#fan fiction prompts

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Writing Prompts

⚠️These aren’t to request but just for fellow writers to have some inspiration⚠️

🔥Smut🔥

- “Take what you need from me”

- “I could smell what you were doing”

- “Oh fuck, sweetheart”

- “Don’t close your eyes, I need to look at you”

- “I fucking hate you, but I don’t hate fucking you”

- <Him sucking your purity ring off your finger while his hand reaches up your skirt.>

- “If you’re gonna act like a whore, then you’ll get fucked like a whore”

- “Fuck, I need you so bad!”

- “I won’t be gentle” “I don’t want you to be”

- “Scream my name so everyone knows who fucks you this good”

- “You like when I call you ‘princess’? Will you be my good little princess?”

- “Cum for us, darling”

- “That’s better, isn’t it? You just needed to be filled with my cock”

- “You gonna be a good boy for me?”

- “Bend over, slut”

- “Come on, my big strong warrior, I know you can fuck me harder than that”

- “Louder, darling! Show those people out there that you are mine!”

- “Please! I’ve been such a good boy/girl!”

- “You’re just holes for us to fill and fuck. Dirty little whore.”

🌨️Angst🌨️

- “You don’t have to be alright, you know”

- “What happened to you to make you so wise?”

- “Please don’t leave, I can’t live without you”

- “I know, darling, it’s alright, you’ll be okay”

- “Oh my sweet darling”

- “I’m here, it’s okay, no one will ever hurt you like that ever again”

- “I just don’t know if I can do this anymore”

- “Please, make it stop! I can’t do this! Make it go away!”

- “You are weak and soft! You will not last out of your precious pampered life. You are pathetic!”

- “I do not love you anymore. I have not loved you for a long time”

- “I think it’s best I leave”

- “I just want to die”

- “Don’t blame yourself”

- “Come with me, and I’ll leave your love alone. I won’t kill them, but you will never see them again.”

🌸Fluff🌸

- “I’m going to kiss you now”

- “Come on, princess, hop on my back”

- “How is my queen and my princess?”

- “Borrow my jacket, keep it nice and warm for me”

- “If I do step on your feet, could you really be upset with a dancing partner so beautiful?”

- “More, kiss me more.”

- “Would you like to dance with me?”- “only if you don’t get upset if I accidentally step on your foot”

- “How did I get so lucky to have one as wonderful as you?”

- “No, stay. You’re warm and soft”

- “Give me a kiss and I’ll carry you”

- “Come to bed, my love”

- “You deserve nice things”

- “You just stay in bed and I’ll take care of you, my darling”

- “Yeah, sometimes I get sad, but then I look into your beautiful eyes and it’s all better.”

😂Funny😂

- “You wanna see something gross?”

- “I might be little but I can still kick your ass”

- “I’m doing this because I want to and not because you told me to”

- “No I don’t need help, I like being stuck here!”

- “Normally that’d be really hot to hear but not in this context.”

- “That was terrible, but I love you”

- “If you do this, I’ll show you my boobs”

- “How are you so pretty?” “Bathing in the blood of the innocent”

- “If you don’t want to join girls night then you need to leave”

- “You bringing up that I’m an idiot is really bringing down the vibes”

- “Forgive him, he’s an idiot”

- “Stop fucking swearing”

- “Lucky bastard” “He is a baby and I am breastfeeding him!”

- “They do realise I can understand what they’re saying, right?”

- “How’s your head?” “Well I haven’t had any complaints yet”

- “If I wanted your opinion, I’d beat it out of you”

- “What’s that?” “Trinket, I like trinkets”

#writing prompts #dialogue prompt #fan fic #fan fiction #fan fiction prompts

[astarionancuninslittlelove]

Good Girl

Tav is nice and sweet to everyone she meets, which utterly annoys Astarion until he realizes maybe he likes that Tav is such a good girl after all.

We were a very unlikely combination, and yet someone we still found ourselves in each other’s orbit often. I have always been a lawful good type…what goes around comes around…you get what you give. I thoroughly enjoyed helping the people we came across, even if it were just one person because I would hope deep down that if I were ever in that position, someone would help me, and Astarion loathed that about me, or at least he tried to put it off that way.

Astarion was hellbent on revenge, and I would be too if I had gone through what he did. But this revenge that festered in his mind in his 200 years of torment turned into an air of disdain for everyone and everything. Fuck the whole lot of them. But as we grew closer, I found his facade falling, even if ever so slightly.

For example, when the owl bear came to our camp, and I gave him food for him to hang around, Astarion had a smile across his face, however faint. Parts of his heart were still reachable, it just took persistence and patience.

“You’re too nice for your own good,” He told me one day as he inspected his nails, “I worry that you are being naive, Tav.”

“I disagree with you,” I said plainly.

“And how do you figure that?” He goaded.

“I really don’t find niceness a weakness or naivety. In my opinion, it’s easier to shut someone out or dismiss them rather than go out of your way to be nice to them. Not being able to even say a nice word to someone is a weakness.”

“Hmm,” He said, pondering the thought, “Maybe there is hope for you yet.”

“You don’t call it a weakness when I am nice to you, how is that any different? Is it only okay when I am nice to you?” I asked.

“If I had it my way, I would be the only one you talked to, darling,” He cooed.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” I said in admittance, my face blushing.

He winked, “And also, perhaps not. You are just a good girl, why should I give you a hard time for it. I will keep my maniacal thoughts to myself,” He agreed.

Good girl. The words left goosebumps on my skin. I tried to shake the feeling away, but it had already crept inside of me, causing my body to react in a …particular…way.

He noticed the shift in my energy, and he smirked, “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you a good girl, Tav?” He said lowly.

My face flushed brightly, and I turned on my heel and walked away quickly. Gods, I was so embarrassing.

He laughed at the sight.

—————————

We met Raphael at the Thorm mausoleum, and he agreed to help Astarion if we killed Yurgir. As Raphael disappeared into a cloud of smoke, Astarion looked distraught.

“Great, we just have to kill an infernal devil in order to figure out the infernal writing on my back. Just great,” He scoffed.

“We are going to get this figured out for you,” I encouraged.

“You are going to help me kill Yurgir?” He asked, stunned.

“I mean, I don’t know him personally, but maybe he has it coming. Maybe we can strike up a deal with him and figure it out to outsmart Raphael,” I suggested.

“And you were saying you aren’t naive? Tav, it’s a devil. You cannot really outsmart them,” He huffed.

“I am just saying let’s see what happens. That’s all. We are going to find out what is on your back,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder in assurance.

Yurgir’s defeat came easier than we anticipated. We were able to convince him to bring about his own demise in hopes that he would finally be able to escape Raphael.

Raphael appeared to us and informed us on what was on Astarion’s back. It was all part of an elaborate plan for Cazador to ascend as a high vampire in a ritual.

That night at camp, I walked over to Astarion in hopes of comforting him.

“What do you want?” He asked sharply.

“I just wanted to…talk to you about what happened. Maybe cheer you up,” I said quietly.

“Cheer me up? And how would you manage that? I just found out that 200 years of my pain was leading up to my master’s ascension. I was merely a pawn in his game,” He said in disgust.

“You’re right. I apologize for even trying,” I said turning away.

“I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. You were only trying to help. I’m not used to having…friends,” He said.

“Then let me be your friend, please? I really only want what’s best for you, you know,” I explained.

“I know that. Fine. But maybe instead of talking this trauma to death, you will just sit beside me right now?”

“Sure,” I smiled.

—————————————-

I felt a hand touch me in my sleep. I shook awake and found Astarion looking at me.

“What in the hells are you doing?” I asked sleepily.

“You just seemed like you were having a nightmare. I wanted to make sure that you were okay,” He said.

“Thanks. I don’t even remember having a bad dream, so that’s good, right?”

“I suppose so,” His words faded, yet he still seemed like he had more to say.

“What’s really wrong?” I asked.

“Tav…I don’t think that I just want to be your friend,” He began.

“What do you mean?”

“I care for you, deeper than I let on. I want to be…more than friends,” He confessed.

“So then what?”

“I don’t know! I haven’t figured out the fine details, but I do know that I have grown fond of having you by my side, and that feels like enough explanation right now, right?”

“Yes, I can work with that,” I smiled.

He kissed me so softly that I hardly even felt it. It was as light as air, similar to how I was feeling right about then. I hoped he was feeling the same lightness.

——————————————————-

I woke up not knowing if I had dreamed what had happened, or if it had become my reality. Everything in me wanted to run away and avoid him, but magnetism pulled me right in front of him.

“Did you enjoy our kiss as much as I did last night?” He asked, goading me.

“So it wasn’t a dream?” I asked.

“No, darling. It was not,” He smirked.

“Oh,” I remarked, my face flushing, “Good.”

We sat in an awkward silence, as I waited for him to say something as he waited for me to say something.

“What about what you said?” I asked quietly.

“About caring for you deeply?” He asked.

I nodded shyly.

“Let me put it this way, I don’t say anything that I don’t mean. My time is too precious to me,” He explained.

I waited for him to say something else.

“Yes, I meant it,” He tsked.

“Could I…kiss you? Is that okay?” I asked.

“I would be upset if you didn’t,” He smiled.

I walked over to him and got close. He put his arms around my back and pulled me even closer. Our lips met, and my mind drifted somewhere far, far away. As he pulled away, I lingered, feeling as if I didn’t exist anymore for a moment.

“We have some time before we head out,” Astarion said, “Would you want to stay here until it is time?”

“I would,” I said, quickly.

We got to talking about how everything that had happened felt like a fever dream. It was all happening so quickly, and somehow it felt like we had been suspended like this together for as long as we could remember.

“I wonder how someone as good as you sees anything worth pursuing in someone like me,” He said plainly.

“There’s two sides to that coin. I wonder what you think is worth pursuing with someone like me. But to put it simply, I think you are a very good person that has had horrendous, unspeakable things happen to them. You aren’t the sum of the things you have done, especially if you were doing them for your own survival,” I explained.

“I cannot lie—no one has ever had such a nice thing to say about me in so many years. Almost makes me think it is true,” He said, trying to fake a laugh.

“It is true. Many people would do unspeakable things in the name of survival,” I said, looking into his eyes, “There’s always time for redemption, you know.”

“You make me want to believe in myself. I cannot say I have ever had that before. Most people would see me as a walking red flag and clear out of the way, but you, darling… you stay. Why?” He asked.

“I also care for you very deeply,” I responded.

“You do?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Yes, Astarion. I do.”

“To also answer your precious question—what am I doing with someone like you is because I trust you, unwaveringly. I have never experienced that before. I was always a means to an end for someone, and to be around someone who genuinely just wants to be gentle, kind, and nice to, is a pleasure. It is a pleasure to love someone like you,” He said.

“Love?” I smiled.

“Shit,” He mumbled.

“I love you too,” I said, putting my head on his shoulder.

“First time for that one too, I think,” He remarked.

“Well get used to it,” I smiled.

————————————————-

That night I came over and curled up beside him.

“What are you doing, Tav?” He asked, confused.

“I thought I would come sleep with you. Is that alright? I can go on a separate—“ I said.

“No,” He interrupted, “This is…nice.

I closed my eyes, wrapped up in him, playing with the curls in his hair with my fingertips. He sighed contentedly at my touch.

As I almost fell in my slumber, Astarion asked, “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

“I’d like that, if you are feeling up to it. We can stay just like this if you’d like,” I said, smiling the sleep from my eyes.

He turned his head to face me and kissed me deeply. When he kissed me, it felt as though everything was falling into place at the same time. I ran my fingers through his hair as I kissed him back.

He began to kiss me deeper and faster, like he was starving and could not get full enough of me. A moan escaped my lips as he moved his kisses to my jaw which he held in his hands.

He nipped at my ear and moved his hand under my shirt, playing with my now erect nipple. He pinched it softly in his hand. He unbuttoned my shirt and moved his mouth to suck on my one of my nipples as he played with the other one with his fingers. His flicked it with his tongue and bit it softly, then proceeded to kiss all around it. My body electrified at his touch.

“Gods,” I whispered as I felt myself beginning to pool between my legs.

He removed my pants and felt my wetness through my panties and his body shuddered at the touch. He looked down to see the wetness showing darkly on my light blue panties.

“What a beautiful sight that is,” He purred.

He began to pull my panties to the side, but I interrupted, “Astarion, we don’t have to. I only want to if you absolutely want to.”

“Darling, I want to. Without a shadow of a doubt,” He replied.

“Okay, I just wanted to check. Now, go back to what you were doing,” I sighed.

He laughed and pulled my panties to the side as he slipped one finger into me. My body jolted. He lowered himself to my pussy and began licking it softly. He then put another finger into me and began moving them in and out of me as he continued to lick me clean.

He stopped and removed my panties, then continued to go down on me. He sucked on my clit softly, and I gasped.

“Does that feel good, my love?” He asked, looking up at me.

I felt like I had just seen one of the ancient wonders of the world. Him, staring up at me, as he was going down on me, made me wriggle under his touch.

“Yes,” I whimpered.

In response, he continued to eat me out and fuck me with his fingers.

I was overwhelmed with lust and the delicious feeling of his tongue on my pussy. He lapped at it thoroughly, as his fingers explored inside of me, finding the perfect spot.

My voice hitched, “Astarion, I am going to come. Keep doing that,” I said.

He silently obliged as he continued to stroke the perfect spot and lap me up.

The orgasm tore through me like an earthquake as I laid there shaking.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Can I?” I asked as I began to undress him.

He nodded.

I pulled his shirt over his head to reveal his perfect physique. My fingers shook excitedly as I struggled to undo his belt. I slid his pants and underwear down to reveal his dick right in front of me.

My eyes grew wide—almost unsure of what to do with it first.

“Put it in your mouth, my pet,” He guided.

I hesitated to take his dick in my hands, almost afraid that I would burn him with the desire that was pulsing through my body. I had just come, and already my body was beginning for another one.

I put my hand on his hardness and began to stroke it lightly. I cupped his balls with my other hand, and he moaned in approval.

I opened my mouth eagerly and put his length into it. It almost couldn’t fit in my mouth. My eyes closed, and I sighed deeply around his cock. I went higher up on it and swirled the tip with my tongue then proceeding to kiss the tip of it.

I brought my mouth back down on it and began to bob my head up and down as I sucked him off. Astarion instinctively put his hands on the back of my head, encouraging me to take him deeper. I looked up at him intently as I pushed him deeper into my mouth. I pushed his cock to the back of my throat and continued to brush it with my tongue as I did so. The pressure was continuing to build between my legs, but I sought relief from squeezing my legs together, but it only made the pressure grow.

He pulled himself out of my mouth, “I must admit, I knew you would be talented by that pretty mouth of yours, but I didn’t expect for you to be this talented,” He smirked, as he laid down.

I smiled coyly, proud that I was pleasing him so.

“Get on top of me, won’t you, darling?” He asked.

I straddled him, and he could feel the wetness around his cock.

“Put it inside of you,” He encouraged.

I did as I was told and put his length inside of me slowly. I teased myself by taking it in and out of my slowly. I rubbed the tip against my clit and moaned at the sensation.

“Do you like teasing yourself with my cock?” He whispered.

“Yes,” I whined as I continued to tease myself with his tip.

“You are such a good girl, do you know that?” He praised me.

I shoved his dick into me in response to that. His words caused the pressure in me to reach a fever pitch. I needed to seek relief.

He moaned loudly.

“Fuck, it is so big,” I cried, bouncing myself on him.

“And yet you know exactly what to do with it, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes Astarion,” I moaned, continuing to bounce myself on his cock. I moaned in frustration as I tried to find a rhythm to receive my orgasm. I pinched my nipples as I ground myself against him. I cried out in ecstasy as I began to find the rhythm.

“Gods, you are beautiful,” He gasped as he tried to catch his breath.

I didn’t really hear him as I was caught up in the moment, pounding myself down on him. As my orgasm was coming, I tightened down around him. I moaned loudly as I came on him.

Once I was finished, he began thrusting himself into me quickly, trying to find his own orgasm. He rammed into me punishingly as I continued to throb around him.

“I have to come,” He said, “Is it alright if I come inside you?”

“Please come inside of me!” I begged.

As soon as those words escaped my lips, I felt him spill into me. I moaned as I ground against him softly, wanting to push his seed farther into me.

I exhaled as I laid beside him.

“That was amazing,” I said.

“For you and me both,” He smiled.

#bg3 #astarion x tav #astarionxtav #astarion #tav #astarion bg3 #astarion acunin #mine #ao3 #archive of our own #prompts #fan fiction prompts #astarion fan fiction #astarion fanfic #wholesome astarion #unascended astarion

[witlessficcer]

I'm looking for some help. I'm new to the One Piece fandom. So new that I have only seen the Netflix live action series. I am looking into the manga, but may stay away from the anime for now. That said, I'm dying to write fanfic for it, but prefer to work from prompts. So, if you have prompt idea or theme word, or piece of fan art that you would like to share, please reach out in comments/message/ask. I'll do what I can with them, but can't make any promises.

I prefer to write scenes(introspection/dialogues) rather than longer stories, so keep that in mind. I hope you send some along.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece fandom #one piece nami #once piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece luffy #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #one piece usopp #fanfiction community #fanfiction life #fan fiction prompts

[indynerdgirl]

Topgun AU Ideas

As I was scrolling through the Topgun tag on AO3 the other night, I realized that I was starting to see the same tropes and AUs over & over again. And while not a bad thing at all, personally, I'm just starting to get a little bored of reading the same story over & over.

So I started thinking about what kind of AUs I would love to see in the Topgun fandom and then I started making a list and it kind of spiraled out of control. Oops. 😆

I now present to you all my somewhat organized list of AU ideas! And feel free to use them for any fandom, I was just thinking about Topgun as I came up with them all. It's also by no means an exhaustive list so I probably missed some obvious ones.

Military AU ideas: Pentagon/Joint Chiefs/White House Advisor (think The West Wing but for the military - this is the one I've been dying to see someone tackle!) Navy JAG NCIS Blue Angels Air Force Instead of Navy Astronauts/NASA Test Pilots Naval Academy Instructors Adversary/Aggressor Squadron Office of Naval Intelligence Sailors Instead of Pilots Submariners Instead of Pilots Naval Flight School Instructors (Aviation Preflight Indoctrination, Primary Flight Training, Intermediate Flight Training, and/ or Advanced Flight Training)

Character AU ideas: Natasha is Maverick's daughter/niece  Bob is Maverick's son/nephew  Natasha is Ice's daughter/niece Bob is Ice's son/nephew Maverick is Amelia's father Penny Is Also a Pilot Penny’s Father Is An Air Force General Obligatory Goose/Carole/Ice Lives AUs Maverick’s Dad/Mom Lives Any of the younger pilots is the kid of one of the other 86 boys

And a whole lot more under the cut!

American Historical AU ideas: Colonial/Revolutionary War Post-Revolutionary War Lewis & Clark War of 1812 Mexican-American War/The Alamo Wild West (good guys or bad guys) Organ Trail The Gold Rush (California or Alaska) Pony Express Civil War/Reconstruction Transcontinental Railway Cattle Drives Industrial Revolution/The Gilded Age WWI Bootleggers/Rum Runners/1920s Jazz Age Great Depression/Dust Bowl WWII Korean War Vietnam War 1950s/Greasers Moon Race/1960s NASA 1980s/The Cold War

Other Historical AU Ideas: Ancient Greece/Rome Middle Ages Renaissance Tudor Elizabethan Georgian Regency Napoleonic Victorian Edwardian

Fandom AUs: The West Wing Firefly The Avengers Agents of Shield Star Wars Star Trek Harry Potter Percy Jackson Ocean's 11 Mission Impossible Bourne Tom Clancy/Jack Ryan Jack Reacher John Wick Friends New Girl Supernatural How I Met Your Mother Chuck Downton Abbey CSI Jurassic Park Indiana Jones The Office Parks and Rec Pacific Rim

Other Profession AU ideas: Coffee Shop Book Shop Bakery/Candy Maker Winery/Distillery Restaurant/Chef Bartender/Bar Mechanic/Car Repair Shop Doctor/Medical/Hospital Firefighter/Police Officer/Detective Wildfire Firefighter Florist Tattooist Gardener/Gardening Horse Racing Motorsports (NASCAR/F1/Motocross, ect) Professional Sports (baseball, football, hockey, soccer, basketball) Rodeo/Bull Riding Olympians Air Racing (it’s a real thing!) Actors (movie or stage)/Celebrity Ballet Dancers Teachers College Professors Lawyers/Judges National Park Ranger Cruise Ship Pet Groomer/Veterinarian Farmer/Rancher Banker/Financial Bodyguards Zoo Museum/Living Museum Musician/Band Mall (everyone works at different stores at the same mall) Marketing Archeologist Spies Reporters/Journalist News Anchors Lifeguards Assassins Criminals/Thieves/Heist Bounty Hunter

Misc AU Ideas: Royalty/Lost Royalty Time Travel Fae/Fairy Mermaids/Selkies Witch/Wizard Werewolves/Vampires Fantasy/Magic (including modern/urban settings) High Fantasy Dragons Soulmates (color blindness, first words, timestamps, matching marks, can share emotions, Red String of Fate, can share dreams, can see/talk to each other in dreams, can write on each other's skin, telepathic, Soulmate Goose of Enforcement) Omegaverse/ABO (not everyone’s cup of tea, just putting it out there!) Roommates Pirates High School College Mob/Mafia Fairytale Arranged Marriage Accidental Marriage Fake Dating/Engagement/Marriage Superhero/Villain Apocalypse/Post-Apocalypse Forbidden Love Boarding School Space/Sci-Fi Road Trip Summer Camp Immortal/Reincarnation Hallmark Movie Amnesia Pen Pals Resurrection Animal Shapeshifter May this list inspire all of you amazing fanfic writers out there! 💜

#writing #writing ideas #writing prompts #prompts #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfiction prompts #fan fiction prompts #AU ideas #fic ideas #fic prompts #topgun #top gun #topgun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #TGM #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #topgun fanfiction #TGM fanfiction #alternate universe #alternate universe ideas #AU prompts #AU Lists #prompt list #prompts list #I do filter out certain ships in the Topgun tag on AO3 #so there is a possibility that fics already exist out there that falls under one of these AUs #feel free to leave fic recs in the comments!

[the-last-rat-standing]

Prompts

I’m often reminded of my elder stateswoman status in fandom when I go in search of fan fiction prompts. A lot of “Imagine you need to submit your high school essay but the library’s closed and your crush is the only one who has the book you need”. Or “Imagine a rainy day when your crush shows up on your doorstep, wet and adorable and you’re the only one who can help them because they’ve locked their key in their dad’s car. Phone service is down because of the storm but you have s’mores?” Etc.

(I just made those up, but you get the idea.)

So I’ve come up with a few prompts for more... adult pairings. I’ve used a couple of these myself, but maybe others would find them helpful.

.....

Person A needs a ride, inadvertently calls the wrong number. Person B refuses to not help.  -Car broke down -Had too much to drink -Was driven to a party, wants to leave but they came with someone else

Summer is hotter than hell. Person A's A/C has broken down. Person B sympathizes and invites them over. Or Person B has to strong arm Person A to come over. "Don't be stupid."

Person A off-handedly mentions something unusual they've always wanted for their birthday/Christmas. Stoic Person B finds a way to make it happen.

Person A and Person B accidentally take the other's identical bag from the baggage carousel.

Person A slips and falls. Person B is the first person on the scene to help. Person A is insistent they don't need help.

Person A and Person B are the only 2 people in a movie theatre. Things are quiet until Person A groans at an inconsistency in a field Person B is an expert in. Person B yells back in agreement and gives their own critique. The rest of the movie proceeds that way until the end. Coffee is the endgame.

Person A and Person B get seated beside each other at a sporting event. They end up knowing more about the sport than the person/group they separately came with.

Group setting (birthday/retirement/holiday). Party games. Person A drags Person B into the fun. Person B- "What the hell's a 'Tiktok'?"

Same as above, but Person A and Person B don't know each other and get paired up by the host to play the party game.

Person A agreed to do a task/entered a contest (maybe on a dare?). The catch? Person A doesn't know how to do the thing. Person B agrees to help them learn, if Person A promises to stop bothering them about it.

A bit of a flip on the above prompt, Person A gets cornered into doing a highly specialized task. Person B watches on, curious. Person A completely rocks the task, leaving Person B and the jerkwad who dared them in the first place gobsmacked. ~mic drop~

Ten years ago, In a life-threatening situation, Person A is saved by Person B. (Accident/robbery/whatever.) Person A never finds out Person B's name, but remembers their face vividly. A decade later, Person A saves Person B in a similar situation, only to find it's the same person who saved their life.

Person A and Person B had a one night stand 10 years ago. Both went into it knowing what it was, so no hard feelings. A decade later, Person A gets set up on a blind date, only to find it's Person B.

.....

Let me know if you use any of these. Would love to see what you do with it!

#fan fiction prompts #fan fic prompts #writing

[xodditiesx]

Angela has a point.

So, it's been a while since I've read New Moon but I remember being so touched when Angela was trying to be a good friend and figuring out how to help Bella through her depression. One of the things I've always wanted to write is a trauma recovery fic where Angela was right about the cause -- that Bella was abused & raped by Edward. Literally everything else could stay the same. The vampires, the werewolves. Jacob's friendship & character growth. It'd only take some slight reworking to make Edward a self aware abuser. I have a few drafts saved from back in the day but I've never really been happy with the results. Anyone have fic recs where this is explored?

#twilight saga #fan fiction prompts #musings #i'm way too old to be writing twilight fanfiction #but here we are in 2023 opening a new blog for hive mind connections #also I should be studying but my adhd is doing a thing #tw: mentions of rape

[imfinereallyy]

I don’t know why, but there is something so deeply special about the “you know I’m in love with you? Right?” trope to me. It’s the only miscommunication trope I genuinely enjoy. There is just something about the way a character just stares at their love interest in exasperation or confusion and points out the blatantly obvious thing between them. Whether they scream it out in frustration, or say it in a deadpan manner or even with a little laugh and tilt of the head. Just looking at someone, realizing what do I have to lose at this point? And just saying “Dude, you have to know I’m in love with you, right?” My heart does a little flutter every time.

#the love was always here and never went away #give it to me #I eat it up #romance tropes #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #platonic stobin #ao3 #angst #my writing #fan fiction #writing #prompts #steddie prompt

[musical-shit-show]

electric touch

Pairing: Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Sinner!Reader

Inspiration: My own silly idea but also Prompts #70 (“are you actually trying to seduce me right now?”) and #86 (“they don’t need to know.”) from Prompt List 2

Warnings: Cursing, mutual pining, Adam is still kind of an asshole (duh), suggestive dialogue

Word Count: 1,363

Author’s Note: I just really wanted the mental picture of Adam in some rocker eyeliner, so I wrote it. That’s about it, just being very normal about this character :3 If anyone has seen any fanart of Adam with eyeliner, my DMs are always open. As always check out my Masterlist, About Me page, or Prompt Lists if you’d like to submit an ask! Happy reading! :)

“What’s that?”

You scoffed at the fallen angel lounging lazily on your bed, watching you intently as you went through your makeup routine.

You had just grabbed an eyeliner pencil, and were in the middle of smudging the smokey kohl onto your eyelids when Adam interrupted you.

“What, you didn’t have eyeliner in heaven?” you smirked, looking at him through the mirror on your vanity. Even in such a relaxed state, he still kept that stupid mask on.

He shook his head, “Why would we need makeup in a place where everyone’s fuckin’ perfect and poised 24/7?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you accepted the answer. Made sense, anyways. From what you heard from Charlie, Heaven probably looked like a dream come true. Why would anyone need to alter their appearance in a place like that?

Turning back to the task at hand, you jumped slightly when Adam appeared behind you, his face incredibly close to your own. He was studying you intently, his digital eyes flickering over your expression.

“Ugh, what is with you, dude?”

His eyes narrowed, lips forming into a tight line. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was…thinking. Which is not an activity Adam seemed to engage in, especially before speaking.

“It looks…good.” he muttered, feeling his face getting warm under his mask, “I guess I never really noticed it before.” You quirked an eyebrow, a small smile flashing across your face.

Ever since he turned up on the hotel’s doorstep practically begging for help from the Princess of Hell, Adam had decided to latch himself on to you. For what reason, you didn’t know; it didn’t particularly matter since any attempts to rid yourself of him were completely fruitless.

He was definitely an asshole, but he could be mildly amusing from time to time.

“Do you…do you want me to put some on you?”

He blinked stupidly. “I’m not gay, toots,” he deadpanned, “Despite what that little spider twink downstairs thinks—”

“No, no that’s not what I meant,” you cut in, trying to stifle your laughter at his remark, “But makeup transcends sexuality.” He scoffed, letting his insecurity wash over him.

Adam would never admit it you or Charlie or anyone else at the hotel, but being here made him feel less alone than he ever felt in Heaven.

Up there, he was practically ignored, even treated as a nuisance by the seraphim and other higher ups. Which he was, but that was beside the point.

He was already ashamed of himself for asking Lucifer’s brat of all people for help, but he had nowhere else to turn and felt completely alone. Except when he was with you.

Although you were a sinner too, you didn’t judge him as harshly as the others. Hell, you were able to stand up to him, even reason with him when he was particularly crabby.

It scared him, though he’d never let you know that. He’d rather get stabbed through the chest again than be vulnerable.

Standing up, you gestured to the edge of the bed, encouraging Adam to sit down again. He hesitated for a moment, not willing to trust you fully.

“You know,” you drawled, “some of the greatest rockers on Earth wear eyeliner. And looks sexy as fuck doing it.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

“And,” you added, “A lot of ladies are actually into it. I swear.” He blew a raspberry in dismissal, still not fully convinced. He decided to humor you anyway; he had nothing better to do.

“Ugh, fine,” he whined, “You’re lucky I’m bored, sugartits.” He plopped onto your bed, faltering slightly when removing his mask; you rarely saw him without it, and were struck by how, well, human he looked.

You couldn’t dwell on his appearance for long; you needed entertainment for the evening and didn’t want to wait for him to change his mind. With the pencil in hand, you swiftly went to work on his minor makeover.

You were close. Dangerously close, Adam thought to himself. So close that he was almost pissed that his eyes were closed so he couldn’t get a good look down your shirt.

He could feel your soft breath on his face, the almost imperceptible noises you were making while concentrating intently on shaping his new look. He almost flinched when your hand gripped the side of his face gently, tilting it up slightly to give you a better angle to complete your work.

Your fingers tingled on his skin, silence filling the space in a way that was new to Adam; he usually reveled in sucking the air out of any room he was in, but he was now focused so keenly on the steadiness of your breathing and the looming presence of your body so, so close to his.

Fuck.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and for the first time in his very long existence, Adam actually tried to hide his arousal from you. “Almost done,” you muttered, examining the canvas of his eyelids closely.

You couldn’t help but notice that even though he was fallen, Adam still retained rather…angelic features. Perfect skin, tousled brown hair, annoyingly long eyelashes. You tried to not gaze at him for too long, but with his eyes currently closed, you couldn’t help but stare.

“Ah, okay, open up,” you said, feeling a quiver arise in your throat. He blinked, bright gold eyes accentuated perfectly by the dark liner.

Satan help you. He looked hot.

You realized you were still leaning incredibly close to his face, and before you could stumble backwards, Adam flashed a mischievous smile. “Damn babe, I must look pretty good if you’re giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Shhhh,” he stood up, pressing his finger to your lips. Your attraction to him was quickly replaced with annoyance, even with him looking like a rockstar you might’ve had a crush on when you were still living.

You pushed his hand away, your stomach twisting. Leave it to Adam to ruin an actual good moment between the two of you.

“Are you actually trying to seduce me right now?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Not in the slightest,” you lied. He brushed past you, considering his reflection in your vanity mirror.

“Fuck, I do look good,” he mused, getting an eyeful of himself. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. His gaze flitted to you, studying your form. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious about how good this dick would look in that pretty little mouth of yours?

You crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to act disgusted at that mental picture. “Only in your dreams,” you muttered, hoping the heat traveling up your neck wasn’t visible. Adam stood up to face you again, his mouth curving into a wicked smile. “They don’t need to know,” he purred, his eyes flicking towards the door, referencing the other residents of the hotel. “It can be our little secret.”

His fingers brushed your waist delicately, and you felt your heartbeat quicken as he squeezed the side of your body. He looked hungry, possessive, the dark pigment around his eyes only enhancing the intensity of his glare.

You gulped. You had to come up with an excuse, and quick.

“Charlie’s expecting me,” you croaked, pulling away from his grasp. You cursed yourself for the ache you felt between your legs, “Something about more trust exercises—” you headed toward the door, but Adam grabbed your arm.

He didn’t seem annoyed that you were brushing off his advances; he knew that it was now just a matter of time.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he teased, his grip red hot against your skin, “But teach me how to do this fun little makeup on myself sometime, hm? I like seeing you all hot and bothered.”

You swung open your door, flashing him the finger as you slammed it behind you. It didn’t matter that you were leaving him in your room unattended; you knew you’d be seeing him there later anyways.

Something told you he was going to keep the makeup on until you returned.

------

thanks for reading! as always, like/reblog/comment if you enjoyed :)

#hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #alex brightman #fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #adam hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #fanfiction prompt #fan fiction #fandom #vivziepop #vivzieverse #hellaverse #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel season 1 #hazbin hotel season one

[jo-harrington]

The Boy Is Mine (Jo's Edition)

Summary: A romantic night in at the trailer. And a first date.

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: First Date, Fluff, First Kiss, Teasing, Banter, Geekery

Notes: My submission for @carolmunson's The Boy Is Mine Writing Excercise. This was a fun one, and I know the idea was for it not to be an AU...I guess technically it isn't (although I definitely thought of my STFF Eddie who...well...it's fanfiction *wink* especially since we're not gonna see their first date in the story). Thank you for putting together a fun game Carol.

Tagging a few friends who I think would have some great additions to this prompt: @eddiemunsonbignaturals @undead-supernova @storiesbyrhi

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

Pizza? Delivered.

Twinkies? Vanilla frosting. Not Banana.

Trailer? Tidied.

Sheets? Changed.

There was a knock at the door and Eddie took a breath and held it as he stared at his bed.

"You're not gonna end up in here," he muttered to himself.

Ok but maybe you would. He could be hopeful. Maybe a kiss would lead to something else.

"No idiot. It's just a study date."

There was another knock and he turned on his heel and rushed for the door.

He paused at the last second--glanced around, ran his hands over the front of his t-shirt, and put the most casual smile on his face--before he opened the door.

And then there you were.

A backpack slung over your shoulder, 6-pack of Dr. Pepper hanging from your fingers, looking...hot effortlessly gorgeous...or at least he thought so.

"Hey," you greeted. "Sorry if I'm late."

"No," he shook his head quickly and shifted to the side to let you pass into the trailer. "Right on time sweetheart. Hope you like pepperoni."

Of course you did. It was your favorite.

"It's my favorite."

Eddie clenched his fist in victory as he shut the door and then stood back and watched indulgently as you took in the wonders of the place he called home. He committed it all to memory; the way your eyes lingered on Wayne's collection of mugs and hats from over the years, or your nose scrunched up cutely at the sight of family pictures on a shelf--

Please god, don't see the picture of him missing his two front teeth.

--or the way it scrunched further, more in annoyance than fondness, and your eyebrow quirked at the stack of video tapes beside the television.

Shit.

"Uh," he cleared his throat and swooped in, arm hovering around your shoulders as he led you to the couch where the pizza and his history homework waited. His hand drifted to yours so he could grab the sodas. "Lemme put this in the fridge so it gets cold. I have Mountain Dew...or beer, if you want one."

"Mountain Dew's fine."

"As you wish," he bowed and you giggled. He cursed himself as he headed to the kitchen.

What a fucking nerd--

"So you read the Princess Bride?" you called out to him.

"Y-yes."

"It's one of my favorite books! A story within a story and all of that. And it can be critical of itself. It's perfect!"

Eddie's heart soared.

The two of you went back and forth for a few minutes discussing the merits of the book and the way it provided so much suspense and adventure and escapism; something it seemed, and Eddie wasn't surprised to find, you both had needed throughout your relatively-young lives.

Before long, he shuffled out of the kitchen with two cans and two solo cups to find you comfortably settled on the couch with your legs criss-crossed and a throw pillow settled in your lap. You looked right at home, at ease with him, and he had to say...he liked that sight quite a bit.

"I ran out of like, nice cups," he changed the subject so he wouldn't focus too much on how much he enjoyed the sight. "Hope this is okay."

"Ok, well what are the nice cups?" you narrowed your eyes at him playfully. "Because I see plenty of nice cups right in front of us, Mister."

You gestured at the shelves lined with mugs and Eddie couldn't help but roll his eyes at you.

"Those aren't nice cups Madam," he scoffed. "Those are family heirlooms. The nice cups are the Star Wars: Return of the Jedi glasses I got from Burger King. Obviously."

"Well excuse me," you straightened in your seat and rocked your shoulders back and forth haughtily. "The fine crystal."

"And don't you forget it."

"And here you are, presenting me with...plastic. Like a peasant."

"If you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

He held out the red solo cup filled with fluorescent green liquid and you snatched it from him with a quick flash of your tongue.

Then the two of you got right down to business: homework.

You pulled a small notebook from your backpack and then asked to see his notes from class so you could help him get a better idea of what was important for an upcoming quiz that he'd mentioned the day prior. He was ashamed to say he wasn't the best notetaker, but you pivoted easily as you flipped through a few pages and went from sparse notes about Civics and the US Constitution to long drawn out paragraphs about the Riders of Rohan and graphic descriptions of the Meduseld.

"Don't be like that," you scolded him. "That's not even true. What is this?"

"This?" He waved dismissively. "It's just...notes for Hellfire. Ahem...Hellfire Club...my Dungeons and Dragons club at school."

"Oh yeah?"

"Planning a one-shot for my buddy Jeff's birthday in a world where Theodred doesn't die and goes on to become...well...it's just nerd stuff."

Eddie sniffed and thought back to the many times that he'd been cut short trying to explain his ideas to others; even Ronnie got on his case when he got too into it.

How many times had she heard him get into an argument with himself over the benefits of Mithril vs. Adamantium?

"Excuse me," you looked at him expectantly, breaking through his thoughts. "Nerd stuff?"

"Yeah," he shrugged and let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Nerd stuff. We're supposed to be focusing on History."

"Ok, yes but..." you reached out and poked him in the the dimple in his cheek. "You didn't say in a 'we should just focus on history instead' way. You said it in a 'you don't want to hear about this' way."

"Well do you? Do you actually like that?""

"Did I not just tell you that Inigo Montoya is the real hero of Princess Bride and not Westley or Buttercup not five minutes ago?"

Eddie stared at you like a deer in the headlights.

Ok. You got him there.

But...but...God...old habits died hard.

How many times had people not given him the time of day when it came to silly little stories and make believe worlds? How many times had the people closest to him not even taken the time to listen?

He'd already been sold on the fact that you weren't just a dream; how could you be real and actually be his dream girl too?

God, it was too good to be true.

Eddie swallowed hard and centered himself back in reality. He was gonna have to salvage this moment before he made a real fool out of himself and asked you to marry him or something. That would be a little too strong for a first date...and a study date, at that.

He grumbled something under his breath.

"'Scuse me? What was that?" you leaned in closer to him.

"It was 10 minutes ago," he spoke up, staring at you matter-of-factly, a fiery challenge in his eyes to hide the fact that he was actively falling for you. "Actually."

You threw your head back in a laugh and slapped the back of your hand against his shoulder.

"You shithead," you cackled. "Ok fine. 10 minutes. Now. How about we actually study for 10 more minutes, and then you can tell me about this...Dungeons and Dragons while we eat ok?"

He happily agreed.

Towards the end of the night, pizza and sodas had been devoured, homework demolished, and Eddie actually felt like he had a shot at getting a decent grade on his next History quiz.

"Alright," he sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. "I think we're done here. A success if I do say so myself. I guess I'll keep you around."

"Keep me?" you quirked an eyebrow at him. "Uh huh, more like, will you please come back and help me study again?"

"Are..." Eddie scoffed. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"You volunteered!"

"I volunteered for one study date."

"What, so a second one is out of the question?" he asked as he leaned forward and edged into your space.

"Well," you began with an expression that oozed contemplation in an exaggerated fashion. God, you were almost as dramatic as he was.

You were perfect.

"Well, if you're asking me for a second date, Edward? Then the answer is yes."

He clapped his hands together and laughed.

"Haha, see I knew that you couldn't get enough of--"

"But," you stopped him, and he stared, open-mouthed with words half-falling from his lips. "If you're asking me to come back to study? Well, then the second session is gonna cost you."

And he fell for it for a second. Just a split second. He thought that yeah it made sense if he wanted your help, he was gonna have to give something in return.

But then he saw the sly little smile that you were fighting to keep off your lips, saw the adorable little scrunch in your nose that he'd memorized earlier in the night, and the way your fingers fiddled on the couch cushion, as you slowly inched closer to him.

And he understood.

Oh...

"Oh yeah?" He narrowed his eyes at you in faux-suspicion. "Alright...name your price."

"It's not gonna be cheap," you insisted.

"I can pay anything."

"You sure about that?"

"Oh," he leaned closer to you now, volume and timber getting lower the closer he got. "I'm absolutely sure sweetheart."

You bit your lip slyly.

"I think fair market price...is a kiss."

"Just one?" he teased, lips absolutely within smooching distance from yours now.

"Maybe two."

You bit your lip to keep your smile at bay and Eddie had to stop himself from kissing you right then and there.

"Two?! Well," he sighed. "You drive a hard bargain. And who am I to pass up such a once-in-a-lifetime deal?"

"Just a nerd," you whispered against his lips.

"Just a nerd," he repeated, and then slotted his lips right against yours, ending your perfect first date with the perfect first kiss.

Just like on TV.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #prompt game #the boy is mine #stff updates #stranger than (fan)fiction #carol <3

[smellingofpoetry]

Midnight talks

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Something changes in their dynamics.

Prompt: "Pressing a kiss onto the other's hair." by @creativepromptsforwriting

Warnings: fluff

Words count: 308

A/N: Hi! Here I am, as promised. Not so long ago, I stumbled across a list of prompts, and this one was the one that caught my eye. I couldn't let it sit there, so here we are with this drabble. I hope you'll enjoy it. I forgot to mention that if everything goes according to the plans, I'll post every two weeks, exactly like I'm doing lately. 🖤 Let me know what you guys think. All errors are mine, of course.

It happened one evening, out of the blue. 

They had just ended a hunt, not a particularly difficult one. They were tired, but not that tired. So, it seemed the right way to end the day while sitting in the library with a drink. 

They all shared some stories, few smiles, and heartfelt laughs until it was time for bed. Sam was the first to say his goodnight, needing his beauty sleep before the morning run. 

Y/N and Dean, instead, stayed back a bit longer, simply enjoying each other company, which was something relatively new for them. 

It was just around two when they forced themselves to say goodnight before falling asleep, right there and then. 

Y/N was still leaning against her chair, watching him get up, ready to wave at him like she had done a hundred times before. 

Dean let his fingers linger a bit more on the rim of his glass, unsure, before closing the distance with two long strides. He leaned forward then, pressing a kiss on Y/N’s air. She stiffened at the unexpected gesture, feeling her breathing stop for a second. 

“Goodnight,” he whispered while moving towards the corridor to his room.

Y/N stayed still on her chair, her hand anchored around her glass and her eyes glued to the door he had just walked over. 

What had just happened? Dean wasn’t so affectionate with her, which she understood since they didn’t have much of a relationship. They were just roommates, basically, and she was okay with that. At least she knew he tolerated her. 

This, though? 

It was new, not that she minded. She didn’t mind at all. The sensation of his lips on her hair was nice; really nice. She smiled to herself until she realized.

Crap – she didn’t even answer back.

“'Night!” she hurried, but he was already gone. 

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #prompt #intimate moment prompt #kiss #forehead kisses #pressing a kiss onto the other's hair #midnight talks

[promptcorner]

Made some more memes for another fic!

(The prompt and fic)

#writing #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #meme #story memes #funny memes #fan fiction #fan fic writing #fan fic stuff #batfam #dc batman #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #dcxdp #damian wayne #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #cartoons #dc joker #dcu #dp

[hungryhungryhannibalhimbo]

Will rolls his eyes. “My day dreams sour my appetite. They don’t wet it. They certainly don’t revolve around road kill or cattle.”

“This goes against your better nature. Herbivores are low on the food chain.” Hannibal’s eyes are piercing, as per usual.

Will doesn’t pretend to know where this is headed. Confusion is hard enough on its own. Hiding it under pretenses would only lengthen the battle. “And what, that makes them lesser?”

“To carnivores, yes. You set your eyes in the sockets of a wolf skull, a falcon’s head, either side of a viper’s face. You see prey through the eyes of the predator. Are you not hungry, Will?” The doctor’s lips are quirking up the way they so softly do. It’s a fondness, a flirtation. Will used to resent it, a sort of goading condescension. These days, he’s just grateful when Hannibal aims the expression at him, as opposed to Jack or Alana. Will is used to being a target. It’s the devil he knows.

“I’m more a rabid dog than anything else. I’ve lost site of sustenance in favor of cooling the hot delirium in my head.” He leans back against the front of his psychiatrist’s desk, looking down as he rubs his eyes. He’s out of aspirin.

Something twinkles in Hannibal’s face. It’s not pity but something Will’s not sure he wants to place. He can’t help feeling Hannibal was hoping he would bring up his current condition. The doctor always seems to be there when his body aches the most. Whether he is the source or the tonic is irrelevant. “And who infected you this time? What bit you and made you this way? A master? An apex predator?”

Will scoffs, turning his head up as he asks, “Are you talking about God or the Chesapeake Ripper?”

Hannibal relishes the way Will has exposed the column of his throat and takes a discreet step closer to him. “Isn’t one more comforting to have in your head than the other?”

“Not really. One in the same, as far as I’m concerned.” Will is proud when Hannibal chuckles. “I’d love it if no one was in my mind but me. No intrusions.”

“Are you certain you’d like that? With no one penetrating the forts you build so easily, no one’s skin to slide into, cloak and warm yourself with, what would be left but to inhabit yourself? Your true nature? Your carnivore? Are you certain you can be alone in your self, Will?”

They are standing very close together now, and Will doesn’t want to like it so much. He lets his words out with a thin veil of annoyance. “With you around, it’s not much of a concern. You’re always pushing your way further in. Do I keep you warm, Dr. Lecter?”

The man’s little smile glints teeth now. “Very much so. In you, there is a wide expanse of wilderness to be explored. Hunters prowl in the corners when you are close to sleep. Crickets chirp in the sunsets when you close your eyes. I find it all very beautiful.”

Will’s breath hitches, and he knows Hannibal can feel it. They’re close enough for that, still pushed up against the desk. If either leans forward even the slightest bit, they will be crossing into something uncharted. “Beautiful? And yet you think I’m afraid to look alone?”

“Look with me, Will.”

#yes I used this as a prompt #what do you mean that wasn’t the assignment #nbc hannibal #hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #murder husbands #fan fiction #memes #hannibal memes #writing #hungryhungryhimbo original

[the-bar-sinister]

Enemies to Lovers things

🔪 The character collapsing wounded on their enemy's doorstep because they didn't know where else to go.

🍆 That awkward moment when they realize during physical combat that they're really turned on.

👊 That moment of hesitation where they don't know if their enemy is going to hit them or kiss them.

💋 Makeouts that are a brutal extension of combat.

💃 Combat that's like a dance. 

🗣️ The characters seeing one another in public and having to be civil in front of other people, only to realize they're actually enjoying each other's company.

🤝 The characters realizing they're the person closest to their enemy and the most important person in their life.

🫂 That first physical touch that's tender instead of violent.

😫 Screaming their enemy's name in desperation.

🔫 "The only one allowed to kill/hurt you".

👚 The character holding on to an item or piece of clothing that belongs to their enemy.

⚰️ The empty feeling when one character believes their enemy is dead.

💭 Enemies basing their whole lives around each other and spending huge amounts of time thinking about each other.

⚔️ The classic fighting together against a common enemy and realizing just how well they work as a team.

#enemies to lovers #shipping #shipping tropes #shipping prompts #shipping dynamics #ship tropes #ship prompts #ship dynamics #otp #writing prompts #fandom #fan fiction #fanfic #writeblr #writblr #otp dynamics #villain f/o

[denaliwrites]

Out There Making DuckTales

Aziraphale x GN!Reader x Crowley

Catch and Release Prompt: "Vessel"

Summary: You and Aziraphale help Crowley adjust to a new experience.

Soundtrack: DuckTales Theme by Felicia Barton

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Hijinks and such.

"Crowley, I swear to God, if you do not stop squirming --"

"Hgk."

"Crowley!"

Aziraphale watched in some unholy mix of amusement and distress while you and Crowley adjusted to your new -- and hopefully temporary -- situation.

Your guts roiled unnaturally as Crowley shifted. "All these -- new bits -- how do you humans cope?!" his voice came from inside your head, but simultaneously sounded outside of yourself -- no doubt for Aziraphale's benefit. "There's so many pieces. And they're all so --"

"Crowley, please," you begged in a whine.

Immediately, the twitching and shifting inside you stilled. "Sorry, love," his voice whispered in your mind. You were glad this one was just for you -- no echo outside of your head, no admonishing look from Aziraphale meant for the demon harbored in your body.

"How did you get discorporated, anyway?" the angel asked, wringing his hands nervously. "And why are you holed up in our dear friend?"

"I volunteered," you answered easily, as Crowley twitched. You imaged it as his hand, fingers flexing nervously at the other question. "And he, uh. Well."

You mentally nudged the demon.

"Hgk."

"Tell him, Crowley."

"I don't want to," the demon hissed to only you.

You smiled. "I'll tell him if you don't."

There were a few moments of grumbling that, even with it being directly in your mind, you could not even hope to decipher, before the mutterings became a fully formed word, "Ducks."

"I'm sorry?" Aziraphale asked, blinking rapidly. "What did you say?"

"Ducks!" Crowley shouted, and as he metaphorically(?) threw his arms up in defeat, your arms were forced to follow the gesture. You whimpered, but Crowley didn't seem too bothered by it. "I... pissed off the ducks."

"You... you what?"

"I pissed off the ducks!"

"And how did that... how did you get discorporated by ducks?"

"Have you ever met a gaggle of angry waterfowl?!"

Aziraphale was too stunned to speak for several moments. Crowley didn't seem to want to elaborate, so you filled in the silence with:

"He, uh. He tripped. Into a fence. And got Final Destination'd."

"He -- I'm sorry -- what?"

"Impaled. He got impaled."

"Oh, heavens, Crowley."

"It was the bloody ducks, Angel!"

#aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #aziraphale x you #crowley x you #good omens x reader #good omens fic #good omens fan fiction #michael sheen #david tennant #catch and release prompt

[mrsjellymunson]

S.A.N.T.A. BABY

[A.KA. Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-Related Activities]

A Festive 5+1 Eddie Munson Fic

Summary: 5+1. Five times reader embarrasses herself in front of Eddie, and one time she doesn’t.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

WC: ~10.5k (oops)

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI!, SMUT, NSFW. Strangers to sort-of-enemies to lovers. Drinking, smoking, Eddie and reader call each other nicknames, loads of embarrassing situations, swearing, suggestive language, implied birth control, description of and discussion about a sex toy, flagrant and unnecessary use of the number 69, reader has a tattoo but it’s not essential to the story so you can ignore it if you want, bondage fantasy involving fairy lights, lap riding/dry humping, Eddie has tattoos and intimate piercings, fingering, unprotected p-in-v (always wrap it irl!), aftercare, fluff, the Upside Down hasn’t happened. I imagine reader & Eddie to be mid-late 20s and it might be the 90s, but hopefully I left it ambiguous enough that you can choose. I tried to keep reader’s appearance neutral, though I’m still new at this and I may have missed things - let me know if you spot anything (likewise typos or missed tags, etc). The elf outfit in the pic is for costume illustration only and does not indicate reader’s ethnicity or appearance.

A/N: Written for @bettyfrommars’ & @allthingsjoeq’s festive prompt party (thank you, guys!); I decided to smoosh five prompts 6, 8, 12, 14 & 15 together to create… whateverthehellthismutantthingis 😆 It’s my first 5+1, and my first festive fic, please let me know how I did! 🎄 I’ve taken artistic license with the format - if I’ve understood it, it’s way too long for a standard 5+1, and I don’t think they usually have 4+k of unnecessary smut at the end (‘What do you mean, Kittie? Smut is always necessary!’). I couldn’t bring myself to cut it because I’m a deviant and to paraphrase the song, it’s my fic and I’ll add what I want to 😂 Enjoy! 🥂🍷🎁

Christmas was never your favourite time of year. You suppose that your early Christmasses were probably happy, but once your parents split and family politics came into play, the season just became less enjoyable all round. These days your mom and stepdad tended to use the extended break to visit your brother in California, and this year will be the third in a row that you’ve been left to your own devices. Not that you couldn’t go with them, but you just felt a little out of place and in the way, him with his scrapbook-perfect family and kids, you with your alternative interests and a dress sense that your stepdad once described as, “Far too much black for a family dinner. We’re not the Addams Family, you know”.

This year, though, you were optimistic. It’s your first year away at college in Indianapolis, and your roommate, Robin, who you get on outrageously well with, has invited you to spend the holidays not too far away in her home town, Hawkins.

Plus, Robin has taken it upon herself to, in her words, ‘“Christmas Carol the shit out of you”, after you’d told her about your disdain for the holiday season and that Santa stood for ‘Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-related Activities’. She’d declared that this year you’d have the “Best. Christmas. EVERRR!”, and she’s making good on it, despite the promise being made months ago when you were both soaked in tequila at the end of orientation week.

It’s going fairly well so far. You’ve met a couple of Robin’s friends, a nice girl called Nancy and Robin’s ex Vickie, and together you’ve had a shopping trip, a lunch out and a girls’ night in. You’re optimistic that the rest of her friends will be just as friendly and welcoming. Next on the ‘Best Christmas Ever’ agenda? Seeing a local band at a local bar…

“Honestly, they’re, like, really, really good!”

“Really, Robs? This band that your friends started in high school are so good that they’re still playing dive bars in their home town?”

The bar is dingy and grubby, but it’s packed, Robin insisting it’s because the band is great, but you suspect it has more to do with the cheap beer prices.

You’re not averse to live entertainment, you just prefer places with a bit more space. More ambience, less… sweat? Ambiguous stickiness??

Half a beer in, you make the excuse that you need some air, not admitting you’re actually hoping to find someone to bum a cigarette off outside, feeling your most recent attempt at quitting is already on seriously shaky ground.

There’s already a couple of guys around the side of the building when you exit the front door, one in a torn flannel and another, his back to you, in a heavier-looking jacket.

You recognise Flannel as the bartender, a lanky, but not unattractive, somewhat worried-looking guy with a grungy haircut and ripped Clash t-shirt, who’s just finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the floor. As he leaves to go back inside he offers a cheery half-salute to his smoking partner and a, “See you inside, dude.” You assume the other guy must be a regular, and from the subtle glimpses you get as he flicks his ash, he’s about halfway through his cigarette.

Whilst he’s not looking you sneakily take in the view (your excuse being that you are a tourist here, after all). He’s tall, dressed all in black, with broad shoulders draped in worn-in black leather, long dark curls falling about them. You can’t determine the exact colour in the poor lighting of the bar’s neon sign, but they look shiny and well cared for, rather than lank and grimy like so many of your college buddies seem to think is the fashionable way to do it these days (ugh).

Trailing your eyes down his back, you see the hem of his jacket half-obscures a black leather belt that’s just visible sitting on his slim hips. It’s studded with silver rivets and adorned with a variety of draping silver chains that jingle at the slightest movement.

Well-fitting, dark black jeans cover his legs, and a scruffy pair of heavy black combat boots complete the look. They're unlaced at the top and casually flare out, his jeans crumpling, effortlessly stylishly, in the tops.

The belt chains catch your attention again as he shifts from one foot to the other, making them swing, drawing your eyes to the seat of his jeans and showcasing a cute, tight, rounded pair of butto-oh! He’s turning around! Shit, shit, okay, be cool, and definitely don’t look like you were just checking out his ass…

He looks at you with surprise, he obviously hadn’t heard you come out. He’s taken slightly aback, but manages to greet you with a quick, “Hey.”

You reply, eloquently, “Hey.”

Smooth.

Leather Jacket gets out his lighter.

“You, uh, smokin’?”

“I was kinda hoping to bum one, actually. I’m supposed to be quitting, but you know how it is when you get around bars and booze.”

You shrug a little, suddenly feeling sheepish, and more than a little selfish when you realise your presumption.

“Oh yeah, I sure do. Think I’ve tried quitting about, what, five times now?”

He chuckles a little, shaking a stick out of the packet he retrieves from inside his jacket, offering it to you.

“You need a light?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks.”

He leans in to spark his lighter, and you’re briefly engulfed by the scent of him. Old leather, hints of a musky, spicy cologne, whiskey, clean sweat, and, of course, cigarette smoke. It feels like a warm hug, but something else too, something more primal, enticing.

You notice his hands as he holds his lighter close to your face. They’re big, strong-looking and veined, his fingers adorned with chunky silver rings that glint and twinkle in the faint neon glow.

It all catches you off guard. You pull back quickly once your cigarette is lit, not ready to explore that kind of sensation right now.

He’s turned sideways to you again, leaning his back against the side wall of the bar. He smirks in your direction, a dimple popping in the cheek nearest to you, and you feel a little heat rise up your neck.

His gaze flows over your form, taking you in from top to bottom. Is he checking you out?

“I, uh, I like your boots.” He nods down towards your feet, flicking a little ash from his cigarette off to the side furthest from you.

You automatically glance down, like some kind of idiot who didn’t dress themselves less than an hour ago.

Sheesh, way to make an impression on the locals…

“Oh, thanks!”

You smile, genuinely pleased. You’re wearing your favourite pair, laced and buckled black leather New Rocks with a chunky, steel-coloured metal heel. You know the style doesn’t have universal appeal, which is of course part of the reason you love them, but it’s nice to have your taste appreciated by someone as cu- erm, as friendly as he is.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. You new in town or sumthin’?”

“Yeah, kinda passing through, I guess. I’m just here for the holidays, hookin’ up with a friend.”

He nods in acknowledgment, curls bouncing softly around his face.

You continue, “Apparently I’ve been promised the ‘best Christmas ever’, and they think they’re going to achieve that by bringing me to this divey bar to see some schoolfriend in a lame-ass metal cover band. I mean, god, no offence, but this town is hardly Seattle. I can’t imagine they’re gonna be Nirvana-quality, right?”

The guy snorts through his nose and then genuinely laughs. “Yeah, they probably are shit. Towns like this are full of wannabe rockstars straight outta high school, y’know?” You don’t notice how his lips purse as he suppresses a grin, as he continues, “Singers are the worst, always such assholes. Second only to guitarists, of course.”

You answer with an enthusiastic, “I know, right?!”, thinking back to the musicians you’ve dated since high school and how they were all convinced they were destined to be the next Eddie Van Halen or Steven Tyler. Thinking of a couple of guys in particular as you take a drag of your cigarette, as you exhale you mutter, “Christ, guitarists really are the pits.”

He snorts, smiling again, then drops his finished cigarette to the ground, crushing it out with the sole of his heavy boot. “At least with all their equipment and shit it makes them easy to spot.”

You gift him a smile and a small nod. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

“I’m heading back inside. Maybe I’ll see you later?” He quirks an eyebrow at his last comment.

“Yeah, maybe.” As he moves to open the door you add, ”Hey, thanks for the smoke!”

He turns back to you, his distractingly broad grin now fully on display, half-shouting back as he moves through the doorway into the bustling interior, “No problem, all you have to do is ask. I’ll see you later, Boots!”

You finish your smoke and get inside just in time to get to your seat, a tall stool opposite Robin around a high table, your back to the stage, as the band start up.

There’s a few complicated beats from the drums as the guy behind them warms up, and the bass and rhythm guitars thrum a few notes, garnering whistles and cheers from the crowd.

You wait for the cliché of the singer coming up to the mic and introducing the band, but what you actually hear is a low, self-assured, somewhat recognisable voice, that’s both commanding and sultry, that drawls, “You know who we are.”

Suddenly there’s a burst of impressive guitar work and drums, and the crowd erupts as the room is saturated with the opening chords to Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’.

You’re impressed, and intrigued. This isn’t the ‘dodgy 80’s covers schoolkid band’ you were expecting. These guys sound… accomplished.

You turn on your stool, and notice a subtly familiar form at the mic. Less bulky as he’s no longer wearing the leather jacket, a ripped band tee now showing off his pale arms and clavicles, and black ink that you can’t make out adorning solid biceps and veined forearms. Guitar in hand, confident, brash, cute. Chains dangling from a studded belt, silver rings glinting, hair flying as he flicks his head, commanding the stage, readying himself to sing the first lines…

Oh shit…

The band’s cover of ‘War Pigs’ is faster than the original, and they give it their own twist, making it heavier and grittier. After the (irritatingly brilliant) guitar solo Leather Jacket Band Guy even throws in a few lines from Deck The Halls, the audience going wild, and joining in enthusiastically when the ‘Oh Lord yeah’ is replaced with a ‘Fa-la-la’.

The rest of their set is a mix of covers and originals, all in a similar, heavy style, and as they finish to a rapturous throng you realise, flustered, that you couldn’t tear your eyes from the stage the whole time. Robin totally notices. You even let her get in a cheery, “Told ya so!”, as you reluctantly admit they weren’t completely terrible.

You spot the frontman (singer and guitarist, cue internal facepalm) jump down off the low stage, and you feel a little uneasy as you see him start heading in your direction.

You’re at peak embarrassment and can’t bear the thought of having to face him after what you said outside. You hadn’t even heard them play and you dissed the fuck out of them, him specifically. What makes it worse is that they were actually really good. The last thing you need is to have that thrown back in your face, in front of Robin, by their cocky lead guy.

Suddenly you want Spontaneous Human Combustion to be a real thing, turn you to ash so your only presence would be scuffed up on those heavy, unlaced combat boots, going unnoticed and carried out on everyone’s soles into the chilly night. But science and physics are apparently not willing to defy themselves for you this evening. Bastards.

Quickly, you get off your stool, mumbling something about needing the bathroom, and head off in a random direction, in your haste to escape not even asking where it is.

You chance a glance over one shoulder. Oh god, he’s heading straight for you…

As you stumble about in the crowd, you notice a free seat next to a guy at the bar. You hardly register that his coiffed hair and polo shirt don’t quite fit the vibe of the place, so desperate are you to build an alternative narrative that doesn’t involve the guy whose band you just dissed coming to talk to you. You’d said you were visiting a friend, he’s not to know it wasn’t a boyfriend, right? If he sees you with someone he’ll back off and leave you alone, right?? Surely he wouldn’t confront you with a potential Defending Your Honour™️ fight on the table. Right???

So, that’s the plan.

A really good, foolproof one? Um, no. But Band Guy is moving through the crowd, and you’ve gotta do something, fast.

You reach the bar.

“Hey, could you do me a favour real quick? A creepy guy’s been hitting on me, and I need to give him the message that I’m not interested. If I buy you a drink, will you act like you’re my boyfriend for, like, the next 30 seconds?”

He turns to you, and you notice his features. Golden skin, chiselled jaw, stunning hazel eyes, hair to rival the hottest supermodels’, a scattering of moles that look like constellations. Goddamn, he’s pretty. What is it with this bar? Is everyone inside it cute? Why have you never been to Hawkins before??

You give him a pleading look, and tentatively hold out one hand towards where his is resting on his thigh, hoping he’ll take it.

“Well, for a sweet thing like you, how could I say no to that tempting double offer?”

He smiles then, full and beaming, and you almost slip off your stool. A warm palm comes to cup over yours, and you manage to blurt out an order to the barman, saying, “Two of whatever he’s having.”

Just then, Band Guy reaches you. You do your best to swoon at Polo Shirt as your drinks get delivered, lifting yours and clinking it against his with a, “Hey, sweetheart, thanks for bringing me here”.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here with someone tonight.”

“Yeah, this is the friend I was telling you about. We’re spending the holidays together. Isn’t that right, sweets?”

Band Guy purses his lips, you hope in consternation, but it’s whatever, you just want him to leave you alone to stew in your mortification.

He backs up half a step, saying, “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Success!

Just as you think your devious plan has worked, Band Guy turns to Polo Shirt, slaps his open palm against his shoulder a couple of times, and saunters off, with a, “Nice to see you, Steve-o. Just checkin’ you're wanting a lift back in the van with the guys, like usual?”

Oh. Oh god. They know each other?!

He turns away, smirking back briefly in your direction to fling a casual, “I’ll see you around, Boots”, before continuing his path to the other end of the bar. You see him greet Flannel with a high five followed by a bro handshake, the latter making exaggerated air guitar movements and clearly congratulating him on a great performance.

If cringing caused bodily trauma you’d be in the ER by now, most likely on life support. What are the chances of embarrassing yourself all to hell in front of a cute guy you’ve only just met, twice in one night?

Also, wait, you totally didn’t just admit that you find him cute. Nope. No siree. Nah. Niet. Definitely not.

Stupid Robin convinced you to take this stupid job in the stupid mall and now you’re stuck here smiling this stupid smile at all the stupid local kids in this stupid elf costume.

Stupid striped tights, stupid short skirt, stupid tight green tunic, stupid fluffy collar.

And yeah, okay, stupid self-induced hangover from stupid drinks last night thanks to stupid Robin’s stupid friends. Actually, they were all really nice, especially ‘Steve-o’ and the barman, Jonathon, neither of whom mentioned your embarrassing faux pas with Band Guy, which makes them total heroes in your book. Plus, Band Guy mercifully gave you a wide berth for the rest of the night by doing Band Stuff™️, so that was a win too.

At least the dress code for this gig stated ‘black footwear’, so you could wear your own boots. You’d never admit it out loud, but you think the combination of the red and white striped tights with your chunky, alternative boots actually looks kinda cute. It’s just as well, because you’d packed light (you and Robin joking that so long as you had your ”Pills and panties” you were good to go), and hadn’t brought any alternatives.

You’ve been at this for a couple of days already, beaming artificially at the kids as you try to corral them into some semblance of an organised line, and handing out stickers and treat bags for the ones who’ve seen Santa, putting your best singsong voice on as you ask for what feels like the millionth time, “So, what did you ask Santa for?”, and, “Have you been good this year?”

Your face has begun to ache with the effort of all the smiling, although the cheery mall Santa (a big, friendly guy called John? Jack?) takes up most of the slack, with a voice deep and gravelly enough to control even the worst-behaved little shits. You hope his day job uses it, it would be a shame for a voice like that to go to waste. He should probably be in sports, or acting, or law enforcement or something.

You can’t deny the money is coming in handy though. It’s reliably supporting your holiday booze habit, and you’ve even treated yourself to a couple of Christmas treats, some silver skull jewellery from a surprisingly well-stocked accessory shop, and something more, um, personal from the ‘specialist interest’ shop you’d found hidden away at the back of the mall’s upper level. The nice lady who worked there, Karen, even kindly offered to drop off your purchase at your staff locker later today.

You’re on the later shift, so Santa’s already here, and as you make your way out to the grotto area (which is essentially just a few old stage props surrounded by a few giant polystyrene candy canes; you surmise this might be one of the first years they’ve done this) you’re greeted by a predictable, “Ho ho ho!”. But today it’s a different voice than usual. Still deep, still booming, but not the one you’re used to.

As you round the glittery candy cane on the corner, the deep baritone gives way to a much higher, cheekier pitch.

“Ho, ho- hoooooly shiiit, I’d recognise those boots anywhere!”

Oh no… It can’t be…

“Heeey, Boots! I didn’t know you’d be one of my little helpers today!”

Even behind the fake beard you can see the smugness spread across his face.

You stop in your tracks, hands coming up to your face in a vain attempt to shield your embarrassed self from the impending, and, you’ll admit, completely justified, teasing.

Realising you can’t hide from it, you huff out a breath and amble over to him. He looks way too comfortable sitting on that ornate throne, like he’s used to such a position, somehow…

As you move closer you see that even beneath the tacky acrylic costuming, he still looks cute (damn him). He’s foregone the white wig and opted to display his own locks, chestnut curls cascading over his shoulders, and the white faux fur of his hat and beard create a subtle frame around his eyes. You observe their colour properly for the first time, and even in the harsh fluorescent lights of the mall they look like swirling pools of liquid cacao, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything quite like them before. They’re fixed on you as you walk to him.

You plonk down on a fabric-covered hay bale next to the throne. There’s no line of kids waiting as yet, and you’re relieved you can get this next part done without too much of an audience. Deep breath, pull off the bandaid, or whatever that stupid phrase is.

“Listen, about last night. I’m really sorry. I not only stole your smokes but also dissed your band before I’d even heard you, and that wasn’t cool. And that thing with Steve at the bar? God, you must think I’m such a loser. And, I know you probably couldn’t give two pebbly shits about what I think right now, but you guys are actually really good.”

He turns to you, looking down his nose and through his lashes at you.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, sweets. I did kinda bait you into that first part. And at the bar? That was… creative. I actually thought it was pretty funny.” Smirking, nodding and turning his face to the front again, he continues, “And for the record, we do play other places, not just this so-not-Seattle town.”

You risk a glance at him. The Santa suit is obviously too big for him, the collar wide enough to show off his pale throat for a moment before he turns back to you and the comically-fluffy beard obscures it again. You can see the outline of his taut, muscular thighs under the loose faux velvet of his pants, and his boots (those boots) are worn just like they were last night, unlaced at the top, casually stylish, the red fabric pooling around the calf and ankle. And to finish it off, there’s what appears to be a large throw cushion stuffed down his front.

It turns out he’s covering for (Jim!) Hopper, who’s apparently the local police chief (nailed it) and has been called out to check on some weird occurrences at an old research facility on the other side of town.

Band Guy Santa continues, sarcastically, “Pfft. Providing the town of Hawkins with security and safety instead of performing the frankly, essential, public service of dicking about in a Santa suit. Inconsiderate, right?”

“Yeah, totally”, you giggle.

“The organisers heard from Hop that I was somewhat… theatrical, so they asked me to fill in.”

You remember how theatrical he looked whilst on stage, and you feel your throat heat up, hoping he won’t notice you subtly pulling at your collar with a finger, or see the perspiration appearing on your décolletage.

“So, you may wreak your revenge now, sweetheart. I’m not exactly in a position to defend my sartorial choices right now, am I?”, he says as he gestures to himself, sweeping a palm up and down his garb. “Gimme your worst.”

You’d feel pretty bad if you laid into him now, not only considering your own current garb but especially with what you’d said last night outside the bar. However, he is giving you an opportunity to even the score for his manipulation, and it would be a shame not to take it. You decide upon a combination of cheekiness and diplomacy. (And not flirty. Definitely not flirty.)

“I dunno, that beard covers most of your face, which obviously does you some favours. But don’t do yourself down, you look… good in red.”

He swallows as you stand to move away from him, and you hardly realise that you’ve rendered him speechless, as you joke, poking at the obvious cushion by his middle,

“Although, I’m totally not buying this padding, you know,”

Suddenly a party of schoolchildren appears from nowhere, and before they get between you and you get too far away to hear, he stammers out, “Uh, I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You half-yell your own name back, adding with a smile,

“It’s nice to meet you. Have fun today, Santa.”

It’s late afternoon and Santa Eddie is on his regulation break. You’re doing your best to herd the over-sugared, post-school crowd into some kind of order, when Mrs Santa (a lovely lady called Claudia) calls your name and says you can go on your break now too, if you want, and to please tell Santa that he needs to get back here and start doling out Christmas wishes.

You jump at the chance for even just a few minutes away from the diminutive hoards (though you could listen to Erica, one kid you do like, diss commercialism and the ethics of lying to kids en masse all afternoon), and make your way to the locker room.

Eddie’s still there, sitting on the central bench, beard pulled down under his chin, and he appears to be holding a package in his hands, though from the look on his face you don’t think it was one he was expecting. As you move closer and peer into the box, you spy the contents, and a bright red, glittery shape becomes visible.

Oh god, no. No-no-noooo…

It’s the order you placed from the shop at the back of the mall, but Karen’s obviously dropped it off next to the wrong locker - Eddie’s is number 69 and yours is 96.

It’s a dildo (of course it is). A Christmas-themed, flexible, long, thick, glittery, red dildo, with a gold lamé ribbon tied artfully around the base.

Eddie’s face is a picture of surprise as he turns to look up at you, eyes and mouth wide and eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. He’s holding the packaging, your name visible on the wrapping, nixing any hope you’d had of feigning innocence and pretending you knew nothing about it.

“Uh, I think this is yours. I’m so sorry. I-it was left by my locker and I opened it assuming it was for me, and then I saw your name on it, but by then it was too late…”

He sees you slump down into the bench a few feet away from him, face in your hands. You don’t know him well, but you decide to let him get whatever he wants to say out of his system rather than potentially make everything worse by trying to get him to shut the hell up.

His tone is mocking, but not exactly mean, as he continues,

“It’s a pretty one, really. Y’know, festive. I admire your choice of aesthetics and commitment to the season.

But you know, Boots, if you wanted to feel special inside this Christmas, all you had to do was ask.

Wait, do you also have an Easter-themed one? Is it a rabbit?”

He’s turned to face you now, far too pleased with himself for that final quip. Arrogant bastard.

The tears come in a wave, and you fold in on yourself, trying to hide your face even more. The heat in your cheeks feels about the same temperature as the colour of that fucking dildo.

“Hey, hey. I was only kidding.” He scootches closer to you on the bench. ”Look, there’s nothing wrong with it. Everyone deserves pleasure, it’s healthy. And I get it, Boots, it can be hard for girls to find a guy who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing. And, maybe you don’t even want or need a guy, you just want some special time by yourself, right?”

There’s a short pause, like he could be considering his next choice of words.

“And anyway, I actually think it’s kinda hot…”

This surprises you. You’ve never met any guy who didn’t take the presence of your toy collection as a personal insult.

You risk a glance in his direction, hoping your wet and stinging eyes don’t look as red as they feel. “You really think so?”

“Oh yeah”, he responds, crossing his legs as subtly as he can, shielding his lap. “The one you chose? It’s… sophisticated. The glitter gives it a real nice touch. And,” he drops his voice a little, continuing in an almost-whisper, “I’d love to see what you do with it.” He clears his throat and looks away, finding a convenient patch of plain wall to focus his gaze upon.

Confused, upset, and unable to fathom exactly what’s going on (is this just banter? Or is he flirting? Wait, does he like you??) you grab the box from him and move to stuff it in your locker. Trying to hide the crack in your voice, you call over your shoulder, “Claudia says your break’s over and to get your jolly ass back out there, pronto.”

Oh shit… shitshitSHIT…

Stupid collar, stupid faux fur, stupid cheap zips! Goddammit!

You’re at your locker - the one that should’ve secretly contained your special Xmas gift to yourself - trying to get out of your stupid elf costume, but the zip won’t budge. The top of it is enmeshed amongst the stupid faux fur of your collar, and your frustrated, unsighted and fumbling ministrations appear to be making it worse.

You need help. An empathic soul to come to your aid and diligently untangle you from this costuming hell. But there’s only one other person here, and, even though your last encounter ended better than it could have, he’s still the last person you want to see right now.

Why tonight? Of all nights? How could this happen on the one night where the literal only person left in the entire fucking building is him??

You can only assume you’re on the real Santa’s shit list. Were you really that naughty this year?

Your brain rewards you with a brief, but telling, synopsis of your year so far: smoking blunts behind the library with Robin during study breaks, skinny dipping in a freezing lake on a dare, all that tequila, that brief foray in the back of a Camaro with that guy (Bobby? Billy?). Okay, you were no saint, but this? Come on…

Dejectedly, you drop your chin to your chest and let out a frustrated huff.

Looking miserable, and literally dragging your heels, you shuffle back out to the grotto, steeling yourself for whatever mocking banter Eddie will subject you to this time.

He’s leisurely rearranging the grotto area, and fiddling with the fairy lights behind.

“Hey, Boots. What’re you still doing here?”

Still not looking up, and flicking your eyes everywhere but in his direction, you mumble,

“I, uh, I need your help.”

“What is it? C’mon, you can tell me. We’re quite intimately acquainted now, wouldn’t you say?“

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you want to slap it right off his face. Your response comes out in a rush.

“MyzipisstuckandIcan’tgetoutofthisfuckingcostume, okay?”

“Well, honestly, if you want me to undress you, all you have to do is ask…”

There’s annoyance in your voice as you spit out, “For fuck’s sake Eddie, are you gonna help me or not?”

“Of course, Boots, I’m just messin’ with ya.” His voice drops to an almost-rumble as he instructs, “Turn around for me, yeah?”

His voice is commanding, yet soft and velvety. Parts of your brain turn to marshmallow, and you consider that you’d do almost anything he asked, if he asked you like that.

You do as he requests, your back facing him. You tilt your head down slightly, allowing him better access to the top of the zip, inadvertently also exposing the back of your neck.

He exhales (is it a bit shaky?), and you feel the heat of his breath on your nape, the sensation raising goosebumps along your spine and worrying your legs a little. It’s all you can do to not drop to your knees right there and then. You let out a tiny gasp and try to cover it with a deep swallow.

Eddie works gently on the collar of your garment, fiddling with the fur and disentangling what he can. As he works you continue to feel his breath on your neck, and you wonder if he has any idea what it’s doing to you.

Seemingly satisfied he won’t make it any worse than it already is, Eddie grasps the tag with his fingertips and places the palm of his other hand on your shoulder blade, the heat of it radiating through you so intensely that you have to scrunch your eyes closed and try to ground yourself.

With a quiet, “You ready?”, Eddie begins to slowly lower the zip.

It dislodges under his delicate touch, and although the zip is now completely free-moving he continues to pull it downwards ever so slowly. You feel another frisson of excitement, and even though you could at this stage probably quite easily take over and get out of the garment yourself, you don’t move away.

As the opening reaches your shoulder blades, you feel something else. It’s featherlight, barely there, but you think you can feel the knuckle of one of Eddie’s bent fingers brushing the skin of your back as he pulls the zipper slowly downwards.

Part of you thinks you should be freaked, after all an almost-complete stranger is touching you without your consent, but somehow it doesn’t feel weird. It feels… nice. Safe. Right.

The lower the zip goes the more of Eddie’s breath you feel on your back, and as the sides separate the edges of the colourful tattoo on your shoulder blade become visible.

Eddie's breath stutters at the sight, and as his knuckle passes over your bra strap and connects again with your lower spine you abruptly shake yourself out of your reverie.

Clutching the front of your tunic to your body, you move quickly away from him, stumbling back towards the locker room and mumbling, “I’ll take it from here. Thanks Eddie, you’re a lifesaver.”

Plonking yourself down on the bench in front of your open locker, you take a few deep breaths, trying to centre yourself before you get changed and wondering how on earth you’re going to be able to face him again tomorrow, the (yes, you’ll admit it now) hottest Santa you’ve ever seen...

Back in your own clothes (black, wide-gauge fishnets, an old tee from a punk band that no longer exists, and a flared black skirt - much better) you’re about to scurry out with your head down when you hear muffled grunts and groans from the main floor. What on earth is going on out there?

You amble back out to the grotto area, trying to appear nonchalant and like this is your usual route out of the building.

You see Eddie’s combat boots sticking out from behind a pile of fake snowballs. They seem to be twitching.

You move closer until you can see his entire form. He’s lying on his back, immobile, completely tangled in fairy lights. You can’t help but start to giggle, not least because for the first time since meeting him it’s he who’s the one in a compromising position.

He’s struggling, likely making it worse, and he starts as he sees you, barking out, “Oh god, Boots, you scared me! Well, laugh it up, fuzzball, I guess it’s your turn to rag on me now.”

“What on earth happened? Are you hurt?”

“I said I’d help rearrange these lights, so I was up that ladder, moving them around, when the rung gave way. The lights were the only thing I could grab for when I span, fell, and, well, here we are!”

He gives you a broad but sarcastic grin, realising the absurdity of his predicament, trying to spread out his palms in a jazz hands kind of illustration but only managing to do it with one, the other trapped at his belt line by a string of dazzling pink lights.

“Um, you need a hand?”

“Uh, yes please.”

You take a moment to appraise the situation. You see the broken ladder, the tangled piles of lights, scuffed-up fake grass and unruly piles of snowballs.

As for Eddie, he seems unharmed, if a little bruised in the ego (and, perhaps, the elbows). He’s still wearing the Santa suit. Well, most of it. He still has on the hat for some reason, and the trousers, but he’s discarded the beard and jacket, presumably for reasons of temperature regulation or ease of movement, and his ‘belly’ cushion is nowhere to be seen.

And his top half? Well, his top half is now adorned only in a tight, white tank top.

You swallow as you take in his torso. He looked good on stage that night at the bar, but you never really got to see him this close up. Or this well lit.

His skin is almost as pale as the fake snow that litters the area, but there’s a creaminess to it that just makes him look, well, edible is the only word you can think of. Apart from ’lickable’. Yep, that would work too…

He’s solid, well defined, but he’s not stocky. You imagine that years of carrying amps and band equipment around has toned his muscles rather than bulked them.

And the tattoos… Oh. God.

You’ve always had a thing for people with alternative tastes, but this guy takes the cake. Swirling black ink in a variety of designs and styles covers his pecs and biceps, with smaller but no less elaborate designs adorning his forearms.

You notice a subtle glint under the colourful strings of lights that enwrap him, and spot that one of his nipples is pierced, the ring of metal just barely visible through the taut fabric.

Your eyes drift to his hands (those same hands that entranced you that first night), and although there’s no rings tonight (you guess ‘Badass Santa’ wasn’t the version on the mall’s wish list) his hands are no less attractive, still strong-looking and veiny, and you spot a number of small finger tats that you hadn’t been aware of before.

His position and the fact that he’s still struggling mean his abs are tensed, with his forearms are in front of him, making them, and his shoulders, really pop.

Jeezus.

Your thighs clench and you feel a heat bloom in your core.

He notices you staring, and for a moment seems to revel in it, but eventually breaks you out of your trance, asking, “You gonna help me get out of this, or what?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, um, lemme just…”

You decide to start at his feet, reasoning that’s where the tangles are the least bad, and at least if his feet are free he’ll be able to sit up.

That decision has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’d like to see him sitting, bound, tied up for you, naked…

Shit. Fuck. Concentrate…

Eventually you free him from the majority of his confines, your fingertips and the backs of your hands brushing his skin and the fabric of his clothes occasionally. As he’s able to sit up, his hair tickles you as you work, his scent invades you all over again, and the two of you share glances and timid little chuckles as you move around him, both aware that you’re closer than you’ve been before.

Eventually he’s completely freed, and as he stands and steps out of the final loop of lights he flops exhaustedly backwards into his golden throne, eyeing the pile of entangled lights and running a hand over his face, mumbling, “Shit, there’s no hope for them tonight. I’ll deal with it all in the morning.”

You stand to the side of the throne, wanting to check he’s ok, and in a bold move that you weren’t expecting he lifts one arm and takes the tips of your first two fingers in his, gently raising your hand in a silent instruction to come closer.

Mirroring your earlier comment, he says, “Thanks, Boots. You’re a real lifesaver”, adding, with a hand against his forehead, “I would’ve been here all night, could’ve starved to death. They'd've found my mummified remains in the morning.”

You find yourself stepping towards him, and with your free hand try to give his pec a playful slap, murmuring, “You’re so dramatic. No, wait, theatrical!”

The slap fails though, as he rapidly brings his other hand up to the back of yours, trapping your palm against his chest. You can feel the heat of his skin, the slight sheen of sweat just noticeable as your fingertips breach the low neckline of his top, the heavy thud of his heartbeat.

You don’t realise how close you’ve become, and you gasp as your knees touch the side of his. He gently grabs the hand that’s on his chest and pulls it to his side, and to stop yourself from toppling forwards you have to step around him, ending up standing astride his legs.

Your eyes lock, and something changes. For a long moment neither of you move, and you feel your breathing rate speed up.

Not breaking eye contact, Eddie slowly moves your arm up to his shoulder, and you find yourself climbing onto the throne with him, straddling his thighs.

He breaks out that low, rumbling voice again, as he murmurs,

“That’s it, Boots, come sit on Santa’s lap.”

As you lower down onto him, you feel the heat of his thighs through your thin tights, and then the contrast of the chill of your metal-coated heels against the backs of yours.

You also feel something bloom in the pit of your stomach. And further down. A warmth, heat, need.

Eddie moves one hand to hold the back of your waist, pulling you gently, moving you further up his lap towards him.

You feel the unmistakable bulge of his arousal between your thighs, and as he moves you closer you gasp as you feel it nudge your mound.

You look at each other for another long moment, aware that this is very new territory. His eyes flick between your eyes and your lips, as he asks, quietly, “Is- is this okay?”

It’s all too much and simultaneously not enough. You definitely weren’t expecting any of this, but at the same time you find yourself desperately nodding, needing more of him, of Eddie.

You answer by slowly rolling your hips lightly against him, your lips parting slightly.

The few layers of fabric between you aren’t enough to dull the sensation of his cock pushing against your centre, and you feel it gradually pressing between your folds, your growing slick making the movements easier.

Suddenly, his bulge nudges your sensitive bud.

You gasp again at the sensation, making Eddie exhale a long low, warm breath over your torso, before he speaks again.

“Boots, can I kiss you?”

You take a breath, considering how this could all go. You could walk away now (albeit with shaky legs and damp thighs) and leave any possible awkwardness or complicated entanglement in favour of a simple, uncomplicated holiday with your friend.

But then you look into his eyes again, as his hips gently buck and nudge you once more, and your decision is made.

Breathing out, you reply,

“Fuck yeah, Santa.”

Wearing a soft, sly smile, he gently brings one hand to the back of your head, bringing you to him as he moves forwards, chocolate eyes roaming your face, scanning your eyes and lips.

Noses bumping and lips millimetres apart, he pauses for a moment before closing the gap, pressing his soft, plush lips to yours. They feel divine, soft and velvety, and this close you can smell everything him now, with the subtle addition of something faintly minty.

You kiss him back, and then you both press forward harder, parting your lips at the same moment, the tips of your tongues touching and dancing before sliding past each other and deepening the kiss, your teeth bumping gently and hot breaths mingling.

It’s wet, hot and needy, your hands grasping his shoulders, and his arms pulling you closer to him.

The rolling of your hips gradually becomes stronger and more forceful, and he bucks harder up into you. You need more. Breaking the kiss for air, you take a couple of lungfuls, toying with the drawstring on his red pants before asking, bold and more than a little cheeky,

“How are you feeling? Still entangled? Do you need a hand getting out of these, too?”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m feeling very… entrapped, kinda claustrophobic. Might be in shock from such a traumatic experience. I might need to loosen my clothing a bit, y’know, for medical reasons.”

You give him a smirk, and untie the cords. Raising up on your knees slightly, you slide your thumbs hands into the waistband of those and his fitted, black boxers (fuck, is there anything about this guy that isn’t sexy?). He quickly takes the hint, lifting his hips off of the throne and allowing you to move his garments down to his thighs.

As you work his member gets caught on the elastic of his boxers, and as it releases from the fabric it springs back onto his abdomen with an audible slap. You can’t help but look, and you’re not disappointed. It’s pleasantly, but not overly, big, thick and veiny, curved slightly and with a large flared head. The tip is shiny and pinky-red, and as you stare it twitches away from his body and a tiny bead of precum leaks from the tip. You’re surprised, but also delighted, to spot a shining pair of steel balls decorating a frenum piercing, and that there’s a few pretty dot and line work tattoos near the base.

It’s beautiful. You want to tell him so, but he grabs you and pulls you in for another deep, passionate kiss, his length trapped between your bodies, hot and pulsing.

You melt into the kiss, tongues slipping and sliding, lips rubbing, noses smooshed against each other and enjoying it for as long as you can both do without air.

Needing another deep inhale, and also wanting to get your hands on his delightful cock, you sit up again, slipping one hand between you and grasping at his length. Eddie hisses, then moans,

“Oh, Boots, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You enjoy the feeling of him in your hand for a few moments, relishing the heat and hardness, before you position the palm of your hand behind his cock and push your centre towards him again, trapping his length between your hand and belly.

More thrusts of his hips moves him between you, your slightly adjusted position now pressing him firmly between your clothed folds, his cock dragging the fabric across your clit. You can’t help but let out a high whine, and you feel his cock twitch again.

“Too much fabric. Wanna feel you.”

His voice is gruff, desperate, wanting.

You lean back a little, resting one hand on the arm of the throne, keeping your other hand wrapped around his cock. You’re not sure you ever want to let it go.

His hands move from your ass to your thighs, running over them and squeezing. When he reaches the part exposed by your lifted skirt he growls, feeling the skin of your hips and belly through the mesh of your tights.

Suddenly, his chin dips and he gives you an almost evil grin. His eyes remain connected with yours as the tip of his tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth as he pushes some of his fingertips through the holes, grabs tightly and pulls.

You freeze as the sound of snapping fabric echoes around the grotto, cool air now gracing your belly and inner thighs. You gasp, not only at his actions but because you packed light and don’t have any other tights with you. But as Eddie’s thumbs trace up to the crease of your thighs, dangerously close to your heated core, all thoughts of packing and capsule wardrobes are erased. You want, no, need him to touch you.

With a smirk, you say, “Please touch me, Santa. I promise I’ve been such a good girl this year.”

His jaw goes slack and he looks at you in awe. You notice how black his eyes have become, the beautiful chocolate hues all but obscured.

He flicks his gaze to your core, black satin panties with lace edging fully on display. He runs one thumb pad up your very centre, feeling the smooth, silky fabric, your heat, the dampness that’s already apparent.

“Christ, baby, is this all for me?”

“All for you, Santa. I’m pretty sure you’ve been a bad boy this year, but you deserve a treat anyway.”

His eyes flick to yours again briefly, his lips curling into a lascivious smirk, before returning to the beautiful display between your legs. He hooks his thumb around one lace edge and, much more gently than he handled your tights, moves the soaked satin to one side.

With a tenderness and reverence that you’ve never experienced before, Eddie parts your folds with his thumb and runs it delicately from your wet lips all the way up to your clit. His eyes are fixed there, jaw slack, and you genuinely think he might drool.

As he connects with your sensitive bud you keen above him, eyes closing and head rolling back.

“That’s the spot, huh?”

You come back to look at him, and manage to breathe out, with a lilting giggle, “Fuck, yes.”

He moves his thumb in a small circle, and your mouth falls open in an O, your brows furrowing slightly.

“You want me to keep going, Boots? All you have to do is ask…”

You’re lost, gone, away in space, and you don’t have the capacity to chide him for his cheek. All you can manage is a breathy, “Please Eddie, please keep going.”

His thumb speeds up slightly and he gradually and gently increases the pressure, and you can feel the coil in your belly tightening already. Fuck, he’s good at this.

Your hand remains clamped around his dick, squeezing it occasionally, his hips rutting up into your fist at a leisurely pace as he watches you fall apart on his lap.

He moves his other hand from where it’s been resting on your hip, and, widening his thighs slightly to create space beneath you, brings the tips of his index and middle fingers to your hole. You’re sopping wet and swollen, lips almost sucking him in just from the slightest touch.

He looks to your face again as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You manage a rapid, shallow head nod and a, “M-hm”, and he slowly plunges two fingers into you, scissoring them and generating a low groan from you, which in turn causes a harsher snap from his hips.

“Jeezus, Boots, you make the most delicious sounds, wish I could record them, listen to them on a loop. Fucking hell.”

“Maybe you can, you’re a musician after a-all…”

That’s the last thing you can say for a while, the combination of Eddie’s smirk, his talented fingers pumping in and out of you, his glorious thumb movements, the feel of his cock in your hand and his hips bucking beneath you all conspire to bring you to your peak.

You grip the arm of the throne hard, nails denting the pile on the velvety fabric. Your eyes close and your vision goes black before becoming a thousand tiny fairy lights, a firework igniting in your core and spreading throughout your body in the most delicious waves as you spasm around Eddie’s fingers.

You don’t notice you’ve been groaning until your senses return, and you feel a slight roughness in your throat. Eddie continues his movements, though slower, and helps you ride out your aftershocks as you pant on his lap.

Only when you start to twitch in discomfort does he remove his thumb from your clit. He slowly pulls his fingers from inside you, and to your surprise brings them up to his lips, pushing them fully inside his mouth and sucking greedily, closing his eyes and humming at your taste. Popping them out with a wet smack, he says,

“My god, Boots. You taste better than sugar cookies and cotton candy combined.”

Your arms feel suddenly weak, and you flop forwards, forehead on Eddie’s collarbone. You feel his warm, broad palm on your back, rubbing gently, soothing you.

“Y’okay there, sweetheart?”

You manage a little squeak, and mumble a tiny, “Mmph, yeaaah…”, as he chuckles lightly.

After a few moments you sit up a little, gazing into Eddie’s blown chocolate eyes through an endorphin haze, and you notice your cheeks are tense, in what must be, given Eddie’s somewhat lovesick expression, a goofy smile.

You realise you’re still holding on to his dick, and give it an experimental squeeze, to test whether your muscles are responding to signals from your brain (yeah, that’s definitely the only reason…). Eddie’s hips buck up, and you sneak a look down to see more precum leaking from the tip. You gather some with your thumb, circling it gently over his slit.

Eddie inhales with a hiss. His strong arm around your back goes to pull you in for another kiss, as his other hand reaches up to the hat atop his head, pulling it off and discarding it amongst the tangled fairy lights.

You move towards him for a deep kiss, releasing the grip on his member and running your hands around his (surprisingly muscular and delicious) neck and into the hair at the base of his skull, tangling your fingers into the curls and tugging gently, earning you another moan.

Shifting your hips along his thighs, you press your soaking folds against Eddie’s turgid cock, and the combination of sensations causes Eddie to break the kiss and emit a loud, low groan. His arms tighten around your torso and he moves his warm mouth down your jaw and neck with wet kisses, then lightly bites the top of your shoulder.

You sigh, knowing what you want.

“You ever fuck an elf, Santa?”

Eddies still mouthing at your collarbone as he mutters into your warm skin,

“Goddammit, you’re incredible.”

You move backwards slightly and Eddie takes the opportunity to reach behind him, grabbing the back of his tank top and dragging it off, dropping it carelessly to the side of the throne to join the lights and his hat.

Fuck, his chest is glorious too.

Bringing a little of your lower lip between your teeth, you run your palms down his solid torso. You want the opportunity to play with that nipple ring and examine each and every one of his tattoos, but right now there are more pressing desires on your mind.

He lets out a shaky breath as you brush his abs with your fingertips, shift your position and line up his swollen head with your eagerly awaiting hole.

“You sure about this, Boots?”

You look up at him, at his blown dark eyes and pink, kiss-bitten, shiny lips, and quirk an eyebrow as you run your fingers into his hair and murmur, “Oh yeah, Eddie. I want you to make me feel… special inside.”

He gasps as you angle your hips and sink down, pushing the head of his cock inside of you, gradually taking his thick length.

He kisses your lips once more, humming, as you acclimatise to his girth, then grins lasciviously as he thrusts his hips upwards, filling you completely. You’re close enough that the moans you let out mingle together and your breaths become shared, eyes locked and mouths agape.

You roll your hips, sliding Eddie’s length in and out of you at a gentle pace. You can feel every ridge and vein as he enters and pulls out, and you’re sure you can feel his frenum piercing dragging against your walls.

You can tell he’s holding back, consciously stilling his own hips and allowing you to set the pace. But this doesn’t last long.

Voice gravelly and ragged with lust, Eddie mumbles,

“Shit, baby, I gotta move. I wanna fuck you so bad, Boots. You gonna let me fuck you?”

Mouth close to his ear, you breathe out a small, “Please”.

It’s all he needs.

Grabbing your ass and squeezing hard but not harshly, Eddie pulls you down onto him as he thrusts up from below. His pace is ruthless as he lifts and drops you, matching his rhythm as he grunts and mumbles incoherent curses. You can’t make out much, but you do hear,

“Fuck, baby, you feel so divine, taking me so well, Jeezus Christ.”

Fuck, he feels amazing.

You remember his cock tattoos, and imagine how they might look, shiny and covered with your slick, disappearing in and out of your glossy lips.

This image, combined with a particularly hard snap of Eddie’s hips causing him to angle slightly differently and start to nudge that special place inside of you, causes you to let out a loud gasp, and your mouth drops open as you try to form a sentence.

“Oh fuck Eddie, I’m- I’m…”

“You gonna cum all over Santa, pretty girl?”

He continues thrusting at that delicious angle and you feel your legs start to tremble.

“Fuck! Y-yes, ye-ess!”

Heat building in your core, you just about hear Eddie mumbling,

“Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, I’m not gonna last much longer. Where do you want…?”

Before he can even finish you’re blurting out,

“Inside me Eddie, please.”

You bounce on Eddie’s lap as his thrusts become deeper, faster, and then harsher and less rhythmic. You grind down onto his pelvis, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone and his thick, dark pubic hair, as his cock continues to bully your most sensitive spot.

Suddenly your muscles tense, thighs clamping around him, your forehead pressing hard into his, as his hips slam up into you. You let out a low whine as you peak again, vision blackening, all your muscles tensing as your walls clench around him.

Eddie follows almost immediately, thrusting harshly upwards and pulling your hips down onto him, and you feel rushes of warmth as he groans and empties himself inside your fluttering cunt.

There’s quiet for a moment, and all you can hear is your panting breaths and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, foreheads feasting against each other, heartbeats slowing and breathing becoming more regular.

Breathlessly, and without full clarity, you sit up slightly and mumble “Fuck, Eddie, that was…”

Eddie chews a little on the inside of his lower lip, and with the widest, sexiest smile you’ve ever seen, replies softly,

“Merry Christmas, Boots.”

After a few moments spent pecking kisses on various parts of your face, making you giggle, Eddie eventually helps you to lift off his slowly softening cock. He leans over to retrieve his discarded tank top and uses it to help clean the mess you both made between your legs.

You unpeel yourselves from the golden throne, feeling sure the heels of your boots have left marks in your ass, and he aids your passage back to the locker room on wobbly legs, helping you wash and making sure you’re ok.

As you gather your things he changes into his street clothes. They’re not dissimilar to last night, though he’s foregone the chain belt and has chosen a somewhat more fully intact shirt, and he watches you as he slings on his leather jacket.

Almost ready, you look down forlornly at your gaping tights, the hole barely covered by the hem of your skirt. Eddie chuckles, and tries to lighten your hosiery-related mood.

“Perhaps I could buy you a new pair? Maybe at lunch tomorrow we could go visit your favourite shop, and you could pick out something nice?”

The image of Santa and one of his elves nonchalantly browsing the displays in a sex shop amuses you greatly, and you tell him so, but he insists he would totally do it, if you wanted to.

There’s a pause as you retrieve your coat and go to put it on, and as you do he adds,

“Well, I’d call it a Christmas gift, but… I’d actually prefer to get you something a little nicer. If you’re around. And you’d let me, of course.”

You’re surprised by Eddie’s unexpected tenderness, and the implication that he might want to continue… whateverthisis. You don’t want to presume anything, but there’s certainly a little tingle in your belly at the thought.

You reply, sardonically, “Sure, I guess. So long as it’s not red and glittery, I think I've had enough things like that to last me for a little while.”

You both snort-laugh at this.

As you start to walk together to the staff exit at the back of the mall, Eddie offers to take your bag so you can fasten your coat and put on your hat and gloves.

Trying to sound casual, he asks, “Sooo, how’re you gettin’ back to Robin’s?”

“I was gonna take the bus, like usual.”

Eddie looks at you sideways, slightly bashful.

“Could I, maybe, give you a ride? We can stop at Benny’s on the way, if you’re hungry. It's a diner”, he clarifies, remembering that you’re not from around here.

Your tummy flips, and not just from the thought of a milkshake and fries.

“Yeah, sure, I’d like that.”

Eddie smiles that wide smile again, and you see his cheeks turn a little pink. It’s odd, him being all shy and self-conscious after what you two have just done, but somehow it’s also incredibly endearing.

As he walks you through the parking lot, still carrying your bag and toying with a stray piece of tinsel that he found in his pocket, he says,

“Y’know, I’d still really like to see what you do with that Christmas dildo.”

Thinking back to how he looked all tangled up, you smirk back at him as you think of how you’d quite like a redo of him tied up for you.

As you reach his van, you lean against the passenger door and coyly look at him.

“Well, maybe I could show you. Could we, maybe, do something after work tomorrow?”

With the sweetest dimpled smile you think you’ve ever seen, Eddie cocks his head to one side and lifts a hand to run the tip of one forefinger along your jawline, as he replies in that low rumble,

“Oh, Boots, you should know by now. All you have to do is ask.”

🎄You may not yet be completely sold on the whole idea of The Holidays™️, but you’ll have to admit to Robin that this might well be the start of your Best. Christmas. Ever.🎄

Thanks so much for reading! ILY 🥰

Please support your content creators by not only liking but also commenting and reblogging - it’s so important. If you liked this there’s a good chance others will too, and comments and reblogs are the only way posts get seen. Consider it a Christmas gift to your writers and followers 😍🎅🏼 Thank you, and Happy Holidays, however you celebrate!

Resources: Proof that Deck The Halls can be sung to the tune of War Pigs (and vice versa), plus the ‘Fa la la’ 😊🎄

#prompt party #Santa!eddie munson #come sit on Santa’s lap #festive fic #promptparty #festive smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #5+1 #5+1 fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #Christmas fiction #best christmas ever #Eddie munson fan fiction #Eddie munson fanfic #Christmas smut #rockstar!eddie #strangers to lovers #steve harrington #robin buckley #S.A.N.T.A. BABY #boots #joseph quinn

[thetriumphantpanda]

❛ i can’t get enough of you. ❜ for Javi por favor 🫶🏼

GIRL AMEN TO THIS - Thank you for the prompt - I don't think I've ever written anything so quickly in my life....

Pairing | Javier Pena x F!Reader

Word Count | 432

Pure smut below the cut - if you want to request another prompt I genuinely love doing these so check this post and pop into my ask if you want!

The sun hitting your face through the curtains you hadn’t quite closed enough the night before was what woke you. It was Javi’s hands running up your thigh that had you awake though. You let out a soft sigh as you pushed your back closer into the front of his body, reveling in the feeling of his bare skin touching yours. 

“What time is it?” You spoke softly, sleep still heavy on your voice. 

“Doesn’t matter, hermosa,” Javi whispered into your ear, “I’ve got all the time in the world for you.” 

He trailed his hand up the length of your body, lightly tracing a path with his fingers all the way from your hip to the swell of your breast. He pressed light kisses to your neck as his palmed your breast, chuckling to himself as a breathy moan slipped from your lips as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. 

You felt the telltale warmth spread through your tummy at his touch. Despite having you twice before letting you sleep and waking up once to make you cum on his tongue in the moonlight, he wanted you again and in your mind there was nothing better than being wanted by Javier Pena, even if there was a distinct soreness between your thighs as you rubbed them together for friction. 

“Eres insaciable, Javi.” You choked out in your accented Spanish. 

His hand left it’s place at your breast and you were almost about to complain when you felt his hand on your pussy. He dipped his fingers through your folds, breathing into your ear at how wet you were already. 

“Hermosa,” He growled, using his fingers to drag your slick to circle your clit, “Already so wet for me.” 

“Always wet for you Javi.” You pant as his finger runs tight circles over your clit. 

You could feel his cock pressing against the small of your back as you leant into his touch and let out moans you knew he loved. You reached a hand behind you, taking hold of him, marveling at the fact that his fingers didn’t falter once as you started jerking him off in time to the movements of his fingers on your clit. 

“I want you inside of me Javi.” You demanded, lifting your leg to rest your foot on the part of his leg you could reach, opening yourself right up to him. 

“Who am I to deny you, hermosa?” He growled, swatting your hand away from his cock, guiding it to y our pussy and pushing inside slowly, “I can’t get enough of you.” 

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