#santa please santa please put me on the nice list

[catrinkets]

[diremoone]

quiet kisses | r. sukuna

prompt 2 — “I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe.”

requested by @yuujispinkhair :: Heyyy babe, your Christmas prompt post is so cute 💗💗 If you feel inspired, can you please write a little something for Sukuna + prompt 2 or prompt 7 (whichever you prefer)? 💗💗

a/n: AHHHH thank you so much for sending this in Winter! 🤩 I can’t tell you how much I nearly exploded seeing your request in my inbox! I went with prompt 2 because that’s the one my brain started working for the fastest. I hope you like it and I did your request justice :3

w — alcohol mention, fluff, everyone is 20+ in this fic, modern AU, mentions of prompt 7 heehee, softie! sukuna, sukuna cooks at the end lmao but it’s not related to the chef! sukuna fic

[ Christmas Prompt List ]

[ Christmas Event Masterlist ]

Nobara putting on this Christmas party was anything but unexpected. She was a party girl at heart, but nothing like what you’d see at a frat house or a club. No, she was the party master (or so she likes to call herself). And you kinda had to agree. Her parties weren’t over the top, but they definitely were anything but boring.

This time was no different: catering, along pizza and wine delivery, along with some of the more higher-rated Christmas movies playing on the TV with English Christmas music playing on the background, just loud enough that it wasn’t obnoxious.

You knew your boyfriend had to agree, even if he hated attending social events and parties.

What an introvert, you muse to yourself. You wonder how many people realize that as much as Sukuna seems like it, he doesn’t actually like parties. Nor anyone but himself and you at said parties.

You and Sukuna are off to the side against the bar that separates the kitchen and living area, deep in your own little world of each other. You’re leaning on him, his big arm wrapped around your shoulders comfortably.

You nudge him. “This isn’t so bad. See!”

Sukuna scoffs. “That’s what you said when you forced me into that Santa costume last year.”

“But you had some fun, didn’t you?”

“In the suit? No. Terrorizing children in it? Absolutely.”

You slap his chest. He catches your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. You grumble. “You idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he remarks with a grin.

Suddenly, like magic, the party suddenly gets loud. Jingle Bells comes on the playlist set up, and everyone has begun to sing as loud as they possibly can. Sukuna grumbles and plugs one ear with a finger, rolling his eyes. He keeps on ear open, and you know it’s just to listen to you as you attempt to sing your way through the giggles.

When the song ends, everyone cheers. Sukuna unplugs his one ear and sighs, taking another sip of the hot chocolate you’ve made for him. They all quiet down, giggling and giddy from the sudden excitement of the old but catchy tune.

But why is everyone now looking at his and your direction?

And then everyone starts chanting: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You and Sukuna look up at the same time, seeing a mistletoe being hung over your heads by a fishing rod, but none other than the Party Master herself. Nobara grins sadistically with an evil glint in her eye.

Sukuna cusses and downs the rest of his drink before saying, “I think that’s our cue to leave. Nice party, Kugisaki.”

You attempt to down the rest of yours before he grabs your hand with his bigger one and leads you out the front door, almost stumbling over your own two feet.

Behind you, everyone complains about Sukuna being a “party pooper” and leaving. Before you two leave, he turns back to them and gives them the finger.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t the only couple here. Maybe Geto and Gojo should finally shack up,” Sukuna says with an evil grin. The two men next to each other go redder than tomatoes in record time. Sukuna isn’t done though, looking at his little brother. “And maybe you and Fushiguro should finally get a room, too, baby brother.”

The chaos from your boyfriend’s words gives you the chance to leave without trouble, the two unspoken couples now being the main attention of Kugisaki’s evil fishing rod-mistletoe.

Maybe they’ll be together come New Years, you think happily.

Sukuna drives you both home. One hand on the wheel, the other intertwined sweetly with yours. But by the time you get home, you’re halfway asleep in the car, hot cocoa being the perpetrator of your tiredness. You attempt to blink and wake up, but Sukuna’s gruff, “Stay put.” halts you as he turns the car off, keeping his keys in one hand.

You have no idea what he’s doing until he opens your door and slides his arms under your back and legs. You squeal and giggle as he effortlessly picks you up from your seat.

“Goddamn, you got the giggles tonight,” he mutters.

Like he’s done it a thousand times (he’s at least done it a couple dozen), Sukuna unlocks the front door with you in his arms with pure ease. He carries you over the threshold like a husband would his bride and doesn’t set you down. He hoists you up, readjusting your position closer to his chest. And then you see the cunning look in his eyes.

“Sukuna, what are you— mmph!”

He dips his head and captures your lips with his. He’s warm, so warm and comforting. You feel so safe and loved in his hold and damn do you love him. Your arms naturally tighten their hold around his neck as you two kiss in your home.

When Sukuna pulls away, he chuckles. You’re slightly breathless from the sudden kiss, but grinning nonetheless.

“You couldn’t do that at the party?” you inquire curiously.

“I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe,” he replies honestly. “Especially at a party in front of people. Not my thing to make such an intimate spectacle of ourselves.”

Your heart flutters and overflows with love at his desire to keep his affection solely for your eyes to see. Sukuna has never been one to kiss or do intimate things in public beyond hand holding or wrapping his arm around your shoulders. For him, he considers that to be sacred; any acts of love he prefers to be behind closed doors, kept between the two of you and not in front of people to be fawned over or talked about.

“You really are the sweetest man I’ve ever met,” you say. “I’m so lucky. I really got the best man ever, didn’t I? Thanks, Universe.”

Your boyfriend’s cheeks tint red. A rare sight.

“Fuck. No, I’m the lucky one.” Sukuna gives you a fat smooch on the lips, the adds, “But I don’t have the universe to thank. I got you all by myself.”

You toss your head back and laugh at his indirect proclamation of arrogance. Or maybe it was just unshakable confidence, who knows?

Sukuna sets you down on the couch and asks, “What do you want for dinner?”

You think for a moment before replying, “Didn’t you say wanted to make some penne vodka the other day? That sounds good.”

“Penne alla vodka,” he corrects you with a stern eye.

You toss your hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.”

But as Sukuna gets to work on the dish, you can’t help but stare at him as he works. He could be a master chef like Gordon Ramsey, if not better. But you’re kinda glad he’s not, not if you get to see him in your kitchen every night.

Yeah, you’d trade any party and PDA for his quiet kisses and love at home any day.

taglist:

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri | @lilacliliess | @bub-ss | @missmuffinr

[luveline]

EDDIE AND ROAN , roan and eddie have a little “argument” theyre both so sad and r fixes everything 🥹🥹🥹

eddie and roan ♡ (almost) step mom!reader

“I can't give it to you,” Eddie says, shrugging, “it's for Christmas.” 

“I hate you.” 

You pick your head up from the book you're reading. Roan crosses her arms over her chest defiantly, and Eddie mirrors her pose. 

“That's not true. If I give it to you now, we won't have anything nice to eat on Christmas day. Then it won't feel special.” 

“Santa will bring more.” 

It's sound logic for a kid, but unfortunately for you and Eddie, Santa continues to be a work of fiction, and so he won't be replacing the expensive Christmas pound cake Roan wants to open. 

Eddie shakes his head. “He brings presents, babe. I pay for the food.” 

“You can buy more.” 

“Roan, I'm saying no.” 

Roan's eyes narrow to dark slits. “Dad, that's not fair.” 

“It is, babe. You can't have everything you want just because you want it, this is for a special occasion. We have to save things sometimes.” 

“Ugh,” she says, frowning deeply at him. She's adorable even like this, and you can't help smiling in your seat, watching her show off. “You suck!” 

“You suck,” Eddie says back immediately. 

Roan drops her arms from her chest. She stays quiet, perhaps hoping Eddie will say sorry, and when there's no apology to be found she takes off running up the stairs, huffing and puffing. The slam of her bedroom door shakes the house. 

You put your bookmark between the pages of your book and let it fall closed. You hadn't expected to get very far. “That's not very nice,” you say. 

Eddie groans and shoves the pound cake under a loaf of bread. “I'm not nice,” he says, dragging his feet to your chair, slumping over you, and shoving his face against your neck. You cradle his head instinctively. “I'm mean.” 

“I heard some guy up north has you on his shit list.” 

“Why doesn't she get that I want to eat it too? I hate saying no. I don't want to say no.” 

“But if you said yes to everything she wanted we'd be destitute,” you say, a sorry softness to it as you stroke his hair. He's very warm where he's pressed against you. 

“I know.” 

“Having a bad day?” you ask. 

“The worst.” 

“Want me to try and fix it?” 

“Would you?” he asks, pulling his head up, his voice full of awe as though it was the most generous thing you could have ever offered. 

“Not budging on the cake, right?” 

He shakes his head. “What will we eat Christmas day?” Eddie smiles hopefully, the doe shape of his eyes emphasised, as is the dark hiding of lashes surrounding them. “Tell her I was totally being cranky because she was cranky too, please. And call me a bitch or something, she loves that.” 

You tuck one of his curls behind his ears in goodbye, taking the stairs two at a time to check on your girl. 

Roan is upside down in bed, feet pointed at the pillow and head curled away from you at the bottom. She's got one sock falling off and her room is an explosion of toys as usual, but what upsets you most is the sound of weak sniffles smothered in her blankets. 

Poor girl. Eddie's repeated insult must've struck a nerve. 

“It's me, Roro. Can I come in?” 

“No.” 

“Just for a bit. We can snuggle or something, I…” You smile at her as she lifts her head. “I could really use one. What do you think?” 

You make yourself at home at the top of her bed. Her double feels like a queen size with just the two of you in the middle. Her sheets are flat and tucked still from the morning, and the springs chirp in protest as she waddles across them on her knees, dropping into the invitation of your open arm with a sniff. 

“Dad was so mean to me…” 

“He said something mean, huh?” you ask gently, bringing your hand to the back of her head. Her curls are thick as Eddie's with the same frizz toward the top of her head, soft and fuzzy to touch. “I think you upset him too, when you said he sucked.” 

“I didn't mean it.” 

“I know. Do you think daddy knows that? I bet he does.” 

She whines under your chin, her cheek sticky where it brushes your neck. “It's not fair,” she cries. 

Her sobs are easily soothed. You shush her, rubbing the flat plane of her back with a loving palm. These tears are a mixture of things, you reckon, hybrid crocodiles —she's not getting her way and she's not happy about that, but there's a real injustice there too. It's hard being little sometimes. You don't get to choose what you want, and you can't understand why, either. 

“Listen, babe, I think daddy was right, and we can't have the cake, because the cake cost money, okay? And me and daddy need money for some other things, like fish food for Lucky, and dinner tonight, does that make sense?” 

“But we have the cake,” she says, irritation seeping into her clumsy inflection. 

“We do,” you agree, pulling her up into your chest for a good squeeze, “but that's because we're trying to save it up. If we eat it now, we might not have enough money to buy it again. Daddy isn't trying to be mean, yeh? Just wants you to have a special day…” You run your fingertip down her back, laughing as she shivers, and again when she giggles. “‘Cos Christmas is so soon! And we're being good. So let's go make daddy say sorry, that way he can be back on the good list.” 

“Am I still on the good list?” she asks worriedly. 

You don't like that she's upset, but you like getting to be her mom. “You're on my good list. Let's go see dad and I'm sure Santa will put you straight back to the top.” 

Roan drags her feet just like her dad did, apprehensive on the way down the stairs and back to the kitchen. Eddie's waiting and pretending he isn't, leant up against the countertop with a candy bar in hand. “It's not cake, babe, but you can still have a treat?” he offers. 

Roan steps forward and drops her head into his thigh. “You're not nice.” 

“You said it first, baby,” he says, but he bends over her to kiss her forehead, the tip of his nose brushing her hair, “but you're right. I'm sorry, you don't suck.” 

“Well. You don't suck either.” 

It sounds like she's asking a question. Eddie smiles up at you, and then he drops his face into her completely and starts whining. “Why don't you love me anymore, Roly-poly? You used to be soooo nice to me.” 

“It's ‘cos I'm hungry.” 

He snorts and passes her the candy bar. “Why do I doubt that?” 

“I don't know… Do you want half?” 

“Better make it a quarter, bub. I think Y/N deserves some for being the best mom ever, don't you?” 

Roan turns to look at you. “How much does that leave for me?” she whispers. 

“Still half,” you whisper back. 

She smiles happily and forces the candy bar back into her dad's hands, demanding Eddie open it and break it up into pieces for her. He spares her the hard work, and everyone forgets about the Christmas cake for a few weeks. 

[eddiesxangel]

Fuck the Nice List| Santa!Eddie x Reader

Smutty Part 2 of Hey, Mr. Claus

Cw smut, Eddie is dressed as Santa for your nieces and nephews and you can’t keep your hands to yourself. Minors DNI

The night was wrapping up as you and all your loved ones were gathered around the Christmas tree at your brothers' house. It was the first Christmas you were spending with your new boyfriend, Eddie, and he wanted to make a good impression on your family. So, he volunteered to dress as Santa for the younger ones. He already had experience from his Mall Santa job and thought it would be a way to get into your family's good books.

You heard a rustling of wrapping and tissue paper as the kids were getting squirmy and anxious to see who was coming around the corner.

“HO HO HO! Merry Christmas!” Eddie belted in his lower register voice when he played the character. As he entered the living room, a sack of presents filled with gifts your family had bought prior was slung around his shoulder.

Many high-pitched cheers of joy pierced your ears as the young ones screamed. They all ran up to Santa Eddie, not knowing it was the man they sat beside at dinner. He had put much effort into his appearance to make it more believable.

His hair was tucked away into his hat that had a long white curly wig underneath it. A long, white, silky beard was attached to his face, and some makeup made him look a bit older and rosie.

Eddie sat and listened to each child on what they wanted, and then he gave them a single gift. He was attentive and aware of how important it was to each child. This would live in their memories forever. The “real” Santa was here just for them on Christmas Eve! What else could they want?

The way Eddie was being so good with the kids of your family was making you feel things. Your heart fluttered in your chest, your palms sweaty, and your lower belly area felt much warmer than it should at a family function. You couldn't wait to get your hands on the man you were falling for.

“When’s it my turn, Mr. Claus?” You bat your eyes at your boyfriend once you are alone.

Your siblings went to get their children ready for bed. Everyone was spending the night at your brothers' house so you could spend Christmas Day together as a family.

“Don’t tell me this is what you’re into, Sugar Plum?” He asked as you walk towards him

“So what if it is? You don’t wanna unwrap me like one of your presents?” You tug at his beard to bring his head down lower to kiss. “I think you’re going to like what’s inside,” you whisper seductively.

“You wanna ride on Santa’s sleigh?” Santa Eddie smirked as you ran your hands up his chest to his shoulders.

“More like his North Pole...”

Eddie groans as he lets his head fall back before grabbing your hand and guiding the both of you to your shared bedroom for the evening.

“I can’t believe you’re going to seduce me into fucking you at your family’s house.” He tugged you into the guest room and shut the door quietly, not to alert the others.

“Oh please, seducing you? All I have to do is breathe, and you want to fuck me,” you laugh before Eddie shuts you up with a searing kiss.

“Get undressed,” Eddie demanded before taking off his suit.

“Wait! Keep that on,” you smirk.

“Oh, so we are doing this?” He points between you and himself.

You bite your lip and nod, letting your dress fall.

Eddie’s eyes went wide as he examined your figure. You had on a matching lacy red set. The push-up bra hugged your breasts, and the panties sculpted your ass to look like the perfect little sugar plum.

Eddie backs up and plops on the edge of the bed without breaking his gaze. He was practically drooling at the sight of you.

“Come on, Snow Angel. Come sit on Santa’s lap and tell me what you want for Christmas.” Eddie bites his lip, beckoning you over.

You walk over and straddle Santa Eddie’s lap, draping both legs over his knees, landing your lacy cunt down on his already hardening cock. Eddie grips your ass, and you lean your weight into him.

“I want you to fill me with your cum this Christmas.” You whispered in his ear before nibbling on the lobe.

“Fuuuuuuuck baby you can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not? You asked me what I wanted. I’ve been a good girl this year I promise.” You pout.

“I don’t know about that Sugar Plum? I’ve heard from the elf’s that you’ve been naughty.” Eddie bit at your neck as your hips began to grind down in your boyfriend’s lap. “You you’re going to do everything I say to make sure you really are a good girl.”

“Yes, Santa. I’ll do anything to get on your nice list.” You drop your head to kiss Eddie’s plump lips. Well, you at least tried to because the fake beard got in the way.

“Ok, this has to go,” you laugh as Eddie removes the synthetic beard from his face.

“Oh, thank god,” he mumbles before peppering kisses all over your chest and breasts.

“Fucking perfect,” Eddie mumbles as he presses his face into your cleavage and takes in your sent. You smell of cinnamon, ginger and pine needles.

“Mmmmm baby,” you moan as you grip the back of his head, keeping his face in your chest.

“You wanna lick Santa’s special candy cane?” Eddie smirked.

You slinked down his body, and he unbuttoned his suit jacket. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and you couldn’t help but run your hands up and down his naked torso. Your eyes soaked him in as he undid his pants.

“Mmmm, I bet it’s the sweetest.” You ran your hand up and down the tented fabric of his boxers.

“No more teasing. You wanna get on Santa’s nice list, don’t ya? Open up a nice big present tomorrow morning?” Eddie bites his bottom lip.

“Yes, Santa,” you pull his big cock out and give the tip a lick.

“Good girl, good fuckn’ girl.” Eddie stroked your head as you took him entirely into your mouth.

You take as much of him as you can in your mouth before gagging. The weight of his velvety shaft was so soft on your tongue. You loved giving Eddie head; it made you so wet every time without fail.

“Fuck you’re way too good at this. I’m going to bust already,” he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Mmmmmmm,” you hum at the compliment and continue to bob and suck on his cock.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he pulls your head up so he doesn’t explode right then and there. He pulls you up into a deep, long kiss as he goes to lay back on the bed. You followed his lead and hovered over top of him. You graze your sopping clothed cunt over Eddie’s bare cock as you adjust your weight.

Eddie hissed as he felt the pool of wet heat graze his cock. “You wanna take that ride now, baby?” Eddie moaned.

“Yes,” you sigh, and you feel Eddie’s hand pull your panties to the side.

“You gotta work for it, Sugar Plum; show Santa how good you can be,” he cooed as he curled your clit with a gloved finger.

“Fuck” you sigh, and you grind your hips harder on Eddie's cock.

“What did I say about teasing? You naughty little elf,” Eddie gritted out.

“M’sorry Santa, maybe I wanna be your naughty girl.” You continue to grind your hips back and forth from his base to tip.

“That’s it!” Eddie couldn't take it anymore. He flips the two of you over so you’re flat on your back.

“No more playing around. Santa needs his milk and cookies” Eddie ripped your panties right off, and before you knew what was happening, his muscular tongue was entering your wet hole, and his bright red nose was nudging at your clit.

“Fuck baby,” you whispered, trying not to disturb the rest of the house. He sat up and replaced his tongue with two fingers. You’re not even sure when he removed the white gloves.

“Mmm, best cookie I’ve tasted all year,” he mused, and your pussy clenched.

“Oh, you like it when I compliment your cookie, don’t you?” He massaged his fingers inside you, making your hips jerk up.

“Baby, please,” you begged.

“Naughty girls have to wait, baby; only good girls on the nice list get what they want” His thumb curled your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

“Baby fuck, I’m close,” you wined, and Eddie pulled away.

“Oh, she’s learning.”

“Baby I was so close-”

“Naughty girls only get to come when it’s on my cock.” He aligns himself up to your entrance.

“Fuck your so hot.” Eddie leaned down to kiss you. He kissed you hard, and it made your head spin.

Eddie slipped his tongue into your mouth, and at the same time, he slipped in his cock. You never got tired of the way Eddie stretched you out every time. He never failed to make you feel full. He knew how to take over your body. The way he would numb your mind, how he could literally fuck you dumb. You hadn't been together that long with Eddie. Only a month, really, but the way he knows your body, it was like he was made for you.

"Oh, you like that Sugar Plum? Do you like Santa's fat cock splitting you open? I wish you could see it, baby, the way your pussy swallows my cock is perfection." You must have been making noises of pleasure because you were already lost in your own little world of euphoria, and he had just started.

"Answer me, Sugar Plum. Tell me how much you like this cock." his hips slowed down in pace but never stopped. He will wait for your answer.

"I- fuck- I love it-ohhhhhhh," you cried as his head grazed your g spot.

"There's my good girl." Eddie's pace quickened. His hand ran up to massage your breast, still confined by the lacy red bra.

Your pussy clamped down at his words; you loved when he called you his god girl. It never fails to make your body tingle.

As his cock continuously slides against your g spot, your body tenses up at the oncoming orgasm Eddie is about to give you.

"More, please, I'm so close," You beg. You were so close to the euphoria that you would do anything for Eddie now.

"Sucha good girl letting me know. and you know what good girls get?" Eddie continues to thrust into your cunt while reaching down to open your legs up wider for him so that he could rub your clit. The new angle was just what you needed.

You quickly nod to Eddie's question before your body is ripped with a rush of serotonin.

"That's right, baby, they get what they ask for. Come, baby, you're doing so good for me." He talked you through your orgasm.

He followed not too far after you, finishing inside like you had asked. You loved it when Eddie came in you. He'd hug you close as he trusted his hips deep into your body that you felt so connected. Like you were made for one another. It didn't matter if the sex was silly or serious; you knew your souls were meant to be intertwined.

"I didn't know I had that many dirty Christmas analogies in me," Eddie laughed, shucking off the fluffy white and red suit jacket that made him a sweat bucket.

"Any now I have one more in me." you laugh, and Eddie can't help but fall in love with you.

Part 3

tag list: @allthingsjoeq @bettyfrommars @battymunson @onegirlmanytales @slutty-thevampireslayer @leelei1980 @tlclick73 @reidsbtch

[bwabys-scenarios]

🎄Christmas Season with JJK Men🎄

🎁!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!🎁

characters: Gojo, Choso, Nanami

⚠️warning: suggestive in Gojo’s, smut in Choso’s and Nanami’s, you’re pregnant in Gojo’s and Nanami’s⚠️

A/N: If this does well, I’ll do a part 2 with more characters!! I have only watched the first season of the anime, and it was a while ago so please be nice!! I might not know the characters too well, but I’m trying my best to give y’all content!!

NSFW JJK taglist: @iluvies @zeniiis @highbats69

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

Gojo

He throws a Secret Santa for his students a few days before Christmas, and as his wife you attend. It’s the first Christmas you’ve been married and your first time meeting his students, so they all(besides Megumi, who attended the wedding and loves you to death) nearly die of shock.

“Are you being paid for this? Like a girlfriend for rent?” Nobara asks, looking you up and down then glancing at her mentor.

“Oh you wound me!”

Gojo holds you in his arms, his hand moving to your tummy. “And I was so excited to introduce you all to my lovely wife and child!”

“CHILD!?”

You smack his head. “Satoru! We were supposed to keep that a secret!”

Nobara and Itadori accept you as his wife when they watch you scold him as if he were a disobedient child.

The Secret Santa was fun, ending with a Christmas movie and cookies. The three teens wished you a marry Christmas before telling their mentor how lucky he was.

“I am pretty lucky, aren’t I?”

He kissed the top of your head, leading you to the car by your hand. “My sweet girl deserves nothing but the best, I know that too well.”

You’re treated to hot coco and a nice warm bath when you get home. Your husband offered to sing you Christmas songs as you bathed, but you (fortunately) declined. He could be a bit clingy during the holidays.

The night ends with soft lovemaking, gentle kisses, and another Christmas movie. He’s so excited to spend your first Christmas married together, and who can blame him!

Choso

He likes to celebrate Christmas with family, so once you’re together he INSISTS on accompanying you to your family’s annual Christmas party. You need to teach him about a few traditions and social cues, but besides that he’s pretty good around your family.

He helps put up decorations, gets along with your little cousins, and he even brings Itadori along with him. Choso is a family man, he really enjoys being surrounded by people who care.

As soon as the two of you are alone, it doesn’t matter if you’re staying over with your parents or not, he’s got his hand in your panties, trying to get you off. You’re his princess, and he heard that you’re supposed to give people presents for Christmas, Choso just wants to make you feel loved and special!

He just loves you cockwarming him while you watch Christmas movies together, keeping his hands on the fat of your hips, gently kneading.

“Mm… merry Christmas, princess… so pretty, fuck…”

It goes from this to him talking to your parents about how happy he is to be invited 30 minutes later. You’re just trying to ignore the feeling of his cum pooling down your legs, thankful you wore baggy sweatpants.

He learns most of his knowledge on Christmas from movies, so he’s determined to kiss you under the mistletoe. He stood under it for nearly an hour, waiting for you to finish talking to your family.

You find him standing there, pouting like an abandoned puppy.

“You’re so silly, Choso. You could have just asked for a kiss.”

The two of you share a soft kiss. He holds back any groping or tongue because his brother is there, but once you’re behind closed doors… RIP your coochie.

Nanami

Unlike the other characters on this list, Nanami much prefers spending a quiet Christmas alone with you. He’ll visit your family before Christmas, but Christmas Day is for you and him alone.

He wakes you up with breakfast in bed. Nanami’s love language is acts of service and words of affirmation. He spends the morning with you in his lap, feeding you breakfast as he tells you just how grateful he is to have you in his life, especially during Christmas.

Honestly, I feel like Nanami may have a bit of seasonal depression, and you’re the reason he’s able to really enjoy the holiday.

Nanami likes to surprise you with your gifts by pretending Santa is the one that brought them. He leaves you in bed at 3 am to arrange your gifts, and you playful pretend to be surprised. You’re both adults and he knows you’re just going along with it, but it’s just some innocent fun that makes him enjoy the season. He’d honestly be a great father, and now you want a family with him even more.

Since you usually make meals for the two of you, he took over the duty of Christmas dinner. Once it’s lunch time, he serves you a plate of your favorite Christmas foods. He spends the entire day thoroughly spoiling you.

The two of you stay in pajamas, lazily snacking and watching Christmas movies while snuggling on the couch. It’s moments like these that make him feel alive and content.

At night, you have sleepy, snuggly sex. He keeps you close to him, thrusting in and out while holding onto your hand. “My darling… I’m so, so happy… this day couldn’t have been better…”

You hope your Christmas present for him, a positive pregnancy test, will make him even more happy when you show him in the morning. Unfortunately, you are much too sleepy and comfortable with his cock nestled inside of you to get it at that moment.

But when you show him in the early morning, he cries tears of joy.

“This is perfect… my sweet angels…”

[sugarnspice630]

Secret Santa - Mingi

“Looks like you’re on the naughty list anyway Y/N. Time for your punishment.”

•pairing: nonidol!Mingi x gn!reader

•word count: 1.7k

•tags: nonidol, stalker Mingi, Mingi's dressed as Santa for a few moments, Mingi is shy when meeting reader in real life for the first time, Mingi breaks into reader's house, unaddressed Christmas cards, fear play, ...did I miss anything?

Summary: Receiving Christmas cards from an unaddressed secret admirer for 11 days straight, then on the 12th day, they somehow end up in your house

A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! Somehow I managed to squeeze this story out of my ass but I think it actually turned out pretty good! Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading and hope everyone has an absolutely amazing holiday.

Christmas was your favorite time of year. The lights, the atmosphere, and the colder weather which results in bundling up at home and staying nice and cozy; it was so magical. All of this magic was ruined slightly when you checked your apartment mailbox and found a letter from an unaddressed person. Hesitant to open it, but curiosity was getting to you since you thought ‘Maybe they just forgot to put a sticker on it?’ so you opened the letter to find an ordinary Christmas card. However,  when you opened it, your legs got weak. It was a polaroid picture of you shopping for Christmas presents. Taken completely without you knowing. You felt sick to your stomach. How could someone do this? Who would do this? You moved the picture to see the card signed sloppily with red ink. Your heart beating incredibly fast, you rip the card and the picture and throw them in the trash. Taking a breath to try to relax, you go back to your normal daily routine and try to ignore the creepy letter.

The very next day, you checked your mailbox again, and there was another letter. Your hands trembled as you opened it, having a strong feeling it was from the same person as yesterday. The front of the card was different than the one before, but the inside of it still freaked you out just as much as the first time. The same red ink smeared inside, but the picture this time was a picture of you from your apartment bedroom window. Not doing anything explicit, just like you were walking in there to grab something. Again, you ripped the card and the picture up and threw them away. However, the thought of having this secret admirer this close to Christmas did excite you a little.

The cards continued to come for the next 9 days. Each day, the writing inside the card got even more illegible than the first time, and the pictures became more and more…alarming. A picture of your apartment door, a picture of you showering; thankfully your figure was blocked by the steam, a picture of your panties laying on your bed, which you definitely did not place there. You thought about going to the police, but what were they going to do about it? They had no way of tracking the person down because the handwriting was such a mess, no return address on the letters, and you certainly had no description of the person sending them. You were fucked. You just had to pray that this secret person would eventually stop or move on to someone else and leave you alone.

-

The time was now Christmas day and you were on your way to visit your parents. Frantically making your way to the bus, trying not to be late, you accidentally bumped into someone’s arm and it knocked your presents onto the ground.

“Oh shit, I am so sorry!” You quickly apologized to the stranger and bent down to start picking up your gifts.

“Ah, no need to apologize! H-here let me help. You seem to be in a hurry.” The stranger responded with a chuckle. He also bent down and started to help you pick up your presents.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” You glanced up and noticed the person you accidentally ran into was ironically dressed in a Santa costume. “Dressed for the holidays, huh?” You said as you picked up the last gift and carefully stood up.

“Oh! Y-yeah, I uh..dress up as Santa every year and go to the local hospital and surprise the kids’ in there with gifts.” He nervously scratches the back of his head and looks down at the ground. You thought to yourself that he must be a shy or reserved individual and you felt guilty for running into him. However, his statement filled your heart with joy.

“That’s actually really sweet. I’m sure the kids appreciate it a lot.”

“It’s so nice seeing their faces light up.” He smiles softly, still not making direct eye contact with you. You smiled back at him and paused for a moment, admiring his facial features and the way his eyes sparkled in the daylight. He truly was an attractive individual. Realizing quickly that there was no time to stand around and drool over a stranger, you pulled out your phone and checked the time.

“Shit! Uh, I-I’m sorry I have to go! Thank you for helping me again; hopefully me running into Mr. Claus doesn’t put me on the naughty list.” You chuckle at the stupid joke. The stranger chuckles back at your joke, and you wave at him, thanking him once again as you start making your way back to the bus station.

“I’ll see you later~!” You heard the stranger call from behind you, but his tone of voice was different than when you were talking to him in front of you. Also, what does he mean by ‘see you later’? You don’t even know the man or where he was from. You shook it off as just another awkward thing that humans say accidentally to others. Like when the waiter brings you your food and says ‘enjoy’ and you respond with ‘thanks, you too’. Happens to everyone.

–

The Christmas party with your parents was great. Seeing family you haven’t seen in a long time and getting to catch up was something you needed to forget all about the crazy events you had the days prior. On your way home, you found yourself thinking about the Santa guy from earlier. You never exchanged names, but then again, it was probably for the better since he said, ‘See you later’. Perhaps he was the creep that had been sending you letters those 11 days? Chills went down your spine and you snapped yourself out of thinking. Looking out the window, you realize you’re almost back in town for your apartment. The bus finally stops at the station you got on at, and you carefully grab your bag of presents from the night and head out the door, thanking the driver as well and telling them to have a good night.

Walking to your apartment, you can’t help but have an uneasy feeling. All of the strange events that have been happening recently just put a huge damper on the holidays. You feel like you can’t fully enjoy them. Finally making your way back to your complex, you let out a sigh of relief as there was no letter in your mailbox. Finally, whoever that was decided to move on. You make your way up the stairs to your floor, starting to feel slightly tired from the day you have had. As you’re walking down the hallway for your floor, you see one, lonely, brown, package sitting in front of a door. Surely that can’t be at your door. You already got all your gifts tonight. Making your way closer to your apartment door, you can confirm the package is sitting in front of your door. That unsettling feeling comes back to you as you reach the door and see that there is no label whatsoever on the package. Someone just set this box here. You used your key and unlocked your door. You thought about leaving the package there and not bothering with it. Wondering if there was some kind of curse following you because you kept interacting with the strange mail pieces, but there was still that little light in you that was curious about what was in that package. You picked up the package and carried it inside, shutting the door with your butt and carrying the package to the kitchen counter to open it. You carefully grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the box open. To your surprise, there was nothing inside other than an envelope. Just like the ones you had been receiving in the mail. You opened it up and were greeted with another normal Christmas card; however, when you opened the card, your knees got weak.

See you later

Feeling the same feeling you got when you opened the first anonymous card. Your head was reeling. Who the fuck was doing this to you? What was the purpose of their actions, and why are they being so cryptic about it? ‘See you later.’ You repeated that to yourself again and again. You had heard this before. Those words came from the stranger earlier. They left the same sour taste in your mouth. Disgusted and utterly mortified, you hardly noticed the jingle bell sound coming from inside your apartment. Quickly directing your attention to your main door, you noticed it was slightly ajar.

You forgot to lock it.

Panic sets in and you run over to the door, slam it shut, and lock it. Your hands shaking as you do. Perhaps it pushed itself open? The seal around the door wasn’t the greatest, and maybe the pressure you applied from pushing it with your butt wasn’t enough to latch it shut completely. You press your head against the door and close your eyes, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. The jingle bell sound rings through your ears again. You turn around at an alarming rate, but there is nothing out of place. You carefully walk around your apartment to discover what the strange noise was. Rounding each corner slowly and trying to catch the intruder when they’d least expect it. You hear the jingle bells one more time, but it’s coming from behind you, and it’s extremely close. The ring sounds more like taunting someone rather than the joyous sounds of Christmas time. You turn around slowly and are met with an extremely tall individual. Your head looking up and your eyes taking in every feature of the intruder, just in case you make it out of this situation alive. You feel yourself trembling with fear as your eyes get closer to seeing the man’s face. A few seconds later, you are met with another pair of eyes. The exact same eyes as the stranger from earlier. He has the most menacing smirk on his face. You gasp dramatically and take a tiny step back so you’re not as close to him.

“Looks like you’re on the naughty list anyway Y/N. Time for your punishment.”

[gudfornuthin]

Hi I was just wondering of you can make a Bernard x reader and maybe just a little lime or smut please thank you so much ❤❤❤

Sugar and Spice

Bernard the Elf x reader

Working as a baker at the North Pole was no easy task. Especially when the overbearing head elf is breathing down your neck. When true feelings are brought to light, how will you deal with them?

Thank you for the request! It’s not really smut as I’ve never written that before so it’s not intense but I’ve mixed this fic with an idea I already had. I kinda went off the rails lol. Hope you enjoy❤️

( gif credit to @corrodedcoffins )

It was an as always cold, winter morning at the North Pole. Elves scrambling around, making sure everything was complete and ready for Christmas. Less than two months to go and they were falling behind. Santa had only checked the naughty and nice list once, the workshop needed major renovations and three of the reindeer have fallen ill. Safe to say that everyone was on edge. Especially head elf, Bernard.

Striding across the grounds, his expression was anything but happy. Having a less than pleasant conversation with Curtis, he needed time away from the chaos, just for a moment. Bernard hated to admit, but he didn’t do well with stress. The constant pressure put on his shoulders, always feeling like if anything goes wrong, it’s all on him. It’s tough. And he needs some time to relax.

Making it to the front doors of the bakery, he walks through, immediately hit with the smell of fresh cookies and gingerbread. Bernard continues through to the main area, dodging elves holding steaming trays. He arrives by the ovens where he finally sees you. Messy hair, flour down your apron, and what appears to be sprinkles stuck to the sleeves of your shirt. Raw dough scatters the once clean tabletop and Bernard rolls his eyes at it. Mess was never good.

You turn around and spot the head elf, smiling wide. “Oh hey Bernard! Wasn’t expecting to see you this early.”

“Y/N,” he replies in a less than cheerful tone. “Working hard I see?”

“Well I was decorating some of the gingerbread houses and realised there was some icing left over from the cookies, so I had an idea,” the young elf’s eyes light up. “Rather than wasting time and making more red icing, I’ll just use the remaining green icing I already have for the gingerbread houses and have it all matching!” You breath out and spread your arms, happy with your work. Bernard, less so happy.

His eye begins to twitch and his teeth clench. He didn’t want to lose his temper, but the day had already set him on that track. “You can’t do that. You have to follow the recipe exactly as it’s written. You can’t change it without consulting the others otherwise the other bakers won’t make it like you have.”

You blink, taken back by his blunt response. “Sorry, I didn’t realise it would be a big deal. It’s changing one colour and better yet, saving ingredients. Which I thought you’d be all for.”

Bernard knows you’re right, but he can’t seem to drop the sudden grudge he’s holding against you. He grabs for the icing. “No, there’s not enough time to change things so just stick to what you’re supposed to do.”

Sadly, you were equally as stubborn. Furrowing your brow, you snatch the icing away. “Who put coal in your stocking?” You jest, but the metaphorical question still stands. You’d been in a pretty good mood until Bernard showed up, seemingly ready to put up a fight with anyone who got in his way.

He reaches for the icing once more, but you pull back. This continues on, both of you acting like a young child unwilling to share their new toy. The other elves in the room have stopped to watch the display you’re both apart of.

“Y/N this isn’t funny either give me the icing or I’ll have to ask you to leave the bakery for today.” “Make me.”

You both glare at each other. Bernard pulls one last time on the bag and you squeeze, the icing pouring out fast and covering both of you in the sugary treat. The elves gasp. You both stand there in shock.

“Bernard I’m so sorry I didn’t meant to-” you’re unable to finish the sentence before the head elf turns and walks away, leaving through the back doors, slamming them in the process. You stand alone, feeling defeated and childish. You didn’t meant to go off on him. It all just seemed to blow out of proportion. Grabbing a kitchen towel and trying to wipe off the icing, you dash after Bernard.

———

You find Bernard in his office, using a worn rag to rid himself of the mess caused, muttering over and over again. You knock on the door and he looks up. His face turns blank. He huffs out and nods, you taking that as your sign to enter. The place is filled with tension, unsure who should break the silence first. You take the leap.

“You ran out of there quick. Didn’t give me any time to apologise.”

“It’s fine, just needed to clean myself up.” Bernard scrubs his top vigorously, the icing unwilling to leave. You make your way further into the room, arriving in front of him with your towel. “Here, you’re just making it worse.”

Bernard admits defeat and allows you to swab at the remaining sugar. He avoids eye contact, looking anywhere but you. Whether it was because of the scene you both caused, or the current close proximity, you didn’t know.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Bernard whispers, still looking off into the distance, “your idea was really smart, helpful. It’s just been a rough few days.”

“It seems to me that you only ever have rough days,” you stop what you’re doing and look up at him, “you can talk about it you know. Never bottle these things up.”

There’s a silence for a while, the only sound heard from the towel rubbing the icing off a shirt which definitely needed a proper wash.

“I sometimes wonder if I’m good enough to be head elf.”

His response shocks you. Sure the last few months seemed to have Bernard on edge, but he’d always been able to handle it in the past. Hearing him question his abilities made you feel sick, wondering how long he’d felt this way.

“Bernard, you are an incredible head elf. We’d all be in shambles without you!” He shakes his head but you continue on. “Everyone looks up to you; you make sure deadlines are met and the elves are at ease. Santa wouldn’t be able to do this job without your help.”

You take his hands and he finally looks at you, a slight blush covering his already rosey cheeks. “Bernard, you don’t need to do this by yourself. You can’t put all this pressure on you when things fall slightly behind. And you certainly can’t quit as head elf. We all need you,” you take a deep breath, “I need you.”

Bernard’s eyes grow wide, as do yours, shocked by what you just said. Sudden thoughts rush through your head. You’d always known there was something there when it came to the head elf. You found him attractive, and blushed anytime he was near. But saying it out loud now felt strange. You felt vulnerable. You felt stupid. Coughing awkwardly you step back.

“That was out of line, I’m really sorry if that’s made things awkward I didn’t-” before you can muster up a lame excuse, Bernard steps forward, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss. It takes you a moment to understand what’s happening, but soon after you place your hands on the sides of his face and kiss back. He pulls you closer, the movement forcing you to stand in between his legs while he leans back against the desk. You hate how cliche it all feels, but sparks were truly flying. One of your hands moves up into Bernard’s hair, slightly pulling at the curls, eliciting a moan from his mouth. He turns you both around, now with your back against the desk, as he lifts one of your legs to wrap around his waist. It was intense. It was surprising. It was definitely long over due. Who knew slightly switching up a recipe would result in this?

Bernard moves his kissing down your neck, biting hard and more than likely leaving a mark. You pull harder on his hair and tilt your head, giving him more access.

“God, you’re amazing,” he says in your ear with a slight husk. “I could stay in here with you forever.”

Sadly he doesn’t, as there’s a sudden knock on the door, throwing you back into reality. A small voice is heard from outside the room. “Bernard, you’re needed down in workshop.”

He pulls away from your hold, turning to the door and clearing his throat. “I’ll be right down, thank you.” There’s a slight wobble in his voice and you smirk, knowing it’s because of you’re previous activities. He looks back at you, reaching for your hand and smiling timidly. You smile back and shuffle your feet, a sense of awkwardness setting. Bernard doesn’t know what to say, but thankfully you beat him to it.

“It’s okay, we’re okay. We can talk about this later tonight,” you move closer, winding your arms around his neck and playing with the shorter hairs at the back of his head. “Go be the best head elf the North Poles ever seen.”

His smile widens, and he leans in for one last kiss. After a few moments, you both let go and he strides out the door with a spring in his step, feeling a lot better than he did earlier. You can still feel his lips on your neck and his hands on your waist. It was definitely a good way to start the morning.

[choicesfandomappreciation]

Our 2023 Secret Pal Exchange is here!

The tentative dates are December 26-28, but you can keep voting here and I can adjust as needed.

What it is:

Simply put, it's secret santa

Everyone who shows interest in participating will be given a secret pal for whom they should create a small work (drabble, art, edit, moodboard, etc).

How to participate:

Reblog this post stating your interest AND include your top 3 books/characters/pairings to help guide the person who recieves you as their pal on what they should create for you (reblogs that do not include a top 3 will not be considered entries for participation)

or, message me here (@choicesfandomappreciation) or at @lovealexhunt stating your interest and include your top 3 picks

Note: When listing your interests, please include any preferred gender/pronouns/race or other customizations you may have

Please only sign up to participate if you plan to follow through and create for your pal

The deadline to sign up to participate is December 13th

What comes next:

On, or about, December 14th, I will message you with your secret pal and what they listed as their top 3 interests

You create something for them based on their interests and post it for them from December 26-28* (date open to change based on poll)

It would also be really nice if you could include a brief positive message of encouragement and/or support with your creation for your match

Please tag @choicesfandomappreciation and #ChoicesSecretPal23 well so I can keep track of who posted and who is missing.

If you have any questions please do not hesitate to reach out. It should be a wonderful event that spreads joy and cheer in our fandom. ❤️❤️❤️

Just a personal plea...

If for any reason at all (no questions asked), you are unable to participate after signing up, please message me as soon as possible! Every secret pal/admirer/exchange event I've hosted always has had 1-3 people not follow through which leaves me scrambling to create for those people's matches at the last minute. I'm happy to do it, but I hate feeling rushed and not having time to think about it properly. Plus, if it can be avoided and matches reassigned I would rather do that. So if you go on hiatus, need a break, or life is just to busy (or whatever the reason) please just keep me updated. I'd so appreciate it!

[alwaysbethewest]

Triple Frontier fic: A Pilot for Christmas

It's @pedrostories Secret Santa day!! My assignment was for @frannyzooey, who requested domesticity, roommates-to-lovers, and fluff or smut 🥰 I had some of the most fun EVER writing this fic, so I hope it will make you smile, too, Kelli. Merry Christmas!! 🎄 Thank you to @mourningbirds1 and @fleetwoodmactshirt, both of whom I—not to be dramatic but—basically can't live without at this point, and at the very least couldn't have written this fic. And she's not a Pedro fan so I can't imagine she wants to be tagged in this, but thank you to my friend Alyssa for kindly helping me with one of the very few pieces of actual research I did for it.

Title: A Pilot for Christmas Pairing: Frankie Morales/f!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 4.8k Content/warnings: roommates to lovers, hot single dad Frankie, pining, yearning, lusting, questionable romance novel smut, compromising positions, sexual content, fade to black, food, domesticity. Unbetaed, so please let me know if you spot any typos/errors!

There’s a note for you on the kitchen table, written in Frankie’s even, boxy print: Mac + cheese + trees in fridge if you want some.

Your schedules never align on Wednesdays; your boss’s mandatory mid-week team meetings inevitably keep you late and Frankie is always on his way to Laura’s place by the time you get home. You haven’t met his ex-wife, but you think she must be nice enough since he’s usually in a good mood when he gets home from their weekly family dinners. They’re co-parenting, as he’d explained when you first moved in, and along with providing dinner on Wednesdays he does his part by taking their daughter on the weekends. He’s given you a break in the rent to make up for sharing your apartment with a three-year-old two days a week.

This is technically a sublet, and it’s technically temporary, but you get along well enough with Frankie that sometimes it feels a little like kismet. His old roommate had landed a contract overseas for a year just as you were moving to town, and a mutual friend had connected you. There are four months left on the contract, but you’d heard from the roommate recently that he was expecting the position to be renewed, so most likely you’ll get to stay longer if you want to. Nothing is official yet either way, and you’ve decided to give yourself another month before you start to worry about it.

Having the apartment to yourself once a week is the perfect opportunity to watch your favorite guilty pleasure TV shows without fear of male judgment—not that Frankie gets really rude about it but his silent raised eyebrow speaks volumes—and you happily warm up a bowl of macaroni and cheese and “trees” (broccoli; it turns out toddlers lose interest when you use the B-word) and settle in on the couch.

Living with Frankie has gone better than you’d feared it might. Knowing he was the friend of a friend of a friend had alleviated some of your anxiety about moving in with a stranger, and he’s turned out to be a mostly quiet, respectful roommate. After maintaining clear-cut boundaries for the first couple of weeks, you had both relaxed a little bit and settled into something of a shared routine. He likes to cook but doesn’t enjoy grocery shopping, so you often take his list along with your own to the store—and reap the rewards on nights like this when he keeps you well-fed. You both like to keep a tidy home, and neither of you minds the other person throwing in a few items when you’re doing a load of laundry. You’ve even mostly gotten over the embarrassment of the time Frankie had delicately handed you a pair of thong underwear he’d found trapped in the sleeve of one of his clean shirts. The barely-contained amusement on his face had haunted you for a full week.

When you’ve finished your dinner you pause the TV to go wash your bowl, and while you’re in the kitchen you take a few minutes to put away the dishes Frankie had left drying in the dish rack. It’s an easy symbiosis, you muse, a give-and-take that seems to suit you both. Underneath his note, you write back: Delicious!! Thank you, and sign it with a heart.

Most of the time your editing job allows you to maintain a reasonable work-life balance, but this month you’ve found yourself scrambling to get everything done before the upcoming holiday break. Your co-worker Deandra is off on an unexpected leave, and after taking on a share of her work on top of your own, the projects have started to form an intimidating pile. One Monday, two weeks before Christmas, you compromise your typical boundaries by logging back onto your laptop after dinner to work on a manuscript. Frankie is watching a game with the volume on low and it makes for comfortable background noise while you work from the opposite end of the couch.

Deandra’s specialty is romance, and while you’ve had to get used to covering a new genre, having some variety has been interesting. But a detail in this book is bothering you. You glance at Frankie, whose expression is quietly focused. His team is leading the scoreboard by a healthy margin. You don’t think he’ll mind a brief distraction.

“Hey. I could use your piloting expertise. Can I ask you a weird question?”

Frankie raises an eyebrow and shrugs his assent. “Go ahead.”

“Okay, so—is it logistically possible to have sex in a cockpit?”

You have his attention. He slowly turns his head to give you a long, wide-eyed look. After a moment of silence, he narrows his eyes, contemplating. “What kind of aircraft are we talking?”

“Like a regular… A commercial passenger plane?”

He nods, pursing his mouth and tilting his head up so he can gaze off into space, like he’s visualizing it. He glances at you again.

“Two people?” he checks.

“Two—yes, it’s—” he’s surprised you a little, and you fumble for words. “It’s not a cockpit orgy,” you tell him.

He laughs. “Pilots like to party,” he says opaquely, and now you’re the one narrowing your eyes at him, but he’s ignoring your questioning look. “Okay, is it possible? Theoretically, sure. Especially if the other person is short. Is it comfortable, though?” He pulls a face. “It wouldn’t be my choice. It’s a cramped space. Someone’s gonna end up hitting their head, or accidentally kicking the instrument panel, or…” he trails off, shaking his head in disapproval. “It’s… inadvisable.”

“Got it. Thank you.” You make some notes in the Word document on your screen, still internally recovering from his follow-up question, and Frankie turns his attention back to the TV, where the opposing team is starting to close the lead.

You’re no prude, but the genre you usually work in fades to black more often than not, and this author’s penchant for smutty detail has you feeling slightly in over your head. You’ve made it past the cockpit quickie but four chapters later Frankie’s team is on the cusp of winning their game and your protagonist is finally about to have her tall, dark, and handsome pilot love interest in a real bed.

“This love scene is… really something,” you comment. Frankie looks over in interest.

“Read it to me.”

“It’s dirty,” you warn him.

Frankie smirks. “I think I can handle it.”

You take a breath and start to read aloud from the page: “Isabella’s heart raced in excitement. Roderick was standing so close she felt as though his breath was entering her lungs with every inhalation. He took her hand and pressed her palm to himself, making her feel his turgid cock stirring in his pants—Obviously that needs to go—”

“Which part, the turgid cock?” Frankie asks. “I like it.”

“You like it?” you ask, incredulous.

“What?” he says. “A guy can’t enjoy a turgid cock now?”

“Jesus,” you laugh. Your face is starting to feel warm. “Isabella’s petite hand could barely fit around Roderick’s girthy length and it made her whimper with arousal. Roderick smirked down at her. ‘I can’t wait to be inside you,’ he rasped hungrily. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against his body. ‘Tell me you want it,’ he growled.” You glance at Frankie and see he’s got one arm slung across his chest and the other hand resting at his mouth, thumbnail running distractedly over his lips. He’s staring at the TV without really watching it, and after a moment of silence he finally blinks and meets your eyes again.

���It’s weird you get to read porn for work,” he says dryly, and you bury your face in your hands and laugh.

When the game ends, Frankie switches on an episode of Star Trek that he seems to be half watching while he does something on his phone. On your laptop screen, Roderick has you stymied.

Roderick’s muscular arms tossed Isabella onto the bed like she weighed nothing. “Ohhh,” she moaned. “Give it to me.”

“Give you what, baby?” he rasped. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Give me—” Her pale cheeks blushed prettily. How could she say it out loud? But he was looking at her with such lust in his eyes that she knew he only wanted to make sure she was ready to turn herself over to him, to let him use her any way he liked. The thought of it made her shiver with anticipation. “Give me your cock, Roderick. Make me yours.”

With a growl from deep in his chest, Roderick dragged her hips down the bed so that she was balancing on the edge, where his body loomed over hers. Turning her onto her side, he leaned down to nose under her ear, nipping at the delicate skin of her neck and making her moan. His broad hand clutched her thigh, maneuvering her leg to tuck her knee around his hips, and his other hand he ran tantalizingly down her back until he reached her other thigh. He opened her legs, like an explorer unveiling the treasure he’d been seeking, and he straightened up, lifting her ankle to rest against his shoulder, and grinding his hard member against her core.

You go over the last few lines again, whispering the words under your breath to yourself as you try to picture the position. You feel like you need a diagram.

“I’m lost,” you declare.

Frankie glances up from his phone. “Hm?”

“I don’t understand where these limbs are going,” you tell him. “I don’t know if my brain just isn’t working because it’s 9 PM or if this passage needs rewriting. Or if this sex is too advanced for me.”

He laughs and makes a grabbing motion at your laptop. “Lemme see.”

You hand it over, standing up to stretch while he reads it to himself.

“‘He opened her legs like an explorer unveiling the treasure he’d been seeking,’” Frankie reads out dramatically. “Really?”

“Don’t get caught up in the simile,” you say. “Focus on the legs. Is that position even feasible? For someone who isn’t a contortionist?”

“Maybe in the next chapter they reveal she was raised in the circus,” he suggests, but he squints at the screen again, reading through the text. “I think I get it. It’s like—” He gestures with his arms, posing them to mimic Isabella’s legs. It’s borderline incomprehensible.

Later, you’ll blame the late hour and your overworked brain for what happens next. If you’d been running on all cylinders, you would have thought through the boundary-crossing implications of this and stopped yourself, but as it is you frown down at him and say, “Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on,” you urge him, already heading down the hallway to your bedroom. He hesitates, but then follows a few paces behind, and it’s then—the moment he crosses the threshold behind you—that your brain finally catches up to your actions and you begin to realize this was a terrible, terrible idea.

But somehow, coming up with an excuse to turn back feels more mortifying than plowing forward. You sit on the edge of the bed, trying to focus on the matter at hand. Frankie is hanging back, but you give him an expectant look and he takes a step towards you. He clears his throat softly.

“On your side,” he says. It shouldn’t sound like a command—he offers it gently, a reminder of the scene you’re playing out—but something inside you can’t tell the difference and you feel a spot deep in your core go hollow and needy. You turn, obediently, and lay on your right side. He touches the knee of your right leg, urging you to pull it forward.

“This leg around me.”

He steps into the crook of your knee, between your thigh and your calf, and looks down at your other leg, tucked awkwardly between your bodies.

“This is where it gets weird,” he says, and you laugh out loud. The sound dies out when you feel his fingers firmly wrap around your ankle and slowly maneuver your left leg, straight in front of you and then pivoting towards the ceiling. You feel the stretch in your hips, your body turning to follow so you’re halfway between your back and your side. It’s awkward, and he must see your face twist in discomfort, because he stops midway through the movement and rests your foot on his left shoulder. His body is solid and warm against the back of your leg.

“I think in the book it was over here,” he says, tapping his right shoulder. “So maybe she is a contortionist.”

“Or I need to do more Pilates,” you lament. He looks amused.

“Does this position even make sense? Would this work for you?” you ask him, regretting the question as soon as it’s left your mouth. He blinks down at you and his eyes rake down the length of your body to where you’re tangled around him. His hand is still resting over your ankle.

“Your bed is too low,” he says.

It’s—You’d meant the question in a more hypothetical sense. With some other partner, in some other scenario, would this position work? The knowledge that he has taken in the question and assessed the situation—looked at your two bodies in relation to each other, here, in your room, and thought about whether he could fuck you like this—makes you lose your breath.

“Plus—” he continues. He nudges at you to roll you onto your back, carefully lowering your foot from his shoulder so he’s standing between your open legs, nothing between you but empty space and a secret, aching want. He leans in, bracing his hands flat on either side of your body, not touching you but close enough he would only have to lean in. “I like to be able to kiss someone when I make love to them,” he says softly.

He shoots you a smile that could almost be a smirk as he stands up and heads out of the room, leaving you clutching the duvet cover as the world around you tilts on its axis.

It’s not like you’ve never noticed Frankie is attractive. Anybody could see that he is. He’s boyishly cute when he’s playing around with his daughter, their matching, dimpled smiles on display; smoldering when he gets cleaned up to go out on the town with the guys, if a little less runway-ready the morning after; and confusingly, unrecognizably handsome on the occasions he goes clean-shaven. But he’s been so firmly relegated to “platonic male roommate” status since you moved in that you’ve never, even for a second, thought about pursuing anything more. Lusting after your roommate can only end in awkwardness and moving boxes.

So discovering that the man you live with isn’t just good-looking, but has the ability to leave you wet and aching with desire, without even trying, has you looking at everything through a new lens.

On Tuesday, mid-morning, your phone lights up with a text from him. It’s a picture of a small plane cockpit interior, just two seats and a display of navigational instruments.

See how tight she is? he’s written.

You blink at your phone. SHE??

…

She = the plane. Sorry, pilot speak.

Mortifying. You nearly pull up the local apartment rentals page on Craigslist right then and there. You dive into your work instead—not Deandra’s romance, but the grisly thriller in your regular docket. Roderick and Isabella need to give you some space this week. It’s not them, it’s you—and the images of Frankie and you in compromising positions that had popped into your mind when you attempted to pick back up the draft.

He’s like a specter, haunting you.

Wednesday evening is your night with the apartment to yourself, and you’ve never been happier to be alone. He’s left you dinner, again, and you almost don’t eat it on principle—you’ll have to get used to feeding yourself, after all, once he kicks you out for making it too blatantly obvious you want to jump him.

But it would be an actual crime to pass up his enchiladas. You savor the plate. Maybe he’ll give you the recipe as a parting gift, if you ask nicely.

You pour yourself a glass of wine and catch up on one of your shows, and some of the tension you’ve been holding starts to drain from your body. But underneath is a familiar, restless energy buzzing through you, desperate for a different outlet, that you can’t ignore.

You go to bed early. What you need is just a little quality time with yourself, to reconnect and remind your body that you’re perfectly capable of satisfying it on your own—or with the no-strings-attached assistance of a vibrator.

It’s a valiant, miserable attempt. Every tried and true fantasy keeps rerouting back to Frankie. You turn your toy to its highest setting and the sensation still pales in comparison to the thrill of his fingers wrapped securely around your ankle, the line of his body pressed against your legs, and his low, deadly voice telling you how to move.

You go to sleep more frustrated than when you started, only to dream of him. He’s hovering over you, pressing you into the bed, his hot mouth on your neck and sucking on your tits and working his way down to eat you out and bring an orgasm crashing through you—and you wake up at 3 AM with your cunt throbbing between your legs.

One of the things you’ll miss most about this place when you inevitably have to move out due to your incurable roommate attraction is the in-unit washer and dryer. Perhaps in solidarity with your own resolve and self-control, the dryer abruptly breaks in the middle of the week.

“Do you want me to call the landlord, or will you?” you ask Frankie, but he immediately shakes his head.

“Let me take a look at it,” he says.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek.

Two hours and one trip to a hardware store later, he’s on his knees in front of the machine, working quietly save for an occasional soft grunt of exertion when he has to fit something into place.

There’s a bare strip of skin on display where his shirt has ridden up, and a black waistband peeking out from under his jeans. Your mind drifts, imagining away the denim and picturing how the tight boxer briefs would cup his ass and grip his muscular thighs, until your own thighs are clenching and you force yourself to go clean the kitchen instead.

“I’m moving out,” you call over your shoulder as you go.

“I promise I can fix it,” he says, like he thinks you’re just fed up with one broken appliance, not your own internal breakdown.

If only.

It’s 7 AM Friday and you’re fixing your coffee when Frankie ambles into the kitchen, bare-chested and barefoot and wearing nothing more than a pair of low-slung pajama bottoms. If you allowed yourself to look, you would see the soft curve of his modest belly and the sparse line of hair trailing down to disappear enticingly under his waistband. His voice is early morning-deep when he mumbles a good morning. His hand steadies casually on your wrist when he stands next to you to grab a mug from the cupboard just to your left, and you hope he can’t feel your pulse quicken under his touch. When his coffee is ready and he takes his first sip, he lets out a satisfied groan. You want to die.

“You must be doing this on purpose,” you say, dismayed.

He blinks at you over the rim of his coffee cup. “Doing what?”

You gesture helplessly, at his naked chest and effortlessly rumpled bedhead. “Just—being all—”

He glances down at himself, then back at you, raising an eyebrow. “Being all…?”

“Just—sexy, I guess,” you finally admit.

For a moment, he looks surprised. Then an amused smile spreads slowly over his face and he takes a step towards you, clever eyes taking in how your body straightens and your breath picks up.

“I didn’t realize it bothered you,” he says. “Didn’t you say you were going to move out, anyway?”

“I am,” you say. “I can’t stand you anymore.”

He takes another step closer.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “I could give you a reason to stay.”

You slump against the counter at your back, helplessly wanting him.

“Please,” you tell him.

He touches you carefully, one hand skimming your hip and the other on your arm. He cocks his head, looking skeptical.

“You really think I’m sexy?” he asks.

You nod miserably. “It’s torture.”

He laughs and you are desperately endeared by the way it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle, and the hint of a dimple peeking out under his beard.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says, and he leans in, and the touch of his lips to yours makes you feel like you’re floating, like your body might drift up to the sky if not for his sturdy frame anchoring you in place. Like your legs might give out, sending you sliding to the floor, except that he’s pressing close enough now that his body is touching yours, bending you back just enough to easily reach, and his hand has crept up from your arm to wrap around the back of your neck, holding you securely even as he finally pulls his mouth away, leaving you breathless and dazed.

You think you understand the overwrought prose of Deandra’s romances now.

“I can’t stand you either,” he says quietly. “You were torturing me the other night, with all the dirty talk from that book and then making me go to your room. Christ.”

“Sorry,” you say, not really meaning it. You’ve never felt this intoxicated this early in the morning. You’ve never looked into his eyes this close up. They’re a rich, deep brown that you feel halfway hypnotized by.

He glances away and must spot the microwave clock, because he pulls away with a look of regret. “I need to get ready for work.”

“Take a sick day,��� you suggest.

He smiles ruefully and shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says. “But what would you do if I did?

You take a deep breath. Your eyes drop to his waist, and you touch your fingertips gingerly to the soft skin on display there. You lift your gaze to meet his own.

“I’d ask you to take me to bed,” you tell him.

He forces himself to leave. You watch his fingers clenching as he turns away, closing around the empty air as though he wishes it was you.

You go to your own room on unsteady legs and finish getting ready for work, thinking of Frankie’s mouth for your entire commute and almost missing your exit as a result. This time, opening Roderick and Isabella’s romance is a whole new kind of torture, and you end up claiming a headache by 3 o’clock to go home early, not caring if your boss can see through the lie.

Getting home early means you have plenty of time to shower and shave and moisturize with intent this time instead of your regular lazy girl morning routine. You’re soft and smooth and clean, in the kitchen making a snack of crackers and cheese to distract your anticipatory nerves, when Frankie comes home.

He gives you a small, familiar smile and sets a grocery bag on the counter between the two of you.

“You pick which comes first,” he says, nodding to the bag. He steals a cracker off your plate while you peer inside.

He’s brought you two pints of Ben & Jerry’s and one box of condoms.

“All the essentials,” you observe, and he grins. You pluck the condoms out of the bag and hand them to him meaningfully. His smile turns a little sly and he leans in and kisses you, too briefly for your liking, before pulling away again.

“I have to take a quick shower,” he says. “Wait for me?”

You let out a sigh, turning to put away the ice cream. “Don’t take too long,” you joke, gesturing to the pints. “I’ve got two other men waiting for me.”

“Ha, ha,” he says, already halfway down the hall.

Out of the shower, he comes to you with damp hair curling softly around his head, dressed simply in a navy t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants, and looking so good you think you might combust. After a moment of flirtation—your room or mine?—you finally find yourself in his bedroom. He leans in to kiss you and he takes his time this time, cupping your face in his large hand, teasing gently at your mouth, sliding his tongue along yours to deepen the kiss. When he pulls away to trace his lips down your jawline, you take a breath to steady yourself—and then squint in confusion. There’s a familiar scent in his hair.

“Is that—did you use my shampoo?”

He goes still for a moment, caught, and then laughs.

“Mine ran out,” he admits, a little sheepishly. He pulls in closer, nosing at your neck. “Yours is nicer, anyway. I always like how it smells on you.”

“We can share,” you say generously. “I’ve never been one of those roommates who labels all their shit.”

“Good,” he murmurs, mouth hot against your collarbone. “‘Cause I also ate your leftovers.”

You make a sound of exasperation and he tackles you to the bed, promising apologetically that he’ll make it up to you. And then proceeds to do so.

Very thoroughly.

You awaken to find a note on the pillow next to you, in Frankie’s familiar printed handwriting: Going to pick up Baby M. See you soon.

You give yourself a minute to luxuriate in his bed, enjoying the calm, satiated feeling in your body, and the warm scent of him in the sheets, and then you straighten up his bedding and scurry back to your own room to get dressed before he arrives home with his daughter. You’re just pulling your shirt over your head when you hear their voices in the living room, and you go out to greet them. He’s juggling a Starbucks tray in one hand along with his keys and her travel bag. She’s munching contentedly on a snack and doing her part by carrying her favorite stuffed seal plushie.

Over her head, he shoots you a warm, intimate smile. You feel a giddy thrill bubble up in your chest and you grin back at him.

“We made a coffee run,” he says, nodding to the drinks. “Someone wanted a cake pop.” The toddler tips her face up to offer a beatific, icing-smudged smile. Frankie sets her bag on the couch and leads the three of you into the kitchen.

“That one is yours,” he tells you, pointing to one of the cups. Then, to her, “You want some real breakfast, mija?”

You look at the label on the drink and your jaw drops in surprise. “How did you know London Fogs are my favorite?”

He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, but you catch a self-satisfied smile on his face as he turns away. “I notice things.”

He keeps a platonic distance while his daughter is in the kitchen but when she leaves to go put her stuffed animal away in her room, he pulls closer, nudging your hand with his. “You alright?” he murmurs.

You rub your thumb across his knuckles. “I’m really, really good.”

“I convince you not to move out?” he asks. You pretend to think about it.

“Almost. I think you could tip the balance if you make me some eggs.”

He clicks his tongue in affirmation. “Got it.”

Later, when the three of you have settled at the breakfast table with piles of fluffy scrambled eggs and buttered toast, his face changes like he’s just remembered something.

“Hey, how did that book end up, with Roderick and what’s-her-name?” he asks you, taking a sip of his coffee. “You never mentioned it after Monday night.”

You haven’t actually made it to the end yet, but you already know the answer.

“They lived happily ever after,” you tell him. “It’s a staple of the genre. The couple always has a happy ending.”

“Huh,” he says. He gives you a small, private smile, and taps his foot against yours, out of sight under the table. “That’s good to hear.”

[writebackatya]

Bradford: I am pleased to report that F.O.W.L’s goal for total control of the world is progressing on schedule. But this is no time for celebration for there is still much for us to accomplish. It is imperative that you all complete this next task discreetly and efficently. I need you all to kidnap Santa Claus.

Rockerduck: …

Steelbeak: …

Phantom Blot: …

Gandra: …I’m sorry but do you think you can repeat that?

Bradford: Your next mission will be to kidnap Santa Claus both discreetly and ef-

Gandra: {trying to hold back laughter} Efficiently. Yeah. Yeah. I got that.

Black Heron: I’m sorry Agent Dee; do you find our evil plan amusing?

Gandra: I mean…it’s kinda hard to take Director Buzzard seriously when he’s standing up there saying we have to “kidnap Santy Claus”

Bradford: I didn’t say “Santy Claus” and this plan is not evil!

Steelbeak: I mean we are talking about kidnapping Santa Claus here

Bradford: And?

Steelbeak: Well he is the guy who decides who is naughty and who is nice

Phantom Blot: Who does that man think he is to decide whether my actions are good or bad!?

Rockerduck: I have to agree with Phantom Blot here. What’s considered good and bad is always changing. There were a number of things that I did and believed in back in my day that is considered bad these days and vice versa. The whole world is topsy-turvy now if you ask me

Phantom Blot: Do not side with me…

Gandra: Tough shit, Rockerduck. Slavery is bad. Gay marriage is legal. You’re just gonna have to live with it.

Bradford: Can we please get back on track?

Steelbeak: Right. Anyway, if we do this job we risk being put on the naughty list for life which I say sounds pretty evil

Black Heron: Steelbeak. Everything we do here is evil!

Bradford: No. No. Everything we do here is not evil. It’s all necessary work in order to achieve our end goal.

Gandra: …So what you’re saying is that our work is a necessary ev-

Bradford: I do not want to hear another sarcastic comment from you, Agent Dee!

Pepper: Well I love this task, sir! We’re gonna kidnap the Sandy Claus!! But sir. May I ask why? Is it because he gives out presents for free every December 24th and that goes against your capitalist utopia or is this like the thing with your grandmother where you’re mad at him and blaming him for your bad childhood?

Bradford: If there are no other relevant questions, will you all just go already!?

Black Heron: We’ll get it done, Bradford. By the end of the night, Christmas will no longer be!

Bradford: THAT IS NOT THE END GOAL HERE! Besides we’re not eliminating Christmas. It’s a profitable season

Gandra: Right. Go capitalism. Do you need us to capture the Easter Bunny while we’re out?

Bradford: What did I just tell you, Agent Dee!? Everyone just go and get me Santa Claus and bring him back alive

Steelbeak: So if we accidentally kill this guy will one of us become the next Santa?

Bradford: Leave. Now.

Pepper: I think that’s if we put on his coat, Steely. If that’s the case I vote Blotty to be the next Santa!

Bradford: EVERYONE LEAVE NOW!

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Can I do a soft prompt not on the list ? I love your writing 😊 Buck and Eddie driving back from a zoo trip or something with Chris and Chris falling asleep in the back seat.

Going to count this under “road trip” for list checking purposes. Send me soft prompts! Find the finished ones on ao3!

Sometime in May when the end of school was weeks away but felt like eternity even to a kid who liked the place, Eddie had come home from running errands to find Buck and Chris laying out flat on the living room floor marking up a giant piece of paper. Eddie doesn’t know where they got it - it must be 18x24 at least - or why the floor was the best option for putting it to use - a mystery shortly solved by finding the remains of lunch still scattered over the kitchen table - but Eddie is careful not to step on it or any stray limb or crayon as he makes his way through to put groceries away. When anything perishable is safe someplace cold he comes back to sit between them, at the long edge of the sheet.

“What are you up to?”

“Read the paper, dad,” Chris says, exasperated. Eddie makes a face at him, and Buck tries not to laugh from his spot on the floor. The two of them share a look before Eddie puts his attention on Buck and Christopher’s work. Written at the top of the paper in chunky block letters is BIG SUMMER IDEAS, decorated by a smiling sun with cool guy shades and what Eddie assumes is a flamingo judging by the shades of pink. There’s more writing all over the page, half of it upside down because Chris is laying along the top edge. Eddie picks out BEACH DAY and GARDEN WITH PEPPA and NEW PIZZA (RESTAURANT? INVENT?) and, mirrored in both hand writings and circled twice, ZOO.

“You two aren’t sick of the zoo by now?” Eddie asks, and then raises his hands when they both look scandalized.

“Never!” Buck proclaims. “Besides, San Diego and Santa Barbara are both not that far away, we thought we’d maybe try and branch out.”

Chris nods seriously. “We need to expand our zoo repertoire,” he says, confident around the big new vocabulary word.

“Alright,” Eddie gives in, easily. “This is a big list, we gotta do all of these? I don’t know if we’ll have the time…”

Buck pushes himself up to sitting, and shrugs. “Just ideas. We were getting antsy waiting for Summer, huh?” Chris nods emphatically and Buck grins at him, before looking back at Eddie a little less sure. “Thought we’d write out some things to look forward to. We- you don’t have to do all, or any-“

“We’re definitely going to the zoo,” Chris frowns.

“Except for the zoo, of course.” He still has that look on his face, like he’s overstepped somehow, and Eddie wants to say please don’t apologize for finding a way to make Chris happy when he’s feeling down, and of course “we,” of course you’re coming with us, I haven’t the first idea how to invent new pizza.

“It’s a good list,” is what he says. “We’ll see what we can pack in there.”

That was May, and it’s the end of July now, and history books worth of things have happened in between, and Buck and Eddie’s Relationship (capital R, for Romance) is so new it’s stumbling around on doe legs. Eddie thinks they’ve spent years planting a pretty nice meadow for it to stumble around in, though, and taking his hand in public for the first time ever as they trail Chris around the Santa Barbara Zoo is easy as anything. It helps that they both start laughing - giggling, really, he’s a grown man giggling at the zoo - whenever they make eye contact. They hold hands in front of an island full of tiny little monkeys, and in a cave where you can watch penguins swim around, and by the statue of the giraffe with the crooked neck, and on the train that loops around the whole thing and gets so close to the lion enclosure that it’s almost a little frightening. They spend a fair amount of time not holding hands, too, as Buck and Chris pour over every informational plaque in the place. Eddie is perfectly content to watch them have at it and provide sunscreen reapplications and snacks, probably smiling just as sappily at his two favorite people in the world having a good time as he did at holding hands (holding hands!) with his boyfriend (boyfriend!).

They only stay at the zoo until about four, but they’d had to get up at the crack of dawn to make it up the coast in a reasonable amount of time, especially with the mess of construction Buck had to white knuckle through on the northbound 101 past Ventura. Chris is starting to wilt a little, and Eddie’s running on several cups of coffee, and even Buck has yawned once or twice by the time they’re eating an early dinner at a sandy little outdoor restaurant close to the beach outside of town. A train goes right past during the meal and all three of them stand up for a good look, Buck hefting Chris up on his back for a better vantage point. If Eddie gets distracted by watching the joy on their faces instead of the train, well, his sappiness was never going to be contained just within the walls of the zoo. He finds it a little hard to believe, sometimes, the amount of happiness he gets to experience. It jostles around inside of him like loose parts, or a bag of treasure. He’s been happy before, he’s been happy for years here in LA with the family of the 118 taking root around him, but it’s felt… more, these days, almost dizzying since he and Buck had either suddenly or finally closed the distance. It bubbles away inside of him, somewhere near Camarillo with Chris falling asleep in the back seat and pink California summer sunset light washing over them all. Buck’s got the windows rolled down just a little, to feel the air, and the radio is on low, and Eddie has been trying to leave less things unspoken, so.

“Thank you.”

Buck glances at him with a little smile, then looks back at the road. “For what?”

Eddie shrugs, because how is he supposed to encompass all of it with words? “For driving. For coming with us. For holding my hand.”

Buck’s laugh is just a soft exhale. “I should be thanking you for all that.”

“Even the driving?”

“Okay, well, the construction was bad, but yeah even the driving. You know I don’t mind it.” Buck’s smile is still small, and it feels important, suddenly, to try and get across the enormity of all this.

“Thank you for- everything, Buck. For inventing new pizza.”

Buck laughs loud, and then sheepishly checks Chris in the rear view mirror. Still sleeping. “I don’t think we’ve quite perfected it yet,” he says, quietly. “Give me a few more tries.”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t know how to- the time you give us, the- everything- Do you know? How happy you make us? Make me?”

Buck glances at him, twice, three times, keeps his eyes back on the road. “It feels like…” Buck is almost whispering, and gestures at his chest. “Like that little bag of rocks Chris got at the gift shop.”

Eddie laughs, folding a little closer to Buck, because a bag of treasure, they’re sharing metaphors. “Yeah. Like that.”

“I know,” Buck says, like he can’t believe it sometimes either. “You know? Me- me too?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." There's hardly been any complete sentences in this conversation but Eddie thinks they've never really needed words to communicate anyway. He knows. Buck knows. "We've still got 23 items on the list."

Buck laughs, and lets go of the steering wheel to grab Eddie's hand again. "Well, tomorrow's a new day. Summer's not over yet."

Eddie thinks, holding Buck's hand with Chris sleeping in the back, on the road headed home, that with each other summer is never going to end.

[slvttyplum]

ೀ⋆⑅˚ naughty or nice | choso

25 days of jjk men.

what’s the best way to get in the christmas spirit? bake cookies, wear matching pjs with friends, set up the christmas tree, or getting fucked by santa?

the last one of course.

you were shaking. of course you’ve done this before, sex that is, but roleplaying is different, especially with your partner.

what should you do? where should you put your hands? what should you say?

you quickly took a deep breath trying to call yourself down, reminding yourself that it’s just choso and it’s a santa roleplay for crying out loud.

you quietly and slowly entered the bedroom, you were wearing shorts and a green long sleeved shirt with red knee high socks, you had to get into your role.

choso was sitting in the chair near the high stand, the costume on and him man spreading, he looks up at you clearing his throat and getting into character.

“ah. hi there, come sit on santa’s lap.” he says in a cheery deep voice. you laugh to yourself walking over to him and flopping in his lap.

“ouch, fuck, i mean, hi there. how are you? i hope you’ve been a good girl this year.” he says, one hand wrapping around your waist and his other hand coming up and poking your cheek.

you smile nodding your head, your hands clasped in your lap, you could feel your anxiety withering away.

he rubs your waist with his thumb grinning, he was a bit nervous but he sees everything setting into place.

“wonderful. have you done any good deeds to set your place on the nice list?” his leg that you’re on starting to bounce up and down.

nervous tic.

you ponder to yourself for a moment actually thinking about the question, this year has been hectic but you’ve done a couple of things.

“i have. worked at the donation sister, helped some friends moved, got my boyfriend the ga- i mean helped my boyfriend with stuff.”

choso stopped bouncing his leg and he stares at you with his eyes so wide that they could bulge out any second.

he’s sure he heard what you said.

“wait, what game?” his voice now out of character and his leg bouncing even faster, you place a hand on his thigh trying not too fall.

“uh it’s nothing santa, anyways i-.” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his hand on your waist was gripped so hard you were sure blood flow was stopped.

“tell santa what you got your boyfriend.” he grunts out, his eyes still bulging out.

you mentally sigh to yourself for even bringing it up, you can’t let him know anything so you’ll just divert.

“it’s a secret. i want it to be a surprise.” you say smiling and gritting through your teeth for him to get the hint.

he doesn’t.

he pulls down the fake white beard and pokes your cheek flashing that smile you very much love.

“ah you can tell me, you know you can’t keep a secret.”

you roll your eyes and mentally slap yourself for even mentioning it. he pouts leaning forward placing kisses all on your face.

“please, pleaseeee.” he pleads out, both his arms wrapping around you tightly, you push his head trying to get out his grasp.

there goes the roleplay, you should’ve threw the game in the damn trash.

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

Yearning PART 2 || Phillip Graves x Reader

(Yes I'm reusing gifs WHY NOT)

Word count : 1.5k I got lazy sorry ✋

Part 1 - https://www.tumblr.com/c0wb0yenthusiast/711174567062798336/yearning-phillip-graves-x-femreader?source=share

Summary : It's your birthday barbecue and your dad invited the whole neighbourhood, Graves included. Tension is thick (hopefully)

Warnings : I left it on a cliffhanger IM SORRY 😞

inspired by @rors-grvs diet mountain dew fanfic! I recommend checking it out :)

Taglist - @sarahs-secrets2, @mentallynot-here

After note : IF EVERYONE IS IN AGREEMENT THAT WE WANT A PART 3 THEN MAYBE MAYBE 🤷 IM JUST SAYING

✮

You hadn't expected the whole neighborhood to attend your birthday party. If you had it your way, it would just be a couple of friends and family - however, your dad may have gotten carried away.

"Sorry, I just thought it would be a nice surprise for you.", he explained to you on the front porch, while music could be heard from the yard.

"It's fine, can I have a moment please? I'll be there in a second." you responded, shooting him a small smile but immediately dropping it as he left. The whole neighbourhood? God, how would you even survive the party?

It wasn't that you necessarily hated the effort, it was just quite.. Surprising, as your dad had worded it.

Taking a breath and stepping inside the house, you were immediately swarmed with people crowding every inch of the place - it took you a painstakingly long time to reach the backyard.

As soon as you reached outside, the smell of charcoal and cooked meat was something you were unable to ignore - making you look in the direction it was coming from.

Phillip.

No. No way.

He was standing by the grill, a skewer in his hand as he laughed and socialised with anyone passing by to probably compliment the batch he was whipping up. He was clearly soaking in all that adoration, his smile clear as day from your point of view.

Should you approach him? It wouldn't be anything weird, just saying hi.

Maybe not, maybe you should ignore him-

Before you could continue arguing with yourself, it seemed your legs grew a mind of its own and carried you across the grass towards him. He caught sight of you and you could almost see the way his smile changed subtly in that moment.

"Y/N, happy birthday.", he grinned, turning to the table behind himself to place down the freshly prepared burgers.

"Thanks." you paused, before adding hastily, "Did.. Did you know my dad would do this?" your voice lowered to a whisper.

Phillip leaned in slightly to hear you better and shook his head, chuckling, "No, I wish though. He surprised me too."

"Oh."

"Why?"

He was facing away from you once again, raising his voice so you could hear him over the crowd. You tried to keep it discreet, but in all honesty, you didn't understand why you were forcing your voice to lower with each passing second.

"Well, you know, I just- I just didn't realise it would be-"

"The whole neighbourhood? I figured. I came in to set up and he just didn't say anything about it.", he was now resting his hands against the table opposite you, titling his head slightly.

"Yeah, It's fine though. I don't mind."

"Fine by me. You want something to eat?"

That caught you off guard - now making you realise what he was wearing. A flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, an apron then tied over it with the bold letters 'kiss the cook' stamped onto the front. It was no doubt it was probably a secret santa gift from one of the local women in the area, as he was known to be one of the most attractive men in the neighbourhood. You didn't want to think where your dad was on that list.

"Uhm, alright, just put me a little of everything.", you were trying to tear your gaze away from his apron - but he saw and raised a brow.

"Like the apron?"

"It's... Interesting."

"It's prompted quite a few of the guests to follow the instructions." he handed you a plate, which made you notice the rubbed off lipstick on his cheek. It was close to the scar on his cheekbone, now making you analyse his face for a little too long before snapping out of it and blurting out a response.

"Ah Ms-"

"Yeah, she felt lucky I guess."

He sighed, before shooting you a smirk, "Well, you eat up so you can enjoy your special day on a full stomach. I got you a little something too, I hope you'll like it."

"Ah, you didn't have to-" you began, but shut your mouth as you caught the glance he threw your way. It's no problem, darling. That's what you knew he would've said, or whispered, possibly leaning close so you could hear him, thick arms caging you against the table behind-

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" an auntie approached you, her beads and bangles making sound as she beamed and kisses your cheek.

"Oh, thank you, auntie!" you hadn't expected her, or anyone for that matter, to come over to you.

She encased you in a hug, yammering on about how special birthdays were - but you were only focused on Phillip, who'd turned back to what he was doing previously.

✮

Over an hour had passed; the air was humid and you'd moved into the house after nonstop talking to guests and celebrating.

Some had left, but your family and Graves had stayed behind to eat cake and watch you open your presents. It was like you were a kid again - only a little bit humiliating in front of Graves.

You decided just to not focus on that and enjoy your birthday, it's your day after all.

You were tearing open your presents, saying 'thank you' and hugging your family when you got to Phillip's gift.

It was relatively small, but there was a card that came with it.

Tentatively you took the tape off and opened up the wrapping for the item to drop into your hand.

Lipstick.

"Ah, I think I forgot the other gift at home. Sorry." he added with a bashful chuckle, seeing your face light up at the present.

"It's.. It's really nice, thank you Mr Graves." you smiled at him, turning it over in your hands. The exact shade you've always wanted to try, it was a pricy brand too.

You placed the card at your side; you were tempted to read it now but wanted to keep it aside.

Your dad now got up, "It was fun while it lasted everybody, but I've got work tomorrow and she's got to revel in all her mice gifts now."

Slowly but surely, everyone was now leaving and cuddling you before walking out the door.

Everybody except Graves.

"John, let me help you clear up. I'm not busy."

"Ah, I don't want to do that you to man-"

"Nonsense! Now that I've started my spring cleaning, it seems I've got a knack for it." his gaze lingered on you as he spoke.

"Alright, just don't do everything or else I'll feel bad. I've got to sort out the garage. I'll be back, sweetie!" he called out as he withdrew his keys from his pocket and you heard the door shut.

You were still seated in the living room, now reaching for Phillip's card before he could come back in.

Happy birthday, gorgeous.

I hope you like the gifts

xxxx,

Phillip

Just as you finished reading it, he had entered the living room and was now leaning on the door frame.

You turn and your eyes meet.

"I guess it's just the two of us, huh?" he may have been smiling, but you caught the way his breath hitched once he realised it was the first time the both of you were alone today.

Phillip came closer, standing by the couch and looking down at you with a smirk. You could feel his eyes now scanning your body, noticing how you got all dolled up today for the occasion.

You couldn't help but laugh, "Sorry- gorgeous? That's corny." you chuckled, getting up next to him.

"I meant it though." he replies, furrowing his eyebrows slightly.

"Oh.." you smiled, looking away.

"Oh, okay, let me try the lipstick." you lean over and pick it up from the couch, opening it hastily and glancing around for a mirror.

"It's fine, I'll do without." you muttered, now opening it, swivelling the lid and revealing the lipstick.

Your hands were unsteady as you gingerly held it up to your lips, concentrating on where to apply. Slowly, you covered your bottom lip and pressed your lips together.

"Does it look okay?", you pouted at Phillip, before shooting him a grin.

"It's cute, the perfect colour." he was oddly quiet, his gaze focused on the rouge. He swallowed hard.

Oh my God.

He wanted to kiss you.

You wanted to kiss him.

You were both silent apart from the sound of your breathing filling the living room. Standing only inches apart from one another, he couldn't stop looking.

You bit your lip, resting your hands on his shoulders smoothly. Now that you were both so close, the scent of his cologne filled your lungs. It was addictive. Playing with his flannel collar, you broke the silence.

"Phillip?", you whispered.

"Yup?"

You crashed your lips onto his, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him.

Phillip was slow to react, but soon enough he hoisted you up, allowing your legs to wrap around his torso as he pulled away for air.

Maybe it was the intoxicating cologne, or possibly just the fact that this dress was getting way too tight. But you were getting desperate.

"Where's.. Where's your room?", he mustered breathlessly, breathing hard between each word.

He was an absolute mess. His hair had been ruffled from the sudden movement and now was falling over his eyes. His lips were.. God, they were stained with your lipstick.

"Upstairs. Second door."

[fayes-fics]

Naughty or Nice

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony is handing out festive punishment to naughty people.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, spanking, dirty talk, fingering.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day 🧡 - here, have a Christmas fic haha. This was originally for @silverhallow 12 Day of Smutmas, but it's over TWO months late and now totally out of season (sorry). However, the fine people on my follow list asked I post anyway, so here it is. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

He is dressed as Santa and looks exactly like the kind of festive trouble you are craving. 

“My friend Daphne’s oldest brother,” your sister nods as she tracks your line of sight, “Handsome, yes, but also, playboy. I wouldn't if I were you,” is her rather harsh warning.

You watch as he jokingly plays the part, sitting on an ornate, almost throne-like chair, as various tipsy people wander up and sit on his knee, and he asks what they want for Christmas.

“Listen, if I’m going to mess around with anyone after my breakup, it’s going to be with someone that fucking handsome,” you argue back, glad he has forgone the traditional big white beard and belly.

“Fine,” she concedes with a sigh, “but I've heard rumours, kinky stuff, so don't say I didn't warn you,” is her parting shot. 

You raise an eyebrow at her; if there was one thing on your list now you've moved to London, it's new experiences. You have only been with one man, your first boyfriend, and sweet as he was, everything was very nice. Just nice. You want something different. You check your dress and saunter over to him. 

“Hello, little girl,” he drawls as you approach, his eyes raking over you salaciously, signalling for you to sit on his knee, “have you been naughty or nice this year?”

You perch on his lap sideways as he smirks at you. “Santa, I've been a very nice girl,” you begin, twirling a strand of hair, then you lean in and whisper in his ear, “but I want to be very, very naughty.”

He coughs and shifts in his seat; you feel the play of thigh muscles under your bottom and a warm hand low on your back. 

“Just how naughty?” he murmurs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You loop an arm around his neck, knowing he can see down the neckline of your dress.

“So naughty I don't think you would bring me any presents on Christmas Eve,” you pout, leaving no room for doubt as to your intentions.

He leans in closer, and you can smell expensive liquor on his breath. “Every girl deserves a treat from Santa, even the naughty ones,” his voice low and sultry.

“What sort of treats does Santa give to naughty girls?” you inquire softly, knowing you have never flirted this outrageously in your life.

“Ones they will remember,” he says cryptically; the hand on your back curls around your waist and pulls you closer, your hip bumping his crotch. “Would you like your treat early this year, naughty girl?”

“Yes, please, Santa,” you demure, biting your lip again.

He pushes your hair aside with a gentle hand and trails his nose up your neck, inhaling deeply, making all your skin tingle. “Mmmm, meet me in two minutes down that hallway, third door on the left.”

You slip off his lap with a little triumphant smile and wander over to the drinks table. A fortifying shot is just what you want right now. The cheap liquor burns as you take the shot, but it's the liquid courage you need. After a couple of minutes, You wander down the hallway opening the door he requested. 

It's a bedroom, sleek and dimly lit, the skyline of London silhouetted outside the picture windows.

“Hello there, naughty girl,” a voice like velvet emerges from a corner, and you glance aside to see him sitting casually in a wingback chair, one foot on his other knee, expensive glass in hand, which he puts aside and stands up.

“Hello,” you reply, a fire in your belly as he walks over and crowds into your back, burying his nose into your hair, a hand landing softly on your bum cheek.

“Are you ready for your treat from Santa?” he asks softly, breathing deeply.

“That depends,” you reply, “what is it?”

He chuckles richly. “Naughty girls get a jolly good spanking,” his breath hot on your scalp, the hand on your bum flexing slightly. “So they learn how to be good girls.”

You can’t contain your sharp inhale, and your body tenses involuntarily. You have never been spanked before but are suddenly desperate to be. 

“Oh, I see,” he intuits everything from your reaction. “We have a first-time naughty girl here, I see. Well, you are in for a treat. You should know if you don't like your treat, you say Red, just like Rudolph’s nose, and then Santa will stop. Do you understand me?” he explains clearly as he runs a finger down your spine, causing a quiver in his wake.

“Yes,” you chirp. “I want it, Santa,” you confirm.

“Good. Grab the railing,” he commands gently, nodding to the wrought iron footboard of the bed in front of you. You wrap your hand around the thin cool metal and take a calming breath.

The warm hand over your bottom slides down onto the back of your thigh. As it makes its way back, he hitches your dress up, exposing your underwear. 

“Santa approves,” he breathes, fingers spidering over the French cut knickers you wear. You smile, unseen by him, his focus wholly on your backside, so pleased you splashed out on a new set for this party. 

“Now, were you a naughty girl this year?” he asks, the hand rubbing a gentle circle over the globe of your bum.

“Yes, Santa,” you play along, nodding. This is entertaining and alluring; you don’t know how to feel except giggly and aroused.

“On a scale of 1 to 10,” he teases, splaying his fingers around your cheek, “how naughty were you?”

“Eleven,” you reply, coquettish, and he chuckles.

“That is so very, very naughty,” his nose running into the hair at the nape of your neck. “You will be spanked eleven times then,” he states casually.

Oh.

His face still nuzzles the back of your head as there is a short little smack on your right cheek. It's just the lightest of taps, but still, you feel something liquify inside your tummy. It's not enough but so much all at one.

“Harder, please, Santa,” you breathe, wanting to goad him.

“We are just getting started, my naughty girl,” he sniggers. “Now that's one. Do you think you can count for me?” he asks, his face twisting to your neck, sliding his lips over the sensitive pulse point there.

“One,” you whisper.

He hums approvingly, and his solid body rolls against you, the fake fur from his Santa jacket tickling the bare skin above the back of your strapless dress. Wordlessly his hand pulls away and descends again, this time with a fraction more force.

“Two,” you count dutifully, which is followed by a slight moan as his heated lips suck on your skin.

“What do you want for Christmas, naughty girl?” he buzzes.

“This,” you reply softly, honestly. This is better than any present you could imagine.

“Mmmm, good answer,” he compliments, his tongue lathing over the cord of your neck, bending you over slightly so you lean further forward, your hands gripping the bed railing.

His other hand moves, sliding from your waist down over the flare of your hip, mapping your contours with his palm that feel almost heavy. You know what's coming before he even pulls his hand away, and you hold your breath in anticipation as the hand withdraws and then spanks down on your left cheek.  

“Three,” you exhale that held breath and push back slightly, swaying in your strappy platform heel, wanting to feel his pelvis against yours, check if he is as turned on as you are. 

His teeth worry your earlobe, and his breath is so loud in your ear as that same hand withdraws again and then rains down another slap, this one with a curved open hand.

“Four.”

“You are doing well, naughty girl,” he assures. “Do you think you are learning your lesson?”

“Yes, I will try to be a good girl from now on, Santa,” you breathe.

“Only try? That’s not good enough,” he clucks. “We need you reformed. I think I’m going to have to go harder,” he sighs, and you feel a thrill run down your spine at his decadent words.

The next tap is back on your other cheek and makes an audible sound. You swallow heavily and feel the room heating up rapidly as there is the slightest tingle over your skin.

“Five.”

“Lean forward,” he lectures softly into your ear, “We need to ensure you have really learned your lesson.” His other hand grabs the dip of your waist, pulling your pelvis back flush into the concave curve of his body and pushing your head down slightly. The electric tension of the moment engulfs your senses as you hang onto the footboard, knuckles turning white. 

It's his left hand again this time. Same intensity as the last; you have to exhale a puff of air.

“Six.”

“More than halfway now,” he assures, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

Your left butt cheek stings from the next blow, an open-handed smack that makes you jump slightly, and his responding chuckle is a deep rumble that hums over your skin. 

“Seven.”

You know you are holding your breath, waiting for the final four spanks. They have been building in intensity, making you burn hotter all over, but mainly at the apex of your thighs. You try to discreetly rub your thighs together to relieve the ache you feel there, allow your clit to catch on your underwear just so, but his grip on your hip quells your movement.

“Stop that,” he warns heatedly, causing a shiver down your spine. “Take your punishment like a good girl; stop enjoying it so much,” he tuts, but his tone indicates you should very much continue.

Boldly, you lean further forward over the bed railing, popping your bottom out so you rub his crotch. The growl he makes is like beautiful music.

The next spank rings out around the room, and you actually groan at the sensation, his hand lingering, fingertips digging in and grabbing your flesh.

“Eight,” your voice is a little rasping now.

Before you recover, he deals the mirror blow to your other cheek, and you exhale in a loud elongated moan.

“Nine.”

“Just two more now, naughty one,” he reminds. “Is your lovely bottom smarting just a bit now?” he inquiries duskily.

“Yes, Santa…” you confess, feeling so alive, a quake running through your entire being.

“Good,” he gloats, “you'll never learn to be a good girl if you don't feel it.”

He pulls both hands away quite a distance, and you inhale sharply, eagerly awaiting your final two.

One hand slaps hard with a slight twist of his wrist, and before you can count, the other hand does the same on your other side. They are the most vigorous blows, a radiating sting that turns into the most sublime warm burn. You are certain he has left a handprint on each side, and you feel a strange perverse compulsion to leave the room with your dress hitched up, wearing his red marks with pride on your skin, letting everyone see just what he has done to you.

“Ten, Eleven.” You count dutifully as your mind runs away with such debauched thoughts.

His hand rubs your cheeks delicately, warm fingertips soothing the ache but also stoking the fire in your belly. You want more from him. So much more. Whatever he is willing to offer. A huge part of you hopes he will just rip down your underwear and fuck you right here, right now. Your body is beyond ready for it.

“Now that you’ve had your punishment, how about your reward?” he offers, and your blood sings.

“There’s a reward Santa?” you gasp, hopeful, playing along, praying it will be something that soothes the wet throbbing between your legs.

“Oh yes, lean back against me,” he instructs, and you do so. Loving the snug feel of your body pressed up to his, something insistent on the cleft of your reddened cheeks. 

You reach back and loop your wrist around his neck, gyrating your hips, unmistakable in your message and unashamed in your need. Your stomach clenches in victory as one of his hands slips down over the front of your dress and curls under your hem. You gasp as warm fingers land on your slit through the lacy material.

“So molten hot,” he hisses into your temple, “now show Santa how pretty you look when you come hard like a very good girl,” his praising voice vibrating into your body.

Fingertips find your swollen clit and start to circulate, the drag of the fabric under them heightening the sensation somehow. You breathe out a noise of surprise, taken aback by how quickly his expert touch pushes you towards the edge, which elicits a rich chuckle from his lips.

“Please touch me,” you beg, panting lightly, his fingertips moving faster now. “Inside my knickers,” you amend quickly, pleadingly.

The material digs into the flesh over your hips and chafes against your aching cheeks as he slides that hand inside from the top. Then his bare fingers are on your sodden flesh, and you gasp, rocketing even fast as he snags your clit and restarts his motions.

“I love how wet you are,” he murmurs, hot on your ear.

You just moan and bare down on his questing fingers, drunk on how good it feels as your bottom still tingles from his hand. His touch is perfect, the right amount of pressure and speed to turn your knees to jelly; one hand clinging desperately to the bed rail, the other around his neck, leaning into his touch, wanting to collapse against him, let him take all your weight. Your eyes roll back as your hips gyrate with his ministrations, a sensual little dance he leads.

“That's it,” he gusts hot in your ear again, his lips slipping to brand that sensitive spot below your earlobe that always catches your breath.

“Santa…” you exhale, expecting it to feel weird on your tongue, but your desire is coiled too tight to care.

“Call my Anthony,” he orders, sounding desperate himself, his clothed cock rubbing deliciously against the cleft of your bottom as he starts to move with you.

“Santhony…” you slur in response, mixing the two words in your shakingly aroused, sex-drunken state.

If he doesn't like it, he doesn't react as such. In fact, his fingers curl tighter against you, the other hand branding your hip.

“Come for me, good girl,” he groans, surging his hips, so his cock rubs deliciously over your tailbone.

Breathing gusts out of your nose and biting your lip, you are trying to quell the urge to yell obscenely loud. The tide inside you breaks when Anthony bites your earlobe, sagging against him as every muscle convulses, strong waves fanning out from the white-hot spot under his fingers. Your smacked bottom pulsates in time with your clit, each muscle in your body going tense and then releasing. You know he is saying something, but it's a blur of noise and sensation. You haven't come this hard in years, possibly ever. 

When you finally feel able, you release your grip on the bedrail and see a red line across your palm where you have grasped so forcefully it has left a mark. He sees it and brings your hand to his lips, kissing it sweetly.

“How was that, my good girl?” he queries, his lips gentle on your palm.

You have to clear your throat, and still, your voice feels small and scratchy.

“Wonderful,” you admit.

“You did so well,” he flatters. “I think we may have to do this again,” the hopeful tone makes something in your stomach flip.

“But it's not Christmas after next week,” you point out with a sad pout.

“Oh, I can be any seasonal character you like, my girl,” he assures, running his nose up your neck and inhaling deeply. “Or just me.”

Inside you do a little victory dance. “Well, that would be wonderful… because next time I would really like to do something about this,” your pitch is teasing as you seize his hard searing cock through the novelty bright red trousers.

His groan is lewd and makes every synapse fire. “What are you doing later?” he pants.

“You. Hopefully.”

“Right bloody answer.”

It's a very Merry Christmas indeed.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet

[bleach-your-panties]

Sincember Event❄️❄️

🔴Post Info: UA is an HBCU. Reader is black. The boys are Alphas and Reader is a Delta. Katsuki is frat prez, because we all know he's mixed🤣

🔴I had to do a lot of research on reindeer for this, lmao.

Rating: Suggestive🍭

"Baby! Oh my God! You look so pretty and dainty. Just like a deer!"

You couldn't help but laugh at Eiiji; he always got so enthusiastic watching you get dolled up for parties.

Tonight, Alpha Phi Alpha is hosting their annual Naughty vs Nice Christmas party. It's a costume party, so all frat members and pledges are required to dress up.

Eiji is pledging along with some of his classmates: Denki, Mashairo, Izuku, and Mineta.

The junior and senior members (Katsuki, Hanta, Shoji, and Shoto) had specifically instructed the pledges to dress up as Santa's reindeer while all of them would dress as elves. Katsuki, would of course be dressed as Santa.

With you being Eiijiro's girlfriend of a year now, of course he'd be bringing you along with him to this event. 

Everyone who was anyone would be there, and lots of girls from your sorority, Delta Sigma Theta, would be there as well.

“Thank you, Eiiji! You’re such a cutie. Hey sweetie pie, will you please pass me my lip gloss on the desk over there?” 

Your sweet, redheaded boyfriend nodded happily and got up from his seat on your bed to grab the makeup product for you. “Uh, baby, which one is it? There’s like fifty of them.”

His red eyes stared down at your makeup table which contained various products for primping. 

The lip gloss you were speaking of was contained in a small jar. You had ordered it from one of your favorite Etsy shops.

With a small giggle, you walked over to help him out. 

“This one, pumpkin. The lip creams. Thank you for trying, boo.” He blushed when you pecked him on the temple with your soft, plump lips.

Eiijiro, like the gentleman that he was, pulled out your vanity chair so you could sit down and apply the gloss, called Red Hot, to your pouty lips. After adding some lipliner and blending, your ensemble for the evening was finally complete.

“Okay, I’m ready, Eiiji.”

“Awesome! Well, let’s get to prancing then, my lovely little ungulate lady!” 

“Ooo, big word! I see you’ve been studying your vocabulary lists!” He nodded profusely, making the antler headband atop his head bounce around.

Most of your peers think that Eiijiro is just a big, dumb jock but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The two of you often have study dates in the campus coffee shop or either of your dorm rooms. 

He knows that if he wants to stay on the football team and keep his scholarship that he’ll have to study extremely hard and you’re more than glad to help him out with his goals.

Your roommate, Mina, who just so happens to be a childhood friend of Eiiji’s, is almost never in the room so that gives the two of you a lot of alone time.

—-

The Party

“Hey! The golden couple has finally arrived, now shit can finally start getting interesting!” Denki bounded over to the two of you, his own set of antlers bobbing on his messy blonde bedhead. He threw an arm around Kirishima’s shoulders. 

“Who are you supposed to be? Dasher?” You giggled as Eiijiro put Denki in a headlock with his elbow. 

“Hey, did you guys know that Santa’s reindeer are actually all females? Because, you know, male reindeer actually shed their antlers and Santa’s are always depicted with their antlers.” Eiiji piped up, happy to share his knowledge.

“Wow, dude…that was uh, very thorough. Never would have pegged you for a biology major.” Denki snickered, along with Mineta who’d just strolled up.

“Don’t try to play my baby. He’s a biology and exercise science double major, so don’t do him.” You gave Eiijiro a peck on the lips, your gloss not even smearing. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Beefcake’s got brains and brawn, blah blah. Let’s get fucked up!” 

Denki and Mineta high-fived before disappearing into the crowd.

That’s when you heard the music start up: 

Unh, how you do that?

I’m trying to pursue that

“Oh shit, Eiiji, they’re playing our songs! You ready?!” 

Eiijiro’s grin grew wide across his face and he licked over his sharp canines. One had a ruby red gem implanted in it.

“Ready when you are, babe!”

The two of you strutted to the middle of the dance floor, the party-goers immediately parted the sea and made room for the both of you.

This was the norm for you and Eiijiro whenever you attended Greek parties: your dancing always made you both the center of attention.

Drop it down on a nigga, do damage

Booty moving left to right, it’s panoramic

You bent down in front of Eiiji and touched your toes before sliding your hands up your legs. He grabbed you by your ‘reigns’ and made your ass collide hard with his crotch.

Panoramic, it’s panoramic

Panoramic, it’s panoramic

Drop it down on a nigga, panoramic

Drop it down on a nigga, panoramic

Thanks to you and Mina, he’d become a fantastic dancer. It probably also helps that you're on the dance team while Mina is a cheerleader.

That song hadn’t been playing long when the DJ suddenly switched it up:

All this money on me

All she tryna do is get naked

Naked naked naked

Like a red nose

Like like like like like a red nose

“Oh shit, babe; this one is my fav!” Eiiji hyped and you just laughed. You straightened your back and turned around to face him.

He grabbed your hips and you rested your hands on his forearms while moving your hips side to side with his.

The other patrons had cleared a space for the two of you in the middle of the floor.

All this money on me

Now come take it from a G

All she tryna do is get naked

Naked naked

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like like like like a red nose

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like a like a like a red nose

Eiiji then swiveled you back around and you pressed your ass back up against him. You rubbed it against him seductively then he used his thighs to bounce it from side to side. 

Once again, Eiijiro grabbed your reigns and lifted you up slightly to slam his hips into your ass before letting you drop back down.

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like a like a like a red nose

You twerked your ass from side to side while Eiiji held his arms at his sides then he dipped low and moved side to side with you.

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like like like like a red nose

Eiiji patted your ass cheeks like a drum then grabbed your reigns and lifted his left leg up on the side of you with your ass pressed to his crotch.

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like a like a like a red nose

He continued holding onto them while the two of you yiked faster and faster. The crowd broke out into cheers and applause, even hollering out your names.

After hearing all of the commotion, Katsuki came out, dressed like a cross between Santa and a bodybuilder while Shoto, Shoji, and Hanta trailed after him in red and green elf outfits.

“Brothers!” Eiiji smiled toothily and went in to give Katsuki a bro hug. 

“The oldest and the coldest.” Shoto said in his monotone voice. Hanta snickered.

Katsuki rolled his vermillion eyes and shrugged Kirishima off of him.

"Okay, Rudolph, the Red-Haired Dipshit. Are you two almost done fucking on the dance floor so we can start the damn games?” Eiiji whined as Katsuki didn’t bother waiting for an answer and just walked away.

“Nice dancing!” Hanta gave him a grin and thumbs up before disappearing back through the crowd after Katsuki and the others.

“Come on Eiiji, let’s go show our faces and play stupid beer pong so we can ditch this and get some double-decker nachos.”

“Ooo, nachos! Come on, baby!” With a surprised squeal turned to giggle, you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s muscular neck as he scooped you up bridal-style.

—-

After The Party

“Baby,  -hic- they're -hic- being mean to me again~” Eiiji whined into your plush thighs as you sat criss-cross applesauce on your dorm bed. 

You’d taken off your tight leather pants and now only had on your brown bodysuit. It was so cute how clingy and whiny your handsome boyfriend got when he was drunk. Your acrylic nails stroked his thick, spiked-up locks, making him hum into your lap then nip your thigh with his teeth. One of his big hands gripped the opposite thigh and smacked it.

He also got even more touchy-feely when he was shitfaced like this.

Denki and the others had to help carry him up to your room to keep him from making a complete idiot of himself and ending up getting them arrested for public intoxication.

"Aww, baby, what’s the matter? They wouldn’t let you join in their reindeer games?"

He shook his head sadly and hiccupped again, followed up by a loud belch.

“They said…baby, they said that my nose was too bright…and, and Katsuki said that I couldn’t guide his sleigh tonight!” He lamented, completely distraught. You had to bite down on the back of your hand to keep from laughing at him.

“Yeah baby, I’m pretty sure that Katsuki wouldn’t let you drive his truck in the condition that you’re in right now.” You patted his head.

“It’s not fair!”

With a gentle nudge, you removed his head from your thighs and cupped his cheeks. Leaning down to face him, you kissed both of his reddened cheeks.

Your soft, innocent actions had Eiijiro’s dick standing at full attention in about 2.5 seconds.

He suddenly sat up and grabbed your thighs again, tossing you up towards the headboard. The bounce of your body made him giggle as he hovered over you now.

“Ok, Rudolph, what are you planning?”

"I’m sorry, you just make me so horny, baby. These are horns, right?" He slurred drunkenly. The headband on his head flopped forward and then slid off, landing on your chest.

"Antlers, baby"

"Same thing, right?" He hiccupped again.

You chuckled with a shrug of your shoulders. Eiijiro didn’t seem perturbed though as he reached down to unbutton your bodysuit.

“Can I, baby? I want to make you moan,” He paused, fingers wobbling slightly, “like a wildebeest. Hey, what sound does a reindeer make?"

You were perplexed. "I-I don't know. It's like a moose, right?" 

He shrugged. “Well, whatever it sounds like, I’m about to make you sound like that.”

“Oh, Eiiji, I think you need some water and some Tylenol-” You were cut off as he’d now unsnapped all the buttons and was rubbing your clit through your panties.

"Mmm, baby, let's play some naughty reindeer games of our own, yeah?”

----

ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ🫶🏽

[fckinwild-kiwi]

Dec. 9th: Sitting on Santa's Lap

Day 9: Staycation/Day at the Fair

Day nine of @comp-lady’s Domestic December writing challenge!

Warnings: Maybe Swearing (This is an 18+ blog, minors dni)   Word Counts: 1.4k+ Words Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader

“You’re joking,” You said, wide-eyed and shocked. “You have never sat on Santa’s lap, ever?”

“Why are you surprised, Y/n,” Dustin said, laughing at your surprise. “Can you really picture Eddie, the most metal person ever, sitting on Santa’s lap?”

“I’d pay to see it happen,” Steve snorted, nudging Robin.

“You can pay me, Stevie,” Macy, your younger sister said, jumping from Eddie’s lap. “Eddie, I can go with you to see Santa if you’re scared. He’s a really nice guy, he smells like gingerbread!”

“You should make Steve pay all the time, love bug. Especially when he’s being mean,” Eddie mumbled, glaring at Steve before sticking his tongue out at him. “I’ll go with you to see Santa, though.”

“You’re too sweet to her,” You whispered, watching your sister’s face light up before she turned to run from Dustin as he tried to tickle her. 

“Nah, it’s just how she should be treated,” Eddie responded before putting a kiss on your head. “We better get dressed to go to the Christmas fair, guys!”

“Yay!” Macy shouted, running around the room to find her shoes and coat. “I wanna sit in the car with Dusty and Will!”

Once everyone decided which car they would be riding in, everyone quickly got into their ride and took off towards the fair. 

“What are you most excited to do, Macy Mace?” Will asked Macy, as she squealed in the back with excitement.

“I want to see Santa, duh,” Macy giggled, before continuing her list of must-sees. “Then we have to try the hot cocoa, ice skating, eat homemade popcorn, decorate the sugar cookies, race the elves-“

You quickly interrupted the five-year-old, “Mace, remember we have to take it slow, there are lots of other people with us and we have to take turns letting other people pick too.”

She released a giant sigh. “Okay.”

Before long, everyone had pulled into the parking spaces at the Christmas fair, and with your hand wrapped tightly around your sister’s and your other wrapped around Eddie’s, you guys braced yourself for the mayhem that was bound to ensue with a manic five-year-old. 

“Let’s get some hot cocoa first, Mace,” Dustin said, reaching out for her hand.

“Yay,” She cheered for the second time today, as she let go of your hand to find Dustin’s.

“Are you really going to sit on Santa’s lap?” You questioned up at the metal head. 

“Oh yeah, he is,” Robin said, giggling. “I’m going to make sure of it.”

“If you guys want to make fun of me for finally taking a piece of my childhood back with a five-year-old who is full of Christmas spirit, that’s fine,” Eddie said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m going to enjoy it and not regret a thing. I intend to make this a day that Macy remembers.”

“It will certainly be one that I never forget,” Steve retorts, grabbing Eddie’s shoulders as Macy and Dustin return with their hot cocoas.

“How’s that hot chocolate, sweet pea,” You question, noticing the amount of chocolate around Macy’s mouth. 

“So yummy,” she mumbled back, busy drinking the warm drink.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” Dustin said, sheepishly. “We made a bit of a mess."

“Don’t worry about it, Dusty,” You said back, ruffling his hair. “I expected her to get messy today, it’s the way that I can prove she’s had a great day.”

“Santaaaaa!” Macy screamed out, quickly giving you her hot chocolate as she ran. 

“Eds,” You quickly grumbled. “Please follow with her, I can’t run with the hot chocolate.”

Eddie quickly jogged over to where Macy was standing, wide-eyed and mesmerized by the giant man sitting on a chair surrounded by elves. “You ready to get in line? We have to wait our turn,” Eddie said, touching Macy’s head to get her attention.

“Let’s go, let’s go!”

Twenty minutes later, Eddie and Macy were next up in line. The excitement was radiating off of Macy in contagious waves. For the first time Eddie could remember, he was nervous in a little kid's way. 

“Mr. Santa!” Macy cheered, approaching the man in a red suit. 

“Well, hello dear,” Santa said. “What is your name?”

“My name is Macy, and this is my sister’s boyfriend, Eddie. He has never met you before so I wanted to introduce you guys!”

“Nice to meet you Eddie,” Santa said, smiling at Macy’s excitement. “Macy, what would you like for Christmas.”

“Eddie has to sit on your lap too,” Macy said, ignoring his question. “It’s tradition.”

“Mace, I think I’m too old and too big,” Eddie said, softly smiling at the little girl. 

“No,” Macy argued. “Santa, he has to!”

“You can sit on my knee too, Eddie,” Santa said, trying to de-escalate the situation. 

Eddie released a sigh before lowering himself onto Santa’s thigh, careful not to put too much weight on the gentleman. “I already sent you my Christmas list,” Macy rambled. “The highlights are a new easy bake oven and a bike. Eddie, what did you want to ask Santa for?”

“Uhm,” Eddie started. After having never been asked this question, he could not think of any materialistic things that would make him happier than the people surrounding him right now. But to please Macy he said, “I would love a new guitar strap or an amp.”

“Well you two, from my list I can see that you have both been very good this year. I will see what my elves and I can do for you,” Santa said, patting each of their backs. 

“Thank you, Santa,” Macy cheered, climbing off the man’s lap and grabbing Eddie’s hand.

“Yeah, thank you Santa,” Eddie echoed. Santa shot him a wink in response. The rest of the crew, who were watching from beyond the line, called out as Macy ran up to them.

“Stevie, you have to pay me money now! I love the Christmas fair!” She cheered pointing a finger at Steve before she turned and started babbling away to Jonathan and Argyle about how they needed to decorate sugar cookies, now.

“How was Santa’s lap?” Mike joked out, causing you to lightly smack the back of his head. “Ow, what was that for?”

“Being a little jerk,” Nancy responded before you. “Come on guys, the show is over, let’s go get the homemade popcorn.”

Eddie, hanging behind the group a big, gently pulled your hand to get you to slow your pace. “How was that, Eds?”

“Felt weird,” He responded quietly. Realizing how he must be feeling, you didn’t push, instead, you stopped walking and pulled him into you.

“You deserve some cookies and hot cocoa, mister,” You mumbled wrapping your arms around his waist, tightly.

“Please,” Eddie sighed, his body melting into yours. Hand-in-hand, you walked with Eddie towards the others to check on Macy before getting Eddie hot chocolate. “Thank you,” Eddie said, smiling down at you as you handed him the warm drink. 

“Anything for you my love,” You responded. “Now let’s go get find the sugar-crazed Macy and see if she’s ready to go home!”

After hours of playing at the Christmas fair, and Macy being so tired that Eddie had to carry her, everyone decided it was time to head home. Jonathan drove El, Argyle, Will, and Lucas home and Steve took Nancy, Robin, Mike, and Lucas. Dustin and Max rode back with you, Eddie, and Macy. After dropping everyone off at their houses, Eddie pulled your car into the driveway.

“I think my mom is inside, Eds,” You whispered to the boy as he was getting your sister out of her car seat. “If you want to put her in her bed and meet me in the living room, we can watch a movie?”

“Sounds perfect,” He whispered back. You closed the car doors behind him before racing around to get the front door too. Your mom greeted the three of you before ushering Eddie upstairs to tuck Macy in after him. You walked into the living room, turned on the TV, and got some blankets out before sitting on the couch.

“I think a piece of my childhood was given back to me today,” Eddie said to you as he walked back into the living room where you were sitting. “I can’t thank you or your sister enough for allowing me that space to feel that.”

“Oh, baby, come here,” You choked out, making grabby hands towards Eddie. As he found his space beside you, you pulled his body into yours, dragging your nails along his scalp. “I feel so lucky that you feel safe enough with us to let yourself have these moments.”

“Can we go back to the fair next year too? Make it a tradition?” He asked, looking up at you with a child-like twinkle in his eyes.

“Our own traditions,” You whispered, mostly to yourself. “I would like that.”