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cherryredstars · 4 months

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Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Oral Sex, Indirectly Mentioned Age Gap, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Mentions of Male Masturbation

Summary: An unwelcome guest arrives.

A/N: They’re back at it!!!

Word Count: 2.9K (Not Edited)

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

He can hear you. Both of you.

There are two pairs of footsteps walking past his door. The lighter, softer ones are recognizable. The heavier ones are not. His eyes narrow at the noise, quickly lowering the volume of the TV. He can hear the rustling of keys overlapping with the sound of muffled talking. Your laugh cuts through the noise, and his head whips to his own door. He’s quick to get up, making his way to the door. He waits a few moments before opening it, casually looking to the left as he steps out.

You’re standing at your front door, just opening it when you turn to him. Your doe eyes blink at him, a smile on your face and a slight blush. It’s the first time you two have seen each other properly since the incident two and a half weeks ago. He takes the time to drink in the sight of you. You’re wearing a bubble jacket and a pair of jeans. On your head is a beanie with a logo in the front, causing your hair to stick to your face. Over your shoulder is the bookbag you use sometimes when the weather isn’t ideal for your usual tote bag. It’s a refreshing sight. Better than the dream versions that visit him in his sleep.

The sight quickly sours when his eyes register the boy behind you. He’s young, around your age. A classmate perhaps. He’s tall, but nowhere as tall as Miguel. He’s lanky, all long, thin limbs. Probably doesn't know the difference between barbells and dumbbells. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweats and a black sweater with a coat overtop. He has thick hair, styled to look ‘naturally’ messy. It looks like he got electrocuted. Three times in a row. By lightning. He has his own book bag thrown over his shoulder, and his smile slowly disappears when he looks at Miguel. He steps a little closer to you, a few inches separating his front from your back. The scene looks far too intimate for his liking. He would be considered ‘cute’ or ‘hot’ in a dorky way to any teenage girl.

The two size each other up. There's no competition.

“Hi, Miguel!”

Your face makes both of them turn away, looking down at you. You’re smiling wide at Miguel, and he feels way too prideful when you step towards him. He can’t resist the smug look he throws at the boy behind you. His arm reaches out, his fingers grabbing at one of the front pieces of your hair. From over your shoulder he can see the fetus glare at the possessive touch.

“Hi, mi nena. Who’s this you brought with you, hm?”

His voice is low, intimate in the fact that his words are softened for you. You seem to melt into the tone, your body self-consciously leaning in as you blink up at him. For a second you seem slightly confused, turning around to see the boy. It’s like you forgot he was even there. The boy loses his glare, giving you a small smile. You turn back to Miguel quickly, a slight flush on your cheeks. The attention you give him, even in front of your…guest, makes his heart sing and his cock stir. He’ll have to reward you for it later, when the time is right.

“Oh! He’s just my classmate, we have to work together on a project.”

Miguel smiles at that. He’s just a classmate. He’s not even considered a friend to you. It’s cute, the way you try to reassure him that nothing is happening between the two of you. But, that doesn’t nullify the fact that your classmate obviously wants to be something more than your project partner. Miguel trusts you completely. What he doesn’t trust is a young, horny boy near you. But he does have to admit, the dejected look on his face when you refer to him as only a classmate pleases something ugly inside of him.

Miguel’s finger rubs against your cheek before he lets your hair go, his eyes following the way your body shivers slightly at the contact. You stay leaned towards him, and Miguel has to resist the urge to coo down at you. Instead, he reaches both of his hands down towards your waist. Your body seems to melt into his touch, your eyes going dopey as his warmth seeps through the thick denim of your pants. If the two of you didn’t have a guest present and weren’t out in the hall, he would kiss you. Or eat you out against the wall. Whichever one crossed his mind first. He would have enough time for both if you let him indulge. But, again, he would have to save that for another time. Right now, he has to- very reluctantly- return you to your party.

His arms are quick around your waist as he turns you around, your body stumbling slightly from the speed. You seem confused as you’re now faced with your company, turning your head back to Miguel. You have a slight pout on your face, disappointment spreading as he pushes you forward slightly. You look like you’re about to protest, and as much as he’d love to have you begging for his attention, you have other matters to attend to. Miguel leans down, his breath warming your neck. He can’t resist taking a whiff of your dizzying smell, letting it invade his lungs and travel to his cock for safe keeping. He’ll make use of it later.

“Go do your work, mami. I’ll see you later, hm?” He whispers, eyes hungirly taking in the way your lips part and blush spreads across your face. You turn your face to him, a few centimeters separating the two of you. Your eyes hastily fall to his lips before meeting his eyes, muttering out a breathless ‘okay’.

Miguel smirks, opening his mouth to say something else when a rough cough breaks the moment. Both you and Miguel turn your heads, looking at the boy who seems slightly uncomfortable. He eyes the lack of space between the two of you, eyes dropping to where Miguel still grabs your waist. Good, at least now he knows who you belong to. Miguel slowly removes himself from you, and you give an apologetic smile to your guest. You begin to walk towards him, and Miguel lets you walk a step or two away before grabbing your wrist and pulling you back to him.

You bump into his chest with a soft noise, wide eyes looking up at him. Both of your arms are trapped between your body and his, and your breath stutters when he leans down. Miguel keeps his eyes trained to the boy behind you, loving the sour look on his face.

“I don’t want to hear any funny business. This will not be one of those types of ‘study sessions’, you understand?” Miguel says slowly into your ear, possessiveness seeping in with each word. You open your mouth to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat as you feel something hard pressing against your thigh. Miguel squeezes your wrist, pulling your attention back to where it should be, “Do I make myself clear, chica?”

The airy ‘yes, Miguel’ you practically whimper out will satisfy him for now. He whispers back a ‘sé buena’, letting you go and pulling away. Miguel keeps his eyes on your little frat boy for a few more seconds before he looks down at you. His hand falls to your chest, pushing you back slightly as he turns towards his apartment. You still have this dazed look on your face, and Miguel commits it to memory. Slowly, you turn around looking at your classmate briefly before walking into your apartment. He takes a second to follow you in, instead looking at Miguel with a tightened hold on his bookbag. You call out his name, and he disappears behind your closed door. Miguel scowls at the door before he slips into his own home, leaning against the door.

His eyes trail down his body to the hard on bulging through his pants. His hands slip through his waistband, palm connecting to the precum beading at his tip. He grits his teeth as he begins to tug at himself, the smell of shampoo and a dazed face running through his head.

___________________________________

He sits up on the couch when he hears your door open and close. He stays silent, picking up the sound of a singular pair of footsteps walking away until they’re gone. Miguel waits a few moments before getting up, running a hand through his hair as he makes his way to the door. He doesn’t bother to lock it behind him when he closes it, instead focusing on getting inside of your apartment. He stands in front of it, lifting a hand to knock before stuffing both of his hands into his pocket. He can hear you walking towards the door, and his cock stirs knowing you're all his now. He hears the lock click and a second later you open the door with a confused look on your face. Your expression falls away, mouth parting slightly at the sight of him. He smirks down at you, not needing an invitation before he walks in.

He lazily looks around, eyes narrowing on the heater panel on the wall. He fucking hates that heater. He turns back to you just as you lock the door and turn to face him. There is a sort of electricity running through the air, and Miguel’s eyes slide down your form half-mast. You’re still wearing your jeans, but now he can see the long sleeve shirt you were wearing under your coat. It isn’t skin tight, but he can still see the outline of your breasts in it. He can feel his cock twitch in his pants as he focuses on the slight swell, but his eyes come back to your face. You look bashful, obviously catching him eye fucking you. Miguel doesn’t feel an ounce of shame, walking up to you slowly. You back up against the door, back hitting the wood. He doesn’t stop advancing until his chest is mere centimeters away from yours. With his close proximity, you’re forced to look up at him, wide eyes blinking cutely up at him.

It makes his eyes darken, and his hand comes to your face and strokes just under your eye.

“How was your little study date?” He asks, a dark smile on his face.

Your lashes flutter rapidly, lips parting, “It wasn’t a-”

Your words die off as Miguel’s other hand presses against your pants. His fingers expertly undo the button, and soft unzipping comes after. You try to look down, but Miguel’s hand around your face grabs your chin and keeps you looking up at him. Your chest brushes against him with every breath you take. Your eyes are glazed over, and that dazed look paints your face again. Miguel’s thumb plays with your bottom lip, his smirk dropping slightly.

“I asked you a question. Are you gonna answer it?”

“I-” you stutter out, thighs pressing together. You can feel a wetness filling your panties and your cheeks flush. “It wasn’t a date.”

Your voice is soft as you confess it, and Miguel finally coos at you. His smile comes back, still condescending. He hums in thought, hands falling to your hips. Slowly, he begins to descend to the floor, “Yeah? Why don’t you tell me about what you did and I’ll decide for myself.”

You stutter out another response as you watch him, thighs almost crossing over the other to relieve the ache in between them. His thumbs stroke just under the waistband of your jeans, his fingers hooking into the belt loops as he begins to drag the denim down your legs. Your mouth parts as he looks up at you, but no words escape. He shakes his head with a chuckle, parting your thighs once your pants pool at your feet. He leans forward, and you yelp as he presses his nose against your panties. Your hands fly to his hair, whimpering out as he groans. He can feel your damp arousal through your soaked panties, and the smell of it is intoxicating. He can’t resist the urge to lick at it through the fabric.

“Miguel!” You gasp out, eyes wide as you look down at him. His pupils are blown wide as he moves your panties to the side, coming face to face with your naked cunt.

Your clit pokes out to greet him, and there is a soft glistening around your folds. All for him. He curses at the sight, his tongue lapping at the small bud. It causes you to shriek, hands tightening in his hair. Miguel smirks at the noise, pulling away from your addictive pussy for a few minutes.

“I don’t hear much talking from you, nena.”

You choke on your breath as he licks at you again, lips falling open. Your sentences are stuttering, incomplete babbles, mind getting lost in the pleasure he’s giving you. You’re saying something about researching and some dead poet, but Miguel doesn’t really care. Your head leans back against the door as he slurps at you, his tongue flicking against your swollen bud and teasing your folds. You cry out his name again when his tongue pokes at your entrance, catching the arousal that dribbles out. His hand comes to the back of your thigh, lifting it over his shoulder as he sucks on you. You let out a loud moan as his tongue slides inside of you.

The groan he lets out vibrates against your whole body, and he gets drunk on the taste of you. His tongue explores your wet walls, moaning whenever they contract around the slippery muscle. He can feel the arousal on his face, and he tries to bury himself deeper into your cunt. You can’t help the high-pitched noise that leaves your mouth as his nose bumps repeatedly against your clit, stimulating you to the point that your legs feel like jelly. You can feel your leg buckle from under you, and the only thing keeping you up is Miguel’s head pressing your lower body against the door.

Your hips buck into his face as he switches between tongue-fucking your hole and sucking on your clit. Your pussy pulses against his mouth, and you can’t help the grinding you do as you use your hold on his hair to move his face against you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he lets you guide him, his groans vibrating against you. Some whines and whimpers leave your mouth, a hot ball forming in your stomach.

“Miguel, I’m… please,” You cry out, making Miguel chuckle against you.

His movements speed up, tongue lavishing you like a man starved. His eyes are hazy as they look up at you, watching your twisted face. Your mouth falls open, hiccuped noises leaving you until your entire body tenses. You cry out loudly, head pressing deeper into the wood of your door as you release. Miguel moans against you, eyes closing as he greedily laps at you for a taste of your sweet cum. Your chest heaves like crazy, and your lower body jolts from the overstimulation his tongue is giving you. Your hands weakly try to push his head away, and he whines disapprovingly against you before he submits to your silent order.

Your face flushes as you look down at him, his chin glistening with spit and your arousal. You feel yourself pulse when he licks his lips, collecting the remaining juices there with a moan. Your body goes slack against the door, and Miguel gently eases your leg off his shoulder. Your hands fall to his shoulders, using him as a way to keep you up as his hand places your panties back into their place. The wetness still coating your underwear is slightly uncomfortable, but you quickly forget it when Miguel comes face to face with you again. His face is still shiny, but that hunger in his eyes seems satisfied for now.

“Don’t think I like that boy around you,” He comments, eyes scanning your face. Your body jolts when his thumb presses into your clit, making you gasp. “And don’t think for a second he can make you feel the way I just did.”

You’re left speechless again, only capable of staring up at him and nodding numbly. He leans down and kisses you quickly, a thin coat of the sticky remains of your own arousal coating your lips as he pulls away. He moves you slightly, your body pressing against his chest as he opens your apartment door. He’s quick to turn the two of you around, not wanting anyone to see you in your underwear and post-orgasm daze. His mouth falls to the top of your head, planting a kiss to your hair. He pulls away from you as he goes out in the hall, leaving you standing inside your apartment.

“Don’t bring anymore boys home, cariño” He calls out teasingly, that smirk still on his face as he closes the door behind him.

You blink at your door, confused on how he left so casually. You look down at your jeans on the floor, slowly picking them up and holding them to your chest.

Why does he always leave?

Pt. 5

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lovebugism · 5 months

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Okay, for your Blurbcember what about "Don't you think gingerbread houses with gingerbread men are kinda morbid? I mean, it's a house made out of flesh?" with Steve? And reader just pauses, bag of icing in hand while the gingerbread roof slowly slips off and stares at Steve like boy, I love you but what tf is in your eggnog?

you might be genius for this one, anon. hope u like it!! — you, the grump of the group, try hopelessly to decorate a gingerbread house with your perfectly ditzy bf (grump!reader, established relationship, fluff, 0.8k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“We can’t decorate this if you keep eating all the candy. You know that, right?” Your voice comes in a concentrated, half-annoyed monotone. You’d be grumpier about it if you weren’t so focused. Now, you’re more worried about piping even shingles on the gingerbread roof than your boyfriend eating all of your supplies.

Steve stops chewing with a cheekful of something sugary. “Sorry,” he apologizes, mostly muffled.

You lay the piping bag on the tabletop and flash a deadpanned glance to the boy beside you. With his hair grown out and pushed over his head, chiseled jaw scruffy and unshaven, and ugly Christmas sweater pushed up to his elbows — you think he’s the coziest he’s ever looked. Far too pretty to be mad at.

“Can you hand me the gumdrops?”

He nods enthusiastically, happy to finally help in some way. He reaches to his left for the plastic bag of vividly colored candies. The bag is lighter than he expected, and much much emptier. It shouldn’t surprise him. He’s the one that ate them all.

“Sorry…” he repeats as he passes the bag to you. He gives you a crooked smile in return, an enthusiastic glimmer in the honey of his eye. “It looks really pretty so far, though!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” you murmur.

Dustin told you that this was usually a team effort, a friendly competition between the whole group, but your fingers are the only ones cramping now. You delicately stick each gumdrop into place and try to ignore how tense your wrist has gotten. You figure the Henderson boy must be much of the same in the living room — he’s too much of a perfectionist for anything else.

“You’re the one that told me to stop helping!”

“‘Cause you almost broke the ceiling off, remember?”

“You underestimate my strength, sweetheart,” Steve argues, only half-joking. He leans his elbow on the table and props his scruffy chin on a balled-up fist. “My strong hands can crack that gingerbread, no problem.”

“Yeah. Okay,” you scoff.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, okay? We just have to make it better than Dustin’s, because I do not want to spend another year with that little shit bragging about making the best house.”

Dustin Henderson is a little super genius, and Nancy, Robin, and Will are the judges this year. The odds of beating everyone’s favorite smartmouth aren’t exactly in your favor. You’re not the most creative person either, but you are pretty competitive. To a fault, some might say.

Honestly, the only reason you took this gig was because you wanted to spend more time with Steve.

He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Well, you didn’t have me a year ago, did you?” you quip, eyes still trained on the creation before you.

Steve grins so wide that it’s audible in his sickly sweet tone. “No. I didn’t. I got real lucky this go around, didn’t I?”

His smile grows when your face screws up in annoyance. “You’re disgusting…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hand me the candy canes,” you tell them. And then, because you’re trying to be nicer — “Please.”

With his lips quirked in a lopsided smile, he hands you the plastic bag. You stick a couple of the mini sticks into the makeshift yard, then break the ends off to use as windowsills. You put two of them together in a heart shape and stick them to the front of your house, just below the roof.

Steve’s chest swells with warmth. “Aw, that’s cute. You big softie.”

“Shut up…” you grumble.

“It’s a compliment,” the boy laughs, a sunshine sound that turns the kitchen golden. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. The bottom of his sweater lifts slightly, flashing a sliver of his stomach. “It’s real nice, you know, for a gingerbread house and everything.”

You squint at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I mean— don’t you think gingerbread houses are kinda morbid? Like… It’s a house. Made out of their flesh.” He explains it all like it’s obvious, like it’s a thought he’s had a million times before. He scoffs out a laugh, amused by your visible confusion. “It’s kinda weird when you think about it.”

At a loss for words, you blink at the boy beside you. You don’t think you’ve ever been more dumbfounded — more in love with anybody else in the whole entire world.

Steve is so much different than you are. You’re sometimes too serious, easily annoyed, and a little bit gauche. And Steve is… like walking into the sun. He’s like walking into the sun for the very first time after a terribly long winter.

“What?” he says, chuckling at the silence. The plastic on the table crinkles audibly when he reaches for another gumdrop. He chucks three into his mouth at once, then remembers he isn’t supposed to be eating them at all. “Oh, shit— sorry, babe.”

“Did you spike the eggnog?” you blurt.

“No,” he scoffs, trying to get the candy out of the back of his teeth with his tongue.

You shake your head with a distant smile and try hopelessly to hide it from him. “You’re crazy,” you murmur under your breath.

Steve grins, lopsided and rosy, and with grains of sugar stuck to the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. For you.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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putellasawfc · 6 months

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gingerbread competition!

leah williamson x reader

christmas music sounded from the bluetooth speaker that had been set up across the room, the familiar jingle of all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey filling the apartment you shared with your girlfriend of four years with a contagious level of christmas joy. the days had finally began to get chillier, the nights getting darker earlier and that’s all it took for you to get into the christmas spirit, which is why you had a variety of seasonal based activities ready for leah and yourself to partake in during the three day weekend you both had.

originally, you had really planned for tonight to be the night that you unpacked all the christmas decorations that you had stored in the loft and begin decorating your house. but after a long day of filming for different youtube videos and tiktok’s with the other arsenal girls, neither of you could be bothered with lugging down the boxes and bin bags that were filled to the brim with tinsel, baubles, stockings and lights. so instead, you went with the second best option. decorating a gingerbread house instead!

leah had been very scrooge about it at first, whining and wittering on about how there’s no point because it never stays up, even calling the whole thing a scam at one point but you had just tutted, claiming she just didn’t know how to build them properly.

“i do know how to build them! they’re just all flimsy, stay up for about five seconds and that’s it!” she defended herself, her brows furrowed in frustration as you stifled a laugh at how much offence she had taken to your previous statement.

“alright, alright. i believe you.” you teased, continuing to empty the gingerbread house kits you had picked up the day before. “i bet i can make mine look better than yours though.”

you knew the leah williamson could never back down from a challenge, her competitive streak was too high.

she scoffed, leaning forward with her elbows on the wooden table. “yeah right. sorry baby, but you have no chance.”

“well i actually have full confidence in my gingerbread house decorating abilities, so.” you said, dragging out the ‘o’ as you spread the different icings and sprinkles amongst the table, between the two of you. “why don’t we put a bet on it?”

“what kind of bet?” she eyed you, and you thought about it for a moment.

“whoever wins gets to choose an ugly christmas sweater that the loser has to wear to the next event we go to?” you suggested, that being the first thing that came to mind.

the blonde thought about it for a second, her gaze falling to the items on the table before she pursed her lips and slowly nodded, her blue eyes finding you again as she held out a hand in your direction.

“you have a deal.”

you grinned, wrapping your hand around her own and giving her a firm handshake. “may the best woman win.”

now, here you were almost twenty minutes later trying your best to apply the white icing onto the roof of your house that had miraculously managed to stay up for longer than fourty-five seconds, after you had generously coated the sides in too much icing. you would never admit it out loud, but leah was definitely right about the whole thing being flimsy. you had almost given up at one point in frustration after the house caved in on itself a sixth time.

“maybe we should’ve decorated cupcakes instead.” you mumbled, licking off some of the icing that had smudged on your thumb.

“i hate to say i told you so .. but.” the lioness captain huffed, “i definitely told you so.”

“when have you ever not enjoyed saying that?” you shot back, taking a quick glance towards her own house that had yet to be built, the woman deciding it would be better to decorate the pieces first and then stick them together after.

“i have my moments.”

you shook your head in amusement, finally satisfied with the amount of white, red and green icing that coated the house to mimic snow and tinsel. you moved to pick up a small bag of sprinkles that had already been opened by leah earlier, looking into the bag with furrowed brows.

“could’ve saved some for me babe.” you frowned, not even a quarter of the bag was full anymore.

“oops, my bad.” her tone was anything but apologetic, an amused smirk sat on her face and you elbowed her gently.

“you sabotaged me? that’s a yellow card!”

“i didn’t sabotage you! i just had to make my house look good, you wouldn’t understand.” she sent a playful look of concern to your creation and you gasped in mock offence.

“you’re so mean! my little house looks great.” you pouted, “would’ve looked even better if someone hadn’t used all sprinkles but … it’s okay i can still win without them.”

she scoffed at that, before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, aside from the speaker that was still blasting out more christmas tunes as the night went on. you made do with the sprinkles you had left, carefully sticking them to the icing around your house, focusing on the outside of your roof to make it look like colourful christmas lights had been put up. you moved onto picking up different sweets, dotting them around the house wherever you thought looks best, just adding the finishing touches when a groan to the left of you caught your attention.

you raised a brow and looked over, not being able to help the smile that rose when you saw how much leah was struggling with putting the pieces together. she’d managed to get two to stick together, but then the other side would fall down, and then when she’d attempted to stick that side back together, another side would fall down, tangling her in a never ending cycle that was clearly annoying her with the way her brows touched and her jaw tensed.

“looks like your little sabotage was for nothing.” you chirped, revelling in the way it only made her more frustrated.

“shut up.”

you laughed, finally finishing the house before pushing it away slowly, relieved the whole ordeal was finally over. “ahhh, now i get to sit back and watch you struggle.”

“i’m breaking up with you.” she muttered under her breath, intense gaze not moving from her house.

“you’re not allowed.” you swiftly replied, leaning in closer to get a better look at the mess she was making. “maybe if you ask nicely, i could give you a hand.”

she didn’t reply at first, still attempting to finish the task herself, but when almost three minutes went by and she wasn’t getting any closer to completing it, she stomped her foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum and turned to you in annoyance.

“fine. help me.”

“uh, what was that?” you questioned, cupping your ear with your hand.

she rolled her eyes, throwing her head back in exasperation at your immaturity.

“please will you help me build my house?” she asked again, “before i throw it at a wall.”

you grinned, throwing an arm over your girlfriends shoulder and pulling her into your side, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before nodding. “i’d love to.”

it took a little bit of work, the pair of you bickering back and forth when leah had accused you of putting too much pressure on it and you accusing her of letting go too soon, but eventually, the both of you pulled your hands away cautiously, giving it a few seconds just to make sure before you gave eachother a double high five, pleased that it had finally stayed put.

pushing it back slowly as you had done to yours previously, you both sat back and admired your efforts on both houses.

“think it’s gonna be a pretty close one love.” leah said, pulling up her phone ready to snap a picture for her instagram story, where you had planned to put up a poll to see who’d win.

“hmm, maybe.” you hummed in agreement, “but i think my gumdrops on the roof might just help me win.”

she rolled her eyes once again, but this time with less irritation now that the hard part was done with. “yeah, yeah. if you say so.”

the defender took a quick snap, moving her phone to show you her screen when not even second later did leah’s house fall apart, one of the pieces even landing on the floor with a soft thud.

“you’re having a laugh.”

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #leah williamson one shot #awfc one shot #arsenal wfc x reader #lioness x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso one shot

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nicktoons-unite-incorrect-quotes · 5 months

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SpongeBob: It's Christmas! You all know what that means?

Jimmy: Everyone is going to try to kill each other at the dinner table

Danny: The sweet release of death

Timmy: the only thing I'm gonna get from Santa is coal

SpongeBob: I was gonna say "ugly sweater competition" but, you know what? We're going to therapy instead...

#Merry (late) Christmas!/Happy Holidays!#nicktoons #nicktoons unite #nicktoons unite incorrect quotes #spongebob squarepants #jimmy neutron #danny fenton #timmy turner #jimmy neutron boy genius #danny phantom #fairly oddparents

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eternalmoonlight19 · 2 months

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Brotherly bonding

Aka: Jason and Dick trick Bruce into believing that there was an ugly sweater competition at the Batfam holiday party.

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syoddeye · 5 months

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the christmas party

ceo!price x reader / smut free / ~2.8k words

A very belated Christmas drabble thing. Definitely not inspired by real life events. 👀 Featuring a fem!Reader x Price, background Ghost x Soap, and Gaz, the incredi-boss. Might fuck around make this a series, we'll see! Maybe I'll clean it up and throw it on AO3, too.

CW: alcohol, substance abuse (mentioned) inappropriate comments from coworkers

You came to expect drama at the company Christmas party. It was as traditional as the optional White Elephant gift exchange, the hired group of carolers, and the ugly sweater competition.

Last year, a 'mystery' baggie of powder and a credit card belonging to the former Head of Sales was found in a bathroom stall. Two years ago, it was the unexpectedly raunchy dancing between an engineer and a project manager you swore hated each other. Three years ago, a division head went home with someone who was definitely not her spouse.

You'd seen a lot in your tenure. The good, the bad, the ugly, the hilariously mortifying.

Coming up on your fifth year with The 141 Group, you were a rarity. Most folks job-hopped. More power to them, no shame in gaining good experience after a year or two to leave for greener pastures. The fact you stuck around labeled you a 'veteran', a cheeky if not sensational label, though there were times you certainly felt like you'd seen war. Acquisitions. Rebrands. Reorgs. Yeesh.

But life at 141 suits you. You are an executive assistant, a good one. It helps that your direct supervisor and the VP of Finance, Kyle Garrick, a fellow 'vet', was an incredible boss. He lets you work from when you need to, doesn't micromanage, and treats you like a person, unlike other execs. He had faith in your ability to manage his calendar, prep materials, book travel - in short, you organized his work life. In return, whenever some new hire got too fresh with you, all it took was one teensy mention in a morning meeting, and by lunch, the offending party had only apologies for you. Most importantly, though, the job nets enough money to make rent and let you pursue your hobbies.

With years of Christmas parties under your belt, you were looking forward to tonight's low-grade yet cataclysmic event. Pre-gaming and primping at a fellow assistant's house, Jordan, you clasp the silver holly leaf pendant around your neck where it lies just above your modest cleavage. The dress code was simply 'Christmas Color', another tradition. Formal attire was expected, if not an unsaid requirement, which meant slipping into a gorgeous dark green dress you spied weeks ago in a boutique window. You thank yourself for earning that last pay bump to afford it because you look fantastic, in your humble opinion.

Lacing her leather Oxfords, Jordan gives a low whistle when you turn away from the mirror. "Like a big, sexy pine tree."

You smirk. "Thanks. Remind me why we both couldn't wear red tonight?"

"Because of the two of us, red is my color. Do I not look like some kind of holiday vampire?" She asks, standing with a sweeping gesture down at her deep, red velvet suit.

"More bellboy, but-"

"Rude!"

The two of you lovingly bicker all the way out to the awaiting car. The 141 Group, ever mindful of its image, always reimbursed rideshares for its company parties. Given the amount of liquor that flowed at these events, it wasn't only generous but smart. Like the higher-ups needed a scandal. The car ferries you across town to the ritzy event space at a local art museum. Leaving your coats at the complimentary bag check, you enter the well-underway party.

The events team needs a raise, like yesterday. The sprawling space was completely done up. Several open bars, a champagne wall, a photo op with a to-scale Santa's Sleigh, and dining tables with place settings that probably rival a monarch. Silvery white birch trees enveloped in lights line the walls, with clusters of small fir trees fully decorated dotting the space. The dancefloor was already busy with a DJ fully dressed as Santa.

Four going on five years, and it was still quite the sight.

You gently elbow Jordan. "So. Cheesy themed cocktails first or canapes?"

"Obviously drinks. I just saw one with an ornament in it!"

Three hours in, it was a dead heat for Most Dramatic Event. Two separate calamities slowly built throughout the night.

At the nexus of the first, Chad from marketing was almost blacked out. After winning the ugly sweater with a true abomination of a sweater (working lights, a mini speaker, and an ungodly amount of sequins), he celebrated. A little hard. He bopped from open bar to open bar as the bartenders cut him off one by one. He was trying to convince a coworker to grab him another Mistletoe Martini, and it was progressively getting louder.

The second was from the rumor mill more than anything. Apparently, a developer named Scott brought the wrong gift for the exchange. As the story went, his wife used the same paper for an identically sized gift, one of a titillating nature, and now he was visibly paranoid that he nabbed the wrong one on the way out the door. The man stalked the pile of gifts as folks drew numbers.

Jordan bet on the first, and you bet on the second. From the corner, you watch, giggling behind a cup of Prancer's Punch.

The sound of your name drew your attention. Kyle, in a charcoal gray suit with a sleek snowflake tie bar and green tie, approaches with a Tiny Tim Collins in hand. Though you waved hello earlier in the night, he spent most of the evening in the company of who you deemed his 'buddies' - Johnny MacTavish, VP of Technology and Jordan's boss, and Simon Riley, the Chief Security Officer. You learned in your first month to leave the trio to it.

"Having fun, are we?" Kyle grins and turns to observe the twin events.

"I love this party. Every year, delivers just like Santa," Jordan gleefully said.

"Someone should stop them," You add, knowing nobody would. At least not Kyle.

And as if on cue, the man chuckles. "Not my circus, not my clowns."

The three of you chat, swapping bits of office gossip collected through the night. Not the most appropriate, but not the worst social crime, surely. You're the right amount of tipsy: warm and relaxed but solid.

The wager came up naturally.

"What do you want if you win, my pine tree?"

"Hmm. It's gotta be something outrageous but not a fireable offense. Hmm. Maybe I'll have you sing on a video call, pretend you thought you were on mute or something."

"...That's boring."

"Do I want to know?" Kyle asks, sipping his drink.

"We have a bet on who's gonna be this year's drama - Chad or Scott." You explain.

"Maybe I ought to get back…" Your boss said with a laugh. "Better not witness to whatever you two plan."

"Might be for the best. Night, Kyle," You accept the brief hug from the man, then poke a finger against his chest. "Listen, if I get one DM about work during the holiday, I'm switching your coffee to decaf."

Kyle claps a hand over his heart as if he's been shot. "Monstrous. Fine, have it your way, no work during Christmas…Now, behave yourself, both of you."

Watching him retreat back to MacTavish and Riley (who look quite cozy - perhaps another piece of gossip?), Jordan nudges you. "If I was into guys, that's who I'd be into."

"You and like fifty other people here," As Kyle's assistant, you're more than his Girl Friday; you're also a professional gatekeeper. You could wallpaper your apartment with the amount of cringy notes you've stopped from reaching his desk.

"Not your type, then?"

You whip your head back to Jordan, utterly horrified. "No way. Not that Kyle isn't an absolute dreamboat; he's just not my dreamboat. Plus, at this point, it would be so, so weird."

Jordan laughs. "Y'know, even though we've been work besties for a year, I don't think we've ever discussed this. What is your type? As dudes are not my specialty, I have no clue."

Your type, huh? As if you don't know. Your type's been the same for as long as you can remember. Big and brawny, the kind of guy who could haul you around. Dark hair. Well-groomed, well-dressed, well-endow–You could still make it onto the naughty list.

Using better and cleaner terms, you relay this information to Jordan.

"Huh. A man's man. Whodathunk–oh! Oh shit, look who it is!" The other woman pats your arm and gestures with a nod.

Joining Kyle and his buddies, is none other than John Price - CEO of The 141 Group. Fashionably late (very fashionably late), yet another tradition. Adorned in a Santa red suit jacket and a matching red tie, he somehow makes the boring dress code dashing. Flanking him is a pair of bodyguards. He's just in time for the wager to come to a head.

God, he looks good.

As Kyle's assistant, you see John fairly regularly. Not that he sees you. No one above a certain pay grade sees assistants. You kind of just blend right on in. Not even Mr. Riley, whom you've been introduced to a dozen times by Kyle himself, recalls your name. When you tag along to meetings to take notes for the boss man, you assume you're on the same level as a lamp or plant. That doesn't mean you haven't ogled John Price before. Kind of hard to not to, what with his commanding presence. You're kind of ogling him right now.

"Wow, you really do have a type," Jordan hums with a shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," You hiss into your drink and look away, just in time to see Chad from marketing lift a gift box-shaped ice sculpture and smash it onto the ground next to one of the open bars with a frustrated yell. The poor bartender and caterers jump back, and the music scratches to a halt. A thick silence fell over the party, impressive for a crowd of over a hundred, and your eyes flick to Mr. Price.

He glares daggers in Chad's direction, then nods at the taller of his bodyguards. Without hesitation, the man crosses the event space toward a petrified, drunk-crying Chad. As the guard hauls him away, your coworker, or former coworker, you assume, bursts into ugly tears and then disappears from sight. But your eyes are still on John, whose gaze turns to the DJ. The music starts again, as does the chatter.

"Fuck yes," Jordan giddily whispers.

"Well, shit."

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"...Unfortunately, yes. Yes, I do," You sigh and down the rest of your drink. "Before you swing the axe, let me grab another punch."

"Hurry back, I've got my thinking cap on," Jordan impishly smirks.

With a groan, you make your way to the nearest open bar. One far from Chad's little tantrum. Most folks are on the dance floor at this hour, leaving this particular bar quiet. Waiting in line behind other tipsy coworkers, a clearing throat behind you grabs your attention.

"D'you have a recommendation?" A low, gravelly voice from all your best dreams asks.

You turn, and the sweet Hallmark-worthy image that blossomed in your mind in the last two seconds promptly morphs into a nightmare. Not a running-for-your-life nightmare, but a you're-the-only-naked-person-in-class nightmare. Laughable, considering the topic of conversation not three minutes ago.

John Price stands tall behind you, arms crossed, testing the fabric of his red suit jacket. He smells like tobacco and something spicy, and his eyes are a shade of blue you hadn't noticed before. You never got this close. They narrow slightly, and you realize you haven't answered him.

"Prancer's Punch." The name sounds cornier aloud.

"Hmm. Brandy or rum?" He sounds unimpressed. Was he unimpressed?

You're quicker to answer this time. Except, you babble. "It's, uh, made with dark rum. It's delicious. I've had a few. The cranberry juice isn't too tart, compliments the sparkling wine and–It's good."

Santa, run me over with your reindeer.

Kyle would be humiliated to have heard all of that. You are humiliated for having said all of that.

To your surprise though, the corner of John's mouth hooks in a smirk, then he chuckles. "How many qualifies as 'a few'?"

You, apparently committed to acting moronically, answer honestly. "Five."

It gets you an actual laugh this time. His hand raises up to scritch at his cheek, flashing the band of a watch you're certain is worth more than your life, then juts his chin forward slightly. "You're up, miss."

"Oh, no, Mr. Price, I insist, please-" You start to sidestep to let him up in line, but his hand lowers immediately and stretches out to stop you. He doesn't touch you, but the hair of your arm stands up at the proximity.

John smiles again, and his head tips toward you. "I insist. Join me, Miss…?"

"Mr. Price?" A voice suddenly interrupts. The taller bodyguard that removed Chad steps up and steals away Mr. Price's attention. "The problem's been dealt with. Regarding…"

You don't hear the rest of the conversation because you hurriedly ask for a punch and bolt back to Jordan.

And Jordan saw everything. Your heart is racing, and you miss half of her teasing.

"You made him laugh. Twice. I don't think I've ever seen him smile, let alone laugh."

"Because I basically admitted to being drunk!"

"Calm down, you're not, you're solid," She reassures. "Besides. You saw that death glare at Chad. If he was upset, I reckon you'd be on the receiving end of one of those."

You groan and take a swig of punch. You hope you've had enough of the good stuff to burn away the memory of your embarrassing rambling. You look back to Jordan to say something and find your friend once again grinning devilishly at you.

"I just thought of what I want for my victory."

Any time, Santa. Put me out of my misery.

"What?"

"So…You know #AskPrice?"

You know where this is going, and your eyeballs nearly bulge out of their sockets. "Jordan. Please. No. Do not make me post something stupid there."

#AskPrice was the name of the open channel at work. Anyone across the company could post questions for Mr. Price to answer. More often than not, it was a venue for bootlickers and kiss-asses to rain praises and share bad proposals. Rarely was there a legitimate question or a good idea.

"Darling, of course not. I have something far funnier in mind," She started, and you swore you saw the flames of hell itself in her eyes. "You're going to direct message Mr. Price and ask what he wants for Christmas."

Jaw, meet floor. "Absolutely not!"

Jordan laughs and hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you in. "Come on. It's harmless. Believe me, I considered making you send a selfie or asking if you're on the naughty or nice list."

"He could fire me!"

"For what? It's just a question! He always says we're welcome to DM him."

To be fair, Mr. Price did say that at the end of every company-wide call or in email announcements. He always harps on 'transparency' and 'open channels of communication', hence #AskPrice. To your knowledge, however, no one ever takes him up on that, at least at your level.

"Jordan…Mercy. Please."

"My sweet pine tree, you lost fair and square," She releases you and pats your shoulder. "If it makes you feel better, I bet he gets a thousand messages a day. The notification will get lost in the noise."

It doesn't take much more prodding and encouragement from Jordan. Your phone ends up in your hand, and you tap into the chat app. Your hand shakes a little when you pull up John's username and open the message dialogue.

johnprice - invisible Hi, Mr. Price. I was wondering what you want for Christmas?

Short and to the point. Jordan calls it 'boring', but you're already putting your neck on the line for a stupid wager. You're not risking anymore by dressing it up. Bet fulfilled, you press send, quickly turn notifications off, and shove your phone back into your little purse. Jordan rewards you with a squeeze to the shoulder.

"That was terrifying." You whine.

"That was a rush. Come on. Let's dance."

The next morning, when you're all but molded to your couch and housing takeaway, there's a little ping from your phone. It's the chime of the chat app.

"Kyle, for the love of everything, it's Sunday–"

You nearly drop your phone.

johnprice - invisible Hi, Mr. Price. I was wondering what you want for Christmas? > World peace. > I'd settle for a drink, though.

#call of duty #john price #captain john price #captain price #price x you #price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader #john price x female reader #price x female reader #cod fanfic #cod fic #ceo!john price

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elemom · 5 months

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hc:

As an apology for ruining Zane’s original pink apron, the ninja all independently decided that they were gonna buy him a bunch more various pink aprons. After that hilarious coincidence, they ended up making it a tradition. it’s become a thing they do during the holidays, and they’ve even started (trying) to make em themselves, eventually making it a contest to see who can find the silliest/best/coolest apron.

so far he has:

- a classic “kiss the chef” apron

- a bunch of actually normal ones the ninja got him before they started competing

- “this machine kills fascists”

- a bootleg apron with a funny typo

- “I <3 NNC” (he got this one some time after season 2)

- a really, really ugly one from the 70s/80s. like an ugly christmas sweater but an apron. it has garland

- one with a fake tuxedo printed on it

- “autism be damned, my boy can work a grill”

- “I died and all I got was this lousy apron”

- “I died twice and all I got was this lousy apron”

- “I died three times and all I got was this lousy apron”

(After this, they just decided to keep a tally and add new deaths in sharpie.)

- one that’s just COMPLETELY bedazzled

- “Why do they call it oven when you of in the cold food of out hot eat the food”

Some additional things i thought up:

One year, he got a ridiculously complex smart apron made by Nya and Jay. It connects to him via bluetooth and has a built in timer, a thermometer, a pH probe, multiple headphone jacks, a disc drive, a screen display, and more. (Jay used that display to play Bad Apple, once. And yes, it can also connect to Zane and run doom.)

Kai and Cole made him one poorly put together out of quilt patches. The front of it had his name in a different font and size for each letter, as though Kai and Cole had just grabbed whatever they could. Somehow, it came together really well, and they won the competition that year.

Lloyd once gave him a normal white apron, in which he hid a bit of red dye. Lloyd forgot to mention that it needed to be washed alone. Insert Pink Gi Part 2

Wu gave him a magical apron that can never get dirty. *With his permission this time,* Zane and the others tested it out. They ran over it with their vehicles, used kai’s power to light it on fire, and reenacted their food fight scene (this time with the leftovers from the last time Cole tried to cook.) It never got dirty. Wu was so smug about it.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #zane julien #this was a draft from awhile back but screw it it’s christmas #ninjaposting

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jakobsdoodles · 5 months

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Do we think he'll win the ugly sweater competition?

note: I do not think tfa Megatron is ugly, quite the opposite lmao

#transformers #tf #transformers animated #tfa #transformers starscream #tf starscream #transformers animated starscream #tfa starscream #starscream #megatron #tfa megatron #ugly sweater #maccadam #jakobsdoodles #jakobs doodles

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moxfirefly · 5 months

Note

"I'm not letting them go. They're mine. They've always been mine."

For a bestie mikey who is jealous, someone's taking readers' attention away from him?

These quotes are hard to work with XD

Ray, my beloved. Always coming in clutch 🤌

Rated Mature (suggestive themes)

Mikey felt a stirring next to him that prompted him to open his eyes. The midnight nap he’d decided on when you had sat next to him was disturbed and he wanted to groan displeased.

“Sorry Mike, I gotta use the bathroom be back in a sec.” That gentle hushed tone only served to help him drift back, almost at least. Woefully he accepted his best friend having to leave for a few minutes.

It was something of tradition at this point, falling a sleep next to you during movie nights. Mikey had wordlessly cemented the fact that he got to sit next to you and you had reinforced it by always finding your place next to him.

He took the second to stretch out, enjoying the pops of each achy limbs, patrol had been a bitch a few hours ago. He saw Leo konked on the armchair, Donnie in the kitchen making more popcorn as a sleepy April scrolled through Netflix to find something else to play.

“—Well im gonna need you in a bit to measure again, probably tomorrow too”

Raph’s voice rang from behind where he was sat on the couch. Mikey looked back to see him talking to you and holding your arm extended.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” He asked mocked annoyed as he used his pointer and thumb to measure your arm.

“Because I wanna win $100 bucks at work” You laughed when he moved to your other arm to do the same.

“What fucking weird job makes an ugly Christmas sweater competition?” He used both his hand to grab your waist, using it as reference for the torso of the sweater.

Mikey raised a brow ridge, why had he felt a pulse of something when he saw his brother man handling you.

“Hey if I win you’ve got $50 waiting for you, so make it as ugly as possible.” You arched your neck when he wrapped a hand around your neck and mumble something, clearly mapping out the measurements in his head.

That, yeah that felt really weird in the bottom of Mikey’s stomach. Why did Raph have to loom over you, hand around your pretty neck and smiling to himself.

“Well come by this week, I’m gonna need you while I’m making it.” He finally let go of you, and it took a second of trying to think straight to not jump Raph.

“Mikey and I are playing that new game where you romance all the hot people—“

Donnie piped in, “Baldur’s Gate.” You threw him a finger gun for the assist.

“Well ya think you can detach yourself from numb nuts for a few minutes at a time?” He asked playfully.

“Well you’ve got her measurements what more do you need, dude?” Mikey finally spoke up, making Raph and you turn towards his groggy annoyed face. “I got an idea but I gotta re-adjust or re-make whatever don’t come out right.” He spoke matter of fact, his gaze was mocking him.

“I can’t just take breaks between.” You offered to ease the sudden tension in the air.

“I’m sure Mikey can survive five minutes without ya, right buddy?” He clamped both hands on your shoulders and smiled at his youngest brother. “Man quit being handsy with her.” It came out before he could really assess what his mouth had vomited out. Under a different tone of voice it could’ve been taken playfully but this was the full opposite.

“Chill man, I ain’t stealing ya girl.” He chuckled and if Mikey could blush he would. He glared at Raph, not noticing your own blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Looks like it since you wanna keep her all week.” He was getting up now, less groggy and more peeved than anything.

“Mike—“ Your voice was gentle trying to ease the fast approaching boiling tension in the air.

“Aww, Mikey’s worried his bestie’s gonna be my bestie all week? Man just let it go.” Raph wasn’t even remotely serious poking fun at his younger brother.

“Im not letting her go. She’s mine. She’s always been mine.” He shot a deep glare at Raph, who face quickly fell upon hearing those words.

It took a few seconds for Mikey to fully comprehend what he had said and the implication behind it. His eyes went wide, landing on your own wide eyes and the blush that scattered itself further down your chest.

Fuck, what had he done?

#tmnt bayverse #ask #supershinyraven #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #michelangelo #Mikey #tmnt michaelangelo #emotional? prompts

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bokutosbiceps · 6 months

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home for the holidays

bokuto koutarou x gn!reader | fluff | ~1k words

warnings: some suggestive/18+ themes but nothing explicit

a/n: ugh, fuck, i love kou so much y’all. he’s like. idk. so fucking cute i am so ready to write this i am cracking my knuckles 🥺 anyways, i feel like this is so bad—i haven’t written for bo in SO LONGGGG

18+ MDNI

koutarou clings to your back, far too large to actually wrap his arms and legs around you, but he would if he could.

“y/n…” he whines, resting his head on your shoulder and squeezing your waist tighter in his arms.

“kou, how many times have I told you it won’t be ready for a little while?” you turn around with what little room he’s giving you, placing your hands on either side of his face and squishing his cheeks together. you giggle at his cute little pout, his lips all puckered.

you lean forward and place an exaggerated kiss on his lips, complete with a “mwah!”, making koutarou’s eyes light up.

“better?” you ask, still holding his face so you can look him in the eyes.

“yeah!” kou nods and takes your wrists in his hands, keeping your hands on his face. “i still wanna eat the gingerbread, though!”

you giggle and gently pry your wrists from his grasp, leaning down to look through the little window to the inside of the oven. the gingerbread is still soft, you can tell, but it looks like it’ll be done in twenty minutes or so. for koutarou, though, that might as well be thirty days.

“you don’t wanna decorate it? that’s half the fun of making gingerbread!”

koutarou’s eyes light up once more, seeming to have forgotten the little gingerbread house decorating competition you two were gonna have. whoever’s house was prettier, you’d bring it to the christmas party that kuroo was hosting, and the ugly one would be eaten. it was a win-win situation in both of your eyes.

“ohmigosh, yeah!” koutarou stands up proudly, his arms folded across his chest. you let your gaze trickle down to where his forearm muscles bulged and his biceps popped against the tight, ridiculous, ugly holiday sweater he was wearing. you never pass up the chance to ogle your beefcake of a boyfriend. “sorry, babe, but i’m definitely gonna be the one to bring my masterpiece to kuroo’s! i’m an artistic god!”

“i’m sure you are, kou…” you say, sliding your hands over his arms and smiling up at him mischievously. “so we have about ten or fifteen more minutes left…is there anything you wanna do while we wait?”

koutarou picks up on the suggestive lilt in your voice and a mischievous grin of his own spreads across his lips.

“yeah, let’s make out on the couch.” he says curtly, his lips curling into an even wider grin.

you don’t have to be told twice, so you immediately start making your way toward the couch in the living room. you lay down and look up to see koutarou about to climb on top of you, but then he’s dashing away down the hall, after muttering a quick “wait!”

you hear a rustle down the hall and immediately know what he’s doing. a small breath of a chuckle exits your nose as you watch koutarou reappear and hover over you, dangling something in his hand.

“can’t kiss without mistletoe! ‘tis the season and all that!” koutarou says with a playful grin, continuing to dangle the mistletoe above the two of you while he leans in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and pull him closer, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss.

at this point, koutarou discards the mistletoe on the ground and grips your hips in his strong, calloused hands. so much for tis the season. his tongue runs along the seam of your closed ones and you open them, allowing him to explore your mouth to his hearts content. you feel your heart hammering in your chest, fully enjoying the way he’s kissing you like he’s a marine returning to land, and fully enjoying the little moans and whines coming from way dep down in his chest.

he brings your hips up and uses his knee to separate your legs so he can sit in between them, jutting his own hips into the apex of your thighs. you gasp as he starts to slowly roll his hips against you, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the way he’s rutting against you and practically shoving his tongue down your throat.

the beeping of the timer separates your lips from koutarou’s, and you rush over to the oven for fear of burning the gingerbread, since it’s so easy to do. you grab your oven mitts and open the oven, sighing and smiling in satisfaction at the nice, even, brown tone of the gingerbread pieces as you pull them out of the heat.

koutarou is once again attached to your backside, his hands on your hips and his head in the crook of your neck. he’s whining again, but for a different reason than before.

“doll, can’t we go lay down for a lil? it’ll feel really nice…” koutarou suggests, knowing full well that the two of you wouldn’t just be laying down.

“i thought you were excited for the gingerbread, kou?” you giggle, goosebumps rising on your skin as you feel him start to press wet kisses to the back of your neck.

“i am, but there’s something else i’m more excited for right now…” koutarou accentuates his confession by using his index fingers to stroke the skin over your pubic bone and his thumbs to rub circles into your hips. you can feel something pressing against your back.

you move around the kitchen with koutarou in tow, quickly setting the gingerbread pieces onto cooling racks and placing the frosting and mini candies back into the fridge for safe keeping. once you finish, you turn around in his hold and trace your fingers down the slant of his jaw, a flirtatious smile playing on your lips.

“well, ya know…we do have to let the gingerbread cool for a while before we can decorate it.” you pause to spread your hands against his chest. “how ‘bout we go lay down, then?”

koutarou grins and wastes no time in picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder, his arm tight around the curve of your ass to keep you in place, practically skipping to the bedroom.

taglist: @usoppsstar | @pileofmush

#haikyuu #bokuto koutarou #bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto smut #bokuto fluff

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loganslowdown4 · 5 months

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Emile: It’s my birthday AND almost Christmas, you know what that means?

Roman: Everyone is going to try and kill each other at the meal?

Virgil: One year closer to the sweet release of death?

Logan: Drinking a bit too much?

Patton: Crying in the bathtub?

Janus: The fact that I will only get coal from Santa? Like I even care—

Remus: SECRET GLITTER BOMBS??

Emile: *sighs* I was going to say ‘ugly sweaters competition’ and then Christmas cartoon marathon but you know what? I’m booking you all in for appointments in the new year.

Happy Birthday Picani! You deserve a proper day off lol

#thomas sanders #emile Picani #ts cartoon therapy #cartoon therapy #sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #sander sides #ts roman #incorrect sanders sides #patton sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #Janus sanders #Remus sanders

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theostrophywife · 5 months

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the christmas special | the slytherin boys.

author's note: a cute collection of christmas activities that each of the boys would do with you. consider this as my gift to all of you. merry christmas pookies ✨

BLAISE

during first year, you and blaise established a tradition of pranking your friends with elf on a shelf.

some of your most notable accomplishments were: placing your little elf friend on all of the cigarette butts that theo had a horrible habit of littering with and placing it on his desk while the elf smoked one of his fancy expensive italian cigs that he saves for special occasions.

for mattheo, blaise took an action figure and smeared it in red food dye to commemorate all of the fights he seemed to get himself into.

for draco, you slipped a tiny amount of purple dye in his shampoo which turned his hair lavender for an entire week.

for enzo, blaise ransacked his honeydukes stash and left a mountain of wrappers on his bed.

for regulus, you replaced his sleakeasy potion with plain old water, which made his pretty curls frizz up like he'd been electrocuted.

neither one of you were stupid enough to prank tom. that was a one way ticket to an avada.

this year, though, blaise flipped the game on you.

you woke up in your dorm surrounded by flowers and balloons with the elf sitting at the edge of your bed, holding a note that said: call me a christmas, because i'm already wrapped up in you — b.

you chuckled as you read the note. your door swung open, revealing a grinning blaise.

"i thought you might like that one. i have plenty of others, though."

"is that so, zabini? well, let's hear them then."

"are you a christmas tree? because I’m really pining fir you."

"wanna feel my ugly christmas sweater? it's made out of boyfriend material."

you burst into a fit of laughter, making blaise grin. "and my personal favorite, the star may be on top of the tree but you can be the star on top of me."

"blaize zabini, you are ridiculously adorable."

"yeah? did my efforts work then? wanna grab some hot cocoa with your favorite person?"

"oh? is draco free?" you chuckled at the sight of blaise's frown. "i'm kidding, blaise. now come on, i need a sweet treat. besides you, of course."

DRACO

draco was ridiculously competitive, which was a trait that you usually found endearing in your boyfriend, but he was definitely taking this gingerbread house competition to another level.

you had never seen draco so concentrated, measuring each piece with his wand and spreading the icing with such careful precision.

"we're going to win this year, I just know it." he said, his pink tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he secured the roof over your gingerbread house.

"it's not about winning, babe. it's about having fun!"

"fun?" draco asked incredelously. "no, darling, this is about crushing riddle underneath my boot, which I suppose is my own version of fun."

"oi! I heard that malfoy," mattheo complained.

"sorry matty, dray's gone full psycho." you teased, pinching your boyfriend's cheek. "I think it's rather cute though."

"you'd be the only one," theo said with an eye roll.

"don't hate, nott. where's your house anyways?"

theo shrugged while mattheo snorted. "notty boy here got too high and ate the entire thing."

you chuckled. "well, that's less competition for you and I, dray."

"good," draco said with a pleased smile. "now come on, darling. I want you to put on the finishing touch."

you nodded, taking the gumdrops from your boyfriend's hands and sticking them around the perimeter of the house. draco surveyed your hard work, really the only work he let you do since he was so adamant on building the entire thing from scratch.

"it's perfect, love."

"blimey," enzo said, cocking his head at the house. "you two really went all out this year."

tom scoffed. "it's architecturally inaccurate."

you rolled your eyes at the older riddle. "well, we couldn't exactly replicate everything, but i'd say dray did a fantastic job on his house."

"our house, darling," draco corrected. "or at least it will be soon enough."

"is that malfoy manor?" regulus asked.

"precisely," draco confirmed with a proud smile. he looped an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss against your cheek. "and i've got the future lady of the manor right by my side."

you giggled, leaning into your boyfriend's touch. "lady of the manor? hmm, I like the sound of that, dray."

ENZO

every year, enzo looked forward to ice skating on the frozen banks of the black lake.

he was terrible at it, but it only made it that much more endearing.

you remembered the first time he dragged you out into the cold during first year, talking your ear off about how excited he was for this time of year.

along with you and enzo, the rest of your friends joined in on the fun. mattheo and theo were absolute menaces on ice, while regulus and draco made a whole competition out of it. pansy and blaise were content to watch in the safety of their enchanted tent, sipping hot chocolate in peace.

over the years, enzo had gotten a little bit better, but he was still a little shaky on the ice. he never minded though since you were always there to hold his hand while you patiently skated around the rink with him at a glacial pace.

you weren't that great at skating either. or so he thought.

until the two of you were chatting, keeping to the makeshift wooden rails at the edge of the lake, when mattheo and theo came barreling past.

"watch out, y/n!"

you clocked the two menaces skating past you at full speed and made a rather complicated maneuver that enzo couldn't have even dreamed of landing.

"oh my god," enzo exclaimed. "are you alright? and what was that? that little twirl and land combo? I thought you couldn't skate, honey."

you smiled sheepishly, cheeks warming at enzo's nickname for you. "it's called an axel jump. I may have told a little fib when I said I couldn't skate..."

"I can see that, love," enzo said with a chuckle. "why would you pretend that you couldn't skate?"

"I didn't want you to feel left out," you admitted shyly. "the boys are always showing off and I don't know, it was kind of nice just to take it slow with you."

"you did that for me?" enzo asked as a grin spread across his face. "i like taking it slow with you too, y/n. I look forward to it every year."

"and here I thought you just really liked the ice and snow."

"are you kidding? I hate the cold," enzo replied, shivering. "but I like when you old my hand and lead me around the rink. and I also like it when you make us hot cocoa with extra marshmallows after. I just like you, honey."

you beamed. "I like you too, enz."

enzo smiled in return, kissing the tip of your frost kissed nose. "now come on, love. show me that move again. it was hot."

MATTHEO

"babe, we're supposed to decorate the cookies not eat them all," you teased, snatching a snow shaped cookie out of your boyfriend's hands.

"but they taste so good," mattheo said with a pout. he flashed his big, brown eyes at you, fishing for sympathy. "you know I can't resist sweet things. why do you think i'm dating you?"

you chuckled at his cheekiness. "nice try, matty. but we have to decorate the cookies first and then you can have a bite."

"oh, i'll have a bite alright," you squealed as he tugged you flush against him, pulling you in for a not so innocent kiss. "there. that should hold me over for a few minutes. at least, long enough to decorate."

you shook your head and handed him the cookies and icing. mattheo hummed, bumping against your hip every so often as the two of you began decorating.

despite his complaints, mattheo's cookies turned out way better than yours.

"how are you doing that?" you asked, staring at the perfect piping on his snowflake.

"it's easy, princess. here, let me show you." mattheo slotted himself behind you, his big hands enveloping yours as he attempted to guide you in replicating his design.

"real smooth, matty. this is just an excuse to wrap your arms around me, isn't it?"

"hmm, no i'm genuinely trying to help."

you raised a brow, backing against his crotch. matty released a low groan. "is that a candy cane or are you just happy to see me, baby?"

"all i'm saying is that i'm more than happy to give you a white christmas, princess."

with a giggle, you turned around and pulled him down to you by the front of his cheesy christmas sweater. his lips met yours in an eager kiss, sighing softly into your mouth. as the sweet taste of icing coated your tongue, you chuckled.

"really, baby? you didn't even last a half hour before sneaking a taste."

"you're lucky I haven't bent you over this table yet, mi amor." his low, husky voice sent shivers down your spine.

"on second thought, i'm not opposed to having that sweet treat a little early."

mattheo smirked. those big, brown eyes were nearly black as he lifted you onto the counter, big hands roaming underneath your sweater as his lips attached themselves to your neck.

"I was hoping you'd say that, my little snowflake." you squealed as he pulled you towards him, smirking as he knelt before you. “let’s put you on the naughty list tonight, y/n.”

“I don’t mind, matty. I know you’ll make me feel real nice.”

“damn right, baby.”

REGULUS

you and regulus had not planned on getting this drunk.

the game plan was to tackle decorating the common room with ample snacks, spiked eggnog, and a classic christmas playlist.

you hadn't accounted for reggie's heavy hand when it came to making drinks.

"how much rum did you put in this thing, reg?" you asked between giggles, wrapping tinsel around yourself like a makeshift scarf. "i'm really feeling it now and we're only halfway done."

"hmm, dunno, I kind of just eyeballed it." regulus responded, dangling two emerald ornaments through his ears. "I also may have nicked the bottle from malfoy. he's going to throw an absolute fit when he finds out."

"my father will hear about this!" you exclaimed, repeating draco's iconic line. "how dare you put your peasant lips on my vintage rum?"

regulus snickered, clutching his sides. "don't make me laugh, love. i'm already smashed enough as it is."

"honestly, that's what they get for making us decorate all by ourselves."

"hmm, I don't mind. at least I got to spend more time with you."

you chuckled. "we're already attached at the hip as it is."

regulus raised a brow, pulling you in by your wrist. he stood to his full height and spun you around in a circle before catching you in his arms. "are you trying to say you're tired of me, ma chérie?"

"never. you know you're my favorite person, reggie."

"you're my favorite, too." regulus murmured, his green eyes softening as he swayed. music played softly in the background as he pulled you closer. "dance with me?"

you giggled. "we're smashed, reggie. what if I trudge on your toes?"

"you do that sober anyways," regulus teased. "just humor me, please, y/n?"

you nodded, smiling softly as regulus led you into a waltz. despite his drunkenness, reggie was still the elegant dancer that he always was. it was in that aristocratic black blood, you supposed.

as you swayed in his arms, regulus pressed his forehead against yours, his pretty curls tickling your nose as he smiled. "tu es l'amour de ma vie."

"what does that mean, reg?"

"it means that there's no one else i'd rather get drunk and decorate with besides you. merry christmas, y/n."

you beamed, rising to your tiptoes and kissing his nose. "merry christmas, reggie."

THEO

playing white elephant with your friends was chaotic, to say the least. the annual tradition almost always ended in tears and sometimes even blood.

this time around, you were the one most likely to draw blood.

"that's not fair!" you exclaimed, crossing your arms and glaring at draco. "you only want the heated blanket because I want it. you probably have a thousand fur throws, malfoy!"

draco smirked as he wrapped the white, fluffy blanket around his shoulders. "yes, but I stole this one. from you. that makes it special."

the shit-eating grin he flashed at you was enough to push you over the edge. "i'm going to skin you, you little ferret. give me back my blanket—"

"oh no you don't, dolcezza." a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist and held you back from lunging at draco. theo hauled you over his shoulder and set you down on the sofa.

"don't manhandle me, teddy!"

theo bit back a grin as you huffed in indignation. he knelt before you, tapping your nose. "you're being bad, little missy. i'm putting you in time out."

"i'm not a child!" you responded, frowning at your best friend. "besides, draco started it. he stole my bloody blanket!"

"yes, but that's no excuse for violence, is it bella?"

"theodore, you literally bit enzo for taking your gift last year."

"I never claimed to be perfect."

you rolled your eyes, which only made theo chuckle. "tell you what. if you promise not to maim malfoy, i'll buy you as many heated blankets as you want." you raised a brow, clearly unimpressed with the offer. "i'll even throw in some hot chocolate and cuddles. the complete teddy package. sound good?"

"okay," you said with a sigh. "but only cause you asked nicely."

theo smiled and kissed your forehead. "good girl. now come on, pans made spiked eggnog."

thirty minutes later, you were curled up on the sofa with theo. you yawned, blinking slowly at whatever mattheo was supposed to be enacting for christmas charade. he was either doing something very vulgar or riding a sleigh. you could never really tell with matty.

"getting sleepy, bella?" theo asked, poking his nose against yours.

"mhm," you murmured, burrowing yourself into theo's neck. he smelled like cigarettes and pine. "will you carry me to bed, teddy?"

"course," theo replied as he kissed your temple. "don't you want to bring your blanket, though?"

you blinked in confusion, but smiled when theo presented you with the fluffy, white heated blanket. "you got it back for me?"

"draco and I made a deal," theo confirmed as he wrapped the blanket around your shoulders.

"threatening to throw me off of the astronomy tower if I don't give you the blanket does not constitute as a deal, theodore," malfoy said with a frown.

theo waved him off as he scooped you into his arms. "the important thing is, you've got your blanket back."

you wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled. "you're the best, teddy."

"anything for you, tesoro." theo murmured softly as he climbed up the stairs with you in his arms.

"wait!" mattheo exclaimed. "you're under the mistletoe." he pointed to the small sprig hanging atop the alcove you were currently under. "that means you two have to kiss."

theo flushed, his gaze dropping to your lips as he shifted nervously. "we don't have to, bella—" the words died in his throat as you tugged at the front of his sweater, dragging his lips down to yours.

the kiss was soft and sweet and you melted into theo like the missing piece of a puzzle finally slotting into place after years and years of pining and yearning.

you smiled as theo blinked slowly, those pretty eyes brimming with love and adoration. "you—I—wow," he breathed.

"c'mon, teddy. you promised me cuddles." you chuckled, brushing your thumb over his lips. "and kisses too?"

theo grinned. "kisses too, amorina."

TOM

tom had never really been a big fan of the holidays.

he certainly had no interest in taking part in something as childish as secret santa.

yet the second he heard that you were participating, tom was suddenly the first one to toss his name in the ring.

by luck of the draw (he threatened enzo who was the one to actually pick your name to switch), tom got you this year and even he had to admit that he was excited to exchange gifts.

the annual slytherin christmas party was the usual sensory nighmare of tom's dreams, but he soldiered through the incessant chattering, itchy wool jumper, and heavy handed spiked hot chocolate. all because of you.

"are you having fun, pumpkin?"

tom's brow quirked at the nickname, but made no protest as you sidled up next to him. on anyone else, the red velvet dress with white fur trim, ornament earrings, and christmas lights necklace would've looked tacky, but for some reason, tom found it quite endearing on you.

"it's not horrible," tom conceded.

"not horrible? why, thomas, that's almost a compliment."

"don't push your luck, doll."

you chuckled as you looped your arm through his. "wouldn't dream of it," you responded cheekily. "now come tommy, it's time for secret santa."

tom watched as the rest of the group exchanged gifts. more accurately, he watched you clap and cheer at every gift that youy friends opened. the look of genuine joy on your face was almost cracked a smile out of him.

he supposed it wasn't such a terrible thing to endure.

"your turn, y/n," pansy said.

all eyes were on you as you took your gift from the pile, carefully unwrapping the pretty green and silver paper. tom fought the urge to grin as you took the black silk ribbon off of the box and tied your hair back with it.

you pulled out the first gift, which was a set of fresh coloured inkpots from france that you religiously used to write your notes with.

"oh my god, these are my favorite! and I just ran out too," you exclaimed excitedly.

the next gift were a pair of the high heeled boots tom had caught you staring at in hogsmeade. you were convinced that your feet would get too cold in them and that they'd hurt your feet, so tom charmed them to be comfortable and warm, which you discovered with delight when you pulled them on.

"i love them! i'm going to wear them all the time."

you peered into the box, which contained one last gift. a pretty pink leather bound journal that had your initials scrawled in gold ink on the cover. your eyes immediately snapped up to tom's.

"how fancy," pansy said. "any guesses on who your secret santa is, y/n?"

"tommy!" you said with a grin. "i've only complained to him a thousand times about running out of my coloured ink and he was with me when I was eyeing these shoes in the village." you hugged the journal to your chest, smiling shyly at him. "and I told him how much I liked his fancy journal."

"now we can match, doll."

"thank you, thank you, thank you," you said excitedly, enveloping tom in a tight hug. the rest of the group looked on curiously, smirking amongst themselves at the fact that tom allowed the gesture. if it were anyone else, tom probably would've hexed them within an inch of their life.

"does that mean you like it, y/n?"

"no," you said, still maintaining a death grip around his neck. "i love it, tom. it's perfect. you're perfect, pumpkin."

tom blinked as you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. your cherry lip gloss branded his skin, but he didn't mind one bit. he would wear the mark proudly.

"do my eyes deceive me?" mattheo crooned. "are you blushing, brother?"

"aw, how cute. pumpkin’s got a little crush," theo added.

tom glared at both boys. "you have two seconds to run."

mattheo and theo both looked at each other before taking off in the opposite direction.

"really, tommy?" you teased, giggling.

"they're being twats."

"such a grumpy little grinch," you exclaimed, tapping his nose. "at least let me give you your gift before you maim the boys."

"can I have a hint?"

"let's just say you and nagini will be warm and cozy this christmas," you said with a devious smile. "I made the two of you matching jumpers!"

"you better be joking, doll."

"oh, i'm as serious as a heart attack, tommy.” tom scowled as you slipped your fingers through his. "but don't worry, you get more than one gift tonight."

"you're lucky you're cute, y/n."

you chuckled, standing on your tiptoes to press a matching kiss on his other cheek. "yeah, but not nearly as cute as you, pumpkin."

#all I want for christmas is for these men to rail me until I can't walk like i'm not asking for a lot #theo nott #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #tom riddle #lorenzo berkshire #regulus black #pansy parkinson #theo nott fic #mattheo riddle fic #tom riddle fic #draco malfoy fic

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