#Slide Hampton

[jazzdailyblog]

The Slide Hampton Story: A Trombonist Extraordinaire

Introduction: Slide Hampton, born Locksley Wellington Hampton ninety-two years ago today on April 21, 1932, in Jeannette, Pennsylvania, is a name synonymous with excellence in jazz. His remarkable career as a trombonist, composer, and arranger has left an indelible mark on the world of music. Often heralded as one of the greatest jazz trombonists of all time, Hampton’s contributions to the genre…

[cvpwindowdoor]

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[dear-shinji]

Loft-Style Living Room in Chicago Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary formal and loft-style medium tone wood floor living room remodel with beige walls, a standard fireplace, a concrete fireplace and no tv

[julianaspringer]

Chicago Contemporary Living Room Image of a medium-sized, contemporary living room with a wood floor, beige walls, a standard fireplace, a concrete fireplace, and no television.

[jazzdailyblog]

Curtis Fuller: Crafting Jazz Elegance

Introduction: In the illustrious tapestry of jazz, certain individuals stand as master weavers, contributing threads of innovation, skill, and a profound understanding of the genre’s nuances. Curtis Fuller, a luminary in the realm of jazz trombone, emerges as one such artist whose career has left an indelible mark. Born ninety-one years ago today on December 15, 1932, in Detroit, Michigan,…

[angelcent]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍 ・❥・ S. GOJO

“did you really have to do all this?”

“hm?” satoru hums absently, nipping along your chest, skin still slightly damp from your night swin. he’s half on top of you, his wide shoulders dwarfing your smaller frame as you lay back on the deck of the yacht. “do what, buttercup?”

“this—ah—,” you breathe, fingers entangling in his hair when he eagerly sucks at one of your breasts. his white locks are tinted purple from the neon lights in the pool. “this whole thing. the private jet, the house, this yacht. why?”

his private jet, his house in the hamptons, his yacht. this was an unplanned getaway, just on a whim when satoru felt like taking you away. he had a million and one things waiting for him at work, much more pressing matters than which bikini he wanted you in today (the baby blue one). an entire staff of people at the house and yacht for just two….

satoru smirks against your skin, fingers teasing along your barely covered pussy. the faint scent of chlorine and the sea clings to your soft skin and he greedily inhales like one of your gourmand fragrances. “why? cause i fucking can, that’s why. now lemme concentrate here.”

and as much as you want to snort a snide reply—take his ego down just a fucking notch, it dies on your tongue when a long finger slides your bikini aside and the cool night breeze kisses your slick cunt. satoru snickers at this, resisting the urge to coo and tease you for being as perverted as you claim he is. because while you were so adamant on not doing anything where the staff can walk in on, your pussy was dripping for him right now.

the entire crew on the yacht can come onto the deck and watch him fuck his girlfriend for all satoru cares. ramming his thick cock into your tight cunt as you unravel and moan like the slut you are—until you’re babbling and whining his name over and over and over.

they can watch him fill you up with his cum and hear you beg for more—becoming an alluring siren before their very eyes. maybe he wants others to see just why he’d drop everything just to have you under the stars.

[cvpwindowdoor]

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[jflemings]

— our 32

pairing: kyra cooney cross x aussie!reader

synopsis: there’s nothing you’d rather do then watch your 32

warnings: none

a/n: starting off wip week with some kyra ❤️

it was pure coincidence that you had gotten a job helping run the arsenal women’s social media the same time kyra made her move to the powerhouse club. it was even more of a coincidence that the two of you had actually lived only suburbs apart in melbourne yet had never met.

from the moment kyra met you, she was completely and utterly obsessed. your kind hearted nature and welcoming aura had her in a trance and she would find herself being more open to filming content for arsenal’s social media despite sometimes feeling awkward doing it.

it was safe to say that her cheeky ways had charmed you pretty quickly and before you knew it she was asking you to dinner and a movie. the two of you bonded over your shared interests and she asked about a million questions regarding what your life was like up until that point, having complete genuine interest in each and every answer.

now almost five months later you sit surrounded by a sea of red and white watching arsenal beat chelsea in the conti cup final. you’re sitting near the bench, you and your friends chanting loudly as kyra gets the ball at her feet.

“nothing i’d rather do than watch our 32, kyra cooney cross! oi, oi, oi!” you shout whilst clapping along with the crowd, your best friend’s arm wrapping around your shoulder “when she’s on the ball she’s fucking magical, kyra cooney cross, oi, oi, oi!”

kyra hooks her foot around the ball, swiveling past chelsea’s back line effortlessly before crossing it. the pass is clean and on target, finding the feet of another red shirt. cheers erupt from the stadium but quickly turn to moans from the gooner end when the ball doesn’t find the back of the net.

the game plays out a similar way until stina puts one past hannah hampton, ultimately winning the trophy for the gunners for the second year in a row. arsenal fans are in hysterics, jumping, cheering and shouting ecstatically. you are quick out of your seat and cupping your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice, your face quickly going red from the blood rushing to your face.

you quickly pull out your phone and make your way to the sideline to get some content of the team and staff celebrating. kyra quickly spots you and breaks out into a sprint, her arms thrown out and a wide grin present on her face. she throws her arms around you and lifts you off the ground laughing “i saw you cheering! i saw you saying my chant!”

you place your hands on her shoulders as she hoists you up further, crossing her arms under your bum “i pride myself on being the loudest for my thirty-two” you wink and smile at her, cupping her face “you played so well today baby”

“thank you for coming” she says softly as she places you down

“it’s my job to be here ky” you laugh “but i’d be here regardless”

looping an arm around your waist, she taps the badge on her shirt and begins to lean in, meeting you halfway to place a soft kiss on your lips. one hand falls from her face and finds itself on her collarbone, your fingertips curl just under the collar of her jersey “go get your medal star girl”

kyra smiles again and pulls you in for another kiss, subtly swiping her tongue along your bottom lip. her action makes you hyper aware of where you are and you’re quick to pull away, making your girlfriend pout as you push her in the direction of her team. her arm slides out from behind you and she kisses your cheek sloppily, running off with a cheeky grin.

“i love you” she yells, looking behind her and blowing you a kiss before she practically jumps on lessi, the two gunners laughing joyfully.

“whipped. so, so whipped” a voice speaks up from behind you. you turn to your left and see caitlin begin to walk past you with katie “soooooooo whipped” the australian drags out obnoxiously whilst pulling a face.

you swipe at her “leave me alone foord!”

[jazzdailyblog]

Steve Coleman: Harmonic Explorer and Visionary Composer in Jazz

Introduction: Steve Coleman is a legendary figure in avant-garde jazz, pushing the genre’s boundaries and reinventing its potential. Through his inventive works and complex harmonic studies, Coleman has established himself as a distinctive figure in the music industry. This blog post explores Steve Coleman’s life, legacy, and ground-breaking accomplishments. Unearthing New Harmonic…

[oneforthemunny]

dark shadows |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: the start of something new between you and eddie.

contains: 18+ minors dni. dom/sub themes, mentions to smut but nothing graphic. trauma bonding, shitty parents, drug and alcohol abuse, past abuse, mean-ish eddie and mean-ish reader??? kinda.

"Uh, do you want me to do it or..." You moved your head back, drool still pooling on the satin, black sheets beneath you. Eddie's inked skin glistening in a sheen of sweat in the low lights of his room. "Or can you move?"

"Just... Just hand it here." You reached your arm back for the cloth, thighs still trembling with every movement, waves of aftershock settling in with the familiar burn and uncomfortableness.

This was typical. You'd clean yourself up, sticky and sweaty, cleaning his release from you with the cool rag. Eddie would light a cigarette, tossing you a water bottle and a bottle of Ibuprofen for the pain.

It was routine to the two of you now. Finding comfort in the uncomfortable; in the unknown that was... whatever this was the two of you were doing.

Eddie sunk into the mattress next to you, pushing the paddle and the clamps off the sheets. You swallowed your pills before turning, opting to lay on your stomach next to him seeing as how your ass was throbbing from his earlier handiwork. Your thighs twitched at the thought, how angry he'd been at you for making out with Malcom in front of him, letting that "grunge fucking wannabe" stick his hand up your dress in front of everyone. Eddie had played it cool, not caused a scene, eyes only barely glancing at you from across the room, but you knew; you knew what you were in for.

"You want one?" Eddie asked, offering his pack of reds towards you.

You nodded gently, eyes drooping ever so slightly. "Thank you." You muttered when Eddie lit you yours, passing it to you.

"So you can be nice, huh?" Eddie grinned, teasing, still a dark edge to his tone. "When you wanna be?"

"Somethin' like that." You rolled your eyes, propping up on your forearms, cigarette between your lips. Normally, you'd tell him you just had manners, but he'd always reply with a snarky remark about your upbringing, your parents. So you stopped doing that.

Eddie just laughed, smoke sliding out of his nostrils, eyes twinkling at you- soft. A rare side of Eddie you didn't see very often. It made your heart swell. You blinked, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. You'd blame the post-orgasm brain fog for those feelings.

"You're flying out tomorrow to Nantucket?" Eddie asked, eyes sliding cooly over to you.

You hummed, inhaling your own cigarette, the numbing sweet nicotine coating the inside of your mouth. It tasted like Eddie's spit, the rather large glob he spit in your mouth and made you swallow earlier- "washing your mouth out" to get rid of any trace of Malcolm.

"Yeah, me and Farrah are staying there for a while. She likes to go to the East Coast in the summer. Says the waters prettier." You blinked lazily up at him, head propped in your hand.

Eddie snorted. "Prettier than California? No way."

"Have you ever been to Nantucket?" You asked with a raised brow.

"Nope." Eddie chirped, tongue rolling over the front of his teeth. You could tell he was about to say something mean. "Not all of us grew up in a life of lavish like you, Princess." There it was. Predictable.

"Well, you have money now." You snapped. "You tour, don't you? You still have never been to the East Coast in the summer?"

Eddie paused, tongue gliding over his bottom lip before he took another drag. "Never been on the water out there."

"That's a shame." You sighed. "It's pretty."

Eddie wasn't sure what you were doing. Usually, this was your time to either hurl mean insults towards each other that lead to round two, or you'd slip out when you got the feeling back in your legs. You weren't ever this... genuine with each other. That's not what you did here.

"Thought you were a Hamptons girl." Eddie sneered.

"I'm an anywhere girl, Munson." You snapped. "I like to travel. See different places. New things. New people."

His heart lurched at the end of your word, that familiar heat creeping up his chest to his throat, burning and constricting. A feeling he tried to shove back down with another inhale of his cigarette, untrusting of his voice at the moment.

"Look at me." You said, his heart jumping again. Surely, you couldn't see his thoughts, know any different. Eddie turned slightly, only to see your furrowed brow gaze looking above him.

"Got something on your head, hold on." You muttered, pushing his bangs out to swipe at the... lipstick stain? No doubt from your intimate tussle earlier, but still you were shocked at how it ended up there.

Your thumb grazed over the smear of makeup, ghosting over a rather jagged scar. Your brows furrowed, feeling Eddie's body tense when you ghosted over it.

His gaze held yours, a little challenging, scared more than anything. he looked like you were about to strike him, brown eyes painfully alert and boring into your own.

"It's, uh... My dad was a big drinker. He got mad sometimes. Threw a bottle at me when I was a kid, so..." Eddie tried to brush it off like it was no big deal. Like it wasn't a painful memory that made his heart ache, made his fists ball.

You didn't miss the bob of his throat, swallowing hard around his words. You let your fingers smooth over it gently again, even years later it was still raised.

"Like I said," Eddie looked at you, lips twisting slightly. "Not everyone grew up as well off as you, honey."

You pressed your lips together, the fluttering of your own heart caged behind your chest. The cigarette dwindled between your own fingertips, and for a moment, you contemplated letting him think that. Let he be content in his opinion on you.

Instead, you rolled over gently, ignoring the buzzing of your enraged skin, lifting your knees. Eddie's brows furrowed, eyes drooped and following your movements curiously.

"When I was thirteen, I had a sleepover with all my friends. My dad did a watch party for Risky Business before it premiered. He was a producer on it, and we all had a crush on Tom Cruise," You grinned softly at the memory, fingertips brushing over your kneecap.

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. Of course you did, so predictable. "But, um, we were in the movie room, and Farrah and I went to get more popcorn." You swallowed thickly. "My mom... she drinks a lot. They both did, but like, she drank a lot. Did a lot of coke too, but she'd come home just blasted. Out of her mind. Bad."

Eddie paused, eyes trained on yours that didn't meet his. He watched the way you fidgeted, fingers grazing softly over your knee cap- soothing.

"Anyways. She-She swore she wouldn't come home like that. My dad told me he'd keep her under control but... he never could." You squeezed your eyes shut gently. "Farrah and I found her on the floor and.... God, we thought she was dead. She was just slumped over and-and she had vomited all over herself. I had never seen her like that."

"Farrah called her dad, because I mean he's kind of a doctor- a plastic surgeon. I kept trying to wake her up, do something." You could feel your body shaking, hands trembling with every deep breath you tried to calm yourself with. "She did wake up eventually. Was barely fucking speaking, just slurred and fucked up. I tried to tell her to get up, that my friends were here and she was going to scare them. I was crying, Farrah was sobbing, and-and I was trying to pull her up and she shoved me."

You looked down at the long scar, jagged over the top of your knee, slashed down to the left. Even after all the years, all the creams, it still was there. Faintly, but a reminder nonetheless. Eddie followed your fingertip that stroked it gently. "She shoved me to get off her. I lost my balance, went through the glass coffee table knee first."

Eddie's heart hitched. He certainly had never heard this in the tabloids.

"Farrah was freaking out so bad. Her dad showed up. All my friends came up, saw me bleeding and sobbing, Farrah screaming, my mom passed out. They thought we had been robbed. All their parents showed up, and when my dad finally came back, he wouldn't take me to the hospital. Didn't want this getting out to the press. Made Farrah's dad stitch me up and then made the others sign NDAs about it. Paid them off or something, I don't know.

None of those girls ever spoke to me again except for Farrah. I was never allowed to go over to their house... they certainly weren't allowed to come to mine. My mom... she never apologized. My dad sent her to some 'rehab' place that was really an all inclusive spa, and... she still drank. I just learned to leave her there after that." You looked down at your nails.

You didn't know why telling Eddie this was so comforting. It shouldn't have been. You hated him. He was mean and vile and gross, but... for some reason, you thought he might understand. Give you some sympathy you'd never got in your life.

Eddie paused, his brows were creased in an expression you couldn't quite read. Lips pressed in a tight line, cigarette dwindling in his own fingers, ash falling on his sheets. Waves of consciousness, vulnerability about what you just told him leaving you bare and defenseless to him.

Your heart hammered when he bummed his own cigarette in the tray, reaching over for yours. "I'm sorry." Eddie muttered lowly, turning so you couldn't see the shake in his head. "That's fucked up."

He hoped you couldn't hear his guilt seeping through his tone. Hoped you couldn't feel how sick and riddled with anxieties he felt. He felt mean, really actually mean. Felt like the bullies that used to torment him, like Jason Carver, like a piece of shit.

You shrugged, forced nonchalant, desperate that it would cover your own shaking nerves. "It's fine-"

"No, it's not." Eddie said fiercely, eyes flashing to you. "That's a fucked up thing to go through. No matter how you grow up or whatever. That's fucked, and I'm sorry." His eyes met yours, soft. You'd never seen him look so soft... so genuine and human. "You didn't deserve that shit."

Your heart jolted, stilling entirely in your chest. Throat constricting with emotions too thick to swallow down. His voice rang through your ears, a phrase you were never given. Most people, the few who knew, just apologized or ignored the topic all together.

You nodded instead, rolling back onto your stomach so you didn't have to face him. "Thanks." You muttered, breath catching in your chest, but you tried to keep your breathing even. You couldn't let him see how that flustered you, how it effected you.

"You didn't deserve that either, for the record." You tilted your head to look up at him. "Any of that, and I'm sorry. I know that can be... rough."

Eddie nodded slowly, throat bobbing. "Yeah, well, no kid ever does. Fucked up to bring a kid into the world if you're not gonna love them. If you're not gonna be a decent parent f'them." He muttered.

You nodded slowly, unsure of what else to say. The air was thick with tension, a little uncomfortable, a little unsure, a little... comforting? You could feel the lingering presence of the conversation, the unknown dynamic between the two of you. You weren't sure if you should continue being soft like this, or if you should go back to your normality, your routine.

"I, uh," You shifted with a groan, pushing off the mattress. "I better get going."

Eddie nodded gently, eyes on his hands. "I've got a long drive." You muttered, reaching down for your discarded clothes.

"You can stay if you want to." Eddie muttered. You stilled, spine stiffening. "'s a long drive. I went pretty hard on ya."

You turned back to look at him, how he was nonchalantly lighting another cigarette, but his eyes raised to yours softly, hopefully? You weren't sure.

"I don't want to impose." You scoffed lightly. "Disrupt any of your other plans with your groupies." You bit.

Eddie snorted. "Groupies are for tour. I'm not on tour right now." He rolled his eyes at you, exhaling slowly. "Besides, Kate's in Paris right now, so I don't have any plans."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "Nice." You muttered, but you were already sinking back onto the mattress. "What if I had plans, hm?" You challenged, raising a brow.

"You don't."

"How do you know that? Could be going to see Malcolm-"

"-Then go see him." Eddie challenged, that same biting tone returning to his voice. "But something tells me if that was true, you wouldn't already be back in my bed, now would you?"

You blushed, jaw ticking. There he was, your mean man returned back to you. Long gone was the tender moment the two of you shared before.

You laid down on the satin pillows instead, watching Eddie take the cigarette between his lips, inhaling slowly. Your eyes lingered on this plump lips, soft and juicy.

"Maybe I need to come see Nantucket in the summer then." Eddie muttered, eyes flicking down at you.

You hummed, settling into the plush pillows. "You do. Change your life."

Eddie snorted. "Yeah? Maybe I'll come." He was inviting himself, but your didn't stop him. No huffs or cackles or mocking words. "Keep you in line. Don't want to ruin our progress we've made."

"Right." You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Munson."

Eddie grinned, passing you the cigarette, holding it to your lips while you took a slow drag. Your heart raced when his fingertips touched your lips so gently. This was new, different, a foreign domain the two of you were unsurely discovering.

You hoped Eddie would show up to Nantucket. You hoped he come shock the quiet town with all his loud music, tattoos, black clothes even in the summer. Rock their little world like he'd done your own. You hoped he'd be happy to see you, like you were to see him.

[pleasingforharry]

Agree to Disagree

actress!yn

Y/N L/N and Harry Styles Argue Over The Internets Biggest Debates | Agree to Disagree | LaDbible TV

(Playing Leah and Matthew Hampton in the new movie, The Good and Bad Days)

-

-

“I honestly think my amazing singing abilities shouldn’t go unnoticed. I’m going to have my breakthrough one day,” You shrugged, speaking more to the crew behind the camera. Chuckles passed around, and Harry joined them.

“Yeah, what’s the name of your single going to be?” He asked, genuinely interested in your idea.

“I’ll probably name it after a vegetable because you apparently love singing about fruits and naming your songs after them.” Both you and Harry shared sneaky smirks, before glancing at the camera. “Think I just gave away a secret. Sorry not sorry.” Harry’s new album, Fine Line, hadn’t come out yet, nor did people know the names of the songs, so your comment exploded on stan Twitter. 

Harry sighed, “Trying to expose me now, competitor?”

You pointed at the camera and exclaimed, “I’m coming for all those Grammys.”

“I thought you were rooting for me to get one?” 

“I can’t root for the competition anymore, sorry,” You frowned, reaching a hand out across the table. Harry instantly took it, even though he was supposed to pretend he was offended, but he wouldn’t pass an opportunity to touch you. “I’ll add your name under mine in Sharpie so we can share it.”

[Agree To Disagree]

You and Harry looked at the table that had ‘Strongly Agree, Agree, Disagree, and Strongly Disagree written down in a line. 

“I thought we were going to be working together,” Harry cocked a brow up, noticing two cups filled with water in front of each of you. 

“Honey, it’s called Agree to Disagree,” you snorted, “we’re supposed to debate.” The producers had explained the simple concept to the both of you earlier, and Harry was there nodding at their words, but for some reason forgot everything that was said. 

You slapped your hand on your forehead while Harry huffed, “This isn’t going to go well at all.” 

“Why so?” You asked, feeling for his feet under the table. There was no cloth covering the sides, so the camera captured Harry tangling his legs with yours. The fans were already in the mist of making edits with that clip.

“Because the nights when we’re up talking, and supposedly “debating” about stuff, I always end up agreeing with you in the end.”

You looked at the camera and smirked. “All true. I’m one persuasive gal.” Instead of verbally agreeing, Harry pushed his glass over to Strongly Agree, and a chorus of laughter strung around the room.

“I think that’s why we’re working out just peachy.”

“Did you just label our relationship peachy?” You squinted your eyes at him.

Harry only shrugged. “I like fruits, what can I say?”

Y/N L/N Leah Hampton

“Alright I’m ready,” you rubbed your hands together and wiggled your brows at your boyfriend across from you.

Harry Styles Matthew Hampton

“Are they easy questions?” Harry asked to the crew behind the camera.

-

HARRY’S ACCENT SOUNDS BETTER THAN Y/N’S

Both you and Harry darted your eyes to your glasses then to each other. You were the first to break out into loud laughter, throwing your head back. Harry rolled his lips inwards and sighed.

“Okay wait, let’s choose then talk about this,” You put one hand up while the other moved your glass to Strongly Agree. Harry paused, thinking about it, before sliding his glass to Disagree. “Oh? You don’t agree?”

He shook his head and leaned back into his chair. “I think yours is beautiful.”

“Oh, what a suck-up,” You laughed, kicking him softly. He blushed slightly and adjusted in his seat. “I know for a fact, Mr. Narcissist, that you think your accent is ten times better than mine.”

“No,” He frowned. You turned to face the camera and gave it a bored look. “Y/N, I always compliment your accent. I think it suits you very well.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t absolutely adore the power your accent has over the world,” You smirked. Harry stayed silent, and you flipped your hair behind your shoulder dramatically. “Would you like me to move your glass?” You asked him.

He shook his head and wrapped his hand around it to push it farther, landing on Strongly Disagree. Instead of acknowledging your scoff, he turned to the crew and camera.

“Y/N has a lovely accent and I think it’s better than mine. Signed Harry E. Styles,” Harry announced, before using the tip of his finger to scribble on the table.

“Well, there you have it folks,” You laughed. 

“Next.”

-

DOGS ARE BETTER COMPANIONS THAN CATS

You both didn’t hesitate to drag your glasses to Strongly Agree, before leaning forward to high five each other.

“No need to bother debating about that,” Y/N rested her chin in her palm, elbow on the table. 

Harry said, “I think cats are great, but dogs are just better. Nothing against them,” he then motioned to you, “and Y/N said her spirit animal is an Australian Shepherd, so I think that just enhances my love for dogs even more.”

You giggled and scrunched your nose at him. “Thank you, honey.” Then you pointed at him. “But you know, people started comparing you to cats, so that might be your spirit animal.”

“Do they now?” Harry smiled.

“Yeah, but I agree with them. Especially cuddling-wise. You snuggle up on me just like a cat would, which I love very much.”

The crew behind the camera awed and laughed as Harry blushed at his girlfriend. “I will neither confirm nor deny that.”

“You’re never beating those cat allegations, kid.”

The producer suddenly spoke up. “So, if we were to bring out a litter of puppies and kittens, which would you want to—”

“Wait, that’s unfair. Both puppies and kittens are adorable. I love them both,” You groaned.

“You immediately moved your glass to Strongly Agree, Y/N,” They laughed. 

Harry chipped in, “No, I get it. Dogs and cats are different from puppies and kittens.”

You crossed your arms over each other. “Even though it would be difficult, I’d still choose the puppies. But I would, like, sneak a hand over to pet some kittens,” You said, slowly reaching over for Harry’s hand and brushing the back of it.

“Oh, am I said kitten?” He questioned with a chuckle.

“It’s the snuggling. You can’t convince me otherwise that you aren’t spiritually a cat.”

-

Y/N IS A BETTER SINGER THAN HARRY

Harry glared at the crew with a smirk, knowing they were just trying to get him in trouble. Y/N only shrugged and moved her glass to Strongly Agree. 

“I’ve asked him multiple times if I could be featured in one of his songs, but he said my singing f[bleep]king sucks,” Y/N said. Harry immediately slammed a hand on the table and scoffed loudly.

“I never said that!”

Y/N gave him a bored look. “Did you not?”

“I would never, I think your voice is amazing,” He started, nudging his leg against hers, “but what I did say was: I wasn’t doing any collaborations on the album. It has nothing to do with you, babe.”

Y/N stared at him blankly, before turning to the camera. “Did he not just say the same damn thing I just did?”

Everyone laughed.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Harry sighed.

“I honestly think my amazing singing abilities shouldn’t go unnoticed. I’m going to have my break through one day,” You shrugged. Chuckles passed around, and Harry joined them.

“Yeah, what’s the name of your single going to be?” He asked.

“I’ll probably name it after a vegetable because you apparently love singing about fruits and naming your songs after them.” Both you and Harry shared sneaky smirks, before glancing at the camera. “Think I just gave away a secret. Sorry not sorry.”

Harry sighed, “Trying to expose me now, competitor?”

You pointed at the camera and exclaimed, “I’m coming for all those Grammys.”

“I thought you were rooting for me to get one?”

“I can’t root for the competition anymore, sorry,” You frowned, reaching a hand out across the table. Harry instantly took it, even though he was supposed to pretend he was offended, but he wouldn’t pass an opportunity to touch you. “I’ll add your name under mine in Sharpie so we can share it.”

-

WINTER IS BETTER THAN SUMMER

Both you and Harry had to think about it. You tapped your nails against the glass.

“I’m torn because I like both,” You said to Harry. He nodded, before looking back down at the table. “We go to the beach and stuff during the summer, but I really like traveling with you during winter. Especially during the holidays and New Years, ya know?”

“Is it because you get to kiss me, Ms. L/N?” Harry wiggled his brows. You blinked at him, before looking at the camera.

“Maybe summer isn’t so bad after all.”

“Hey!”

You finally decided to move your glass to Agree, then Harry followed. “Why so, Mr. Harold?” Your chin found your palm again.

He shrugged, “You like winter better, and I like you, so that’s enough convincing I need.” Yeah, the fandom was going crazy over the video, and you were scared to open any social media platforms the next day.

“See, I’m very persuasive without even needing to try.”

“But actually, I do enjoy winter activities more, like the outdoor ice skating and the cliché hot chocolate while laying together near a fire. I’m a real romantic,” Harry said.

“You should be in a rom-com. I’d kill to see you in one,” You exclaimed. “But I think I’d get jealous of the female lead, so probably not.”

Harry smirked, “Who said you wouldn’t be the female lead?” Both of you winked at the camera. “Besides, I do all the rom-com stuff from the movies with you in real life.”

“That is true.” You turned to the crew to tell a quick story. “Last year, the week before Christmas, we went to New York and did all the most cheesy ‘couples during the holiday’ things ever. Remember?” Harry nodded. “Then went to his hometown to do it all over again. And come Christmas Eve—”

“Stayed up with hot chocolate, cookies, Christmas karaoke and movies, and watched Santa on a tracker to see when he’d stop by. It was great,” Harry finished, sighing while he reminisced.

You did too. “New Years was fun, as well.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll do everything again this year,” Harry held your hand. 

“I’m counting on it.”

-

HARRY SHOULD BE CONSIDERED IN THE RUNNING FOR THE SEXIEST MAN ALIVE MAGAZINE

Harry waited for your decision first with a smirk. You only furrowed your brows in thought. “What?” Harry asked you.

“I mean, I don’t really need a magazine to remind me that you’re the sexiest man alive. I always know that,” You shrugged. Harry covered his eyes in embarrassment. He was horrible with compliments, especially from people who’s opinion mattered a lot to him.

The producer said, “Can I add a glass so I can put it on Strongly Agree because I definitely agree with your statement.”

“He’s not going to say what he thinks, so you can use his,” You said, moving Harry’s glass to Strongly Agree. You pushed your own next to his, before turning in your chair to the producer. “People magazine should start a yearly ‘Funniest Dad Joker Man Alive’ then Harry would love to be considered in the running. Can you reach out to them and ask?”

The producer gave you a thumbs up. Harry giggled, keeping his hand over his eyes, but his dimpled smile was a dead giveaway that he was enjoying this.

“I’d like him to run for ‘Most Beautiful Man Alive’ because then that should make me the most beautiful woman by association, right?” You suggested.

“Not exactly, but we do think you’d win,” The producer said.

“Also, there should be a couples version,” You shook your finger.

“For sexiest or most beautiful?” Harry chipped in to ask. His hand moved from his eyes so you could look at him.

You shrugged nonchalantly, “Either or, we’d win anyways.” Harry threw his head back to laugh. “What other category would we dominate for a couple’s version?”

Harry bit his lip to think about it. You could tell he was coming up with a Harry joke simply from his slow smile. 

“Oh no,” You chuckled.

“Best Accents, specifically Y/N,” He looked at the camera.

You shook your head at him. “Please tell me you weren't still thinking about that, honey. We moved on.”

“I could’ve brought up the collaboration—”

“Okay, next one!”

-

THE GOOD AND BAD DAYS NEEDS A SEQUEL

You thought that was actually a great question because you weren’t sure. 

“I mean,” You slurred, slowly moving your glass to Agree. Harry kept a short smile on his lips as he stared at you, rather than your glass. You suddenly grew shy. “What?”

“You’re very pretty. I like looking at you.”

You rolled your eyes and placed your hand between your face and Harry’s line of vision. Harry’s legs played with yours, but you upright ignored him.

“I think there should be a sequel, because even though I think it ended perfectly, people would probably want more of Leah and Matthew’s story. They’d want to know what they’re doing after the circumstances of the ending—can’t say much until it’s out—but I’d like another movie.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “I think whether there’s a sequel or not, Leah and Matthew got what they really needed. They are happy, which calls for a happy ending. And more conflicts will definitely show up in their long run, so if another movie wants to touch on that, I’d love to see it,” he said.

“I think you guys are going to like the movie as it is and don’t even need a sequel because you’ll be satisfied. But we’ll see,” You shrugged.

-

“Thank you so much for having us,” Harry spoke first.

“Go check out The Good and Bad Days when it comes out in theaters,” You added. “Have a great day, sincerely, from your favorite peachy couple.”

Harry laughed and raised a thumbs up. “Bye.”

-

[cvpwindowdoor]

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[themintsimmer]

Gilded Getaway | The Westbrooks EP 13 (all lots and mods used)

In this episode of The Westbrooks, the family travels to Bridleton Bay / The Hamptons to enjoy their annual summer trip and get away from the turmoil back home.

You can watch this episode here

lots

the ivy estate by farfallasims

pier 42 by simplysimhome (EA gallery)

chalet tennis club by nunparis

bridleton bay yacht club by simmermya

misc cc / items

coastal living deco by buffsumm

all horses by laoisee on the ea gallery

all food by somik and severinka (search seafood)

basemental alcohol by basemental

instax instant camera by max20

jardane pool slide by house of harlix

mods

passionate gifts mod by utopya

dance animations by kingblackcinema

[biteofcherry]

Here’s a prompt.. For either Chris Evans, or maybe Bucky Barnes…

“You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

“And I’m not here to apologize.”

Of course, do what you want with it, or nothing at all! ❤️❤️

Keeping a fake, bright smile on your face, you walked through the open space of Melissa's obscenely expensive house in New Hamptons and into the wide, pristine backyard that stretched far out to the slopes by the beach.

You tried to keep your steps slow, but the annoyance pumping in your veins was driving you to march until you found your target.

It would be better to approach him in the privacy of his house, but the asshole hasn't been there for the past few days. He hasn't been in his office either.

No, how could he be, if your boss sent him to negotiate a deal with Barnes&Rogers.

A deal for which you worked your ass off for two months, spending countless hours researching, looking for loops, rubbing hands with old friends who could provide you bits of secret intel.

Then Andy Fucker Barber slides in and steals the case from your hands.

Okay, so maybe he didn't exactly steal it. Maybe your boss was a misogynistic prick who gave it to Barber after learning that Andy was in the same frat house as Rogers and Barnes. Even though they haven't really keep in touch for the past ten years.

But you couldn't exactly unleash your anger on your boss, so you directed it onto Barber.

Which lead to a whole mountain of other problems.

Problems that kept you up at night, tossing and turning, and nearly killing the battery of your vibrator.

You spotted him at the very far back of the garden, standing in the shade of a tree. With a glass in one hand and a phone in the other, ignoring the phony spectacle of ass kissing and gossiping.

Trying to stick to the paved routes, so your heels wouldn't sink into the ground, you maneuvered between people (exchanging greetings and smiles). To reach Barber, however, you had to go off path.

He noticed you when you nearly wobbled a few steps from him, as your heel sunk into soft earth. Gritting your teeth, you yanked your foot free and made the last steps between you.

"Hello, fucker!" You hissed, keeping your voice low.

You poked him square in the chest. Twice. Which, in your opinion, was still a better choice than pushing him with all your might. You wanted to do that so much.

"What's this about?" Andy frowned, though he didn't seem even mildly swayed by your poking.

His seemingly clueless act angered you even further.

You spent almost a week processing what happened that late evening in Andy's office, couldn't get it out of your head (and other body parts), and here he was acting as if he didn't remember it happening.

"You kissed me!" You reminded him, barely stopping yourself from kicking him in the ankle.

And then you weren't in the office in the next day to talk it out! You weren't in your home to talk it out! And it's not something to talk on the phone about! Would you even pick up? You left as if nothing happened and it didn't mean a single thing! - All of these remained unspoken, boiling only in your head.

Andy leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice as well as he countered - "You kissed me back."

You did.

One moment you were ranting to him how unfair it was, how he better not fuck up the deal you were working on, the next second Andy's lips were on you, swallowing your anger and transforming it into a different spark.

It ignited an eager reaction on your part, pushing you into temptation which you battled since the handsome bastard started working at your company almost a year ago.

That kiss was toe-curling.

Made you pliant in Andy's hands, opening your lips to any of his demands, chasing his mouth when he threatened to pull away.

If it wasn't for the phone that rang then, it could lead to something more.

In the end it led to your annoyance and desire to kill Andy Barber.

"And I'm not here to apologize." You crossed your arms over your chest, adamant on not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how he flipped your world upside down for a few days.

"No, you wouldn't." Andy chuckled and slipped his phone into his pocket.

He stepped closer to you, leaning down until his beard brushed against your cheek and his hot breath tickled your ear.

"I bet the only way to get you apologizing and behaving appropriately is to take you over my knee and spank your ass red."

His words made the breath in your chest hitch. A never before heard sound escaped your lips - a mixture of outrage and desperate need.

"I think it would also help releasing some of your frustration." Andy pulled back slightly, enough to look into your eyes.

"Do you want that?" He asked, holding your gaze. "Want me to help you? Want me to fuck it all out of your system?"

[ebxx456]

Daddy’s little girl part 1

Minors DNI

This is my first time posting on here and first time writing a really smutty smutty story so I’m really sorry if it’s absolutely shit but I’ll try my best.

Ok so for the plot, your dad’s best mate is coming to stay with you for a bit as he just got divorced, you haven’t seen him in about 6 years (you’re 18 now). Hayden is 41. You also have an older brother called Ezra who is 24 (your dad was 16 when they had your brother making your dad now 40).

It will be Hayden Christensen x y/n female ( everyone’s of age!!)

Warning TW: idek yet, smutty filth. Extreme daddy kink, dirty talk, virgin reader, large age gap ( 23 years), everything sexual( idk the terms for it I’m sorry)

Part 2^ !!!!

You woke up that morning with a sense of emptiness running through you. You craved something that you sinned yourself for wanting so badly. You decided a long time ago that you would save yourself for marriage, deeming all boys your age unworthy of having sex with you. You wanted it to be special, fulfilling, hot, steamy, wet.

However, lately you felt yourself becoming needy, desperate to be touched. You knew that any boy in your year would be ready and willing to give you what you craved but your pride didn’t allow you to stoop so low. You wanted a man. You needed a man.

After putting on some very low waisted flared jeans and a small light pink crop top, an outfit that you knew your father would be very distraught about, you sat down at your vanity decided on how to style your hair today.

It was the first day of winter break and you were almost bored already. Your best friend Maya was in the Hamptons visiting her grandparents leaving you alone. You had other friends, quite a lot of other friends actually but you didn’t like them very much. You weren’t rude or bitchy but they just didn’t understand you like Maya did, they were boring and only cared about High school boys and buying juicy couture tracksuits, which don’t get me wrong you loved to wear to. The autonomy of a high school senior.

“Y/n! Come down please!” You heard your mother yell from downstairs. You were very close, you would tell her everything. Normally. Recently your sinful thoughts and needy cunt were only known to yourself. You and your father however were not so close, he judged the way you dressed and acted. It was obvious to anyone that he favoured Ezra, comparing you to your brother at any chance he got.

As you made your way down the down the stairs, sliding your hand slowly down the banister, your heard an unfamiliar voice. A mans voice. Deep and seductive.

No.stop.

“Ah sweetie, you remember Hayden, he’s going to spend Christmas with us.” Your mother said as you took the final step down the stairs.

Your eyes immediately met the blue orbs of your dad’s friend. You felt a spark ignite inside you as you examined him. The way his biceps were almost ripping out of his shirt. His sharp, jaded, jaw which led into his pursed soft lips. Kissable lips. No. His hair, long and scruffy, slightly curly. Easy to grab. no.

“It’s nice to see you again sir.” You finally spat out. His gaze shifted down across your body sending a shiver across you. You heavily regretted your decision to not wear a bra as you felt your nipples hardening at this single look. You knew they must be protruding through your shirt by now. Oh god.

“You too sweetheart, you look completely different since the last time I saw you.”

You felt your pussy throb at the pet name, You were practically dripping without even a touch from yourself or him.

“Can you believe it, my baby’s 18!” Your mother smiled at you kindly.

“Wow. 18.”

Whether it was your soaked underwear beginning to seep into your blood and turn you crazy or it was really said, you don’t know, but the way he said 18 was hot, almost as though he felt as riled up as you do now.

“y/n go take Hayden to the guest room and make sure he knows where everything is. Then change your outfit, we are going out for a nice dinner, Ezra and Brooke(your brothers girlfriend ) will be joining us too.”

You smiled and nodded at your father’s bossiness and bluntness. A word out your mouth would only reveal your desperation and neediness, exposing you to everyone. Yet what feared you was being alone with this man. He had changed in six years also, you always found him attractive, even as a twelve year old girl yet your mind wasn’t so clouded with sex back then as it is now. But still now he had more fine lines spread across his face, he seems taller? Is that possible? You never realised your love for dilfs until this one was standing right in front of you as you leaked.

You began walking up the stairs sending a look back to make sure he was following you, which if course he was. Your eyes met again when you turned but not before realising that his eyes were previously glued to your ass.

You smiled to yourself, realising that maybe your insane thoughts were not just one sided. You continued to make your way up the large staircase but this time moving your hips slightly, just enough for him to notice but not to much that would make you look like an idiot in case the attraction was still in fact one sided.

As I followed behind my best friend’s teenage daughter, I couldn’t escape the thoughts running wild inside my mind. My eyes felt glued to her ass the whole way to the guest room yet I just couldn’t peel my eyes away. The one time my eyes did drift away was when they met her own, I noticed the slight smirk she had. Was I crazy? Or was she as hot and bothered as I was?

I could practically smell sex on her, or my nostrils were going as insane as my body was. no. She’s 18!

legal. Highly frowned upon. But allowed. She can’t even drink yet. But I bet she can drink up my cum when her mouth is wrapped around- no.

She probably thinks I’m a pervert. She probably has a boyfriend too.

Does she have a boyfriend? Why would it anger me if she did? Jesus Christ pull it together.

“So do you have a boyfriend yet?” he asked you nonchalantly once you had reached the bedroom. You opened the door and walked inside before turning to face him. Your eyes meeting once again and your body melting into a puddle.

“No, high school boys aren’t for me, I want a man you know.” You empathised on the word man, practically whispering that word out, and pulled your lips into a smile.

He chuckled at your words, his laugh practically vibrating through you. What was wrong with you?

“So where is your wife then sir?” You asked, quickly changing the topic to something you were desperate to know. If you were going to obsess over a man older than your dad, you at least needed to know if he was single, lonely, needy.

“Did your dad not tell you?” He asked as you shook your head.

“We recently split up.”

“Oh I’m sorry sir.” You weren’t the least bit sorry, if fact you literally had to fight away the smile attempting to steal your lips. “What happened?”

“She cheated on me, with the pool boy.” He replied and you noticed the sadness across his face. “That’s horrible, I’m so sorry sir.”

“No need to feel bad for me Darling, we fell out of love a long time ago.”

As sad as his words were you could practically feel yourself pulsating at the way he said darling. Yet he still hadn’t even touched you. You needed more. You needed to see if you weren’t crazy.

Even the way this girl spoke turned me on. The way she called me sir at the end of almost every sentence she spoke. It was going to be a long day, if not week. I don’t even know if I could last a day let alone the whole Christmas holiday.

I watched as she bent down in front of me, picking up one of my bags. Her ass was literally displayed across my face. Her red thong showing at the top of her jeans making my cock twitch at the sight.

After you bent down to grab the bag you lifted it up and then moved it on top of the dresser. You heard him exhale a breathe once you had stood back up. So maybe you weren’t crazy?

You turned round to face him, your back against the dresser as he made his way towards you. Your eyes meeting once again, his blue orbs practically drilling into your soul. If you weren’t dripping before you were definitely dripping now.

“I just need to get something out my bag.” He told you as he came even closer yet you didn’t move an inch. Your breathe hitched as his front clashed with yours as he reached over you, unzipping his bag. You were practically squirming under his body, biting your lip to fight of the moan ready to escape your lips.

He pushed into even more as he rummaged through his bag, his hips practically almost thrusting into you.

That was when you couldn’t control it anymore, when his cock practically brushed over your clit. And a soft moan escaped your lips.

You felt your cheeks heat up as he let go of his bag, placing his hands either side of you on the dresser. Caging you in.

He nelt down his face inches away from yours.

You parted your lips in anticipation, was your fantasy really going to come true. All you wanted was his lips on yours. All you needed was his cock buried deep inside you as he whimpered.

But he didn’t put his lips on yours, instead he spoke. The proximity of the two of you made you feel his hot breathe on your face turning you on even more.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

After the soft words left his lips he moved them to your ear, nibbling slightly as you put your hands around his waist, feeling his toned back under your fingertips beneath his tee shirt. You pulled him into you, his hips meeting yours as another quiet moan left your mouth.

You felt his bulge hardening as you pulled him closer one again, his mouth now moving to your neck as he peppered kisses across you.

He circled his fingers around your hard nipple through your tee causing a louder moan to escape you. Fuck.

“You’re so sensitive, have you ever been touched before?” He asked as he looked directly at you. You shook your head shyly as he tutted. Why the fuck was that so hot?

“I’m going to need words sweetheart.”

“N-no sir” you stuttered as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Have you ever even touched yourself?” He asked as his fingers trailed across your stomach towards your core.

“Words y/n.” He practically commanded as he traced a circle over the crotch of your jeans leading you to moan once again.

“No sir. Never”

He kissed his teeth, shaking his head slightly as he ran another circle over your area. You needed the jeans off. You needed to feel him.

He pulled his hand away completely as you felt yourself growing needy. Desperate for his touch once again.

“Please.” You begged as you rubbed your hand over his pants, you felt his large cock practically twitch at your touch

“Please what?” He smirked, teasing you even more.

“Please daddy, I need you.” you practically moaned out. You didn’t even think twice before the word left your lips. Embarrassed began to wash over you, but it left as you noticed the spark in his eyes up the moment you said the word.

you pulled him towards you again as you dipped your hand inside his chinos. Only his boxers separated your hand and his cock as you slid your hand up his now hard length.

His head moved towards your ear again as he let out a very quiet whimper. If his mouth wasn’t so close to your ear, you probably wouldn’t have even heard it.

But then there was a switch in him all of a sudden and he pulled your hand out by the wrist and backed away from you.

“No, no we can’t do this.” He muttered as he practically paced the room.

“Who’s going to know sir?” You asked desperately. You were past the point of trying to maintain your pride.

“Stop no we can’t. We need to get ready for dinner.”

“ but-“ you began to say but he cut you off harshly.

“go get ready for dinner.”

“I-“

“Please y/n” he practically begged.

“Fine.” You sighed brushing past his shoulder as you practically stormed out of the room and went straight into your bedroom. Fine.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

rating: E (MINORS DNI, oral (fem recieving), unprotected piv, breeding kink)

word count: 2.5k

8 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Frankie always loved Christmas as a kid, and truthfully hadn’t stopped loving it even into his adulthood, but in his line of work, it was easy to forget all the magic in the chaos.

This holiday season had been one of the busiest ever at the airport, everyone excited to be able to travel again after the pandemic. From October to Christmas Eve, Frankie had been home for a total of only 18 days, missing Halloween and Thanksgiving due to short staffing at the airline.

Instead of watching his three year old trick-or-treat for the first time, or helping his wife carve the turkey on Thanksgiving day, he was stuck on a layover in the middle of the country watching via FaceTime as his family gathered to celebrate.

Having quickly learned his lesson, Frankie made sure to request a month of time off starting December 25th, desperately needing as much time as he could afford alone with his family—with you.

There was no way he was going to watch his daughter tear into gifts via video chat in another Hampton Inn. There was no way he was going to watch you give him another fake smile, reassuring him that it you were okay when he knew how much you wanted him there. No, he was going to be home for Christmas. Even if it meant he had to brave the airport on Christmas Eve.

The drive home seemed to never end, some overly cheery radio host blabbing on about their holiday plans almost enough to make Frankie nod off on the freeway, but he persevered, switching stations to one less focused on talking.

Frankie couldn’t help but to chuckle at the song playing on the first station he landed on, a song he recognized as I’ll Be Home For Christmas.

How fitting.

As he sat there listening to the words, a tired smile appeared on his face. Though there’d be no snow, Florida hardly getting cold enough to feel like Christmas, there’d surely be a mistletoe for him to kiss you under, and presents under the tree for your daughter to tear into tomorrow morning.

Just the thought of seeing you two again after two weeks of being away made him feel more warm and cozy than any fireplace, any cup of hot chocolate, any knit sweater ever could. With a new spring in his step, he straightened his posture and rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes, determined to give you and your daughter all of the energy he had left.

•••

Two headlights peering in through the window of your living room made your heart pick up in pace, your three year old tucked into your side on the sofa dressed in her Grinch pajamas and two fluffy slippers designed to look like reindeer on her feet.

“I think dada’s home,” you announced in a singsong tone, smiling through your words as your toddler jumped up and down on the cushion, eager to see her father.

The holidays were always hard with Frankie gone, but you knew he wasn’t doing it for the hell of it. He was providing for the two of you, picking up extra shifts so that you didn’t have to go back to waitressing and could stay home to raise your daughter. He was working hard to make sure your family had everything they needed, and boy, did that turn you on.

You couldn’t help but giggle along with your daughter as Frankie knocked on the window and grinned at the two of you. Your daughter climbed off the couch and waddled over to her father’s face, putting her hands on the window as he fogged up the glass only to draw a heart.

“Dada! Come in!” Your little girl begged, Frankie cupping his ear as though he couldn’t hear her pleas. “Dada! Can you hear me?”

“Huh? You want candy?” Frankie asked through the window, your daughter letting out an amused cackle and nodding.

Not a second later he was sliding his key into the door and swinging it wide open. Your daughter ran up to his legs, hugging them tight as Frankie set down his luggage, his eyes locked on you cuddled up on the sofa. He shot you a wink as he lifted your daughter up, perching her on his hip before walking over to you.

“Hello, mamas,” he pressed a kiss into his daughter hair before leaning down to kiss you sweetly, your hands resisting the urge to tug him close when he leaned upright again. “Hi, baby.”

“Welcome home,” you purred back, Frankie starting off towards the kitchen, turning to your daughter.

“How about I take you with me and we make mama some hot cocoa?”

“And me!” He chuckled and looked over at you, silently asking you for your approval.

“She’ll be bouncing off the walls all night,” you warned, Frankie and your little girl giving you the same brown puppy eyes and pout. “But I suppose, since it’s a holiday.”

“Say, ‘thank you, mama’,” Frankie instructed, your daughter grinning and sticking her fingers in her mouth as she mumbled a shy thank you.

You had already landed on a movie, your daughter’s latest obsession, “Elf”, when Frankie returned with two mugs of hot chocolate and your daughter trailing behind him eating a lone marshmallow.

“What about you?” You asked as he handed you yours before setting the smaller mug down on the coffee table.

“I gotta go shower real quick,” he couldn’t help but steal another kiss, this time letting his lips linger a little longer than the first one, his fingertips underneath your chin keeping you close to him. His voice was a husky whisper when he pulled away, sending a jolt of arousal to your core. “Start the movie and get comfy, I’ll be right back.”

“Dont take too long. I miss you,” you gave him a half-smile, half-pout, earning another kiss to your lips before he was shuffling off down the hallway with his duffel bags. “Alright, kiddo, come up here.”

“I wan’ my hot cocoa,” your daughter demanded and you chuckled at how similar she sounded to your husband.

“Okay, but its gotta cool down a little bit.”

“No, dada put ice in it for me,” she corrected you sassily, your hands lifting up in a sarcastic apology.

“My bad, didn’t know you and daddy had this all figured out,” you scooped the three year old onto your lap, setting your cup down to help her lift hers to her lips without getting it everywhere.

Frankie returned twenty minutes later with wet hair and his flannel PJ’s on, matching yours. You beamed at him as he walked over with a smile, content with the sight of his daughter curled up into your side under a fuzzy throw blanket, both of your bellies full of hot chocolate.

“She’s crashing,” you whispered, the baby girl half-asleep in a post-sugar coma.

“Dada, can you read me a book?” She lifted her head up to ask Frankie, her voice hoarse with exhaustion. Frankie’s smile turned into an adoring frown as he nodded, walking over to the bookshelf.

“Which one, bebè?”

“Christmas one,” she demanded vaguely, Frankie putting his hands on his hips as he searched the shelves for a book that fit the requirement.

Noticing your yawn, he quickly picked up the first book he found with a Christmas tree on it and walked over to the couch, scooping up his baby girl with one arm.

“Why don’t you go get ready for bed, baby? I can take it from here,” Frankie offered with a softness you missed so dearly. Nodding sleepily, you stood up, pecking him on the lips before kissing your daughters cheek, her head resting on her dad’s shoulder. As you turned to walk to your bedroom, Frankie grabbed your hand, stopping you. “Don’t get too comfy without me, cariño.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you promised with a wink, continuing forward to your master bedroom while Frankie walked your daughter to her room.

•••

“One more story, dada,” his daughter persisted, though her eyes could hardly stay open long enough to blink. Frankie chuckled and shook his head, petting her hair back as he stood up off her bed.

“No, bebè. Santa’s coming and you need to be asleep when he gets here otherwise he won’t bring you any gifts,” he bargained, the little girl nodding quickly as she lifted the covers over her chin.

“Okay, I’m sleeping.” He chuckled and kissed her forehead.

“Santa will know if you’re pretending, mija. You need to actually go to bed—“

“Okay, okay. Lemme sleep, dada!”

Frankie backed out of her room with hid hands held up in defense, smiling to himself as he closed her door behind him.

•••

He wasn’t paying much attention when he opened the door to your bedroom, his eyes squeezed closed as he yawned into his palm. You remained posed on the bed like Burt Reynold’s in his centerfold, wearing the sluttiest Santa-inspired lingerie you could find online. When he finally focused his eyes on you, he froze in place, his eyes wide with both shock and delight.

“What in the world—“

“I wanna be your hoe, hoe, hoe tonight,” you stifled your chuckles as he stood there, his grin growing larger with each passing second. “You’ve been an awfully good boy—“

“Alright, I think I get the idea, baby.” He stopped your bad jokes with a chuckle, crawling onto the mattress and caging you beneath him, his eyes raking over your scantily clad body, one hand traveling from your hip up to the red velvet covering your breasts. Your breath hitched when he pinched your nipple just how you liked it, rolling it between his pointer finger and thumb. “God, I missed you.”

You placed your hand over his and dragged it down your stomach to your core, his eyes locked with yours as he felt the wet patch on your panties.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Frankie,” you husked, his brows creasing as you guided his fingers to circle your swelling clit over the fabric. “I love how hard you work for our family. You’re such a good husband and father, baby.”

“Fuck,” he dipped his head down, kissing you filthier than he could with your three year old watching. You eagerly accepted his tongue into your mouth, tasting the peppermint candy he must have indulged in at some point tonight. “Wanna take my time with you tomorrow, but I need to be inside of you right now baby.”

You nodded eagerly, watching as Frankie peeled your thong off your hips and legs, tossing it behind hin without care before he was splitting your legs apart, licking his lips as he caught a glimpse at your dripping sex.

“Fuck, I need a taste.” Frankie never could stop himself from tasting you, even when he was in a rush. You hummed and combed your hands through his hair as he lowered his mouth to your pussy, lazily lapping at your arousal like he had all the patience in the world.

“Oh, Frankie, baby…I missed your tongue,” you mewled as his tongue tensed, circling your clit over and over until he felt your walls fluttering around nothing.

“Mm, fuck. You taste so good…I never wanna stop once I’ve started.” He sucked hard on your clit, pulsing against it with a moan until your back was arching off the mattress. Your hands tugged at his hair harsh enough to hurt as you came against his mouth, a hum of victory vibrating against you as he drank down your release happily.

“Frankie, need you inside,” you demanded, still lost in your euphoria. He nodded, though you couldn’t see it with your eyes closed, quickly shedding his pajamas before kissing up your body.

His lips started at your knee, placing open mouthed kissed up your thighs and stomach, sliding his tongue up the valley of your breasts as he slid the straps of your bralette off your shoulders, finally exposing your nipples. Your eyes opened to watch as he sucked one bud into his mouth his fist stroking his weeping cock against your still-throbbing cunt.

“Please,” you begged again, Frankie nodding against you and releasing your nipple with a wet pop. Sitting back on his ankles, he dribbled spit down onto his cock, keeping his eyes on yours as he coated himself in the slick.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you when I put it in,” he ordered and you nodding eagerly, ready to comply with any demand he could possibly make. He smiled down at your obedience, the fat head of his cock stroking up and down your slit. “You ready for me?”

“Always,” you whispered, Frankie wasting no time on sliding into your cunt inch by inch, both of you gasping at the sensation of being flush together after so long. Your praise came out in a string of nearly incomprehensible mumbles, your eyes struggling to remain open as his the curved head of his cock brushed against your g-spot. “Ohmygodit’ssogooddon’tstop.”

“Fucking…christ.” His chest was heaving as he willed himself to be patient, allowing your walls to accommodate his size before he started to snap his hips into you like he wanted.

“I’m ready,” you assured, sensing his hesitance. “Don’t hold back. I need to feel you.”

“Baby,” he whimpered, leaning over your body to kiss you as his hips started to thrust shallowly in and out of you, properly lubricating his cock so that he didn’t hurt you.

You held onto his face with both hands, gasping and moaning into the clumsy and heated kiss, his thrusts getting rougher and needier with each withdrawal.

“You feel so fucking good, bebita…always fucking dripping for me, aren’t you?” He husked against your mouth before tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Didn’t touch myself at all while you were gone,” you confessed. Frankie let out a strangled whine into your ear as he buried his face in your neck, his hands pinning your hips to the mattress as he fucked into you brutally. “Wanted to save it all for you.”

“Jesus—fuck.” His thrusts were getting sloppier, a grin growing on your face at the feeling of your own orgasm building in time with his. “Baby, I’m so close—“

“Me too…please don’t stop…wanna cum with you.” Frankie’s moans became wanton, your lips shushing him as you kissed his temple. “You’re gonna wake our little monster up.”

“S-sorry, baby. Feels so fucking good.” His body lifted into a plank, his eyes dropping to watch as his cock disappeared into your heat over and over, each time coated with more of your slick. “Rub your clit. I’m about to cum.”

“Please fill me up…gimme another little Frankie,” you begged as you obeyed his command, rubbing your clit frantically as you watched him lose control, your words turning him feral. “God, I’m—“

“Shit!” He moaned much too loud as he came in time with you, but neither of you could care as you floated together in bliss, his cock stuffing you full of his cum. “I love you. So fucking much.”

“I love you, Frankie,” you breathed out, already nearing sleep as your high dwindled into a soft buzz. Frankie hummed and laid down beside you, pulling you into his side.

Turning your head over to glance at the clock on your bedside table, you smiled as you saw it was well past midnight. You looked back at him and reached a finger up to trace his jaw, stealing one last peck.

“Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal,” you purred, Frankie’s mouth curling up in a sleepy grin.

“Merry Christmas, mi amor.”

•••

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