#X. the expendable ( christmas )

[snipetooth]

Lee Christmas - "I'm Glad You're Home"

first fic on the blog wooo! this is for the expendables; i had to write the focus as being on lee for the perspective i wanted to tell so let me know if it works out or not from a reader's perspective! also shoutout to rebel-moons, he IS a cutie and i am now convinced that i have to watch the expendables 3 just for this scene. all my works are tagged with "#x reader" for quick filtering btw!

Prompt: “[WONDER]: unable to comprehend how incredible the receiver is, the sender decides to simply cup their face in their hands and marvel at them instead.” from “Reasons to Cup a Face” by @.soulpromptson pairing: lee christmas x gn!reader words: 1.7k requested: no

“Right, that’s it! I’m bailing on you fuckwads. Leaving this group forever. Cry and plead all you want, I’m done with you all.”

Shouts of protest immediately followed Lee’s words as he stood up. They were mostly along the lines of, “C’mon, Christmas, you only had to buy three rounds!” or “A real man would finish the game he started, not run out with his tail between his legs because he’s losing chips!” and “At least take a shower before you head back to your prettier half, you smell like you live in an abandoned sewer!”

Lee pried his knives out of the decorated board the group used for target practice, waving one about threateningly as he sheathed the others. “Y’better stow all that codswallop or I’ll really leave for good! Damn bastards, the lot of you, bleedin’ a poor man dry of all his finances with your rigged card games. There’s no reason why Gunnar should’ve won as much as he did, and you all know it!”

Gunnar made a show of ‘casually’ flexing his arms as he leaned back in his seat, Yin and Ceaser snickering to his left while Toll shook his head in silence to his right. “Can’t help being so good if all you’re gonna do is be shit at poker, Christmas,” he replied smugly before knocking back a beer and slamming it on the tabletop with a loud belch. “But maybe I’ll let you go without calling after your debt this time, just this once. I’m feeling generous tonight.”

“How kind of you,” Barney said dryly as he put away the whiskey glass he had been polishing, nodding to Lee as the man passed by. “You really should take a shower though. Can’t have you messing this one up just because you’re too lazy to get a little wet.”

The ground level of the hangout rang with laughter as Lee’s middle fingers disappeared around the corner to the bathrooms.

The hum of his motorcycle drowned out the nightlife of the city, and Lee’s thoughts drowned out the motorcycle. His eyes caught a glimpse of the low-hanging moon between the rapidly shrinking buildings behind him, storm clouds threatening to blot out the source of light.

His thoughts drifted back to the last time he’d come home to a partner after an extended mission.

———

“Coming! Who is it?”

“You know, someday you’ll find a man who’ll be happy just to watch you sleep.”

Lee opened the screen door. Lacy quickly side-stepped through and shut it behind her. “Hi. I didn’t know you were back.” Lee tried to not let her lack of enthusiasm bother him. “Hey babe. Yeah, I just arrived.”

Lacy stayed firmly glued to the wall of the house. “Hey.”

“You look great.”

“I wish you would have called.”

Lee’s shoulders began to prickle uncomfortably. Years of combat had honed his attention to detail and body language, and something about her… everything was setting off alarm bells loud enough that he almost wondered if she could hear them. “Never been a good caller.”

“I haven’t heard from you in over a month,” Lacy pressed.

“Really?” Lee frowned. “Time flies, huh? Won’t happen again, sorry. But! I do have a surprise.” He held up a bottle of wine. “Rose-flavored, your favorite. And…” he fished around in his pocket briefly, “I did have something else for you.” 

Lee missed Lacy’s glance through the open front door. “It’s something I picked up from Burma.” Triumphantly, he pulled out a ring box, holding it open so that the item inside could catch the light better. “It’s a ruby. It’s a good color, but it’s hard to see in this light.” His brows knitted as he stared a little harder at the ring. “This… kind of looked a little shinier when I bought it in the shop, you know? I—”

“Lace! Everything alright?”

Time stopped. A loud, perpetual ring almost drowned out Lacy’s response as Lee leaned around her to look at the source of the new voice: “Yeah. H-he’s a friend.”

The imposing figure in the hallway scowled, chest puffed out. “Kind of late. You got a name?”

Lee couldn’t hide his contempt even if he wanted to as his eyes met with his now ex-girlfriend’s. A million excuses flashed to the surface of her face and instantly withered upon meeting his look. “Friend. She just told you.”

———

The ducati’s tires screeched painfully loud in the whispers of the night. The rain-soaked pavement reflected red as cars droned on before returning to green after a lull in traffic.

It had been four years since that night. Four years, three months, and twenty-one days, if one wanted to be picky about it. Just over three years of swearing off of relationships, of casual dating, of one-night stands, of people in general. Lee Christmas didn’t need a partner; he had The Expendables. His brothers were all he’d ever need.

Until you came along.

A smile fought and won under Lee’s helmet as he turned a corner. The one time he lets the guys take him to a more public bar to get drunk off their asses, and you’re sitting there at the counter thanking the bartender handing you a finished drink. You chat with someone to your left, the stool to your right almost painfully vacant.

A hearty slap to the space between his shoulder blades was all the encouragement he needed to fill the spot, and the rest was history, really.

He’d gone on several missions since he started dating you, but this one was definitely the longest so far. He had to go radio silent for several months as opposed to just a couple of weeks, and even with notice given in advance of this, paranoia drifted in like a deceptively soft mist early in the morn.

Would you still be in your apartment? Would there be a stranger in your kitchen? Would you try to hide any signs of infidelity, or would you confess to them right away out of guilt?

“Lee!”

He barely had time to swing a leg over his bike and turn to face you before you slammed into him, nearly knocking over the ducati in the process. “You’re home! You’re finally home! You smell really good, too; did you get a new soap?”

Just like mist at the first rays of the sunrise, all doubt dissipated into nothingness as Lee hugged you back with a pressure strong enough to risk cracking a few ribs. “Aw, and here I was thinkin’ you enjoyed the peace of me being gone,” he grinned, holding you back at arms’ length. “Can’t decide if I’m hurt that I’m wrong or touched that I am.”

You wrinkled your nose up at him. “Lee, you ass, of course I missed you! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been stuck to the window? Practically duct-taped myself to it.” You shrugged one of his hands off of you to grasp it, stumbling over the stairs leading up to your apartment in your haste. “Come on, I have something I want to show you!”

Lee’s vision was briefly spotty with gently twinkling lights in the warm, dim atmosphere of the apartment as you pulled him in. All around him the general mood had been adjusted for something akin to a romantic night in without the pressure of having to say ‘yes’ to anything should one or both parties simply want to go to bed; a couple of candles burned on shelves, thin strings of lights edging the ceiling and walls bathed the world in their soft glow, new throw blankets were strategically placed on the couch, and a simple but jointly beloved meal waited in the dining room. “When did you think to do all of this?” The mercenary breathed, one hand reaching to touch a light bulb no bigger than his thumb’s nail. “I didn’t tell you when I was coming home; I thought it was a surprise.”

A grin tugged at his mouth as he watched you fiddle with your hands, indecision plainly written on your face before quickly giving up. “Well,” you began slowly, “I… might know a little birdie. And that little birdie might have told me a few days ago that you were probably coming back today, and they might have also told me when you left. So. Sorry to ruin your surprise with my own..?”

All Lee could do was blink at you, really.

His last partner had cheated on him for feeling neglected. Invited another man into the house and had been having a relationship with him for god knows how long instead of just calling things off.

And here you were. A new partner. A new home. A new start.

You saw several months of no contact and decided that you should make one of his favorite dinners and ensured the apartment was as welcoming and calm as you possibly could make it.

“...Lee? Is all of this… okay?”

He blinked twice more. His hands subconsciously rose to cradle your face, the size of them near suffocating were he not careful. “It’s more than okay,” he breathed, enraptured by the reflection of your work in your eyes. “It’s damn perfect. Thank you. I….” Lee swallowed thickly. Words of vulnerability didn’t come easy to him; they never really have. “I love it. I love you.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “Thank you.”

Your own hands came up to lace together behind his neck, keeping him steady. “Of course. Figured you deserved to be spoiled a little yourself after all you’ve done for me and the way you’ve looked coming back after your work trips.” You tilted your head back, lips nearly brushing his as they moved to speak. “Though I’m not above rescinding all the spoiling I had planned this evening if you let the food get cold much longer. If you’re not careful, I’ll start valuing my cooking above you.”

Lee’s hearty laughed pealed comfortingly in the walls of your home as you both made your way to the table to enjoy your first dinner together in months. “I’ll be sure to watch myself, then. Can’t let myself be usurped by an inanimate object, now can I?”

#x reader #the expendables x reader #lee christmas x reader #the expendables #lee christmas #self ship #fictional other

[apocalypse-shuffle]

LEE CHRISTMAS (the expendables 2010 series)

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“A Different Direction” (Lee Christmas x Fem!Reader)

| It’s the bar scene from part two, but Lee doesn’t get back with Lacy in this version.

| Reader is always black unless I say differently

| SFW, some very tame pda, alcohol consumption

| this is a rewrite/reimagining of the bar scene

| 1k+ worlds

Sitting next to Ross feels good. Lee even finds himself smiling into his beer as he takes a swig. He’s feeling particularly thankful for having made it through another mission. For surviving another wild blood pumping trip and then being able to come home to you.

His eyes are automatically drawn to you in the packed bar. No amount of anyone else even pinging on his radar as you talked to the bartender, getting the two of you’s second round of drinks because he’d gotten the first.

He gets stuck staring at you. It’s like you’re out of a movie. How you’re moving around, laughing at whatever joke the bartender makes, looks borderline fucking ethereal in his mind. The song playing changes and Lee doesn’t even notice until you do. A smile splits across your face and you mouth about loving the song, and while putting in your order the lines of your body easily catch onto and sway to the beat.

Lee’s not a dancer but at that moment he wants to be moving with you. Hands on your hips behind you as you tease his obvious lack of skill, kissing the curve of your neck when you throw your head back in excitement. He notes some of the song lyrics in his head to look up later.

He must be damn near enthralled because Ross nudges him with a chuckle and he still doesn’t dare look away.

“I gotta say, my friend, I am glad you decided to heal from that other girl.”

Lee shrugs.

“She wasn’t bad, she just…wasn’t for me in the end.”

Ross’s brows go up in a way that says ‘you think’ but he ultimately agrees.

“Her cheating on you ain’t enough to make her a bad person?”

Lee shakes his head and spits out his usual reasoning. Sometimes people just made bad split second dicisions that end up fucking everything up. Shit happened. He would know.

“Nah, she’s just morally dubious.”

From the corner of his eye he can just see the bewildered look Ross throws his way.

“Which is?”

“The split side of being morally grey,” he purses his lips with a slight grimace. “The effects are murky.”

“Oh yeah,” Ross intones and Lee knows he’s making fun of him. “Real fancy way of confirming she just has a world class cheating gene ruling her decisions.”

“Someone clearly stabbed you in the heart, bud, people do make mistakes sometimes. I knew your heart was nonexistent but this is a new level, the absence of light isn’t even dark enough for what’s going on in you.” Lee takes a moment to let his shit eating smirk be noticed by the other. “You want me to kiss it better?”

His team lead lets out a gruff huff of laughter and shakes his head.

“I’ll pass.” He nods at you, “Just please tell me you’re actually going through with this one.”

Lee takes a swig of his beer and only takes his eyes off of you for a second to look at Ross like he’s crazy.

“Course I am,” he points at you with the tip of his bottle and you just so happen to look over at him and smile at the same time. It lights him up from the inside and he smiles back even as he talks. “I’d be crazy not to marry her.”

Ross grunts in acknowledgement and pats Lee’s knee as you start heading over.

“I’m just glad you’re not still entertaining being in a relationship with a woman whose first instinct was to cheat on you. Y/n is good people though, she makes you less unbearable.”

Lee rolls his eyes before he’s completely caught up in you again.

You smile at them as you get within spitting distance and Lee can’t help but track the way that unlike with Lacy, when he was stuck on desperately trying to make it work with her, the guys don’t either ignore you when you’re not directly engaging with them or give you stilted responses.

Barney doesn’t do any of those things with you. When you ask him things he answers about as happily as he ever does anything he doesn’t despise and when you greet him he responds while actually looking at you.

Lee had honestly never realized before how much the guys disliked Lacy until he finally gave up on them and found you almost a year later. In fact even though the three of you are a little separated from the other’s table the team still takes the time to greet you, even Gunner, as you walk past them.

He reaches for you, in the pretty dress he’d had the pleasure of watching you pick out for tonight, and when you readily grasp back at him he pulls you into his lap. You settle there like you were made for it and he can’t help the smile that splits across his face as he watches.

“Hey you,” you murmur. He brings your hands up where they’re still connected to kiss at your knuckles.

“Hey,” he murmurs back against the ample darkness of the skin there.

You smile and duck your head at the intensity he regards you with. Stunning. You squeeze his hand, shy smile still in place, and then turn to Ross.

“Hi to you too Barney.”

At your words Ross actually glances up and fully acknowledges that you’ve talked to him. He even gives you one of his rare angst riddled half smiles. It’s genuine, the man’s just allergic to anything the elicits too happy of a response Lee’s sure of it.

“Hey Y/n, how you been?”

“Fine,” you shrug, sparkling eyes briefly flitting to Lee’s. “Better now that Lee’s back though. You think next time you could fit me into the schedule? A month’s a long time to not have his little accent bouncing off my walls.”

And Ross chuckles in response. Wow, Lee really was a love sick fool with Lacy if he hadn’t realized just how much his closest friend couldn’t stand her.

“I’ll make sure to check my calendar for you next time,” he nods at him. “Though why anyone would rush to hear his badgering British shtick is lost on me.”

You pat at his hand as you lean into Ross’s space, “Maybe I’m a little crazy,” you mock confess.

“Hey!” Lee exclaims as Ross chuckles. The older man presses his hands to his knees as he throws him a teasing smirk before standing. Lee tamps down the urge to flip him off and pout at the way you’re laughing with him. Ross nods amiably at you both before lumbering off to join the group.

Once he’s gone, and all eyes from the table are not on y’all anymore, Lee turns to you and finally lets himself pout.

“What are you giggling at, eh? Just last night you were begging me to talk to you.”

You laugh some more, a snort sneaking in in the middle, and pivot towards him. A kiss is delicately placed at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t sulk,” you say against his lips. “It’s unattractive.”

You pull away with a tiny smile pulling at plump glossy lips and Lee stares at you open mouthed before shaking his head. He pulls you to him more securely, letting go of your hand to wrap both his arms around your waist. You nuzzle your head onto his shoulder and kiss at the dip of his neck. He laughs down at you and then kisses those smiling lips. It’s brief but it makes his heart pound as you give him your full attention. The two of you were captured by the other.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” his eyes dance as he speaks to you. “I’d miss you calling me handsome.”

Your laughter fills his ears, and call him a romantic all you want he already knows, but that sound fills his lungs with fresh air and renews him with hope that not everything in the world’s utter shit.

NOTES: Was watching Expendables and I like Jason Statham, you know the drill.

#lee christmas #the expendables #black!reader #black y/n #lee christmas x black!reader #lee christmas x reader #the expendables imagine #jason statham #black reader

[urhoneycombwitch]

honey, I’m home

🍯 honey flavour: Xmas fluff and smut drabble

🐝 the beebees: linecook!Eddie x reader

wc: 2.5k

Content warnings: soft dom Eddie, smut, oral (f receiving), reader has fem anatomy, gratuitous use of the nickname ‘princess’, Christmas fluff

foreword: so many delish linecook!Eddie ideas out there I’m throwing my hat into the ring. holiday edition. i wrote this while hiding in my room from relatives lol. my first time w/longer-form on tumblr like this send help I’m scared!!!!

Linecook!Eddie working a long shift at the diner ‘cuz he picked up shitty Christmas Eve hours to be with you all day Christmas, which he swore was worth it despite your earlier protests.

You’ve got some of the Gang over at the trailer helping you wrap presents; everyone’s hands are busy with mugs of cocoa and Scotch tape and too-long ribbons.

Robin and Steve are squabbling over a prized tube of wrapping paper on the couch, Max and El are stretched out on the floor stringing popcorn garlands, and you’re overseeing Dustin’s attempts at bow-tying on the coffee table when Eddie walks in.

And he’s scuffing his boots on the mat, shaking snow from his hair, sidling up to you when you stand to greet him and pressing his face into your neck. You squeak at his cold nose and you can feel him smile against your skin as he hugs you tighter.

“Are you gonna keep making out with your girlfriend or are you gonna help us?” Dustin grouses, irritable from all the energy he’s expended on the bows that just don’t look quite right.

You move to pull away, feeling a lil chastised (by a teenager, no less) but Eddie slips his strong arm around your waist, locking you in place, not bothering to break eye contact with you as he says resolutely, “I’m gonna keep making out with my girlfriend.”

He plants one on you right in front of everyone and although your first instinct is to feel embarrassed it’s quickly drowned out by the desire to keep kissing him, because my god can that boy kiss. And he does. With gusto. Ringed hands on either side of your face, thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks.

There are girlish giggles coming from the pair on the floor; Dustin’s grumbling about needing bleach for his eyes, Steve calls out something about you and Eddie getting a room.

Without missing a beat or taking his lips from yours, Eddie lifts a hand from your face to flip the boy on the couch off. When he finally does pull back, it’s just enough to ask, quietly, as if you’re the only people in the room- “You have dinner yet, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, his one hand still resting on your cheek, a little out of breath- “No, uh, nope. We were waitin’ for you, thought we’d order pizza, or…”

You trail off. He looks downright fucking beautiful, in the soft, glowy Christmas lighting, white work tanktop peeking out from his black and blue flannel, glint of silver chains at his neck. You haven’t seen him since early this morning, when he’d pressed a kiss to your half-awake head and left for work. Now he was here, smelling like woodsmoke and maple syrup and looking at you with those doey eyes and all you want to do is press kisses against his adam’s apple until he melts under you and why oh why had you invited people over again…?

“I’m going to make my beautiful girlfriend here something to eat. Would any of you miscreants care for some grub?” Eddie finally turns his attention to your group of friends, who all claim hunger in equal measure, and you follow him into the kitchen.

You watch as he starts assembling a variety of mixing bowls and utensils on the counter, whistling as he goes; you hug your arms against yourself, dragging a sock foot against the tile.

“I can help,” you offer as Eddie kneels beside you to produce a waffle iron from the cabinet by your legs. “I can stir things, or make sides, o-or…”

Eddie’s warm palm is sliding up the back of your calf, causing you to stutter. He nuzzles his nose against your plaid pajama-covered thigh, briefly, like he can’t help it, before standing back up.

“With these hands?” He teases gently, setting the waffle maker down and pulling your hand to his lips. “Nah. Gotta keep my girl soft.”

You let him kiss the back of your hand and you rotate it in his grasp, palm-up now, his lips pressing against the center there, and you try again to get him to let you help, because he just worked a 12-hour shift and you know he must be bone-tired by now.

With your voice barely above a whisper- “I could… get the plates out…”

One final kiss to your palm, and then he’s looking at you with such fondness, calloused thumb tapping where his lips just were. “Does breakfast for dinner strike your fancy, good lady?”

When you nod, he says with affectionate sternness, “Good. Now go sit pretty in the living room and get out of my kitchen.”

So you obey, cozying up to Robin on the couch to help her with the last few presents amid the bickering still taking place between her and Steve. Nat King Cole serenades from the tinny radio speakers above the clattering in the kitchen, and Dustin’s mood improves drastically once El offers to show him the ropes of popcorn stringing, half-tied bows abandoned at the coffee table.

You look up periodically from your tape sticking to check on Eddie- at some point, he’d put his hair in a low bun and tied his flannel around his hips, the heat of the kitchen causing his bangs to go limp. He’s in good spirits despite the sleepiness you know he’s fighting, humming along to the radio while he coaxes perfectly golden waffles from the iron and onto the Charlie Brown-themed plates you two had bought at the thrift store for fifty cents apiece last summer.

He sweeps into the living room with plates of steaming food balanced on his forearms, his stability impeccable and arms deceptively strong from years of hefting shit around in the kitchen. Obviously, you’re the first to get your plate, dropped off with a little kiss to the crown of your head, but no one’s complaining this time around because they’re too busy chewing.

Eddie’s personalized each order, of course- extra syrup to satiate El’s sweet tooth, blueberries baked into Steve’s stack, a side of peanut butter for Robin paired with a thick handled-butterknife.

Eleven looks up from where she sits cross-legged beside Max and says in a voice that leaves no room for disagreement, “You are the best cook in Hawkins.”

Eddie beams at her around a mouthful of waffle, knocking his shoulder into yours lightly- “You hear that, honey? Supergirl-approved chef at your service.”

Sticky plates get scraped clean and pushed aside, a rosy fullness lulling everyone into easy conversation about various holiday plans happening tomorrow. Eddie’s settled into your side on the couch, sliding his hand back and forth absently across your thigh, and you can tell by the vacant stare he’s giving the far wall that he’s running on fumes (though he’d never admit it in front of anyone but you, all too happy to give and give until there’s nothing left).

So you make the call for the both of you, giving a dramatic stretch and yawn- “All right, gang, I’m beat. Let’s call it for tonight and pick back up on Christmas?”

There’s a bustle of activity for the next few minutes; you and Steve hunt down everyone’s winter gear, getting the kids back into their gloves and warm hats while Robin helps Eddie with the dishes. In a flurry of see-you-tomorrows and calls for safe driving, Eddie pulls the front door shut and snicks the top lock closed.

“Finally,” he groans, and you can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles from you with the speed at which he has you caged against the wall, trailing a line of kisses down your throat, his sleepy state seemingly abandoned for a much hornier one.

“Somethin’ funny?” he muses, before sucking at the spot where your shoulder and neck join, your laugh catching and rolling into a gasp instead.

“Didn’t think so,” Eddie chuckles, darkly, against the hollow of your throat, adding a scrape of teeth over the bruise that’s sure to bloom. “You gonna be a good girl and let me have dessert?”

Your brain is already going fuzzy as he bullies his hands underneath your shirt, cold rings sending shivers across your body as they slide against your lower back, the plush curve of your hip, dipping down down down.

“Don’t you wanna-” your voice comes out shaking, interrupted by another gasp as Eddie’s hands find the bare meat of your ass and he squeezes, bordering that fine line between too harsh and too good that he knows you love- “-shower, or clean up a bit? I can run you a bath-”

Eddie slips his denim-clad thigh between yours, and fuck the presure is just right as he helps your core roll over his knee with his solid grip.

“I think…” he purrs low against the shell of your ear, grinning when your breath gets all shallow and quick, “you should come on my fingers like I’ve been dreamin’ about all day. And then we’ll talk about cleaning up.”

He makes a compelling argument. Resigned, you let your head thunk back against the wall as he sinks to his knees, pulling your pants down your legs as he goes.

You’ve soaked through your underwear at this point, which might’ve been embarrassing except for the fact that Eddie’s told you before how much it gets him going, evident now by the outline of his hard cock straining against his jeans.

“All for me, princess?” he murmurs, face so close to your clothed core that you can feel his breath.

He gets like this sometimes, downright reverent, and you know any attempt you make to hide from him will just wind him up more, so you fight that instinct to balk as he parts your thighs with tender, worshipful hands, and instead whisper “Yeah, Eds. All for you.”

He hums in approval, nosing at the front of your panties, hooking his long, deft fingers into the sides of them before tugging them down your thighs and tossing them aside.

“There she is,” he croons, as if it’s just him and your pussy now. “Don’t cry for me, baby, I’m here now, gonna take care of you…”

You jolt forward into his grasp as he slides his middle finger against your sticky folds, your hands seeking purchase and ending up in the soft curls at the top of his head that didn’t make it to the bun at the nape of his neck.

“All day, I work over a hot griddle,” Eddie mutters as he hooks your knee over his shoulder. “I make shit wages and shittier tips,” he continues, monologuing, the smug son of a bitch, his breath fanning over your now-exposed core, one hand coming up to rest on the softness of your stomach, pinning you in place right where he wants you- “And you know what makes it all worth it, baby?”

He pauses just before his mouth makes contact with your pussy, flicking his gaze up to you to assess the damage he’s done so far, his pupils blown wide with lust, nearly eclipsing the soft brown of his irises. You’re panting now, in little fits and gasps, doing your best to be gentle with the weaved grasp you have on his hair.

“You,” he says, before closing the gap and sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, back arching off the wall, seizing at his hair and unconsciously tugging his mouth tighter against you.

Eddie hums again, the vibrations sparking more pleasure against your throbbing clit. You could probably come from this stimulation alone but Eddie isn’t wasting any time, hungry for you to fall apart for him as he works one of his dextrous fingers into your dripping core.

You cry out wordlessly as he finds that spot with the pad of his finger, stroking against it, purling his tongue around your clit in tandem with the thrust of his hands, adding another finger as you clench around him.

He’s only been at it for a few minutes but you’re already dangerously close to the edge, lust burning and twisting in your stomach, your body shuddering in his hold.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he’s saying into the juncture of your thigh, pleading- with you or your cunt, hard to say- as his hand on your stomach slips down, using the thumb of that hand to press your clit against your pubic bone, a filthy slick grind that has you whimpering expletives.

“Fuck, Eddie, fu-uck…”

One of your legs is still over his shoulder, thighs spasming with your impending orgasm, and from your higher vantage point you watch as Eddie’s hand that isn’t busy between your legs drops from the outside of your thigh to his own lap.

He grinds shamelessly into the heel of his hand, rutting his clothed cock into his palm, chasing his own high as he adds another finger into your clenching core, setting a brutal pace that matches the speed at which he’s moving against himself.

It’s this picture- Eddie, on his knees, mouth on your clit, touching himself- that is your undoing. Your orgasm is blinding, crashing through you like a wave, curling the top half of your body around Eddie’s head as you cradle his skull against your core.

By the sound of it, Eddie’s coming, too, moans buried into your cunt as he wrings out the last of your orgasm, the squelch of your walls cinched taut around his fingers.

You have to physically push his head away with the tips of your fingers to get him to ease up- you know he could easily go another two, three rounds before being satisfied but your limbs are going weak and trembly and you want him close, that rush of endorphins leaving you hazy.

And Eddie knows, instantly, ‘cuz he always does, so good at reading you. He lets your leg slip from his shoulder and stands to kiss you, the tangy taste of you on his lips.

“You’re so hot,” he says, thunking his foreheard against yours, holding you close. “I meant what I said, y’know- think about you all day. Gotta take trips to the walk-in freezer just to stop the boners.”

He looks overly pleased when you laugh, giddily, and soothes his hands up and down your bare arms.

“You gonna shower with me? Didn’t even getta see the girls,” he laments, dropping his gaze to the front of your shirt, rucked-up from his wandering hands but still very much on.

“Anything for you, chef,” you indulge, giggling again as Eddie gives a kiss each to the tops of your breasts.

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if you’re reading this PLEASE know my anons/requests are open I am in desperate need of more ST mutuals!!!

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #stranger things smut #linecook!eddie Munson #linecook!eddie

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Christmas Present

This fic will cover my Dates Keep Getting Interrupted square on my 2nd @jacklesversebingo card. ❤️

Summary: Y/N is beginning to wonder just where she fits into Jensen's life. Is she expendable?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Pretty much all fluff. A wee tiny bit of smut. Just a wisp of oral (f receiving) and unprotected PinV sex. Nothing really explicit. Pretty much a smidge of angst and mostly fluff.

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 2,599

A/N: Here is the next request for my second @jacklesversebingo card. This one came from a lovely anon who asked this:

hi! how about an angsty “dates keep getting interrupted” with jensen? something along the lines of him being busy and just simply being swamped with work but reader feels like jensen might not be in love with them anymore.

I basically took that first idea in your request and ran with it sweetie! Hope you enjoy this one. It ran a bit fluffy, but I hope you like it.

The beautiful dividers used here are from @talesmaniac89

Y/N inhaled deeply as she pulled the freshly made pumpkin pie out of the oven. She looked at it with pride; she’d made it from scratch because she knew it was Jensen’s favorite this time of year.

And he was finally coming home. 

For the last month and a half he’d been working all the way across the country and in all that time, they’d been relegated to nothing but video calls and texting. When he took the job the week before Thanksgiving she’d been disappointed they wouldn’t get to spend the holiday together. But as Jensen had assured her, it was only a month of shooting, and he was only one, six hour flight away; they’d visit lots and he’d be home a good week or more before Christmas.

But the shoot had dragged on and on with an inexperienced director and a picky and demanding producer. Everything was so disorganized that Jensen had made it home only one time in those six weeks, and he’d been swamped with press the entire time, as well as trying to fit in meetings with his manager, agent, and another producer considering him for a different project. It meant that in his one day at home Y/N had him to herself for barely more than an hour, during which, he'd been completely, understandably, exhausted.

Four other trips home had been planned, complete with date nights Y/N put together that would allow them to go out together, but also stay in together a lot too. But all four times  those trips and those dates had been canceled. Even a desperately planned skype dinner date had only lasted a half hour before one of the PAs came banging on Jensen's trailer to drag him away to help with some unforeseen dilemma on set.

Y/N was sick with missing him. She knew he missed her too, but lately she’d been wondering...just how much?

How hard was he really trying to get home? How important was she to him? Was she just a girlfriend he was saddled with, someone he was obligated to try and get home to see? Was she just a scheduling conflict - one of the smaller ones, easily brushed aside for something more important?

After their last canceled date, she'd even asked herself the question that terrified her...was he losing interest? After a year and three months of dating...was she still loving him while he had one foot out the door?

Her mind shied away from answering those questions. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answers.

But two days ago he’d called her up to say he was finally going to be wrapped the following day, and he’d be home early Christmas morning. She’d seen his plane ticket and everything; it was going to be the best Christmas present she could get.

So she’d made his favorite pie in celebration.

As she set the pie on the rack to cool, she heard a notification bing, telling her she had a video call from Jensen. She felt knots form in her stomach, but decided he was probably just calling to say he was getting on the plane in a few hours. 

He’d just text you for that, she thought, but she brushed the thought aside.

She sat down at her kitchen table, and clicked her mouse to answer, smiling as Jensen’s face appeared on her laptop screen.

“Hey.” She said, overly cheerful.

“Hey.” He said back, and she could hear the waver in his voice, but she ignored that too.

“How are you?” She asked.

His jaw clenched and she felt her stomach plummet further. 

“I’m…not good…I…” His green eyes looked at her through the screen, regret etched deep into his verdant irises. “I’m so sorry, baby - “ he began, but Y/N cut him off with a cry of disappointment.

“No! No!” She denied loudly. “What the hell? You said you’re wrapped, you said -”

“I know, I know. But they’ve decided they need a shit ton of reshoots, there’s a bunch of stuff they said they didn’t like, and…” He trailed off. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N turned her face away from the camera as she nodded in heartbroken acceptance, trying to hide her eyes swimming in tears. “But…” she cleared her throat. “This is like the fifth time you’ve had to cancel, can’t they understand that? I mean, it’s Christmas. Why the hell do they need you to work on Christmas?” Her voice rose at the end, anger seeping through to fill in her cracked heart.

“I don’t know.” Jensen said with a shrug, and the gesture made her anger take a swift turn towards him. “It’s Hollywood, they don’t always give a shit about things like national holidays.”

“Well, they should!” She shouted. “I mean, what the hell? Do they think they own you? Why don’t you just tell them to fuck off?”

“Y/N -”

“Seriously, that’s basically what you’ve been telling me to do for the past six weeks, but you can't even tell them once?”

The muscle ticked in Jensen’s jaw again. “Y/N, I’ve spent the last day and a half doing nothing but trying to get them to listen to me, to agree to let me go for a day or two and then come back, but -”

“Wait!” Y/N cut him off. “You’ve known about this for a day and a half and you’re only telling me now?” Her voice was incensed and furious. 

Jensen threw up his hands. “I was hoping I could get out of it, Y/N! I was…look, I’m sorry." His anger was obvious but she couldn't tell if it was directed at her or not. "Don’t you think I’m disappointed too?”

“Are you?” Y/N asked before she could stop herself.

Jensen’s face grew suddenly calm. “What does that mean?” He asked.

Y/N shook her head. “Nothing. It just means that it’s been six weeks, and so many canceled dates and plans, I mean…”

“Five weeks.” Jensen interjected as she paused for a breath.

Y/N scowled at him. “What?”

“It’s only been five weeks.”

Y/N clenched her teeth. “Oh well, excuse me! Then, I guess - who cares?"

Jensen was shaking his head. “No, look I just meant to say that I’m well aware of how long it’s been since I’ve gotten to see you, but…” He looked slightly defeated. “I don’t…I mean, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She smiled sadly and nodded at him. “Yeah, well, you should know. That’s uh…” She sniffed and wiped her fingers across her cheeks. “That’s sort of the problem.”

Jensen opened his mouth to say something, but when he hesitated, Y/N just gave him another broken smile. 

“Merry Christmas.” She said softly before clicking off the call.

***

Y/N sat slumped on her couch with a half eaten pumpkin pie discarded on her coffee table. On the TV, Ebeneezer Scrooge was calling out Merry Christmas to everyone in the street below him, having realized the true meaning and value of Christmas. Y/N’s face was nothing but frowning lips and a scowl as she shut off her TV.

“Bah, humbug.” She countered quietly.

Her heart was actually hurting; a physical ache had taken up residence in her chest and she rubbed her palm over it trying to ease the sting. 

All she could see was Jensen’s face as she'd ended the call. And whenever she saw his face the fear started that it was going to be the last time she saw it - at least the last time off the silver screen.

She’d picked up the phone a dozen times to call him, but she never managed to hit “call” before tossing her phone down and crying some more. Now it was almost one in the morning and she picked it up again. This time she managed to press his name and hit the green call button.

It went straight to voicemail. The beep sounded and she contemplated hanging up. But after a pause she spoke, clearing her throat first.

“Hey, it’s me…but you probably saw that already.” Another long pause. “So…I was hoping you’d pick up, but…you’re probably sleeping. I just…wanted to…”

She paused long enough that she was worried she’d be cut off, so she rushed out the rest. “Just wanted to say I love you.” Her throat caught. “And Merry Christmas.” 

She heard a beep in her ear. “Oh,” she said, surprised, “I’ve got another call.” She saw Jensen’s name on the caller ID and hung up with the voicemail.

“Jensen?” She said tentatively as she answered.

“Hey.” He said softly.

“Hi. I was just…” She let out a burst of slightly nervous laughter. “I just left you a message.”

“Oh?” Jensen asked. “What did you say?”

“Just…just Merry Christmas, and…love you.” She answered, her voice almost shy. Then she burst out full voice. “Jensen I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to -”

But Jensen cut her off. “No, baby, I’m sorry. That’s the whole point.”

The tension eased slightly from their voices and Y/N tried to explain her disappointment. “I just miss you.”

“I know, believe me, I know.”

She was going to say something else, but Jensen spoke first. “I had something delivered to you.”

“You what?” Y/N asked with a laugh of surprise. “You had something delivered to me, from across the country, at one in the morning on Christmas Eve?”

“Yeah, it should have been there by now. It’s probably already sitting on your porch. Go check. But stay on the phone with me cause it’s after midnight.”

Y/N giggled a little breathlessly and ran to the front door. She grabbed her sweater from the peg beside it and pulled it on against the snowy chill outside. She opened the door and peered out, but she didn’t see anything. 

She stepped tentatively outside in her slippers. “There’s nothing here.” She told him. “I hope someone didn’t steal it.” She worried.

“No, it’s okay, I got it.”

Y/N's head whipped around as Jensen’s voice echoed tinnily through the phone. Her face froze as he walked towards her from the side of the porch, holding a box in his hand.

Y/N gasped loudly and then immediately screamed, running forward to throw herself into Jensen’s arms, making him drop the box. She wrapped her arms around him, holding on for dear life

His strong arms wrapped her up, cuddling her close against his thick, navy blue winter coat. She buried her face in his chest and wept unabashedly. He placed a kiss on the crown of her head and then kept his cheek pressed there while she cried her fill of happy tears. She finally pulled back to look up at him, with tear tracks mottling her skin. His big hands were cold as he pushed her hair back and cupped her cheeks.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. “How did you manage this? What did you tell them?”

Jensen shrugged. “Told ‘em to fuck off.” She choked on her laughter as he continued. “I told them in slightly more polite terms, but not by much.”

She shook her head, a worried smile on her face. “But Jensen, you’re gonna get in trouble.” 

“I don’t care.”

“You’re gonna get fired.” 

“I don’t care.”

When she opened her mouth to speak again, he kissed her, sucking away her breath and warming her from head to toe. Then he pulled away before pulling her close, tucking his face into the crook of her neck, and speaking against her skin. “I don’t care about anything more than I care about you.”

He pushed on her shoulders so he could look her in the eye. “You are everything to me Y/N and I need you to know that.”

He cupped her cheeks again, thumbs brushing away her newest tears. “So, to that end…” he bent down and scooped up the box he’d dropped. He brushed the fluffy snow from it and handed it to Y/N for her to open. “Merry Christmas.”

Y/N felt her heart race and then lodge in her throat as she cracked open the ring-sized box. Sure enough, nestled inside on a bed of velvet was a beautiful, elegant, gold engagement ring.

Jensen bent to one knee, and she started sobbing, trying desperately to hear him over her own noisy joy.

His bright, green gaze was sure and steady and overflowing with love. She wondered now, how she could ever have doubted it.

“I need you to know,” He began, “that I love you more than anything. That there is nothing,” he emphasized, “nothing more important to me than you. And for the rest of our lives I wanna be with you on all our Christmases and every New Year’s Eve, and Valentine’s Day, Fourth of Julys, hell, Arbor Days even!” he said with a watery chuckle. “It doesn’t matter what I’m celebrating, I wanna be celebrating it with you.”

He slipped the ring on her finger and she cried harder. After a minute he squeezed her hand. “Is there a yes in there, maybe - this snow’s cold on the knee.”

Y/N laughed merrily and threw her arms around his neck. “Yes!” She shouted, and squealed as he stood up, and spun her around in a dizzying circle. 

“Thank god.” He said quietly as he brushed his thumb across her mouth. “Fuck, I missed you, baby. Please say I can kiss you now.”

Y/N's belly clenched and her breathing kicked up a notch as she nodded and breathed against his cool lips. “Yes, god.” She sighed.

He kissed her deeply, sweeping his tongue past her lips and licking up into the roof of her mouth. Many breathless minutes later, Jensen pulled back and wore a contemplative look. “Mmm…you taste like pumpkin pie.”

Y/N smiled. “Oh yeah, I made you a pumpkin pie.” His eyes lit up. “But I ate it.”

Jensen laughed and began kissing and nibbling on her neck. “Well, then I guess I just gotta feast on you.”

He pushed her back through her front door and slammed it shut, kicking off his shoes and pulling off her sweater as he went. By the time he got her to her bedroom, he had them both stripped to nothing. They fell easily onto the bed, clinging to each other and savoring the closeness they’d missed for so long.

Jensen kissed her slowly, skating his lips across her skin, stopping to lick and nip at different peaks and valleys of her body, making her arch into him and card her fingers through his hair. She tugged on it as his soft, smooth beard tickled her skin, before moaning deeply as it scratched against the delicate skin of her inner thighs.

Jensen kept her coming on his tongue for a very long time, till she was shaking and shuddering and begging him to fill her up.

“Jensen, please,” she panted, “I need you so close to me.”

Jensen understood exactly what she meant. Seconds later he pushed into her welcoming heat, home at last, finding the bliss he always found in her arms, and giving it back to her. 

***

Christmas morning dawned bright and sunny and Y/N stretched languidly, rousing Jensen beside her, smiling as he gave out a sleepy moan. She turned to face him and gently traced her finger down the line of his nose and then began counting his cinnamon freckles, connecting them as she went.

Another small moan issued from Jensen’s throat. “S’early.” He mumbled. “Why’re you wake?”

She placed kisses all along his tight, square jaw before she answered. “I was just admiring my gift.”

He cracked one eye and looked at her left hand as it passed over his chest. A small smile lit his face and he ran a finger over her engagement ring. “You like, sweetheart?”

Y/N nodded. “Oh, definitely. The ring is gorgeous.” She moved quickly, climbing on top of him and straddling his hips, surprising a deep groan out of him; she could feel him harden beneath her. “But that’s not the gift I was talking about.”

She braced herself against his shoulders and rolled her hips against him before leaning down and pressing her lips softly to his, her voice teasing and full of love.

“Merry Christmas, Christmas present.”

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[seasonsbloom]

if devotion is a river (then i'm floating away) . hangman

pairing ; jake seresin x female!reader

synopsis ; in your bedroom on a saturday night, jake reminds you what it is to be alive.

wc ; 4.5k

warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; explicit language, explicit sexual content (p in v, daddy kink, finger sucking, dom/sub dynamic, reader might be in subspace??, unprotected sex), this is all v consensual and they're both aware of what to do to tap out but it's not explicitly stated

note: i'm going to hell. i am SO sorry. also pls don't spring kinks on your partner out of nowhere, y'all gotta discuss that first, this is only okay in fiction ashdhfjkgjr

desertsagecelestial aka sol... you're my rock (star).

It goes like this: When he touches me, I feel like a song… drifting, shifting, dancing through the air.

It goes like this: When he touches me, I feel like a river… flowing, rushing, pouring into the sea.

It goes like this: When he touches me, I feel like summer… blooming, beaming, glowing.

All this to say: It’s an accident, the first time it happens.

“You like that, hmm, honey?” Jake asks, his voice drifting to you from far, far away. “Missed my cock?”

It’s all soft in your bedroom on this Saturday night - soft light, soft sheets, soft moonlight spilling in through half-closed curtains. You’re soft too, soft in the nightgown he got you last Christmas, the fabric rucked up all the way over your breasts, where his spit is still drying on your nipples. Soft with your hair down and your mind fuzzy and your lips loose.

It’s all soft in your bedroom on this Saturday night. All of it, except Jake. Jake who is unyielding, relentless. Edges in the streamlined world you’ve lived in while he was gone. A rock in a rushing river.

You can’t answer. There’s so much to say that you can’t find the words for any of it, can barely hold onto the tether of reality that anchors you to who you are. You’re drifting now - a balloon cut loose.

Jake’s been gone for two weeks. Just two weeks… If you total it up, count it against the stretch of your life, all the days and all the months and all the years, it’s insignificant. A blip. A heartbeat.

But that’s not how it felt while you were in it. While you were walking through the days like a sleepwalker, a constant hum beneath your skin, an itch you couldn’t scratch. Something that built and expended and grew until your skin felt too small to hold you. Until the expensive sheets rubbed you raw. Until you stared at your computer at work every day without seeing anything, spoke to coworkers without hearing, did your groceries and your dishes and your laundry without remembering why or how or when.

It doesn’t always happen. But sometimes, when Jake’s gone, you stop feeling like a person and start feeling like a concept instead.

It’s a strange feeling, a scary space of mind. Where everything’s too much, all the noise and the people and the light. Where you go loopy and jumpy and irritable and can’t even recognize yourself in mirrors. When you need somebody to help you, need somebody to take care of you.

Need Jake to take care of you. Fuck the feeling out of you.

Need Jake to put his hands on you and tell you you’re here and you’re real, and I won’t let you drift away from me.

Jake plunges his cock deeper into you, hand sliding from your hip to your stomach. He’s got big hands, elegant ones, long fingers, and blunt, short nails. Palm spreading flat, fingers splayed, it feels like he can reach from hipbone to hipbone. 

Your answering sound is pathetic. In fact, you feel pretty pathetic right now. The sound of your slick, needy pussy sucking him in, again and again, the involuntary noises it punches out of you. The opened mouth, the face pressed into the mattress. You don’t even have the strength to raise your head.

“Asked you a question, honey,” Jake says, leaning down to press an open-mouthed, hot kiss to the slope of your shoulder. “You’re not even gonna answer? Did I fuck the brains out of you already?”

Your lips move, but no words come. He presses his hand a little harder against your stomach, and you wonder if he can feel his own cock moving beneath the skin there. The thought has your eyes crossing, your ears ringing.

It doesn’t really matter. Nothing really matters, you think, a streak of fatalism shining through, nothing but the feeling of Jake’s cock in you. You never want him to stop, want him to keep fucking you forever, always riding that razor’s edge, slow-dancing on that precipice, want him to…

Abruptly, Jake stops moving. He’s still and thick and impossibly deep inside of you, and it’s so sudden it lurches you, lunges at you from the fog that’s gathered around your mind. You make a garbled sound, almost a shout, try to move your hips backward, try to fuck yourself on him, get that friction back, that thing that makes you feel real, but Jake stills you with the hand on your hip, holds you in place right there. On your knees beneath him.

“Be a good girl, and I’ll give you my cock again,” he promises, the fingers on your stomach tapping against your skin gently. “Just tell me, honey. You miss me?”

In the ruin of yourself, you can’t find your voice. So you just nod, again and again, head still pressed against the sheets, nose squished down. You’ve spent the past two weeks afraid of the moment when the pillows and blankets stop smelling of him, and it’s good to know that, at the very least, tomorrow you won’t have to worry about that anymore.

The fingers around your hip tighten, nails biting down for just a second, and you yelp, then moan, body twitching as you can’t decide whether to move into the feeling or away from it. You imagine him leaving a mark, imagine the imprint of his hand on your skin, and suddenly you feel dizzy.

“Out loud,” Jake reminds you, steel in his voice. “Tell me you missed my cock.”

You’ll start crying soon, you can feel it—that tell-tale tingling behind the bridge of your nose, the burning in your eyes. Frantically, you try to remember how to speak, how to move your tongue.

His dog tags dangle between you, tracing over the ladder of your spine like fingers of ice. You shiver.

“Yes,” you croak finally, voice like gravel, voice like a gasp. “Missed you. Always miss you, Jake, miss you...”

He hums, fingers tapping once, twice, three times against your hip. “Not the right answer, honey.”

In your chest, your heart squeezes to the point of pain. It’s so difficult to form a single coherent thought. Like you’re wading through molasses, through marshland, seeing him standing far, far on the shore, and you want to get to him, want to run, but you just can’t move fast enough. Can’t even put one foot in front of the other.

“Jake…” you whisper.

He doesn’t even say anything, just makes a sound above you, a soft, scolding, displeased tsk, and it has your stomach swooping. Is he upset? He sounds upset. You don’t want him to be upset. You want to be good for him, want to make him happy the same way he makes you happy. You want to be his best girl, always, always, always.

The thought that you’re being bad, you’re doing something wrong, bounces around your empty head like a tennis ball. You’re frantic now, desperate, on the verge of a great, big fall.

It takes all you have, but somehow you manage to say, “Please. Please, Jake, I missed you, I need you, missed your cock, I missed you, missed you….”

Jake sighs, shushes you as his palm wanders up and up and up, from your stomach over your ribs, flattens to your chest, right where your heart is thundering like it’s trying to press a pattern into his skin.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “I’ll give it to you. Give you anything you need.”

The words have you preening, some knot you didn’t even know existed, loosening in your stomach.

And then finally, mercifully, blissfully, he starts to move again.

The first plunge of his cock through your wetness lights you on fire, ignites something in you. You clench around him, push your face into the sheets that smell like him, and wish he could be closer, wish you could kiss him or hold his hand or climb into his bloodstream. It’s a liquid heat - one that shifts and flows through you, that courses through your veins, that consumes you. 

Like he can read your thoughts, Jake leans down, covers you with his body. It’s his chest pressing to your back, hot and a little sticky with sweat. It’s the cold metal of the dog tags shoved against your spine, the thought of his name imprinted on your back. It’s the sound of his quick breaths in your ear. It’s the feeling of the belt buckle pressing against the soft meat of your thigh, clanging against you with each thrust.

Jake always knows what you need. He always gives it to you eventually.

“That good?” he asks, voice pressed against the shell of your ear. “That’s what you need, isn’t it, honey?”

And you just moan, then nod, then move your hips back against him and babble, “Yes, yes, yes, Jake, so good, thank you, thank you….”

Under any other circumstances, it would be embarrassing. Humiliating. 

Like this, you don’t care.

In this bedroom, with Jake deeper inside of you than anybody before - everywhere, your heart and your cunt and your soul - there’s not really a choice anyway. Eventually, the truth comes spilling from you always—no secrets between him and you.

Jolted by the force of his hips fucking into you, his hand on your chest slips an inch or two, dry palm rasping over your hard nipple, and you let out a strangled sound, a moan or a shout or a whimper, fingers tugging at the top sheet, cunt squeezing around him like a vice, and suddenly you’re so, so close. At every thrust forward, your clit pushes against the firm mattress. At every pull backward, it catches on the fabric beneath you.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“Tell me,” Jake says, his voice finding you, always finding you, even when you feel like you’re millions of miles away from this bedroom, even when you feel like you might as well have entered a different universe. His hand tightens around your breast, almost to the point of pain but all it does is send another jolt of electricity straight to your clit. “Tell me, honey. Pretty pussy’s so fucking wet, god. This is what you needed, right? This is what you’ve been thinking about all this time I was gone? Wanted me to fuck this needy little cunt, wanted me to take care of you, didn’t you?”

You want to say, yes, Jake. You should say, yes, Jake.

But your head is so empty, your whole consciousness reduced to nothing but the sensation of it all - the wet glide of his cock in your pussy. The hitched rhythm of his heart against your back. The pressure of his lips against the nape of your neck. The metal of the dog tags, the belt. The way you’ve barely held on for the past few weeks, have turned into a shell of yourself, have forgotten what it feels like to enjoy, to feel, to do anything but follow a routine, and how he’s back now, how Jake’s here, how he holds you together, helps you do what you can’t do yourself. How he takes care of you, always, always, always.

So what you say instead, what tumbles from your lips like something secret, like something forbidden, something you didn’t even know you carried inside you, what punches out of you on a desperate gasp, is, “Daddy.”

Behind you, above you, inside you, Jake freezes.

It’s not even much of a sound at all, whimpered into the sheets as it is, too little air left in your lungs to make it loud. And still. He’s heard, definitely.

The panic is instantaneous. It trickles into you like somebody upended a bucket of ice cubes over you. Claws along your bones. Burrows into your chest.

Oh god. What did I just do?

“Honey,” Jake says, and his voice is very quiet, very low, impossible to decipher when your ears are ringing, and your heart is thundering, and your head is spinning, spinning, spinning.

“No,” you say almost immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t….”

Jake pulls out of you with a slick, gross sound, and even through it all, through the mortification, the humiliation, the horror, you can’t help but whimper at the loss of him.

For a moment, you just lie there, face hidden in the mattress, thinking, this is it. This is where I went too far. He’s going to hate me, he’s going to…

And then Jake rolls you around. Hands on your hips as you go from your stomach to your back, as the room spins around you. He leaves your legs splayed wide open, pushes between them, and the belt buckle swings between you, slaps against your clit, and this time you can’t bite back the shout, stars reeling in front of your eyes.

Jake’s face appears above you, and you can do nothing but blink at him, the shame still rampant in your chest.

And then it’s his hips pressing between your thighs, his cock, still wet with your arousal, pushing against your pussy, it’s his chest against yours, and his mouth opening over your own, tongue plunging between your parted lips, his fingers sinking into your hair.

He pulls back, pupils blown so wide his eyes look almost black, cheeks flushed, lips pink and rosy from your kiss, and he says, “Say it again.”

“It…” you stutter, whimper, try again, “I’m sorry, Jake, I’m sorry, I….”

The panic has cleared your head somewhat, but you’re still under the surface, tons and tons of water dragging you ever deeper towards that ocean floor where everything is quiet and nothing hurts. You’re still lost somewhere in that haze.

Jake is shaking his head, and in the twilight of your bedroom, his eyes gleam.

“Not that,” he says, pushing his hips forward, so the tip of his cock drags slowly, torturously over your clit, so your eyes roll back in your head, “what you said before. Call me that again.”

It’s not difficult to read that tone of voice, to understand the fingers grasping at your collarbone, the insistent, relentless rubbing against your center. To interpret it as desire.

But something’s shifted now, something that makes you hide your face in his neck, shake your head, hope he doesn’t look at you. Suddenly, the truth eludes you.

“No,” you say again, even though you both know you’re lying. “It’s… I didn’t mean it.”

Without warning, Jake slides back inside of you, slides back home, and you sob with it, legs wrapping instinctively around his hips, ankle hooking around his thigh to open yourself wider. Nerves on fire.

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers into your ear, lips soft against the side of your jaw. “I got you. You can let go.”

But you shake your head, grasp him tighter, wrap both arms around his neck. Hold onto the last shreds of your sanity with desperation. Sometimes it’s scary to let control slip away so completely.

Jake’s fingers slide around to cup the back of your neck, fingertips teasing over the short hairs at the nape, and then he squeezes, applies the tiniest bit of pressure, and says, “Who’s got you, honey?”

And in the end, you always do what he asks you to. You always give in. Because when you’re good for him - that’s when he makes it so, so good for you.

It spills from you, unstoppably, the truth like a river that rushes forth.

“Daddy,” you gasp. “Please.”

The reaction is visceral - Jake groans, shudders against you, cock jumping where he’s buried in you. For a moment, you think he’s going to cum, but then he just moans, traces his lips over your throat, and starts moving.

He wastes no time with teasing, too wound-up himself, doesn’t go at the slow, steady pace he’d kept up before. Instead, it’s raw and frantic and desperate, it’s quick and deep, his hips rutting against yours, his gasps by your ear.

Through a fog, through a haze, through an ocean, you realize that while Jake always gives you what you need, you give it right back to him. Even the things neither of you knew hid inside of you.

It’s the sweetest kind of torture. A slow death that keeps climbing, that carries you higher and higher and higher. He’s so thick inside of you, spearing you open over and over, and your chest feels warm, warmer, hot, your mind fizzling out at the edges, your mouth opening.

Distantly, you’re aware of all the noise you’re making, the sobs and the whines and the moans, the groans from Jake, the squelch of your pussy as he plunges in and out in and out in and out. It only sends you spiraling higher.

Jake grabs one of your legs just below the knee, fingers tight, draws back to hook it over his shoulder, and then he sinks even deeper, goes just a bit harder. Hips pistoning against your own, belt buckle leaving indentations on your thighs. How insane, you think, that he’s still wearing his pants. That they’re still somewhere around his knees, that you’re so bare, so spread-open, so naked in front of him, and he’s still wearing his fucking pants. It sends another jolt through you.

Some sudden presence of mind, some remote, belated compassion for your neighbors has you biting your lower lip to keep the mewls at bay. The sharp sting of your teeth against the tender skin is almost grounding, almost leveling. 

Jake’s thumb finds your mouth almost immediately, tugs your lip gently from beneath the pressure of your teeth.

“Gonna hurt yourself, baby,” he says softly. As if he doesn’t like hurting you sometimes. As if he doesn’t like seeing it.

Regardless. There’s a gentleness to it, a tenderness, that has your stomach rolling, your muscles bearing down on him, your head rearing back. 

You just do what he says, the way you pretty much always do when he’s balls-deep in you, suppress the instinct to bite down. Instead, your mouth stays hanging open, lips parted wide, and suddenly you feel so empty, so goddamn empty that you ache with it in a way you can’t explain.

A whine escapes you, a pathetic, pleading little thing, and you open even wider, hoping that somehow he’ll know what you want without having to verbalize it. 

And, like always, he does.

“I got you, honey,” he whispers, and two fingers slip between your parted lips, press down on your tongue. “Always got you, don’t I?”

You just moan around the digits in your mouth, drawing it a little deeper, sucking on it, lathering your tongue all over the callouses on his fingertips. It feels good to know he’s everywhere, to feel so full, to have him inside and above and to smell him everywhere after the absence of the past weeks, after the longing and the yearning. The motion of his fingers in your mouth has saliva dripping from the corners of your lips, but you can’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed anymore.

Jake’s fucked any trace of shame out of you. 

“You wanna come, honey?” he asks, his voice breathless, his thrusts stuttering.

You moan around his fingers in answer, nipping at the tips. He hisses, and then he’s drawing his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue, reaching down between your bodies to rub your own drool into your clit.

The touch of his fingertips, the figure eights he draws against the swollen bundle of nerves, the punch of his cock, the unrelenting rhythm of it all has you keening. You turn your head to the side, his lips catching your cheek instead, squeeze your eyes shut, press your face into the mattress, and marvel at the galaxies swimming by rapidly in front of you.

“Good girl,” Jake whispers, and you mewl, nod along, because you are good, good for him, his best girl, always, always, and you know it, feel it when he’s inside of you, and you’re drowning, pushed down by the currents of all this pleasure, and you don’t care not one bit, happy to die like this, happy to…

“Let go now, honey,” Jake says, kisses you so sweetly, lets his lips wander up and down the column of your throat, presses his mouth to your cheekbone like you’re standing in the vegetable section at the supermarket, like you’re getting drinks in a bar, like you’re watching the sunset at the beach, like he isn’t fucking your brains out, like he isn’t moving you like a puppet, all your strings pulled by him. “Let go for daddy, baby. I wanna feel it, wanna feel you squeezing my cock, wanna….”

It barrels into you. Waves knocking you over, currents pulling you under, vision sizzling at the edges, black eating its way towards the center. A film caught on fire.

You clench around him, back arching off the mattress, chest straining into him, arms and legs tightening, fingers spasming, and you’re babbling nonsense, babbling daddy, daddy, please, yesyesyes, please, Jake, I can’t…

And then it’s just slick, it’s just wet, it’s just white-hot relief sucker-punching you, coursing through you, and it’s lifting into the air like a song, it’s rushing like a river, it’s hot like summer, and you sob into his neck, tears mingling with the sweat and the spit and it feels like it’ll never end, like it’ll keep going and going forever and ever and ever.

Jake moans loudly, hips punching forward of their own accord, whispering praise and filth and anything that comes to mind, once, twice, three times, and then he stills, buried to the hilt, shoulders rounding as he curves over you, around you, as it bowls him over, as he spills deep inside of you.

The warmth of it, spreading through you, has you whimpering, clinging to him. And you’re so full, you never want it to end, never want to feel anything but this again.

And Jake’s trembling in your arms, panting, both of you trying to come down from your highs as you hold each other, as you lie in the mess of the sheets and your own spend, heads spinning, hearts soaring, pressed together from chest to stomach to thighs.

When his weight threatens to crush you, Jake brushes a tender kiss to the side of your shin before carefully moving it from his shoulder. You gasp, the strain finally catching up to you, feeling the rawness of all your muscles. You’re aching all over, in the best of ways.

“Jesus,” he whispers, leaning down to press kisses to your face, to your nose, your eyebrow, the edge of your jaw. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

In the aftermath, there’s nothing but a quiet, pleasant buzz in your brain. White noise. Like zapping through radio stations and finding only static.

“I’m…” You search for some semblance of words within you, tightening your legs around his waist to keep him in place. To keep him from slipping from you before you feel like a whole person again. “Sorry, I… I don’t know….”

And Jake laughs, leans down again to rub his nose over yours, to brush a single, tender kiss to your mouth.

“Honey,” he says, voice soft, touch soft, eyes gleaming in the soft, soft light of the bedside lamp. “Don’t apologize. You did so good.”

You can’t really look at him. The reality of it all is catching up quickly, and part of you wants to be embarrassed, but the rest of you is too full, too satisfied, too happy to really care.

“I just… it wasn’t too much?”

You didn’t even know that this was something you wanted. Sure, your thoughts had toyed with the idea once or twice when you were all alone in your room with your fingers in your panties, but it had been so far-fetched you hadn’t ever broached the topic with Jake. Hadn’t even considered it.

And now it hangs between you, all of a sudden undeniable. All of a sudden so very real.

You’re still so dizzy. So far removed from yourself. So confused by it all.

Jake cups your cheek, fingertips sliding into your hair, and he tilts your face up so you can’t look anywhere but at him. His familiar face, his eyes filled with love, his mouth curving downward with concern.

“Honey,” he says, very gently, very earnestly, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed. You’re always, always so good for me.”

And you don’t know why. Can’t explain it. But it makes you sob, makes the tears spill over, all the emotions crowding in your mouth, making your tongue heavy like lead, making it impossible to speak. You feel raw and hollowed-out in a strange way, drained of energy and so overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, by how good it was, by how much you love him, by how he accepts you, always, without question.

Jake gathers you in his arms, gets his knees under him so he can draw you into his lap, so you can cling to him like a monkey, like an octopus, like something else unattractive that latches onto things. His softened cock slips from you, a gush of wetness following that makes you whimper, and when he withdraws, stupid as it is, it’s like he takes a piece of you with him.

For a while, he just holds you, mumbling sweet nothings into your hair, saying you’re my good girl, I love you, honey, I love you so much, you’re always, always so good for me, my best girl, my love, you’re all mine, yeah? Never gonna let you go, never, never…

You just cry it out into his neck, listening to the steady hum of his voice, the rumble in his chest, let the warmth of the words wash over you until finally, slowly, for the first time since he left, the feeling returns into you. Until finally, it’s like you’re almost whole again, right there in his arms.

Eyes dry, nose runny, exhausted beyond words, you turn your head a little, face lolling against his collarbone, and you say, “Thank you, Jake.”

There’s so much in it. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for holding me together when I can’t do it myself.

And he smiles, face tender, arms tightening around you, holding you like he never wants to let go. 

He says, “Always, honey. Always.”

#hangman x reader #hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #fic #writing #mine #top gun maverick #fic: idiar

[hoesoflamentation]

𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖑𝖞 𝖕𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖚𝖎𝖙 | 𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖏𝖎𝖗𝖔 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖔 𝖝 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 | 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝕶 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙, 𝟏𝟖+

KINKMAS 2022: DAY ONE !! mikey x christmas lights x bondage

WARNING !! dark/yandere themes (e.g. kidnapping), dubcon, bondage, brief knife play (only a single drop of blood), slapping, teasing, & fingering

AUTHOR'S NOTE !! this one's for all my fellow manjiro-fuckers out there...let's kick off kinkmas with a bang, shall we? xx

Somewhere in a dark, musty basement, you were tied to a chair with -- of all things -- a string of white Christmas lights. Overhead, the festive murmur of a holiday party stood in stark contrast to the grim scene below.

"Looks like my Christmas gift came early this year."

Emerging from the shadows beneath the staircase, Manjiro Sano's lanky, blond-haired figure sauntered closer. You were still cursing yourself for falling for that confident strut; for taking the carefully-constructed bait that allowed an innocent Christmas party to take a dark turn.

"So you're Kisaki's girl, hm?" he taunted, walking in a slow circle around your immobilized form. "You're pretty, I'll give you that."

Unceremoniously, Mikey tore the duct tape from your mouth. Blood boiling, you followed your first instinct, spitting at his feet. Immediately, you felt the sharp sting of his slap against your cheek in punishment.

"Play nice," Mikey chided, "or this won't be fun for either of us."

Your ears burned with rage as you barked your reply: "When Tetta finds out about this, he'll-"

"He'll what, sweetheart?"

You narrowed your eyes at him and hissed through gritted teeth, "He'll kill you."

Mikey's head tilted backwards in a laugh. "And if he tries-"

Moving, he bent down to your eye level, so close you could feel his breath. In the same moment, Mikey flicked open his switchblade, pressing the cool steel tip firmly to your throat.

"-I'll kill you first."

For one long moment, Mikey stared into your eyes, smiling blankly. You gulped, a single drop of blood welling as the blade pressed into your skin.

Then, Mikey turned away, collapsing the knife into itself and stuffing it back into his pocket. You uttered a silent sigh of relief, watching as he began to pace leisurely in front of you.

"Valhalla will come looking for me, you know." You willed your voice not to crack, trying to convince yourself as much as Mikey that what you had with Tetta Kisaki was real -- that you weren't expendable.

You could tell from the knowing twinkle in his eyes that he didn't believe you. "Then let's give them a show to remember."

You scoffed in utter disbelief. "Excuse me?"

Mikey turned to look at you, licking his lips enticingly. In side profile, you couldn't help but notice the graceful angles of his cheekbones; the defined arch of his brows, which were darker -- much darker -- than the hair on his head.

"Kisaki isn't afraid of death. His greatest fear-" Inching slowly toward you, like a predator stalking his prey, Mikey pursued you until your shoes brushed against one another's. "-is losing you to someone like me."

He sunk to his knees, running his hands up your calves until he reached your fleshy inner thigh. You twitched involuntarily as Mikey dug his nails into the skin, gently but firmly parting your legs.

"I know Kisaki doesn't give you everything you need..."

Steeling your gaze, you said nothing. Mikey smirked, running his hand across your thigh until it grazed the seams of your lace panties. He curled his fingers beneath the edges of the garment, your thighs clenching in his grasp.

"And I know that deep down, you're begging for someone to come along and show you what you've been missing all this time."

Mikey raised a single eyebrow, daring you to defy him. But as much as you tried to ignore the deafening throb of your heart, the growing wetness in your lace panties, the breathless shudder that ran down your spine... you knew that Mikey was right about you.

"A guy like that wouldn't know what to do with a woman like you." He grinned menacingly as you melted beneath his touch. "But I do."

TAGLIST !! @asmology @bigwindycity @cloud-lyy @harowinku @hopeannalea @kageyamaslittleroyal20 @leonia0 @lilithlunas @neko-ngga

*Note: if you requested to be on the taglist and do not see your name, it is because I could not verify that you are over 18 from your profile. Please send me a message confirming your age to be added!

#hoesoflamentation kinkmas 2022 #kinkmas 2022 #kinkmas day 1 #tokrev #tokyo revengers #tokrev smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x reader #manjiro sano #tokyorev mikey #mikey sano #tokrev x you #tokrev x y/n #tokrev x reader #tokyorev x you #tokyorev x y/n #tokyorev smut #mikey smut #mikey smau #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro x reader #manjiro x y/n #manjiro smut #kisaki tetta #tetta kisaki

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Could I request a Bruce x reader who can’t really give big, expensive presents bc we’re not all billionaires Bruce and has to like make his Christmas gifts? The insecurities are really fleshing out this holiday season lol

Bruce opened the lumpy package Alfred handed to him carefully and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the matching, knobby, blue green scarf and hat that had tumbled out into his lap.

"Well that is adorable," Alfred said, smiling to himself. "First attempt do you think."

"Or she was doing it on her commute," Bruce said, fingering the yarn- it wasn't angora. Or cashmere- nothing so fine. But- it wasn't all acrylic. And it felt warm. Wonderfully warm and soft. Cozy.

"I trust you'll-"

"Thank her properly?" Bruce chuckled, "Of course."

"And-"

"And wear it," he said. "It coordinates with my favorite coat."

Alfred nodded. Bruce had always had a soft spot for handmade gifts- perhaps, Alfred suspected; that it had to do with being able to buy any material item he wanted. He didn't NEED you to make him a scarf and hat. He had several. But you'd taken the time to make it anyway. You bought the supplies and expended the effort, especially for him.

And the time and the care was something money couldn't buy. He didn't doubt that Bruce would wear the scarf and hat- and not just when he saw you.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #ask answered #minors dni #there is no 2nd part

[the3v1lqueen]

♡All I Want For Christmas is You♡

✨First post✨

Lesso x Reader (Holliday fanfic)

Word count: 1600ish

Fluff :3

“Come on Leo, it’s Christmas” I pleaded, leaning against the door to her office.

She didn’t look up from the pile of papers she was grading ruthlessly. “Too much to do, kitten.”

I rolled my eyes and let out a long sigh. I stood there, tapping my foot on the floor, arms crossed. Then I smirked as a genius idea came to my head. 

I ran outside into the cold winter air, snow falling ever so delicately onto my eyelashes. I scooped a handful of snow and molded it into a ball. I hurried back inside and back to Lesso’s office, leaving a puddle behind me as the snow melted in my hands. I made it to Lesso’s office with the soggy snowball and she was still buried deep in her papers. I let it fly through the air, exploding onto the crown of her head. It melted into her luscious red curls and she raised her head to meet my eyes slowly.

“Oh, if that’s the game you want to play,” she smirked.

She chased me through the hallways, her trench coat unbuttoned and flaring behind her. I could hear the click-clack of her heels as she trailed behind me. It amazed me how fast this woman could run in heels. I flung open the doors to the outside and quickly rushed to grab a handful of snow to defend myself from Lesso’s wrath. But before I could stand up, I felt a cold explosion of snow against my neck. The cold water crept underneath my shirt and made me shiver.

“That’s just cruel,” I shouted and Lesso cackled evilly.

“I warned you princess. Evil doesn’t play nice.”

I turned around to quickly chuck another snowball right back at her. It splattered on her face and she glared at me maliciously. Soon we were battling in a war of flying flurries. 

By the time our energy had been expended, we were both covered in snow and dying of laughter. I had made the mistake of not wearing a coat nor gloves and began to tremble in the cold. Lady Lesso sensed my discomfort and threw her coat around me. I tugged at the edges of the coat, clutching it tighter to my body to absorb the warmth it provided.

“Let’s get you inside before you freeze, darling,” she voiced with a tone of concern, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. She guided me back into the castle and led me up the stairs and into her personal quarters. When we entered the dark and gloomy room,  Lesso snapped her fingers, and the fireplace lit. We descended to sit by it and I watched the flames flicker and lick the air. I began to relax and my head fell against Lesso’s shoulder. Leaning against her, I let out a long sigh. I noticed that Leonora’s finger, which rested on her lap, began to glow with emotion. That hand then gently rose to brush the hair out of my face, and the other wrapped around my waist, hugging me closer. She kissed my forehead and then rested her head atop mine. Together we watched the fire in its tango, the logs as its dance floor.

I gasped and Lady Lesso raised her head and mine shot up shortly after. 

“We should decorate a tree,” I exclaimed.

“No,” she snarled, ”the last thing I want is to contaminate my room with Christmas cheer ”.

“We can use dark and creepy ornaments instead of colorful and sparkly ones,” I suggested.

Lesso shrugged her shoulders. “Alright, fine. But I don’t have a tree”.

“Then we’ll get one,” I stated

“Where,” Lesso chuckled, “the campus for the school for evil has no trees”.

I approached the window and glanced over the snowy outdoor landscape of the school for good.

“Then we’ll get one from over there,” I stated.

I pressed my finger against the window singling out a tree. “That one”. 

“You mean to say we’re going to cross over to the good school, which is against all rules, chop down one of their trees and carry it all the way back here,” Lesso laughed.

I turned from the window to face her.

She raised an eyebrow and stopped laughing, “oh you’re serious”. 

She ran over to me and grasped my shoulders tightly,  and locked her eyes with mine. “Y/N, you are insane and I love you for it.”

I smiled, and my cheeks flushed scarlet.

“Alright, let's go,” Lesso commanded, throwing on another one of her coats and snatching her cane.

“Don’t you want your jacket back,” I began.

“No, you wear it, it looks good on you,” she said, winking.

The Evers, all tucked away indoors away from the cold, didn’t see Lesso and I as we crossed the bridge to their campus. We approached the tree I had selected from the window with axes in hand. With ferocity, we swung our axes at the trunk. A loud crack sounded, and the tree folded forward, collapsing to the ground, and covering Leonora and I in a cloud of snow. 

With mischievous smiles on our faces, we lifted the tree to our shoulders and began to haul it back across the bridge. 

We jumped when we heard a voice yell, “What are you doing Lesso?”

It was Dovey. I looked back at Lesso

“Run,” she mouthed.

And so we sprinted across the bridge, snow in our eyes. The tree bounced on our shoulders, and needles fell everywhere. Once back in her quarters, we dropped the tree and I collapsed onto her bed, struggling to catch my breath. Leo however wasn’t even the slightest bit worn out. Using her magic, she aligned the tree to stand upright by her desk. Her gaze turned to me and she chuckled.

“Tired from a little running princess,” she purred. “Oh no, do you not have the energy to decorate? What a shame,” she teased, with a dramatic pout on her lips.

“No, Lesso, we’re going to decorate,” I said springing from the bed. “Be right back”. I ran out of her quarters and ran through the school to my dorm. I rummaged through the clutter underneath my bed until I found a small cardboard box. 

I burst through Leo’s doors and startled her. “You’re back,” she stated.

“With decorations,” I exclaimed with jazz hands.

Lesso rolled her eyes.

I knelt on the floor and carefully opened the box. Lesso stood behind me and rested her warm hands on my shoulders, leaning over to see what was in the box. 

I took out a sparkly black garland made of black down and crow feathers as well as a string of black LED lights. I stood with the decorations, and Lesso’s hands fell away. I handed her one end of the lights and I took the other and we spun around the tree, wrapping the lights. We did the same with the garland. I went back to the box and extracted some very menacing, sharp black ornaments. Lesso wrapped her hand around mine as I hooked the first ornament onto one of the tree’s furry branches. Lesso then took a couple of ornaments out of the box and hung them where she saw fit.

I went back to the box and saw there was only one ornament left.

“Here’s the tree topper,” I exclaimed. It had two bulbs and a cone-like point with an intricate silver design painted on it. It almost looked like the tip of a baroque tower. 

“Well come on now, you’ve got to put it up there,” Lesso stated.

She wrapped her hands snugly around my waist and lifted me up into the air with her strong arms, just high enough that I could reach the top of the tree. I secured the topper onto an upright branch.

“Alright, done”.

Lesso gently lowered me and I turned around to face her in excitement. 

“Now let’s turn it on,” I squealed.

She chuckled, amused by my enthusiasm.

I ran over and plugged the cord of lights into the outlet behind the desk.

Then I stood beside Lesso, admiring the tree which twinkled in black brilliance.

“It’s beautiful,” Lesso murmured, a sparkle in her eyes.

“Not as beautiful as you,” I uttered, turning towards her to study her gorgeous expression. She turned to face me, the light made her skin glow and illuminated how magnificently sharp her jawline was. Her lips curled ever so slightly into a warm smile and her eyes fluttered. 

“I don’t think my beauty could ever compare to the fairness of your heart, my dear,” Lesso began, raising her hand to my face, delicately stroking my cheek with her long, smooth nails. “Thank you for a lovely Christmas, Y/N.”

Leonora gracefully brought her other hand around my waist and hugged me close to her so that I was forced to look up into her glistening green eyes. I was blushing uncontrollably. Her eyes closed and she leaned toward me to brush her soft lips against mine. I brought our lips to interlock. The kiss was delicate, sweet, and special nonetheless. Sleighbells jingled outdoors and stars twinkled in the night sky. What a lovely Christmas it was indeed.

#leonora lesso #lady lesso #charlize theron #lady lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #sge #the school for good and evil #sge netflix #holiday season

[aggressivedaikons]

CURRENT DSaF KANDI COLLECTION!!!1!

Dave/Springbonnie Cuff, a Flipside-Gang inspired case for my Ipod, and a ton of singles.

Some slight context and info becuase I love telling to stories behind my pieces of kandi >.<

The top Dave single was a Christmas present from my bff who lives across the US (I moved, but we’re still super close <3)

The ⭐️Dave/Jack⭐️ singles were made when I was just entering the fandom, and were before I realized it would be my next hyperfixation.

The HenHen single is due to a stupid inside joke with my sibling and is a dumb Miller x Emily joke ship bracelet I throw I them to piss them off (they are horrified by the thought of shipping them)

Mason and Johnny are two Phone-Head OCs, one you’ve seen, and the other is a national park gift shop employee :) he also is sent into the part to rescue lost pets because he is the most expendable.

And the peyote cuff thing that’s super small is the result of me trying to make the aforementioned IPod case but I made it too big :( so I finished it off at the orange layer and it fit like a single.

Edit: also for the case, the stripes/characters in order is the one in the final boss 👍 it’s two rows per, being Jack/Dave/Dee/Peter/Steven (no blackjack 😔)

#kandi bracelet #kandi kid #kandi #kandi cuff #fandom kandi #scenemo #scene #dave dsaf #dayshift at freddys #dsaf #dsaf dave #dsaf henry #dsaf old sport #dsaf jack #davesport #Kandi singles #bracelet #jewlery #that’s a dumb thing to tag it with but idk what else 😅

[if-you-feel-lonely]

LONELY'S ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY FOUR

Prompt: Reindeer!!!

CC!Bench trio x reader

TW: Swearing

Event masterlist (discontinued)

Tommy's christmas-themed vlog had gotten off to quite the rocky start. It began as usual, with a loud, overzealous intro from the man himself. From there, the train seemed to fall off of the tracks.

"You can go in and see them, if you'd like," one of the volunteers told them, much to the delight of the four young adults.

Y/n's jaw dropped. After sharing a look with Tubbo, the duo made it over the fence with one swift jump. Tommy made various shocked faces, whilst Ranboo watched them in amusement. The gate to the pen had been opened by the aforementioned volunteer, but they'd opted for the more difficult route, for whatever reason.

"You two are such fuckin' gremlins!" Tommy exclaimed as he pointed the camera (his phone, since he wasn't willing to risk breaking a good camera at a reindeer farm, but his phone was for some reason expendable). He and Ranboo entered through the gate.

Y/n shot him an offended look. "Coming from you? Hypocrite, honestly."

"I am a sweet, innocent child, thank you very much."

"Tom, you're literally an adult. You're eighteen." Tubbo responded in a dry tone, though a smile has evident from his voice, even if the camera wasn't pointed at him.

"Real!" Y/n shouted in response. "Now shut up and let me live out my childhood dreams. Getting dirt on the off-whites is worth it to see the little fellas."

The aforementioned 'little fellas' were not little fellas. They were big fellas. Around the same size as Tubbo.

"God, you really are just flexing, aren't you?" Tommy rolled his eyes as he referred to their shoes.

"You got Twitch famous and you're just not the same as you were." Ranboo complained dramatically, feigning a sad tremor in his voice.

"It's not really a flex if I didn't pay for them." Y/n shrugged. "I'm not paying half a grand for shoes I wear in a Tom Simons vlog."

Tommy turned the camera to face Ranboo as the taller one spoke. "Remember! It's okay to steal as long as Tommy makes money from it!"

"That's just... Not what I said. Tom bought them for me in a second channel video."

"But it's christmas - that means crime is okay!" Tubbo encouraged.

"Now I can't be cancelled if I decide to rob a bank, as long as it's december!" Tommy shrugged, as though the festive season was an excuse for literal crimes.

"Yes you can!"

#lonely writes #dsmp #mcyt #dream smp #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #bench trio #bench trio x reader #tubbo #ranboo #tommyinnit #tubbo x reader #ranboo x reader #tommyinnit x reader #dsmp tubbo #dsmp ranboo #dsmp tommyinnit #dsmp tommy #ranboolive #tubbo_ #ranboo beloved #dsmp fanfic #mcyt fanfic #dream smp fanfic #dsmp fanfiction #mcyt fanfiction #dream smp fanfiction

[snipetooth]

welcome in! i'm fang, and this is my new xReader blog. feel free to send in a request when they're open :]

last updated: dec 14, 2023

current list of fandoms and the characters i’ll write for:

COD: MW2 Remaster [Soap; Ghost; Price; Gaz; Alejandro; Rodolfo; Valeria]

Good Omens [Crowley; Aziraphale]

The Expendables 1 and 2 [Lee Christmas; Barney Ross]

Star Trek: AOS [James Kirk, Spock, Nyota Uhura, Khan]

Star Trek: SNW [Christopher Pike, Erica Ortegas, Spock, James Kirk, Nyota Uhura]

FNaF movie [Mike Schmidt]

The Meg [Jonas Taylor; Jaxx; Suyin]

¿ The Hunger Games [Gale Hawthorne; Katniss Everdeen; Peeta Mellark] ?

requests are: OPEN ~//~ current requests: 0

i write: headcanons / 'drabbles' (very short stories) / one-shots

Mike Schmidt - illness headcanons

COD: MW2 Remaster

nothing here yet!

Good Omens

nothing here yet!

The Expendables

Lee Christmas - I'm Glad You're Home

Star Trek

nothing here yet!

FNaF

nothing here yet!

The Meg

Jonas Taylor - Do Orcas is Whales? More at 11

Jaxx - SFW alphabet

#x reader: catchall tag to make it easier to filter my posts for others

#sighted: original writing by me

#sniped: original posts by me (such as this, responses to asks, etc)

#word games: prompt lists!

#credits: anything that i use, used, or might use (like banners, pfps, dividers, etc.)! currently my dividers are made by me!

#not writing: anything that isn't a hc/drabble/one-shot

WILL: romantic/platonic/familial relationship; poly (canon x reader x canon, for example); jealousy; some mental illnesses/disorders (ask!); some mental/physical disabilities (ask!); violence/gore (may not be the greatest but i’ll give it a go!); death of the reader/character/third party; suggestive content; kids (being adopted by/raising kids with/what they're like with kids); younger reader/older canon (18 is the youngest i'll go if romantic)

WON’T: pregnancy/miscarriage; smut; yandere; extreme gore/torture (i'm just not good at it); a/b/o; i may come up with others as i write

#sniped #pinned post #x reader #x reader blog #self ship #selfshipping #self shipper #f/o #f/o community #fictional other #not writing

[80s4life]

Hey Guys!

New Book Warning!

I have a big idea of a completely new and unseen story about topics of war and such I've never explored before!

I have so many ideas and have thinking of writing for it for a while and finally decided to put it into fruition.

However, I'm trying to think of a fandom it would fit in as I need some type of war or war setting that DOES NOT link to American History, so, here's a summary of the story:

Summary:

It's been over 2 decades since you had fought in the ugly battle for freedom, haunted by memories and mistakes made in your early years. Though you were able to escape the nightmares that followed you on honorable discharge, another war lies ahead, taking everyone and anyone possible, opening up doors and bringing war veterans back into the very place you'd wished to never return to.

You were 21 years old when you were enlisted into the war that would promise a better world. You were young, devoted, and pure. Though, through the harsh reality of war and what it truly means to have, keep, and protect freedom, you experience loss of loved ones, friends, experience what it means to kill for the greater good, and lose yourself somewhere.

Though the war was harsh, you were given your reprieve and promise of a peaceful life with LOVE INTEREST. You learned what it meant to be human again. To be capable of loving, receiving love, protection without costs, and true bliss. That is, until you are dragged back into a war that makes you fear you will lose yourself entirely forever.

So, some fandom ideas:

Logan Howlett x Reader (Wolverine)

Victor Creed x Reader (Wolverine)

Terry Silver x Reader (Karate Kid)

John Kreese x Reader (Karate Kid)

Any of the Expendables cast [Including but not limited to: Lee Christmas, Gunnar Jensen, Barney Ross, etc. etc.]

And any other fandoms I have listed?

Please help me create this book as I have such a great idea planned and would really like writing for it while it's still fresh. Feel free to leave feedback!

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to the working week although, for those of you in the NHS, welcome to just another day!

Saturday was brilliant from start to finish! Really enjoyed my radio show, then straight out to a private party; a 50th for my lovely friend Kate Cardenas. She had really made an effort for her guests: fun luminous jewellery, a friend doing stylish face painting, endless supply of bubbly, delicious canapes and zillions of mini cupcakes. And, as she has friends in high places, it was a top line-up of DJs! After waking up early with The Mighty Josiah, by about 10.00, I was cream-crackered and dozed off! The Trouble has the edge on me; she’s fallen asleep in a club AND in a restaurant, though we did both fall asleep at a wedding!

Last week, I read that Lord David Sainsbury had donated money to The Conservative Party so, on Sunday, I had planned to alter my routine of the last 20 years and shop at Tesco’s. The Trouble urged me to do some more research and I discovered that, the last time he donated money, he gave it to the Lib-Dems! Don’t care about them, so I went back to Sainsbury’s, where they were giving me 5 x Nectar points if I bought fruit or vegetables, desperately trying to get UK people to eat more healthily. Good luck with that! Me? I always buy a bag of bananas!

Once I’d unpacked the shopping, The Mighty Josiah and I went to the local park. He got a new bike for Christmas, so he was anxious to ride it and I was anxious for him to expend some energy. As you know, it was sunny but cold! Bloody cold! I managed to stay out there for two hours but I was wrapped up tight in my padded jacket with my hands in my pockets. Once I got home, it took an hour for my extremities to thaw out!

Social Media Update: I now have 1000 Tumblr followers, MOST of them BOTS. Countless bogus accounts following me (literally) every day. No, I will NOT be following you. Go away, ya morons! Do NOT be impressed by just anyone with big social media numbers; some of these people are genuinely popular, while some have profiles stuffed full of non-existent followers! Fake profiles, fake friends, insincere emotions, fake hair, fake eyelashes, fake bodies, music created by artificial intelligence, soft drinks made with artificial sweeteners. What a fake world we live in!

Many thanks to everyone that listened to the show on Saturday afternoon, and many thanks to those that will listen to any part of it on Mixcloud. Sharon Newton did a great job, didn’t she? This coming Saturday is The Letter L (Pt. 3). Executive Producer: superstar DJ Gayle Dumont.

And, I think, if I time it right, I should be able to go LIVE on Facebook Live tomorrow at 7.00 a.m. and still get to work on time! I suspect Too Much Information Tuesday needs my stupid face to really do it justice?

Have a marvellous and momentous Monday. I love you all.

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #lockdown #coronavirus #books #weekend #democracy #brexit #cronyism #election #radio

[madamebaggio]

Merry Crackshipping 2022!!!

All the battles were worth it! It is done and I’m proud but scared of myself... lol

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

DISCLAIMER: This is a fan made video, made only for fun. I do not claim to own any of these works. 

Happy Holidays!!

Music: "All I want for Christmas is you" by Mariah Carey 

Images from: 

Mariah Carey's "All I want for Christmas is you" music video 

"The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug" 

"Thor: Dark World" 

"The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies"

 "The Expendables 3" 

"Dollface" 

"Boss Level"

 "Marvel's Defenders" 

"Reign"

 "Game of Thrones"

 "The Witcher"

 "House of the Dragon" 

"Birds of Prey" 

"Charlie's Angels" 

 Ships: 

Loki x Thranduil 

Bilbo Baggins x Thorin Oakenshield (Bagginshield) 

Darcy Lewis x Brock Rumlow (with Barney Ross being Darcy's father) 

Susan Pevensie x Robb Stark 

Jessica Jones x Matt Murdock (DareJones)

Geralt of Rivia as the father for both Ciri and Rhaenyra 

Dinah Lance x Sabina Wilson 

 Remember you can always find me on YouTube and AO3 as madamebaggio. Have fun.

#youtube #madame baggio #fan made video #fan video #fan made #mariah carey #all i want for christmas is you #the hobbit #Thranduil #bilbo baggins #Thorin Oakenshield #MCU #loki odinson #brock rumlow #darcy lewis #The Expendables #Barney Ross #marvel’s defenders #Jessica Jones #Matt Murdock #The Chronicles of Narnia #game of thrones #Robb Stark #the witcher #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #princess rhaenyra #Birds of Prey #dinah lance #Charlie's Angels

[writer59january13]

April 9th, 2024 would be ninety fifth birthday poem for dearly departed papa

The following words crafted soon after the soul of me daddy set adrift into the empyrean realm joining the rank and file of entities constituting spiritus mundi.

Borne aloft into the netherland the body bearing thee soul

of Boyce Brandon Harris birth name given to my late father buoyed into the great beyond united with spirit of mine late mother Harriet, whose passing well nigh nineteen orbitz of the earth around the sun.

Elysian fields embraced dada's soul

which rocketed into aerospace

(courtesy General Electric satellite)

just a tadpole more than three

earth orbitz and a half years ago, when venerated, loved, and celebrated then nonagenarian on par with jumping frog of calaveras county, (whose captor disguised as toad tilly grim reaper)

went a courtin for fresh corpse,

nevertheless melancholy

still plucks mine heart strings.

Mine psyche still situated awry

placid countenance of yours truly doth belie

residual sadness easily prompted

can easily trigger me to cry

linkedin when grim reaper gloated

October 7th, 2020,

he did somewhat peacefully die (courtesy congestive heart failure),

though methinks immortality

I did briefly espy,

when miracles of modern medicine

tried, but could not

stave off mortality nor fortify

depredations of aging concerning

one (back during his boyhood)

a wunderkind, whose accomplishments evinced a lad who pulled out all the stops

laudatory when a young handsome guy,

whose intelligence scored high

native talent aptitude tests did imply, an august presence his person, especially birthday celebrated,

lorded over, regaled and touted like fourth of July completely unlike yours truly pitifully jejune existence well nigh.

The late polymath and scientifically astute Boyce Brandon Harris

exhibited prolific talents at young age

aside being scholastically gifted,

acquiring graduate degree

courtesy Columbia University,

freshly minted mechanical engineer,

(he admirably ranked within

uppermost percentile academically),

I hashtag thy mine deceased father

(a Renaissance man

- jack-of-all-trades),

who possessed (née excelled)

at diverse creative abilities.

Aside from being schooled

as mechanical engineer,

(which courses in mathematics and science

he passed with flying colors)

his mind genetically bequeathed

to craft almost anything under the sun

evidenced first by yours truly,

the second offspring and sole son

who ofttimes felt intimidated

at being in presence

of said versatile person.

Handicrafts included

expending blood, sweat, and tears coercing, fabricating, invoking earth, wind, and fire elements of style

to craft multitude of projects;

i. building me Flintstone (foot powered) car with wooden license plate

ii. making playhouse for all three of us - his progeny; iii. amassing wood pile(s)

to stoke wood burning stoves;

iv. designing Zayda trail

for Teddy and Ruff (two doggone mixed breed Border Collies

rescued courtesy youngest sister

at her Jacobsburg,

Pennsylvania work site);

v. constructing sauna in cellar;

vi. etching, detailing (al fresco);

vii. plus trimming living room ceiling with dainty crown moulding;

viii. shingling (while fiddling) on the roof;

ix. tiling the kitchen floor;

x. building a cistern for brethren,

xi. wood paneling many rooms;

xii. building custom made toy chest;

xiii. stringing up lights to increase visibility

driveway lit like Christmas tree after dark;

xiv. partly assembled a kayak; xv. Rehabilitated derelict houses in Norristown, Pennsylvania

xvi. retooling - enhancing porch

with tiles (formerly slate covered),

where Morris dancers performed

at wedding for eldest sister.

Unlike him who did beget me,

I experienced cognitive challenges

that beset one painfully shy

and severely introverted male

more to the point

as a lad and mediocre student to boot

promotion to next highest grade

occurred just by the skin of my teeth and analogously, figuratively, and poetically nearly shaved née scalped, butchered of me pilgrim's pride

thankfully peach fuzz bewhiskered fine hairs of my chinny chin chin,

staved off retention

never forcing me to repeat a grade,

which may help to explain

why I wear dentures,

oh... these choppers then worn for about

one eighth of mein kampf livingsocial.

A sense of inadequacy prevailed,

when absolute zero self esteem

strikingly and suddenly manifested

in tandem when parents moved

their young tender family within

Lower Providence School District,

but into a vaunted larger house

(initial summer estate constituted

about one hundred acres of woodland -

named Glen Elm

think Winnie the Pooh -

house at Pooh corner).

Not quite two score plus ten years

spent livingsocial at 324 Level Road

(above mentioned abode alluded),

and twas there majority

mine existential highs and lows,

where nadir of mein kampf transpired,

I emotionally hit rock bottom

upon onset of prepubescence

yet major event triggering

mine major depression

set in motion,

when parents chose February 28th, 1968

to move out of shoddily constructed domicile

located on Lantern Lane.

As shared with Renee Cardone,

(the therapist whose virtual sessions

linkedin courtesy Doxy.me portal -

similar to Zoom),

that aforementioned date

marked a turning point

after which time, I floundered

experienced irrevocable mental health issues

punctuating my psychological equilibrium

with chronic distress,

though I forgive father and mother,

who unwittingly made decision how uprooting their offspring to move without consulting either yours truly, or older

and younger sisterly sibling.

[unitbelt99]

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You create your project, and then it's going to help you observe and optimize your website based mostly on the results of that project. In addition to the new blog technique, The Vertical Leap team created a “content hub” area on the company’s website to additional promote the model, demonstrate its experience and build online authority. With an inventory of competitors, your first task is to investigate their visitors to achieve an image of how they’re producing business alternatives. The downside with using a number of analytics instruments is comparisons are troublesome when you have to swap between a number of software methods. This allows you to see in case your rivals are performing properly sufficient to look on this record and helps you determine competitors you hadn’t thought-about before. Additionally, this device is nice for highlighting one of the best items of content produced by your known rivals. 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You can fulfill your audience’s intent, expectations, and pain factors only with highly relevant and valuable web page content material. Any competitor that develops such a method would appeal to and retain their guests. Don’t neglect in regards to the Expertise-Authority-Trust (E-A-T) alerts, as Google pretty rewards web sites which have these bases covered.

#seo