explaining that they would fly to Ingrid’s parents’ house, where they could enjoy snow, sledging, and maybe even build a snowman. At first, Mila had been intrigued, her eyes wide with excitement at the idea of snow. But as soon as Ingrid mentioned the cold, Mila’s face fell. 

“I don’t want to go to Norway,” Mila had said, pouting slightly. “I want to stay here with Bagheera. I don’t like the cold.”

Ingrid had tried to reassure her. “It’s going to be so much fun, sweetheart! You’ll get to play in the snow, and you’ll see your grandparents, and you’ll have lots of fun with them! And don’t worry—your grandparents will be so happy to see you.”

But Mila had shaken her head. “I want to stay here with Bagheera,” she repeated stubbornly. 

“I know, baby,” Ingrid had said, smiling softly. “Bagheera will be fine. We’re just going on a little adventure, and soon you’ll see how fun snow can be!”

Despite Ingrid’s words, Mila wasn’t convinced. As the day of their flight approached, the little girl remained grumpy, unsure about the whole idea. It didn’t help that they couldn’t bring Bagheera with them. Ingrid and Mapi had explained that Bagheera would stay with her grandparents in Zaragoza, but Mila’s concern about her beloved cat was palpable. 

And so, two days later, they found themselves on a flight to Norway. Mila had her arms crossed over her chest, a pout firmly in place. She looked like a tiny replica of Mapi—her fiery look, the pout, and even the way she folded her arms. Mapi noticed it too and couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s definitely my daughter,” Mapi said with a grin. 

When they landed in Norway, the first thing Mila noticed was the cold. It was a sharp contrast to the warmth of Barcelona, and the snow-covered streets looked nothing like the sun-drenched beaches Mila was used to. Ingrid, wrapped in a thick coat and scarf, kept a watchful eye on her daughter as they walked to the taxi. Mila, bundled up in layers, had a look of complete disbelief on her face as she tugged at her scarf. 

Mapi, standing beside her, pouted just as dramatically, mirroring Mila’s discomfort. Ingrid laughed, snapping a picture of the two of them in their matching winter gear. She sent the photo to the Barcelona team chat with a note: “Twins in the cold. Not amused.”

When they arrived at Ingrid’s parents’ house, there was a warmth that instantly made Mila feel better. Ingrid’s parents were ecstatic to see their daughter and granddaughter, and Mila quickly forgot her grumpiness when she was swept into the arms of her grandparents. She loved seeing how tall they were, and the best part of any visit was always when her grandad, Orjan, would lift her onto his shoulders. Mila loved that feeling of being the tallest person in the room, and she couldn’t stop giggling whenever her grandpa would spin around, pretending she was the queen of the world.

But despite her grandparents’ excitement, Mila was still a little homesick. The snow was beautiful, but it wasn’t Barcelona, and she missed her familiar routines. Ingrid could see her daughter struggling with the change, but she wasn’t worried. She knew that soon, Mila would find her rhythm. 

Later, they went ice-skating at a nearby rink. To everyone’s surprise, Mila was a natural. After a few wobbly attempts and some help from Ingrid, she was skating around the rink like she had been doing it for years. Mapi, on the other hand, was struggling to stay upright, clinging to the edge of the rink and laughing every time she fell. Mila skated circles around her, calling, “Come on, Mami! I can do it. You can do it too!”

And then, something changed. The first time they went sledging down the hills, Mila’s mood shifted. The excitement of zooming down the snow-covered slopes with Mapi, who was laughing just as much as she was, was too much to resist. Mila’s giggles filled the air, and soon she was asking to go again, eager for the next run.

---

Everyone laughed as Mapi took yet another tumble. Ingrid, offering a hand to her wife, couldn’t resist teasing her. “Looks like we’ve got a little Norwegian ice princess on our hands,” she said with a grin.

Christmas Eve came, and the family gathered around the beautifully decorated tree in Ingrid’s parents’ home. The sight of all the presents underneath it made Mila’s eyes widen in wonder. She was amazed at how many gifts there were, and most of them had her name on them. Her grandparents even gave her a surprise gift—her very own pair of ice skates. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged a look of pride. It was clear their little girl had won over Norway, even if it took her a little while to adjust.

Mila beamed. “I’m going to be the best skater in Barcelona! Watch out!” she announced proudly, already planning how she would show off her new skills to her friends back home.

---

That evening, as they sat by the fire, enjoying the warmth and the comfort of family, Ingrid leaned back, watching Mila talk animatedly about her new ice-skating skills. “She’s definitely more Spanish than Norwegian,” Ingrid murmured with a smile.

“She’s a perfect mix of both of us,” Mapi said, her heart swelling with pride. 

And as they boarded the plane back to Barcelona, Mila surprised them by asking, “When are we going back to Norway again? I want to build another snowman!” 

Ingrid and Mapi exchanged a glance, smiling. Maybe their little Barcelona girl was more Norwegian than they thought.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

♧ Xmas Times ♧ Various AIB!Boys x GN!Reader

AU: No-Borderlands - Established Relationships with all of them - SFW - Banda is still red flag - grammar mistakes -

ARISU

Soft boy! He loves this month. Not only because he gets an excuse to buy new lights and re decorate him room and gaming room. He actually decorates the whole aparment.

"Its never too early too set up the tree" Him probably

If you two are living together its going to be a hell of a month in the good way. Arisu LOVES IT. He is going to look out for different activities around the city and take you there. Try the new sweets and even go and buy matching sweaters and socks.

Loves to cuddle with you on the sofa while drinking hot cocoa, corny films ? Yes. Hell yes. He is all up for them even if he knows the ending.

MISTOLETE KISS!! Uses any chance to get you both under one and kiss you. Depends on his mood where he is going to kiss you but nose and lips are his firsts options.

CHISHIYA

This Man never cared over festivities and would actually to and take the xmas turn at the hospital to keep himself away from it.

Quiet insensitive about it and sees it most like a way of corporations to get money.

Plus he never got to experience a good xmas with his family..

Its up to you to take on the decorations and xmas mood!! He Will let you do whatever you want with the aparment as long as it does not touches his home office.

If you two prefer to mostly ignore it then its just another month. But Chishiya Will take xmas off and stay with you.

Gets you a big suprise present and when you do the same for him, he tries his best just how happy he is.

NIRAGI

Maybe you never imagine this, but he loves this month. During his childhood him and his mother would have the best of times setting up the tree and getting decorations, making cookies and singing xmas songs.

So yes, he expects quiet the same now that he is with you.

Like Arisu, he uses this time to buy more lights, the house looks like a dance place during night. Because he cant settle down for one color.

Will make you a cute interactive game that ends with "Happy Xmas, I love you"

Now wont admit it, but please cuddle him. Specially on cold mornings, he loves the natural heat more than having the califaction going on.

Kisses your head all the time and gets you a scarf tras too big For you. He thinks you look adorable.

TATTA

Another soft boy who has no idea what to do. If he is honest he cant really recall a special memory of xmas so he is lost and doing the standar things.

Totally checks the internet to see whats he is supposed to do.

Gets you tons of presents (five at least) because he feels like he is not at home a lot since his work gets more demanding during this month.

Get him a toy car with a controlled and he is the happyest guy alive.

Does not waste a chance on kissing you. Does not care if its on public or at home. Because to him its not only xmas but love season as well!!

BANDA SUNATO

He likes it because red blood goes amazing with white snow.

Really. The only time he leaves the city and goes to the countryside to hunt down peopel in the woods.

Does not care much for presents or decorations.

Just get him a New knife and he is happy, let him use it on you and its even better.

KARUBE

Man he is burned out with his bar. This month is demanding for him. Gets home late and tired. If you caress his hair and tell him sweet nothings he becomes a puppy.

Asks you to help him out decorating the bar (and Arisu) it ends looking amazing and then you make a personal competition to make your aparment with him look even better.

Is amazed how you managed to over due yourself.

Get him hawaii shirts please. Even if its no the time for it. He loves them and hates snow clothes.

The most kisser one.

You bet he adds mistelotes at home and at the bar. And is so ready to jump over you at any moment.

AGUNI

Asks you to help him decorate his flower shop but not too much cause he is worried the flowers Will suffer.

Sings xmas songs softly when he thinks you are not near (you are, you recorder him).

The xmas tree looks healthy and Aguni its so proud of how it looks he cant stop taking pictures of it.

Gets all flustered when you give him presents during the month. And wonders how did you get such a comfortable sweater for him ? Since he is all muscles?

Well he doubles it getting you a big Teddy bear.

[eepwtf]

PUNISHABLE—soldier boy x catholic boy part 2

find part one here ⤷ part numero uno

warnings; religious guilt and themes, power dynamics, somnophilia, degradation and humiliation kink, jerking off to underwear (i think my boy has a fetish for that, ben lock your underwear drawer), handjobs, jerking each other off, blowjobs, (not lasting even a minute because first time blowjob, ben being a little shit about it) wc: 5.5k

“you’re such a fucking perv,” benjamin continued, his tone light, almost conversational, as though discussing the weather. “jerking off into my underwear like some desperate little bitch. did you think i wouldn’t notice?” he pressed harder, his hand gripping you through the fabric, and you couldn’t hold back the quiet whimper that escaped your lips.

“liar,” he sing-songs, his tone dripping with regalement. “you act like such a good little saint, all those prayers, all that piety—s’just a cover for the filthy little pervert hiding underneath.”

after that night, you couldn’t look at benjamin the same way. the memory of his hands on you, his voice low and coaxing, lingered like a brand burned into your skin. it churned in your gut, twisting and gnawing until it felt like your insides were corroding, eaten away by the acid of shame. each time you saw him—his easy smirk, the casual way he draped himself over the furniture, the faint smell of him that hung in the air—you felt your stomach turn, the shame rising thick and bitter in your throat.

you couldn’t stay in the room. the air felt too close, too full of him, his presence pressing against you like a weight you couldn’t bear. so you fled. the small catholic temple on campus became your refuge, though it offered no comfort. it was little more than a cramped chapel tucked into an old building, the stained glass faded and chipped, the pews scarred with years of scratches and carvings. the faint smell of candle wax and incense clung to the air, mingling with the scent of mildew from the damp stone walls. the temple became a tomb, and you were the corpse, rotting from the inside out.

you spent hours there, more time than you did in class or the dorm. you’d sit in the shadow of the crucifix, its weathered wood warped and splintering, staring up at the lifeless eyes of Christ as if begging him to look back. the silence was oppressive, heavy and suffocating, but it felt right—like the weight of your sin, tangible and inescapable. you sat for hours in the shadow of his body, staring at the weathered wood, splintering and warped, as if waiting for him to come alive and condemn you. his hands were outstretched, pierced and bleeding, his face frozen in agony. you imagined he looked at you with that same pain, that same accusation, and it broke something inside you.

you tried to pray, the rosary beads dug into your palms, leaving angry red marks that faded too quickly to feel like real penance. you clutched them tighter, grinding the crucifix into your skin until it almost bled, muttering the Act of Contrition until the words blurred together, but the guilt remained, festering like an open wound.

o my God, i am heartily sorry for having offended Thee... the words came out cracked and hollow, meaningless, swallowed up by the suffocating silence of the chapel. …because i dread the loss of heaven, and the pains of hell... but it was too late for heaven. ...but most of all because they offend Thee, my God...

the guilt felt like chains around your chest, tightening with every syllable, dragging you down into an abyss you could never climb out of. …who art all good and deserving of all my love. You didn’t deserve his love. you didn’t deserve anything.

you took to kneeling on the cold stone floor, refusing the comfort of the pews. the sharp bite of the stone against your knees felt like punishment, the only tangible way to feel the weight of your sins. sometimes you stayed there until your legs went numb, until the pain turned into a dull ache and then into nothingness. other times, you pressed your forehead to the ground, curling into yourself like a body at a wake, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

your whispered prayers became desperate, broken things, half-choked with sobs you tried to silence. “i’m sorry,” you’d mutter, over and over, your voice cracking. “God, i’m so sorry. please, forgive me.” but no forgiveness came. only silence.

at night, you dreamt of fire. the memory of benjamin played on an endless loop in your mind: his hands gripping you, his voice low and coaxing, the heat of his breath against your skin. it burned you from the inside out, an inferno you couldn’t escape. when you closed your eyes, you could still see the smirk on his face, the way his gaze had locked onto yours in the mirror. “such a pretty mess.” the words echoed in your skull, a taunt, a curse, a brand seared into your very soul. you felt it sinking into your flesh, carving itself into your bones. you’d wake up gasping, clawing at your skin, trying to scrape it away. but it was always there, a stain you couldn’t wash off.

you thought about confession, about spilling your sins to the priest behind the screen. but the idea of speaking the truth aloud, of hearing it in your own voice, made your stomach churn. The words “i touched myself, i wanted him, i wanted it” felt too filthy to utter, even in the privacy of the confessional. so you stayed silent.

the darkness festered inside you, growing like a sickness. you began to wonder if this was your punishment—not the fires of hell, but this slow, quiet decay. a part of you hoped it was, because it meant God was still watching, still listening, even if only to damn you.

and yet, no matter how much you prayed, no matter how deeply you knelt, the memory of benjamin lingered. his touch, his voice, his scent—they wrapped around you like chains, dragging you down. you were no longer yourself. you were a sinner, a vessel for guilt and shame, rotting in the shadow of the cross.

each day bled into the next, the hours merging into a haze of suffocating monotony. time slipped through your fingers like sand, gritty and coarse, leaving only the weight of your sins behind. the chapel became your entire world, a dim, crumbling sanctuary where you sought absolution and found only torment. you avoided your dorm, your classes, even the dining hall—anywhere benjamin might be. the thought of facing him, of seeing his smirk twist into something cruel or indifferent, made your chest seize.

still, he haunted you.

he was in every shadow, every flicker of light that danced on the stone walls. his voice lingered in the back of your mind, a low, mocking drawl that you couldn’t silence no matter how many Hail Marys you whispered. and the worst part? it wasn’t just shame you felt.

in the deepest recesses of your mind, where the guilt couldn’t reach, a darker truth festered. you wanted him. you still wanted him. the memory of his hands on you, the sound of his breath in your ear, the warmth of his body pressed close—it didn’t just torment you; it consumed you. late at night, you found yourself replaying it all in your mind, over and over. your body betrayed you in the quiet, a burning need rising up that you couldn’t suppress no matter how tightly you clutched the rosary, no matter how fervently you prayed for absolution.

the shame was unbearable, searing hot and cloyingly thick, but it wasn’t enough to stop the betrayal of your own body. your cock ached, straining against the fabric of your sweatpants, a constant reminder of your weakness. you rolled onto your side in your bed, clenching your fists, digging your nails into your palms until they left crescent-shaped marks. you whispered prayers under your breath, begging for the ache to subside, for your body to stop betraying you. but it didn’t.

it never did.

and then there was benjamin, sleeping across the room. the rise and fall of his chest, slow and steady, filled the small space with a rhythmic calm that only made your torment worse. the soft sighs he gave in his sleep, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed—it was maddening. you hated him for being so effortlessly beautiful, for existing in a way that made it impossible for you to look away.

your hand found its way to your cock before you could stop it, the need too overwhelming to resist. you pressed your face into the pillow, biting down hard to stifle the shameful sounds threatening to spill from your throat. your other hand clutched the rosary still tangled around your wrist, the beads biting into your skin as you stroked yourself, slow and deliberate, trying to stay quiet.

your eyes stayed fixed on him, on the faint glow of moonlight that traced the curve of his jaw, the soft shadows that played across his face. each breath he took seemed louder than the last, each shift of his body under the covers like a whisper meant only for you.

it was wrong. it was so fucking wrong. but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t stop. the crucifix above your bed seemed to watch, its lifeless eyes boring into you as if condemning every shudder, every gasp, every sinful thought. you imagined Christ’s agony, his blood dripping from the crown of thorns, his body nailed to the cross for your sins—and here you were, defiling his sacrifice with every stroke, every filthy thought. it should have stopped you. it should have made you fall to your knees in repentance. but instead, it only made the guilt more unbearable, the shame more suffocating, until the pressure inside you broke. your lips moved in silent prayer even as your strokes quickened, the contradiction tearing you apart. "forgive me, Father," you whispered, your voice choked and broken. but even as you begged for absolution, your body craved release.

your gaze flicked to benjamin. he had shifted in his sleep, one arm flung above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin. the sight made your mouth go dry, your hips bucking into your fist as a low, shuddering moan escaped you. you imagined his hand replacing yours, his voice a low, mocking drawl coaxing you to give in. the thought alone sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your breaths coming faster, more desperate. “ben,” you whispered, the name slipping past your lips before you could stop it. the sound felt sacrilegious, an invocation of something dark and forbidden.

the beads of the rosary dug deeper into your wrist, the pain grounding you even as your strokes grew frantic. pre-cum slicked your fingers, the wet sound obscene in the silence. the shame was suffocating, a thick, rancid weight that settled in your chest, but you couldn’t stop. your gaze stayed fixed on him, on the soft curve of his jaw, the soft fluttering of his lashes. the ache inside you swelled, sharp and consuming, until it was too much to bear. your body convulsed, thick spurts of cum spilling over your hand, your hips jerking against the mattress as you bit down hard on your pillow to muffle your cries.

the shame was instant and suffocating, crashing down on you like a wave. you froze, your body trembling as the reality of what you’d done settled over you like a shroud. benjamin stirred, a soft murmur escaping his lips as he shifted again, his face relaxing back into the peaceful stillness of sleep. you watched him, your heart pounding in your chest, and the weight of your sin crushed you.

you wiped your hand on the sheets, bile rising in your throat as the reality of what you’d done sank in. you whispered a broken prayer, the words cracking in your throat, and vowed never to give in again. but deep down, you knew the truth. you would.

the shame should have stopped you. it should have dragged you to your knees, should have compelled you to throw open the chapel doors and confess everything—every sinful thought, every wretched desire, every stroke of your hand that mocked the sanctity of your faith. and yet it didn’t.

the guilt had only festered, growing into something dark and rotten that you couldn’t contain. and now, hidden beneath your blankets in the suffocating quiet of your dorm, it had led you to this. benjamin’s underwear was clutched in your trembling hand. you’d stolen it—there was no other word for it—plucked it from his laundry basket earlier that day when the dorm was empty, your chest pounding with adrenaline and revulsion. you had told yourself you wouldn’t do anything, that you just wanted to hold it, to feel the weight of him, the scent of him.

but now, here you were, your cock throbbing in your palm, slick with pre-cum as you wrapped the soft fabric around yourself. it was warm from your grip, but not nearly as warm as you imagined it would be if benjamin were still wearing it. the thought sent a shiver through you, your hand tightening as you began to stroke yourself again, this time slower, more deliberate. the waistband of the underwear brushed against the sensitive head of your cock, and you bit down on your lip to stifle a groan.

in your mind, benjamin wasn’t asleep in his bed across the room. he was here, standing over you, wearing nothing but the underwear now wrapped around your cock. you imagined the way it would cling to him, the fabric stretched taut over his hips, his cock outlined against it. you imagined the heat of him, the weight of him pressing against your palm as you slid your hand beneath the waistband, your fingers brushing against his skin.

you imagined him smirking down at you, his voice low and mocking. "you couldn’t help yourself, could you?" he’d say, his tone dripping with condescension. "you’re so fucking desperate for me." your hips bucked at the thought, the motion jerking the fabric tighter around your cock. the shame clawed at you, hot and suffocating, but it only made the pleasure more acute, more overwhelming.

you closed your eyes, the image of benjamin vivid behind your eyelids. you imagined his cock hard against the fabric, slick with his own pre-cum, mixing with yours. you imagined the way he’d groan, low and guttural, as your cum spilled over the fabric, soaking it, staining it. your hand moved faster, the friction of the fabric almost too much, almost unbearable. the scent of him clung to your skin, faint but intoxicating, filling your lungs with every breath. it was wrong—God, it was so wrong—but you couldn’t stop.

"ah—fuck, ben," you whispered again, the word slipping out unbidden, dripping with need and desperation. the sound of his name on your lips sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as your cum spilled over the stolen underwear, thick and hot and endless. for a moment, you couldn’t move. the shame was immediate, cold and biting, sinking into your chest like a blade. the crucifix on the wall seemed to loom closer, its lifeless eyes staring down at you in silent condemnation.

you looked at the mess in your hand, at the fabric now stained with your sin, and bile rose in your throat. you felt filthy, wretched, unworthy of the air you breathed. but even as the shame suffocated you, even as the bile threatened to spill, a darker thought twisted its way into your mind. you imagined slipping the underwear back into benjamin’s laundry basket, unwashed, unclean. you imagined him putting it on, feeling the dampness against his skin, not knowing—never knowing—that it wasn’t his sweat, but yours.

the morning light filtered through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the room. you pretended to sleep, curled beneath your blanket as benjamin stirred in the bed across from you. your body felt heavy with the lingering weight of guilt, your stomach churning as the events of the night before replayed in vivid, shameful detail.

you could hear him moving around—footsteps padding softly across the room, the faint rustle of his laundry basket as he dug through it. your pulse quickened, a sick sort of dread rising in your chest as you realized what he was doing. you squeezed your eyes shut, your breathing shallow and uneven, your entire body tensed as you waited for the inevitable moment when he would find it. the underwear, his underwear. covered in your mess.

the sound of fabric being shifted stopped abruptly, and for a moment, there was silence. your heart pounded in your ears, so loud you were sure he could hear it, but you didn’t dare move. “fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, and your stomach twisted into knots.

you risked the smallest glance, peeking through your lashes just in time to see him holding the underwear up, his brow furrowed as he inspected the faint, crusted stains on the fabric. your breath hitched, panic clawing at your throat. he knows, you thought, the words ringing like a death knell in your mind. but then he shrugged, tossing the underwear onto his bed. “guess it’s just detergent or something,” he said to himself, his voice casual, unconcerned.

relief flooded through you, hot and dizzying, but it was short-lived. because then, to your absolute horror, he began to undress. you turned your face back into the pillow, your entire body trembling as you tried to feign sleep. but no amount of self-control could stop the way your breath quickened, the way your cock stirred traitorously beneath the blanket as you listened to the soft rustle of his shirt being pulled over his head, the faint thud of his sweats hitting the floor.

and then, the sound of him slipping on the underwear.

you couldn’t see him, but you didn’t need to. the image was burned into your mind: benjamin, his toned body half-dressed, the stolen underwear hugging his hips, clinging to him. you imagined the fabric pressing against his cock, damp and sticky with your dried release. “shit,” he muttered suddenly, a note of irritation in his voice.

and then, benjamin turned. you quickly shut your eyes, feigning sleep as your heart hammered in your chest. the sound of his footsteps grew louder, closer, until they stopped right beside your bed. “you awake, perv?” his voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

you didn’t move, didn’t so much as twitch, praying he’d lose interest and go away. but instead, benjamin chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through the quiet room like a taunt. “yeah, that’s what i thought.” you felt the blanket shift, a slight tug as he pulled it down just enough to reveal your growing bulge. the cool air hit you, making your cock twitch beneath the thin fabric of your sweats, and you cursed yourself silently. “look at this,” benjamin murmured, his tone dripping with amusement. his palm pressed harder, rubbing against you through the fabric. you bit down on the inside of your cheek, struggling to suppress the gasp threatening to escape.

“can’t even keep it down in your sleep,” he said, palming you through the fabric. “what were you dreaming about, huh? was it me?” you wanted to die. you wanted to disappear, to sink into the mattress and never resurface. your hips shifted involuntarily, just slightly, into his touch. it was instinct, pure and pathetic, and you hated yourself for it. and oh, benjamin didn’t miss it. “oh, you like that, don’t you?” his fingers curled around the outline of your cock, stroking slowly, teasingly, as if to prove his point. the friction of your sweats and the heat of his hand made your entire body tense, a shudder running down your spine.

“bet you’d like it even more if i used my mouth,” he mused, his voice laced with cruel amusement. “or maybe my hand. would that make you feel better, freak?” your breaths came faster, shallow and uneven, as his hand moved with deliberate, maddening slowness. you could feel the heat of his palm, the friction of your sweats against your sensitive skin, and it was driving you insane. “you’re such a fucking perv,” benjamin continued, his tone light, almost conversational, as though discussing the weather. “jerking off into my underwear like some desperate little bitch. did you think i wouldn’t notice?” he pressed harder, his hand gripping you through the fabric, and you couldn’t hold back the quiet whimper that escaped your lips.

benjamin froze, his smirk audible even before you opened your eyes. “oh,” he said, dragging the word out, his voice dripping with mockery. “so you are awake.” you couldn’t help it; your eyes cracked open, just barely, and you met his gaze. his green eyes were bright with amusement, his smirk sharp and predatory. “figures,” he said, his voice soft and cutting. “couldn’t even keep up the act, could you?” before you could think of a response—or even move—benjamin’s hand moved again, his strokes deliberate, slow enough to make you squirm. you hated him, hated yourself, hated the unbearable heat pooling low in your stomach, but most of all, you hated that you didn’t want him to stop.

and then, to your shock and mounting arousal, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your sweats, his touch hot and unforgiving against your skin. benjamin’s smirk only widened as his fingers curled around your bare cock, stroking with a firm, teasing grip that made your breath hitch. he watched your face, his green eyes sharp with predatory amusement as he took in every twitch of your features, every shudder of your chest. “look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and taunting. “so fucking hard for me. bet you’ve been dreaming about this for weeks, haven’t you? jerking off into my underwear, imagining my mouth on your cock.”

the words sent a fresh wave of shame crashing over you, burning hot and stifling in your chest. the guilt churned, twisting your stomach into knots even as your hips bucked into his hand, completely betraying you. you felt trapped between the two warring parts of yourself—the part that wanted to resist, to run, and the part that wanted nothing more than to give in, to let him ruin you completely. “you know what your problem is?” ben said, his grip tightening just enough to make your vision blur. “you’ve been holding back, keeping all that tension bottled up. you’re so fucking repressed it’s almost sad.”

your throat tightened at the accusation, the words hitting a nerve you didn’t even realize was raw. he wasn’t wrong. every day spent in the chapel, every whispered prayer for forgiveness, every shame-fueled confession—it had all built into this. the weight of your own guilt loomed heavy over you, wrapping around your chest like a vice even as benjamin’s touch ignited a fire deep in your core. “you probably think this is a sin, don’t you?” he whispered, leaning in close enough that his breath was hot against your ear. “some terrible, shameful thing. but you don’t look very sorry to me.”

his voice was like a devil on your shoulder, coaxing you further into the abyss. your lips parted, a faint, broken sound escaping as his hand moved faster, slick with precum now, the obscene sounds of his strokes filling the air. “you’re not gonna pray your way out of this one, baby,” benjamin murmured, his tone mockingly sweet. “but don’t worry—i’ll take care of you. all you have to do is let me.” before you could process what was happening, he dropped to his knees, his smirk softening into something almost reverent as he looked up at you. the sight was enough to steal your breath—benjamin, kneeling between your legs, his hands on your thighs as he tugged your sweats down just enough to free your cock completely.

“fuck,” he muttered, his eyes darkening as he took you in. “look at you. so hard, so desperate. you’re fucking dripping, sweetheart.” you wanted to deny it, to shrink away from his words, but the evidence was undeniable. precum beaded at the tip, glistening in the soft morning light. benjamin’s thumb swiped over it, smearing it down the length of your cock, and you couldn’t hold back the broken sound that escaped your throat. he gripped your cock at the base, his hand firm and unyielding as he guided it toward his lips.

the first touch of his mouth was almost too much. his tongue flicked out, teasing the tip, before he took you in slowly, inch by maddening inch. the heat of his mouth was overwhelming, soft and wet and perfect, and your hands clenched the sheets in a futile attempt to ground yourself. “ben—” you choked out, your voice cracking as your head fell back against the pillow.

he hummed around you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. his eyes flicked up to meet yours, sharp and teasing, as he took you deeper, his throat constricting around you in a way that made your vision blur. “relax,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. his lips were slick and red, glistening with saliva and precum. “let me take care of you, sweetheart. just let go.”

you wanted to. God, you wanted to. guilt clawed at your chest, sharp and suffocating, as your mind flickered with memories of whispered sermons and fire-and-brimstone warnings. this was wrong. every touch, every flick of his tongue, every obscene sound he made was a nail in the coffin of your soul. but benjamin’s mouth was so hot, so wet, and his hands gripped your hips with a strength that kept you grounded, kept you present. “you’re thinking too much,” benjamin said, his voice low and commanding. “stop fighting it. just let me make you feel good.”

he didn’t give you a chance to argue, his mouth enveloping you again with a renewed determination. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he worked you over, his pace slow and deliberate, savoring every moment. you barely lasted a minute. the pressure built too quickly, the heat coiling tight in your stomach and shooting down your spine. your breaths came faster, shallow and desperate, and you tried to warn him, tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you.

“don’t you dare,” he murmured, his voice muffled around you. “i want it. cum for me.” the command was your undoing. with a choked cry, you shattered, your hips jerking as you spilled into his mouth. stars burst behind your eyes, your entire body trembling as the release hit you like a tidal wave. benjamin didn’t pull back, didn’t flinch. he took everything you gave him, his throat working to swallow it down, his hands steady on your thighs as he held you through the aftershocks.

when he finally pulled away, his lips were swollen, his smirk impossibly smug as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “damn,” he said, his tone full of mockery and amusement. “came so fast i barely got started. guess all that religious repression really does a number on you, huh?” you buried your face in your hands, your cheeks burning as fresh waves of shame crashed over you. But benjamin wasn’t done.

benjamin didn’t hesitate, tugging his sweats down in one smooth motion. the sight hit you like a punch to the gut. he was hard—thick, flushed, and straining against the fabric of the underwear you’d stolen just last night. your stomach churned when you noticed the faint, crusted stain near the waistband, the humiliating evidence of your lack of control.

“unbelievable,” benjamin said, his lips curling in disgusted amusement as he ran a hand over the bulge. “you actually came in my underwear.” he let out a short, derisive laugh, holding the elastic band out so you could see the stain more clearly. “for this?” He shook his head, the smirk tugging at his lips making your stomach flip. heat rose to your face, shame and arousal twisting together into a nauseating cocktail. you tried to look away, but your body betrayed you again, your cock twitching faintly despite the raw, overstimulated ache still pulsing through you.

“oh, no,” ben said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low timbre. “don’t you dare act embarrassed now. not after everything.” His green eyes locked onto yours, sharp and unyielding. “you’re into this, aren’t you?” you shook your head weakly, your voice caught in your throat, but benjamin wasn’t buying it. “liar,” he sing-songs, his tone dripping with regalement. “you act like such a good little saint, all those prayers, all that piety—s’just a cover for the filthy little pervert hiding underneath.” before you could muster a response, Benjamin grabbed your sweats and yanked them the rest of the way down, leaving you completely bare beneath him. his gaze swept over you, predatory and hungry, and your stomach flipped at the way his lips curled into a smirk. “you’re hard again,” he pointed out, his voice thick with amusement. “didn’t even give yourself a minute to recover, huh? you really are desperate.”

benjamin stepped back just enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband of the said stolen (and stained) underwear, dragging them down his legs with an exaggerated slowness that had your pulse hammering in your ears. when his cock sprang free, flushed and leaking, your breath caught. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered without thinking, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“close,” benjamin quipped, his grin widening into something wicked. “but i don’t think He’s gonna save you now.” he wrapped a hand around himself, his thumb swiping over the head to gather the bead of precum there. his gaze flicked to you, his smirk deepening when he saw the way your eyes lingered.

“guess i can’t blame you for wanting me so bad,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “look at what you’ve done to me.” he gestured vaguely to his cock, his hand stroking slowly, deliberately, as if to taunt you further. the heat of his body was overwhelming as he climbed onto the bed, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your thighs. the heat of his body was overwhelming, his cock hovering just above yours, so close you could feel the faint pulse of it. the sight of him straddling you, his lips twisted into that infuriating smirk, was enough to make your breath hitch.

“i should make you clean up your mess,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, sending a shiver down your spine. “wouldn’t that be fair?” you swallowed hard, unable to respond. your mouth was dry, your mind spinning, every nerve in your body alight with tension. “but,” he continued, leaning down until his face was only inches from yours, “i think i’ve got a better idea.”

before you could process what was happening, benjamin reached down, his hand wrapping around your cock again. his grip was firm and confident, his thumb brushing over the sensitive head in a way that made your hips jerk involuntarily. then, to your absolute shock, he shifted, pressing his cock against yours. the heat of him, the weight of him—thick and pulsing beside you—sent a bolt of arousal shooting through you so intense it made your vision blur. benjamin hummed, clearly enjoying your reaction, as he wrapped his hand around both of you, his fingers curling tightly to hold you together.

“fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and strained as he began to move. his hand stroked the length of both of you in a slow, maddening rhythm, the friction electric. the slick mix of precum made the slide effortless, each stroke sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

your head fell back against the pillow, a choked sound escaping your throat as the pleasure built quickly, overwhelming you. benjamin’s gaze stayed locked on your face, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he took in every twitch of your features, every broken gasp that slipped past your lips. “look at you,” he murmured, his tone thick with mockery. “so fucking desperate. you’re not even trying to hold back, are you? just letting me ruin you completely.

you tried to shake your head, to deny it, but the words caught in your throat, tangled up in a mess of shame and arousal. your hips bucked helplessly into his hand, chasing the friction despite the raw ache of overstimulation. “s’not true,” you choked out, your voice weak and trembling.

ben laughed, low and derisive. “no? then why are you fucking into my hand like a goddamn slut?” his words cut deep, but the pleasure was overwhelming, drowning out everything else. the tension coiled tight in your stomach, building faster than you could control. benjamin’s grip tightened, his strokes growing firmer, rougher, as if he could sense how close you were. “pathetic,” benjamin said, his voice a low, teasing growl. “you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you? can feel it—feel how close you are.” he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “do it. make a fucking mess. show me how much you need this.”

his words pushed you over the edge. with a low groan, your body tensed, your release hitting you like a tidal wave. hot, sticky ropes spilled across your stomach and benjamin’s hand, the sensation so intense it left you trembling beneath him.

but he didn’t stop, his hand stroking both of you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last ounce of your pleasure. his own breathing grew heavier, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as his hips jerked forward. a moment later, he came, his cum mixing with yours in a sticky mess across your stomach and his hand.

for a long moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breathing. benjamin sat back slightly, his chest heaving as he looked down at the mess between you. “well,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “guess you weren’t the only one who couldn’t hold back.” you groaned, your cheeks burning as you turned your face away, but benjamin only laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to your jaw. “don’t worry,” he murmured. “i think it’s cute.”

[onlyangelicc]

those eyes ~ Nicholas Alexander Chavez

{ warnings ; semi-public intimacy , pda not much else i dont think!

summary ; slightly smutty , you drive him crazy and things get heated on the drive back to the hotel }

as you walked out of the door into the crowded area of the into the upscale section of nyc cameras were flashing, people yelling at you and nicholas. you quickly became shaky, you held nicholas's arm tight, not being used to the new environment. you held onto him for some sort of comfort

he opened the door and watched you find your seat in the large black suv, him following. his hand quickly finding its place on your fabric covered thigh once seated. you placed your hand on top of his, and looked over as the door to the car shut. the flashes and screams subsided.

after the car started to pull away, you un-tensed and let out a sigh. "sorry baby," he said rubbing his thumb against your thigh, squeezing gently. you looked over at him, laying your head on his shoulder. "its okay, i like being here for these big moments." you replied sweetly.

after all it was the season premiere of Grotesquerie, it was, in-fact a pretty big moment. just from the press tours, ads, and trailers from the show the people knew it was going to be a good one. you loved it, you were so proud. and being here with him during this was important to you, and him.

he smiled, "i know but I understand how stressed you get. the hair and makeup trailer is way less crowded and you dont have to do many outings like these; if any." he responded. his caring words warm your heart, "i know, thank you for caring. i love you nick." you squeezed his arm softly.

"on a good note, your makeup and hair skills really paid off. you look fucking amazing, my pretty lady." he purred, although youve been together for almost 3 years, these comments still gave you butterflies. Along with adding a blush on your cheeks to the blush that was already there.

he saw the effect his comment had on you and giggled. "youre so cute." he said taking your face in his hand, rubbing his thumb against it and pulling you into a kiss. you blushed again as you two kissed.

he smiled and kissed your neck softly, you held back a whine. And felt warmth between your lips as he held your neck in his large hand, kissing it more. "nicholas," you protested, truthfully, not wanting to. And he knew that.

"hmm?" he hummed again your neck, pulling away from your neck, rubbing his thumb against it. "knock that off." you replied sternly, through a small grin. he laughed, and shrugged, "fine.." smirking at you.

for the rest of the drive back to your hotel he hummed along to the songs the driver was playing on the radio while rubbing your thigh with his hands. glancing at you every so often, admiring your frame in the tight fitting red dress.

good god, his hands were the death of you. his hands moved with such little thought but it literally drove you insane. you loved the size of them, the veins, the roughness but also softness of them. just everything. you were aching to feel them in ways you have before.

after a few minutes of practically drooling over his hands you arrived at the hotel. the driver stepped out of the car and opened the door for you and nicholas. nick climbed out first, then helped you out of the car. his hand placed on your ass to walk into the hotel.

the two of you walked through the hotel lobby to find your way to the elevator. nicholas pressed the button making it light up orange, and the arrow pointing up above the elevator. the elevator dinged and you stepped in, nicholas's hand guiding you on your lower back. he looked at you as the doors closed.

his eyes, thats all. they were always so expressive. wether he was sad, angry, happy, stressed, annoyed, tired, or whatever the case was. that was one thing you loved about him. you always knew how he was feeling even if he didnt want to tell you. you then noticed how big his bulge was, wow.

after looking at you for a second, he pressed you again the wall and leaned down to kiss your neck. you laughed with his sudden forwardness, as if you weren't a little riled up as well. you moaned as he attacked your neck. "mm, are those pants a little tight?" you say teasingly, rubbing over it. "shut the fuck up." he says directly your face to his, kissing you softly.

then your time was over, the two of you snapped out of it as soon as the doors opened to your floor. luckily there was no one there, but, you still needed to hold it out until you got to the room.

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tags

@jschlattisfuckinghot