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morallyinept · 4 months

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STRUNG UP - A Dave York Christmas One Shot

Summary: You and your husband Dave are decorating the tree for a surprise in the morning for your girls. However, you get testy with him, and Dave finds an inventive way to keep you in check.

Pairing: Dave York x Wife!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However Reader has hair long enough to pull.)

Word Count: 3.5K

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks)/consensual restraint/husband & wife dynamics/very mild Daddy kink/Dave comes with his own warning.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Love me some angry Dave. Oof. 🥵

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

“Are you really going to moan all the way through this, baby?”

His tone is clipped as he stares at you through a mask of stony lines on his smoothly shaved face.

The knot of Christmas lights inside his hands are wriggly; bulging like a serpent trying to coil itself around his arm, and if that isn’t enough to test his patience working through this mess, he now has to endure your sniping and muttering away under your breath at him too.

Like you have been, all day.

It’s the Holly Jolly time of year when all he wants to do is utterly stab someone in the neck. Dave’s fingers twitch at the mere thought of it.

The most wonderful time of the year where predicted arguments always flare up over what gifts to get the girls, how many gifts to buy the girls.

Fisticuffs ensue about the gift wrap not being cut in a neat, straight line and the bow doesn’t match.

‘Shall we get a turkey or a salmon this year, Dave?’

‘I don’t like salmon.’

'Since when?'

'For the last 43 years of my life.'

'Oh. Then we’ll get a turkey.’

'Baby. The turkey is too big for the oven.'

‘Then we’ll get a small one.’

'But you always cook it until it’s dry...’

The time of year when all Dave really wants to do is get absolutely shitfaced to avoid making small talk with your father, and only have to stress over whether or not he’s going to make it to the bathroom to puke after one to many chasers, or whether it will just land over his dress shoes instead in a brown, lumpy puddle.

But no. He has to endure your temper tantrums and sulks, and watch as you shit over everything festive, and in return his Christmas mood is certainly darkening.

You’ve both planned to completely transform the lounge into a Christmas wonderland for the girls whilst they're asleep upstairs, and it isn’t exactly going according to plan.

First, Dave smacked the back of his head going up into the attic for the tree this afternoon and it still smarts now.

And you’ve done nothing but whinge all day about Amazon sending Molly’s stocking with her name spelt wrong on the stitching.

‘Dolly? We have a Dolly York now? Sounds like what you'd name a dog. Dolly.'

‘Baby, we have plenty of time to order another one.’

'That’s not the point, Dave. You expect some certain care when ordering a personalised gift. I’ve a good mind to call them and complain.’

'You already are…’

You throw a glare at him that leaves a black eye, and go back to pulling tinsel out of the box you’ve made him lug down from the attic, slighlty concussed.

The tree isn’t even fully put together yet he acknowledges; it’s still in pieces around the floor from where you had dragged it out of the box, and that grates on him also.

“You haven’t put it up yet, so why are you bothering with the decorations already?” Dave remarks sourly.

You glance briefly at the tree pieces as if they’ve offended you and carry on rummaging around inside the box.

“The star is missing.” You moan absentmindedly.

“No, it isn’t.”

“It’s not in the box here.”

“It has to be. It’s where I threw all that shit last year.” Dave sighs; his thumbs loop through the sting of lights as he pulls some out of the twisted chunk of wire and bulbs.

“Oh yeah? Then where is it, smartass?” You put to him with a scowl.

Dave rolls his eyes and stands, throwing the puzzle of lights to the floor and stomps over to the box.

“You know, if I find this star, I’m going to shove it up your ass!” He warns you with a frowny snarl. You sense he means it as well.

“I’m going shove it up your ass...” You mock, impersonating his voice.

He mutters obscenely to himself, grinding his teeth and swooping his large hands inside the box.

He tosses tinsel and baubles around like the choppy seas, and begins to panic inwardly when he can’t see any trace of it. It isn’t in there.

Shit.

“Told you,” you say, proudly.

Dave looks about the room, which resembles a band of elves that have thrown up glitter and stardust all around it, whilst you’re still throwing shade up in his face.

“Well, you look mighty fucking stupid now, baby. It’s there, in the fucking tinsel pile.” Dave says, reaching for it.

He then shoves it into your hand and snarls at you darkly.

He goes back to detangling the lights and you’re silent for a little while as you finally put the tree together.

You step back to look at it when it’s finally standing.

“It’s a little on the slant.” Dave remarks.

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes. It is.”

“You need glasses.” You say, with a pout.

“I’m telling you, it’s wonky. If you want a wonky tree, then fine.” He huffs out, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Ah fuck!” You step backwards - to examine the tree’s vertical straightness for yourself - and crush a wayward, escaped bauble with your foot.

“Careful, you’ll cut yourself!” Dave mutters as you kick away the broken pieces.

He’s managed to get a string of the lights spread out in front of him that are tangle-free at long last.

“Too late,” you huff, and plonk yourself down on the floor, pulling off your sock and examining the underside of your sole.

He comes up to you and has a look for himself, stroking the curve of your foot with his thick fingers when he informs you it’s just a light graze.

He tickles your arch gently and you throw another glare at him.

“Don’t.” You warn, knocking his hand away.

“You’re so fucking pissy today,” Dave says to you pouting; that bottom lip of his inflated and shiny as he mocks you with an unsympathetic growl.

You snatch your foot away from him and stand up with a deep set frown.

“Is it your time of the month or something?” Dave questions, with knitted eyebrows.

“Fuck you, asshole.” You snip back to him.

Dave sighs out and shakes his head. A petulant argument is not what he wants to endure anymore. He’s had enough of your crap. To Hell with you and your fucking wonky-ass tree.

“Fuck this shit; you can decorate the tree your damn self.” He decides that he isn’t going to entertain your drama anymore. Your moaning and grumbling all day has grated away on his last nerve.

“Yeah, well I don’t need your help anyway!” You yell after him.

“Keep it down, you’ll wake the girls up.” He seethes. He disappears out of the lounge like a hurricane.

You sigh out in a massive huff and pick up the string of Christmas lights and plug them into the wall to test the bulbs aren’t blown.

How the hell do Christmas lights get tangled when they’ve been sitting in a box all year, answer me that? I mean, you roll them up carefully and neatly and then what, do they just move on their own volition or something the minute your damned back is turned? Quick, she’s not looking - tangle-tangle... Fuck!

You begin unwinding and weaving them whilst grinding on your teeth as you try in vain to separate them, but seemingly knotting them up the further you go, and undoing all of Dave’s work with them so far.

Meanwhile, Dave can hear you cursing away to yourself in the kitchen as he makes himself a strong coffee, feeling it best to stay out of your way or he’ll hang you with some tinsel if you carry on like this.

He reaches into the cupboard for a mug, sighing.

He can feel how wrangled and wrought his shoulders are, craning his neck from side to side as it cracks, realising that your shitty mood has now spread and infected him, and that shit isn’t going to fly.

“Oh, Dave, you’ve tangled them up even worse than they were!”

He hears you berating him from the lounge, and he slams down his coffee mug on the counter top so hard, the bottom of it chips.

He forgets about the coffee maker, grinding his teeth when you huff out - a little louder and with added dramatics - from inside the lounge.

He marches straight in there, his mouth a hard, thin line and makes a beeline right for the lights. He tears them from your hands so fast they whip around his legs with the intense speed.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” You hiss at him, all snarls and scrunched up face.

He wraps the twinkling light string around his palm a few times as he stares down at you with hard, dark eyes.

"Get up." He growls.

"No."

Dave then yanks you up onto your feet as you yelp. “Turn around.” He instructs with a no-nonsense attitude.

You shake your head and fold your arms in defiance.

“I said, turn a-fucking-round!” He hisses at you and pushes you against the sofa, shunting you forward so you’re bent over the arm of it.

Your arms go to your face to stop your fall, but he wrenches one back and you get a face full of cushion anyway.

“Dave, what the-”

You feel him wrap the light string around your wrist before he reaches for your other, quickly and skillfully, as you try to resist.

He snatches it back, his fingers tight around you. You feel him crush you against the couch with his pelvis, holding you in place, and can equally feel how hard he is against your behind.

Dave pulls back your other arm and wraps the lights around, lashing your wrists together with them tightly.

“Untie me!” You muffle at him. “I’m fucking serious, Dave!”

You feel his hand slide over your mouth, squeezing your cheeks as you twist.

“I am sick to death of your fucking whining and moaning today, baby.” Dave says ignoring you, and you can tell he’s pissed off - majorly pissed off.

His usual jaunty, laid back mood was shit all over by your petulant ranting and sulking over something or other that he has no idea about, and frankly doesn’t care how or why it's bloomed in the first place.

Perhaps you’d just woken up that way, perhaps you’re PMSing like a bitch - hell, maybe he's even done something to fuck you off - it doesn’t matter.

It just needs to stop and it needs to stop now.

And he knows a way to get it out of your system.

He unbuckles his belt, you can hear the metallic chink of it, and he pulls down your leggings and panties revealing your ass and pussy sticking up at him.

Despite your protests, he can see how slick and shiny you are as it seeps from your lips. He zones in on your weeping cunt, like looking through the periscope of his MK14, and locks onto his target.

“Dave,” you whine.

"Dave," he impersonates. He spreads your cheeks to get a better look. Your pussy clenches, your slick glistens at him.

You feel him run the tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself in you.

"Dave, I... mmm, please..."

“Shut the fuck up.” He snaps to you and then shoves his cock deep inside you without any warning whatsoever.

“OH!” You cry out as he shunts, jolting your whole body forward further over the couch as he thrusts inside.

He fills you wholly; your cunt sucking him him as he grunts when he breaks through and bottoms out instantly. Your gasp is ragged, stolen from your throat.

You’re so wet, dripping; he knew you would be despite the angry front you'd presented to him - the moment he'd asserted his dominance over you, you were utterly frothing - you always were when Daddy ran the show.

“Oh fuck!” You groan out, as he snaps his hips into you in a brutal pace.

He holds onto the lights wrapped around your wrists, feeling the warmth ebb from them inside his palm. They make little, glowy silhouettes on your butt cheeks in brightly different colours as he ploughs into your sopping pussy.

“Ah yes!” You mewl as he fucks you hard.

"There we go," Dave grunts.

Your slick is more frothy around his cock each time he pulls out, seeing it shiny and bubbling around his shaft. Squelching over him, and it's a pleasant sensation that he can watch and enjoy all day.

He growls out in satisfaction at it.

An aggressive ballet ensues of him pulling you about as he drives himself deeper into you; your hands tied behind your back with those colourful lights glittering in blues, reds and oranges as he fucks you hard in the lounge amongst the clutter of Christmas baubles and streams of tinsel.

An explosion of festive carnage around you both as he goes to town on that pussy, fucking the bad mood, that has lingered over your head like a storm cloud all day, right out of you.

You can only stand there, bent over, and take it from your husband.

“Oh shit, Dave! Shit!” You pant out as your body shudders; hair sticking to your face, and you can feel it tangling inside your mouth as you whine out.

Your face is pushed further into the sofa cushions as he grunts and growls behind you moving at warp speed, muscular thighs slapping agaisnt your ass cheeks like someone in the room is clapping.

“What, nothing to say now, hmm?” Dave hisses in your ear, bending over you as his cock drives deeper inside your wet, fleshy lips.

"You've been running your mouth all day and now you're suddenly speechless, baby?"

He sweeps the hair out of your face, his mouth running the length of your jaw and he tugs at your ear lobe with his teeth. His breath is bouncing in the back of his throat as he puffs like he’s going for his morning run with each thrust he hammers into you.

You gasp out; breath and voice literally taken away by him ploughing so deeply into your pussy.

God, you’re always so tight around his cock, and the feeling of it blows his mind each time he enters you. It always feels so new and exciting, no matter how many times you’ve fucked since you’d got together all those years ago.

Even pushing out two of his kids hadn’t loosened you up that much, clearly you do your kegels. But taking you like this - punishing you with his cock - is the way to go about it today. No time for Mr Nice Guy.

“Love this tight pussy squeezing around my cock, baby,” he sighs out, standing back upright.

He grips a hold of your arms in the Christmas lights and pulls against them as he shunts into you.

He keeps you bent over and unable to move or repel against him; you’re just simply stuck there being fucked by him, exactly how he wants.

It’s a rough, hard fucking and all you can do is take it as you’re trussed up with the lights, face smooshed into the couch cushions whilst he does it and trying not to suffocate.

Teeth biting into your tongue to mute your whines and moans, but they still flow out of you anyway.

Dave wrenches you backwards so you’re standing upright a little, and steps with you so he can bend you over in the middle of the lounge without anything to support you now, just the lights keeping you anchored in his grip.

His hand slides up your front and grips around your throat, pushing your head up to him as he fucks you from behind.

"That's it, baby. Take my fucking cock."

Your eyes try to find him, darting into the back of your head as his fingers squeeze tightly around your jaw.

“Aaaahhh...” You cry out as he tunnels in deeper, pulling you back onto his dick and the hard, hammering sound of him inside you echoes around the room.

When he’s had enough of you like that, he lets you go, stretching out your back whilst he pulls his slacks off fully.

You clock him tugging off his sweater with a massive, angry and swollen boner protruding out of his pelvis.

Holy shit…

“Lay down on the floor. Put your arms above your head.” Dave instructs in an agitated growl and you comply, albeit with a brewing grin.

“Good, keep them there like that.” He warns and he slides your leggings off your legs completely.

“Shall I call you Daddy as well?” You tease, smirking at him whilst he glares at you.

Oh, he’s so hot when he’s mad...

“Don’t fucking push it,” Dave simply says as he slams back into you without warning again and you gasp; a loud, guttural moan emanating from the pits of your stomach.

“But then, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh fuck!” You wail out, your eyes rolling straight into the back of your head, whites on show like you’ve been possessed as he works those hips back and forth like a machine gun.

“Yeah, who’s your fucking Daddy now, hmm?” Dave simply remarks with a slick grin as he jolts into you hard. “You want Daddy to fuck you some more?” He says in a condescending voice.

“Mmm, Dave! God yes...” You groan.

“Maybe this will shut you up now, hmm? All you needed was a good fucking, baby.”

“Yes... yes!”

“Maybe I should just leave you like this all Christmas... Hang you up on the tree!” He roars as he fucks you faster and like he’s trying to climb inside your body.

“Oh God!” You wail around him as your pussy starts leaking all over his cock again.

“Look at me when I make you come!” He demands, pulling your jaw towards him with his fingers and thumb clamping around it and forcing you to face him.

He feels you contract and jerk, your thighs shake and your neck cranes as your whole body tenses up before eventually letting go, and you soon flop under him like jelly, panting.

“Dave!” You rumble, your body shaking and all the tension that had surmounted all morning explodes out of you as the wrangled tension uncoils itself and you let it all go fully. “Fuuuccckkk!”

"That's it, baby. Like that. Come all over Daddy's cock..."

He fucks you exactly how it should be done; hard, and without any relenting or mercy. This man, your husband, can make your pussy sing, make it trib and hold the high notes without taking a beat.

“Oh, oh...”

“This is what happens when you're a moany bitch, baby.” He pants into your face, sweat forming in the line of his hair on his forehead.

“By that logic, I shall never stop moaning...” You chime out, hair splayed all over the floor and tangled in tinsel as you tense and shake.

Chuckling evilly, he rides you through your orgasm, only pulling out of your twitching pussy when he’s ready to shoot his load.

And he knows exactly where that’s going to go.

“Open your fucking whiny-ass mouth.” Dave instructs as he begins pumping himself, shuffling up your body on his knees either side of you on the carpet until he’s almost sat on your chest.

His cock is above your face as he pumps hard and fast. The slick sound of your wetness making it slap inside his palm.

You open up, tongue hanging out, and waiting for him to fill it.

He pumps out and grips a hold on his thigh, angling his cock towards your mouth as he comes, and it splashes across your lips and tongue where you swallow down what flows into your mouth.

“Fuck!” Dave grits as he watches you take it all, all of that glossy, thick cream and then lick the reddened tip of his cock, sucking on the end of it gently to get to the last of it.

He feels the tip of your tongue furrow into the slit of him and it makes him shudder.

“Mmm...” You groan, licking your lips and smirking up at him; your hands still trussed up in the lights above your head on the floor, and some of his come splashed across your cheeks.

Dave stands up, fully naked as the day he was made, except for his reindeer Christmas socks, as you still lay there on the floor, somewhat paralysed and utterly blissed out.

“Can you untie me before I get third degree burns from these lights?” You ask, sitting upright slowly.

Your hair looks like you've already been electrocuted - it's all over the place.

Dave pulls his sweater over his head and glances down at you somewhat indifferently. “Depends, are you going quit your whining now?” He asks you as he reaches for his slacks.

You nod and smile thinly at him. “I’ll try.”

He pads over and kneels down, running his thumb across your cheek, scooping his load onto it and holding it out for you. You suck it clean and you're convinced you can hear a tiny groan at the back of his throat.

Weaving the light string from around your wrists, he’s dismayed to find it tangled again in knots.

“For fuck’s sake...” He mutters as he plonks his butt on the floor and begins the arduous task of detangling them again.

You stand up once the feeling returns to your legs, and dress. You then retreat into the kitchen.

You come back in a few minutes later with a steaming hot coffee for him, and place it beside him on the floor.

“Peace offering.” You say, stepping over his long legs.

“Thank you, darling.” Dave mutters.

“See, I’m not a complete bitch after all,” you smirk.

“We’ll see how the next hour or so goes, shall we?” Dave remarks looking up at you with the bundle of glowy lights in his palms.

“Maybe I’ll do it on purpose, you know so Daddy can tie me up and punish me again...” you peep, grinning.

You hear Dave snicker through a snort, and look down at him to see his piercing, dark eyes stare you out over the rim of his coffee cup.

You reach up and put the star on top of the slightly askew Christmas tree proudly. “Perfect.”

“It’s still wonky.” He replies.

"Don't start." You scold, reaching for the tinsel.

Dave doesn’t say anything else about it when you pick up a bauble and simply toss it at his head.

He notes that bold move down mentally. Daddy will make you pay for that later.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #dave york x reader #pedro pascal characters #dave york the equalizer 2 #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #dave york x female reader #dave york x wife!reader #christmas stories #jett's writing

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shares-a-vest · 8 months

Text

Steve looks up from his magazine, one of Keith’s many car subscriptions that he is gifted as leftovers, to find Dustin not not looking straight at him and fiddling with the same copy of Hello! Dolly he had picked up a solid ten minutes ago.

He is fairly certain he knows Dustin’s movie preferences. And they don’t include Barbara Streisand’s matchmaking through song and big hats.

Dustin turns away, revealing a backpack that now sports a gigantic Hellfire patch sewn onto the front pocket, courtesy of Robin and Eddie’s joint sewing endeavours.

“Henderson!” Steve calls, frowning.

Nothing. The kid might as well be twiddling his goddamn thumbs as he chances a glance over he shoulder, very obviously hearing him.

Steve snaps the magazine shut and rounds the counter to the musical section. But Dustin scampers away, setting a steady pace as he comically power walks down the split horror-comedy aisle in order to double back to the front of the store.

“Hey! What the hell, man?” Steve says, taking a few strides to get ahead of the kid so Dustin is blocked right between him and the front candy display, “What the hell is up with you?”

He probably sounds more accusatory than curious, judging by Dustin’s wide and panicked eyes. The boy shrugs and looks away.

Yeah, Dustin not talking and not blabbering away about anything, let alone whatever it is that’s up? Fucking weird.

Steve looks him over, examining his young friend’s movements as he shuffles on the spot and periodically scuffs his sneakers on the sun-faded green carpet.

“Um, uhhh...” Dustin hums after a long pause.

Still strangely incomprehensible for him – but it’s something, at least.

“What is it?” he asks, voice low as he searches for a shred of eye contact.

“Do you, I dunno... maybe...” Dustin trails off, gesturing in the air as a pair of nervous eyebrows disappear up under the Cubs cap Steve gifted him for Christmas 1984.

Not that Dustin cares about the Cubs – then or now.

Dustin slips his hands under his backpack straps and rocks on the spot as he continues prattling on.

“Do you wanna hang out on Sunday? I mean, if you don’t have a date or anything.”

The kid sticks out his bottom lip and rolls his eyes, not at all appearing as casual as he seems to want to be.

“Sure,” Steve shrugs, confused.

Jesus Christ, since when is this kid all nervous about hanging out?

“Steve,” Dustin sighs deeply, pinching his nose (good, back to his bratty, if a little exasperated, self), “Sunday is Father's Day.”

“Oh.”

He must have passed by the greeting card display at Melvad’s, over and over during every lunch break as he headed in for a can of soda and whatever non Family Video-sponsored candy Keith was craving.

It’s not like he had any reason to remember. His folks haven’t been home since the ‘earthquake’ and they almost never call. Hell, he has enough of a time conversing at any length when his mother does call, let alone asking her to put his father on the phone.

Not that he wants to talk to his non-college attending, barely-high school graduate son who works minimum wage retail and has no girlfriend, anyway.

Not that all of that matters much when Dustin is looking back at him with a rare sadness in his eyes.

“I mean, your dad isn’t home – obviously,” Dustin starts, though not quite as harsh as his usual barbs, “And Will spends the day with Hop now. Eddie and Wayne go fishing. And I would be going to visit my grandpa but he and Nanna went on a cruise. I think they went – ”

“Sure, buddy,” he blurts out, offering a pat on the shoulder to make up for inadvertently cutting the kid off. He pauses and frowns, “But what about your mom?”

Dustin shrugs, “She wants to have a girl’s day with Valerie.”

Ah, yes. Valerie Richardson, Claudia Henderson’s best friend and Hawkins’ biggest town gossip courtesy of her job as the receptionist at the doctor’s office. Steve can’t help but laugh – Valerie really knows her stuff.

“I’m assuming their girl’s day will involve a charcuterie board and wine?”

“Charcuterie,” Dustin mutters, beyond displeased at the thought of dips, fruit and water crackers – a far cry from his mother’s prized lasagne.

“Alright,” Steve announces, rubbing his hands together, “We’d better pick out some movies. I’m thinking we hit the arcade, then have a movie marathon over the cheesiest of pizzas...”

Dustin grins.

#i hope this came across more as a brotherly relationship and not steve as a parent figure #i'm tentatively writing some father-related stuff this week (it's father's day in aus this sunday)#my goal is to write a little something each day but my week is shaping up to be all over the place so i'll see how i go #steve harrington #dustin henderson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve harrington headcanon #claudia henderson #lilys ficlets #st: father's day edition

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anjelicawrites · 4 months

Note

Cringefail Throuple 💡

Decorating Billy’s flat for Christmas is a nightmare because Michael comes prepared with a ruler and a laser level and takes on the role of supervisor. Everything has to be perfect! He even measures the spacing of ornaments on the tree!

Eventually, either reader or Billy start distracting him by blowing him just so the other can actually get the decorations up, and he can fix them later… if he still remembers afterwards.

I have to say, there's more angst at the start than what I originally planned. Fear not, there's enough filth to make up for it!

Warnings: angst, Billy panics a little, quick mention to the car bomb, self-image issues, kissing, oral (male receiving), handjob, ass play, anal (male receiving), hints at cunnilingus.

NSFW and 18+ under the cut!

When Billy comes back home, he can hear the Christmas music through the cheap door of his flat. For a moment he panics, then remembers than now, both you and Michael have a set of keys and you've texted him that you two will be waiting for him. Billy takes a big breath, he's still getting used to have people over to his own place, panicking a bit and he has to tell himself that's you two, who love him and care about him, who will never put bombs in his flat, or his car, if he still owned one.

When he opens the door is greeted by the sight of you, perched on a stack of books, on a chair, intent on putting Christmas decorations on the walls. You're wearing a black jumper, decorated with festive skulls and knee high socks.

"Hello love." He says, over Dolly Parton's singing. "Billy!!!" You turn around, almost losing your footing and Billy has to run to you, his hands around your hips to help you keep your balance. "That's dangerous! Where's Michael?"

It blows his mind that someone as smart as you are, can be so incapable of taking care of themself.

"I've send him on a errand. He was driving me absolutely crazy! He kept moving what I had already set."

Billy looks around his small living room/kitchen area. You've already decorated the small tree near the telly and put Christmas trinkets on all the flat surfaces you can find. There's window decorations as well and now you're nailing fake holly garlands on the walls.

"You don't have to work so hard, you know that?"

Billy blushes as he speaks. Both you and Michael have worked so hard during the finals, he's seen how tired you were, almost burned out, and now, instead of lounging on the sofa, stuffing your face full of chocolate while watching stupid Christmas movies, are decorating his crappy flat.

"Billy." You cup his handsome face in your hands. "You're going to be alone for Christmas, and that breaks my heart, at least you'll be feeling our presences with you."

Billy can feel tears welling up in his eyes, he doesn't deserve you two.

"I don't mind not traveling back to London. I can do without having to deal with all my family for this year. Besides, the pub is going to be opened, I will be swamped with work."

You can hear the tremble in his voice, your heart aching with the knowledge that his family doesn't feel like a safe harbor for him, even though you know both his parents and older sister love him.

"Oh Billy..."

You curl your arms around his neck, your legs finding home around his slim hips, his hands under your arse to sustain your weight, your face against the side of his neck, tears already falling from your eyes.

"Love, don't." He says, voice broken by his own tears.

He manages to sit you on the kitchen table, before hugging you impossibly tight, letting you cry as he tries to not bawl himself, failing. When he feels your arms loosened, he gently cups your face and clumsily tries to dry the mess of tears and make up on your cheeks.

"I must look like a panda." You try to joke as you use the arm of the jumper to dry your nose. "A very cute panda." He kisses your forehead. "Let's go."

His hands go under your arse again, lifting you up as if you weight nothing, before he heads to his small bathroom and positions you on the small cabinet next to the sink. He remains between your splayed legs, his hands grabbing your make up remover and cotton pads to reveal your naked face. You don't like you skin, too many blemishes and imperfections for you to feel comfortable to walk around without, at least, some foundation. Billy loves all of them, all these little marks that draw the picture of you truly are, he's spent hours just kissing all of them, before making gentle love to you. After he's washed your face, he kisses the tip of your nose, his teeth nibbling the tip until you laugh.

"Let's finish before Michael comes home." You tell him. "He's going to be a pain anyway." "What did he do?" He's genuinely curious about the drama. "Ugh! He's just so... gah!" "A perfectionist?" "Lucky that I am in love with him!"

The jingle of Michael's keys is drowned by Bing Crosby singing "Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town", he's not surprised you're repeating the 'You better watch out' line with increasing dread, to Billy's absolute glee.

"We need a bigger garland and the Gävle goat is too close to the Santa and..."

He can't finish the sentence, Billy's hand goes to his waist and he uses Michael's momentum to turn him with his back against the wall, crowding him there.

"Hi genius boy." Billy's body is flushed against Michael's, one hand pushing Michael's glasses over his head, the other bent against the wall, caging the other man there. "Hi Billy." Michael can feel his cock swell at Billy's blatant display of strength; it shouldn't turn him on the way it does, but he's discovered things about himself since he's fallen for Billy, things he's appreciating as the days pass.

The kiss makes Michael's knees tremble, his hands go to Billy's arms to keep himself steady, his mouth already slack, tongue playing with Billy's, filthy moans escaping from their interlocked lips. When Billy grounds his semi-hard cock against Michael's, the Oxford's math genius knows he's done for.

"You coming?" Billy asks, lips worrying the side of Michael's neck left free by his hideous Christmas jumper. "Let me finish here and I'm all yours." As turned on as you are by your lovers's antics, you need to finish, without Michael in your way.

Billy is strong, stronger than Michael is, but he can't throw him over his shoulder, he can only kiss him with ferocity, as he backs him to the bedroom, hands under the jumper, nails raking down his fair skin.

Michael grabs Billy's loose joggers, the two of them almost falling as they slide down Billy's long legs, followed by his boxers, to reveal his, now, fully hard cock, Michael's hand already jacking him with fast motions that make Billy's head spin.

They leave a trail of clothes in their hunger for one another, Michael falls on the bed, legs spread and already on Billy's large shoulders, Billy's tongue licking a fat stripe on Michael's engorged cock, the tip of his tongue licking the cock head like he would a ice cream, his hands on Michael's hips to keep him still, his body deaf to the pain of Michael's heels digging in his back when he deep throats his cock, his muscles tight around the engorged member, Michael's back bowing, hands in Billy's hair, scratching his scalp, pulling at his locks, mewls and whimpers spilling from his parted lips.

Michael wails when Billy's mouth leaves his cock, he was almost ready to come!!!

"Do you want to turn around or lie on your back?"

Michael eyesight is not good enough to see Billy in the dark, without his glasses, but he can imagine the hunger on his lover's face, the slightly reddened skin around his mouth.

"On my back." He manages to say, scrambling back to lie in the middle of the bed. "Great choice." Billy's voice is dark with desire, his pupils enlarged.

He stalks towards Michael, whose legs are already spread, hips pumping against nothing. Thankfully the lube is under the pillow and Billy can pour a liberal amount on Michael's hole, fingers following immediately to prepare him, body pressed on Michael's, lips devouring one another's as his fingers scissor and fuck against Michael's prostate, until he keens, hand curling around his cock to stop himself from coming too soon.

Both men whimper and moan when Billy's cock breaches Michael, slow and deep pushes to open his tight hole, until Billy can feel his lover's muscles giving up, accepting his invasion. It's only in that moment that Billy pulls Michael's legs over his shoulders, folding his long body to start rutting inside of him hard and fast, whimpers and screams music to his ears, spurring him on to fuck Michael even faster, aiming mercilessly for his prostate, reveling in the way Michael's muscles curl around his cock and he has to pump harder, hand around Michael's straining cock, him babbling, his orgasm cresting and cresting, Billy's whimpers spurring him on, until Michael's body bows, ropes and ropes of cum spurting from his cock, Billy following him with a long whimper, hips fucking him sloppily, until he falls next to him, breathless.

You find them on the bed, Billy's head on Michael's chest, the picture of debauchery and, if possible, your cunt is even wetter, their moans and whimpers loud enough to cover the music, making you rush through the last decorations, so that you can join them.

"Love?" Michael's voice is strained from having screamed so much. "Yes?" You answer, absentmindedly. "We need to space the ornaments better on the tree." "Oh bollocks!" Billy swears, arms covering his eyes.

You throw your panties in their general direction, before removing your jumper and socks. You saunter to the bed, right where Michael is laying, still droning about all the Christmas trinkets in the flat.

"Michael?" He owlishly stares at you, eyes not truly focusing without his glasses, as you straddle his face. "Put that tongue, and mouth, to a better use, will you?"

Cringefail throuple taglist: @fan-goddess

#cringefail throuple #billy washington x reader x michael gavey #billy washington x y/n x michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x y/n #billy washington x reader #billy washington x y/n #michael gavey #billy washington

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ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 2 years

Text

MASTERLIST

Eddie x GN!reader

Thoughts of falling asleep to Black Sabbath

Hellfire Club is Eddie's family

Got room for another lost sheep?

Playing with Eddie's hair

Eddie & your fav song - Vecna

Eddie and his favourite music

Eddie & you wearing a Hellfire shirt (written with @hersweetrevenge as a reblog chain)

Telling Eddie you masturbated to thoughts of him NSFW

Sleeping in love

Self-deprecation isn't sexy

Dream date

Kissing Eddie is everything

Eddie reads Edgar Poe to you in the library after you're upset by bullies

Periods - drabble

After Vecna, you can’t crack your knuckles around Eddie

Imagine being insecure about your relationship with Eddie

Can’t sleep

Kissing his spider tattoo goodnight

Nyctophobia/fear of the dark comfort

Anyone but you

Eddie loves it when you eat messy

You bang your head on your desk when studying frustrates you - blurb

Eddie finds you crying alone

You're stressed & need a breather

A bittersweet Eddie headcanon

Something upsets Eddie drabble

ep. 2 comfort fic (fix-it)

Eddie teases you for liking metal & Dolly Parton

Eddie's good to your younger siblings - headcanon

You're stressed and Eddie comforts you

Sassing Jason to take the heat off Eddie

Eddie and his s/o are very similar; both chaotic & feral - thoughts

You love plants & often stay up at night to watch specific ones bloom - thoughts

Eddie's most important love language is music

Encouragement from Eddie when you're anxious💕

Helping Eddie to get in the shower after a long day

Eddie always overreacts because he cares

Insecure about Eddie not loving you? My thoughts!!

More period comfort!

NSFW headcanons

Eddie helps you to take your medication

The cheerleader's cheerleader for @munsons-maiden

Eddie puts his hands over your ears when you're overwhelmed

Uncle Wayne & Eddie❤️

(family content; Eddie is in a relationship with Y/N and Y/N is close to Wayne)

Eddie & Wayne - Eddie's birthday - stream of thoughts

Wayne gives you a hug

The night Eddie realised Wayne considered him as his son

You're in a relationship with Eddie & you & Wayne have a small talk outside

How your friendship with Wayne develops during your relationship with Eddie headcanons

Eddie calls Wayne 'dad'

Wayne comforts Eddie when his reputation gets too much for him

Wayne brushes a knot out of Eddie's hair

A look to open up the skies // you discuss your feelings for Eddie with Wayne (PART 1)

A look to open up the skies // PART 2 - you tell Eddie!!!!

The Munsons & pinky promises

Eddie just wants his dad

A character analysis of Wayne Munson - features Eddie

Wayne finds you crying from stress and comforts you before Eddie comes home

Wayne helps you with your period

I need your love before I fall // e.m x gn!reader; you're close with Wayne. You & Eddie both miss him so he comes home.

Test stress - Wayne comforts Eddie

Eddie changes his middle name to 'Wayne' for his Uncle's birthday

Uncle Wayne never shushes Eddie

Uncle Wayne is Eddie's shield

Bands shirts say you miss me

Christmas cookies ft. @seidenbros

Weather the storm (Eddie x reader ft. Uncle Wayne)

Thoughts about Eddie and Wayne, Eddie x Reader, I gush

Uncle Wayne can help you (usually) with a good long look

Uncle Wayne comforts you when you're sad

Eddie almost falls out of a tree & terrifies Uncle Wayne

Uncle Wayne painted the Corroded Coffin banner, not Eddie

Uncle Wayne defends Eddie (baby boy)

You have a nightmare and the Munsons comfort you

The Munsons on Father’s Day

'Ruined' domesticity - Eddie x reader ft. Uncle Wayne

You just want an Eddie hug

Not writing but things I want to keep:

A love letter to Eddie Munson

Gushing over Eddie: why I love him, what I want to know about him, what I want to experience with him (anon ask)

Another Eddie gush written at 6.34am

I finally went feral

#eddie munson x reader #wayne and eddie munson #wayne munson #eddie munson #stranger things 4 x reader

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alittlebitbethany · 4 months

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Look who I found hiding amongst the presents 🎁 This is my photo for Day 23 of A Very Dolly Christmas Countdown 2023 I hope that you like it. Image Description: a photo of a factory Blythe doll hiding in a pile of Christmas presents.

#dolls #a very dolly Christmas Countdown 2023 #a very dolly Christmas Countdown #my doll photos #doll photography #Christmas #christmas presents #blythe dolls #Blythe #factory Blythe #AliExpress Blythe #Candy #Factory Blythe doll #aliexpress #dollblr #blythe doll #festive

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extocancer · 4 months

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“Dreamin' Of A Smoky Mountain Christmas”

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler, Argyle/Jonathan Byers, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Additional Tags:

Christmas fic, Friends to Lovers, idiots to lovers, one bed, Forced Proximity, Snowed In, Love Confessions, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Recreational Drug Use, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Oblivious Steve Harrington, Oblivious Eddie Munson, fellas is it gay to dance with your homie to dolly partons 1984 christmas album?, the love is requited theyre just idiots, Modern Era, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), First Kiss, its the smoky mountains! obviously!, a tiny bit cracky ngl, Cuddling & Snuggling, Making Out, alcohol consumption, mountain cabins, Christmas Vacation, Competence Kink, Hand Kink, Body Worship, Frottage, Praise Kink, Mutual Pining, these fuckers are so awkward that its almost cute, dont read this if youre lactose intolerant, so much cheese its not even funny, very light angst, lots of cute to balance it, Steve harrington is stressed out!!!!, dont worry for too long Eddie kisses it better, Librarian Steve, Tattoo Artist Eddie, Mutual Masturbation, Blow Jobs, but tender, Monster Dong Munson

Summary:

Steve and Eddie are forced to face their oblivious but very mutual six year crushes when they get snowed in at a smoky mountain cabin five hundred miles from home over Christmas week.

Steve learns to believe in Christmas miracles.

#steddie ao3 #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #Ao3 #steddie fic #secret Santa #fic exchange #steddie smut

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lilibrownlabonita · 1 year

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Queen-Namor x reader

Summary: The end of the king and queen.

Warning: A little mediocre angst

Rating: Totally free, that is the purest thing I have ever written

Work count: 2300?

A/n: I don't hate Shuri and I love her, I just used her because there was no other character available.

My inspiration was the song "Jolene" by Dolly parton.

Please accept these crumbs as a Christmas present. 🥹

Shuri, Shuri, Shuri, Shuri

I'm begging you, please don't take my man.

Shuri, Shuri, Shuri, Shuri

Please, don't take him just because you can.

------

It started when you saw the way he looked at her as he put the bracelet on her wrist, the princess of Wakanda, beautiful, young, smart, strong and sweet. You weren't jealous, you were the wife and mother of his children, not her, there was no reason to be jealous, right?

Has your marriage of over 100 years withstood hardships of all kinds, the changes in your people over the years because of pollution? Did you stay together as you watched your people change, fishermen and curious intruders? You were together and you took care of them. But there was never a conflict like that, a loving conflict, where only you were fighting.

Their meetings made you curious, what they said to each other?, they made promises of love?, he whispered sweet words to her?.

In your bed next to your only love who was fast asleep you whispered "Am I no longer your queen my love?"

------

He talks about you in his sleep.

There is nothing I can do to stop it.

I cry when he calls your name, Shuri.

-------

In the middle of the confrontation between Talokan and Wakanda, you fought alongside your husband, you saw him being wounded several times by the princess who was now queen, you wondered if when it was all over he would leave you who had been the queen of Talokan for years for the young queen of Wakanda, Shuri, the woman who had a beautiful smile and glowing skin.

------

Your smile is like a breath of spring.

Your voice is soft as summer rain.

And I can't compete with you, Shuri.

------

An alliance between Wakanda and Talokan was made, now Wakanda and Talokan would fight for each other when needed, jealousy would fill your heart, eat your mind and drive you crazy. Now they would see each other very easily, now he could truly fall in love with shuri, even though it is obvious that he already loves her.

------

You can have any man you want.

But I could never love again.

He is unique to me, Shuri.

------

With your care the wounds of your beloved king were healing fast, at night when the roast wound was cleaned you kissed his leg, this showed your devotion, your love and care for him. No matter what, you would stay by the king's side, for years this was your only purpose, to love him and be a good queen, a good mother and wife, no matter what.

Your people in silence watched the queen grow lonelier and quieter, you were letting your pain kill you little by little as you watched your man leave you. And when you finally left, Talokan felt your pain, but there was no turning back, the queen was gone.

------

I'm begging you, please don't take my man.

Please don't take him, even if you can.

#namor x reader #wakanda forever #tenoch huerta #marvel #tenoch #fic #angst #namor #kukulkan

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burninlovebutler · 1 year

Text

Worship

pairing: austin x fem!reader - word count: 2.2k

warnings: obsessive-possesive!austin, breakup hookup??, oral (f recieving), squirting, alcohol/drunkenness, coercion?, hints at emotional manipulation (no details or descriptions included), 18+, MDNI

summary: you’re awoken by a knock at your door way past midnight. you find your ‘crazy’ ex, the one you almost placed a restraining order against, begging for a second chance. you decide to take advantage of the situation and give in to his wish to worship you.

see masterlist for the rest of my fics💗

this is my (late as fuck) secret santa fic for @foreverdolly - i'm not sure if this exactly what you wanted but since it was kinda out of my wheelhouse of abilities 😅 bc of that i’m not the most confident so pls don’t judge my writing 🫣🫣 i love you dolly, merry (late) christmas 🥰 im so sorry this is so late & sorry you got shitty me for secret santa, you talented goddess lol - also sorry it was already written very christmas-y bc it was intended to go up before christmas 😭

“loving you is a losing game”

You were fast asleep when jarring abrupt knocking fell over the air in your house. Groggy and confused you turned over and fumbled to unlock your phone to check the doorbell security camera. There stood your obviously unwell ex behind fuzzy camera quality.

Once your sheets were reluctantly pulled from yourself, a coarse chill ran over your skin reminding you just how little you had on, prompting you to pull a silk robe over your night slip. You shuffled across the cold tiles and stood up on your tippy toes to double check that it was actually Austin and not just some random creep.

You sighed as soon as the open door revealed the disheveled, clearly unkempt man. Deep dark bags lined his droopy glossed eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here Austin?”

“Where is he?” He slurred accusingly, hand motions erratic but laggy.

“What the hell are you talking about-“ He rudely pushed past you and through the front door. Your fingertips dug into your now aching temples, it was going to be one of those nights. It was on those nights in which the idea of a restraining order was heavily entertained.

A foot helped propel you forward from the door and pace behind him as he hastily peaked into every room. “Where is he, I know he’s here.”

“Is who here?” You groaned at his dramatics.

He spun to face you, brows lowered, and eyes tainted with jealousy, “Oh don’t play dumb darlin’.” With every step forward he took you copied in the opposite direction. “I know your little boyfriend is here.” He hissed.

An uptick in your already rapid heartrate made you wonder which one of your ‘friends’ ratted you out. You went on one date and never spoke again, but you knew that if the information had reached Austin, he’d react… well, exactly like this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lying straight through your teeth as you analyzed the anger swirling in his eyes.

“Don’t ya think we’re past this? Where is he y/n.” He squinted down at you, voice deep and rumbly.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “He’s not here Aus, he’s not my boyfriend. Can you please just fucking leave?” Dropping an arm to your side.

“Are you serious? You really think I’m stupid enough to-” His words slurring together. “You think I’m dumb enough to believe your ‘boyfriend’ wouldn’t be here on Christmas eve?”

“It-“ Suddenly, the realization that the holiday indeed was tomorrow. Between the breakup, the fighting and the holiday rush at your job, you must’ve been in autopilot and the days strung together. Your eyes fell at the dawning awareness of a lonely Christmas. “No, he’s not here Austin.”

His gaze softened perhaps he was finally believing you. He stepped back and took in your home, seemingly searching for something, probably for any hint of holiday decorations. “He’s really not here? On Christmas?”

You scratched the back of your opposite arm and the previous pride of ‘doing better than your ex’ faded. Maybe you were almost as sad and pathetic as him.

“No. And I don’t want him here. We aren’t together. And I just want to be fucking alone, please leave.” You plead once more through the strain in your voice.

“But Christmas is your favorite?” He questioned softly, a stark contrast to the raging asshole that had stormed in. But that’s exactly what got you here in the first place wasn’t it? One minute he’d be cruel and the next he was the sweetest man you’d ever met. In those moments that’s what you’d cling to, convincing yourself he did love you.

You sighed, “Yes, but- I just haven’t been in the Christmas-y mood, okay?”

His hands slid down the back of your arms, sending a chill through your veins, “Well I don’t think my darlin’ should be lonely on her favorite holiday.”

You wanted to rip from his grasp, but it was like your body was refusing to listen, “I’m not your darlin’, I’m not your baby.” The terror of what your words would instigate caused every muscle tense beneath his grasp.

But he stayed calm, even when your back landed on the wall behind you. “Sure ya are,” He looked down at you with such a softness in his eyes, you’d think he was observing a delicate marble statue. “You’ll always be my darlin’.”

You exhaled at his sugar-y sweet words that always seemed to break through your walls. “Aus- please you know that isn’t true, we’re over. We’ve been over.”

“Just because we’re over doesn’t mean you’re not mine.” His hushed voice almost hid the prevalent slur of his words.

You squeezed your eyes closed. Maybe if you couldn’t look at him, he’d have no power over you. “Yes, Austin, it does.” Every bit of self-control aided you in a futile attempt at pushing him off you. He only pressed up against you further, flattening you against the wall. Wandering hands made their way across your silk-covered sides, taking their time to absorb every inch of you.

“I miss you every fucking day baby.” He whispered pressing his forehead against your own. “All I ever fucking think about is you.”

His claims made your tummy spin and flip like a washing machine, but you knew you shouldn’t give in. He wasn’t good to you, no matter how special he made you feel. “Austin please-“

“Darlin’,” His tone still in a low rumble, “Just let me fucking worship you. All I want is you, all I’ve ever wanted is you.” He pulled back just a bit and hooked an index beneath your jaw, “Look at me - I’m a goddamn mess without you. I can’t survive one more day without you.”

“Austin please, you can’t be fucking showing up here just because you think I’m seeing someone new.” You snapped, your arm flung out, emphasizing the statement.

“I fucking knew this was about him,” The lines around his eyes made themselves prevalent as he narrowed his eyes on you like prey, his demeanor shifting yet again.

“Augh there is no him Austin I-“ A stronger attempt at escape was met with an even firmer grip on your arms, keeping you in place. “You’re fucking delusional, that is why we didn’t work out. You are the reason we aren’t together.” The words spilled from your lips before you could stop them. The twist of Austin’s already scrunched face indicated that you’d made a grave mistake.

His fingertips dung into your biceps, anger piped in him. You could see his restraint churn behind menacing cobalt eyes. He wouldn’t get mean though, not when he was after something. That exact realization must’ve hit him when his digits softened on your skin. “Baby please.” His forehead pressed against yours again and kept his gaze on you. “Let me give you a Christmas present, let me be here for you, let me worship you.”

You processed his words, running a tongue between your lips. A sliver of confidence glimmered in the pit of your stomach. He was there, he wanted something, he hurt you and you wanted control of it. “Beg then.” You straightened up and balled up your fists at your sides to feign assertion.

A wash of surprise and confusion covered his face, obviously not expecting your rebuttal. “What?” He stuttered.

“You heard me.” Clearing your throat. “If that’s what you want. Beg for it.” You propped up a brow and looked over him like he was nothing but a conquest.

Much to your surprise it only took that much for him to give in. Without another word, he lowered down to just below your ear, starting with a simple kiss. Then another, his plump lips taking their time in claiming ownership of your neck. “I love you.” He whispered softly before pulling your skin into his lips with a suck. Your eyes fluttered closed at his touch, his attentive kisses always made you weak, trickling a pulse down between your legs. “I’ll always love you darlin’.” Now making his way to your collarbones, leaving a trail of dark purple marks behind. Any other day this would’ve made you furious, leaving proof of him on your body for everyone to see but tonight, you couldn’t argue with the throbbing in your core.

A part of you wanted to reciprocate his claims of love but the words refused to leave your mouth. You were ripped from the tumbling thoughts when his kisses landed on your hardened nipple under your night slip, every kiss so delicate, so intentional. “Austin-“ His tongue ran over the covered nub causing a sharp gasp to slip from your throat.

“I love you.” He repeated. “Please let me show you.”

Every single cell in your body was on fire and begging you to touch him, feel him, kiss him, hold him but he had atonement to pay. You stayed completely still and silent as he drifted down your body and before you knew it, he was on his knees before you, looking up with big sky blue eyes. “Baby please.” His hands trailing up the backside of your legs, goosebumps following his touch. “I’m literally on my knees for you, let me love you. Let me show you how much.” He always had a knack of perfecting the puppy dog eyes that made you weak to any demand.

Following his previous actions, his lips started at your knee and trailed their way up. The sheer proximity of his lips and fingers to your pussy was driving you mad and had you leaking into your panties. His fingers delicately pushed the slip up above your hips, taking a moment to take you in, his gaze trailing up from your core to your expectant eyes. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” A sloppy kiss to your hipbone and a curl of his fingers into your thighs, easily spreading them apart. “You’re a goddess, let me worship you.” His eyes locked on yours when his lips reached your panty-covered center, pressing a soft kiss just over your throbbing clit. And that was it, how could you possibly stop him. You gave a quick nod signaling him the green light.

Without hesitation, his finger hooked onto your thin panties and tugged them aside, slowly sliding between your folds. A rumble came from his chest once he tasted you.

“Fuck.” You breathed out, resting your head on the wall behind you. His tongue continued its plight, swirling over your nub, starting a pit in your stomach. “Aust.”

Your responses had no effect on his actions, only fueling him. His tongue flattening between your lips, rounding your clit and finding its way into your dripping entrance. He ate you like a gourmet meal, savoring every taste. Your hand slithered its way down, tangling into his soft golden locks pushing him further where you needed him.

A slight yelp escaped when in one fail swoop he managed to prop your thighs on his shoulder and around his head, his tongue never leaving your heat. You were glued to the wall, only his shoulders and arms keeping you suspended. You were concerned with your weight on him, but he didn’t seem to struggle, effortlessly holding you in place as he devoured you.

Austin looked up wanting to fully immerse himself in what he was doing to you, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the living room as you melted in his mouth. Your hips rolled into his tongue as it tended to your swollen clit. “Fuck Austin.” You breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut and lulling your head back taking in each delicious moment. “Fuck Aus I’m gonna cum.”

He replied only with his blues locking on you more determined than ever, quickening his actions ever so slightly to help you cross your finish line. You began to unravel when his tongue rolled precisely against your pulsing clit causing your grip in his hair to tighten, letting out a loud moan. It was like every bit of anger and resentment channeled into the guttural screams that left your mouth as blinding euphoria washed over you. The orgasm seemed to last longer than normal, and you felt yourself release into his mouth. Immediately embarrassed by an action you had no idea you could achieve thinking he might be disgusted but when you looked down, his stare even more ravenous than before. He drank every last drop of you insatiably, lapping your cum from your core.

Finally, when he could tell you were spent, he gently pulled off you and carefully set you down on your now wobbly legs. “Fuck.” You breathed out in a pant, pressing your hand against the wall for stability. “I did miss that.”

Austin stood up and gave a small grin, “I could tell.” Wiping the remnants of you off his mouth.

In a natural reflex you went to hook fingers into his jeans to return the favor, but he stopped your wrist, “No.” He said simply. It was confusing, how did your ex-boyfriend show up to your house in the middle of the night claiming to miss you so much, eat you out and then stop you from reciprocating?

With his dry hand he tilted your chin up by his knuckle, “I wanted to worship you remember? This isn’t about me.”

“But I-“ You began before he cut you off.

“That was as much a Christmas gift for you as it was for me, okay?” He reassured softly. “I don’t need you to anything for me, I just wanted to take care of you. I missed the way you taste.” He nudged his nose against yours, “I missed you.”

His words twisted your stomach, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him too. “Ditto.” You replied quietly, bringing timid fingers up to his cheek and meeting his eyes. “Thanks for my present.”

And with a hum he placed a tender kiss on your lips, “Of course. I love you.”

An internal battle ensued at how you felt about that statement, but something told you maybe this Christmas wouldn’t turn out so bad after all.

taglist: @lindszeppelin @powerofelvis @cryingabtab @slowsweetlove @purejasmine @ab4eva @infatuatedharleys @navsblog @feverdreamcaoilainn @pennyroyalcreep

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story/my writing pls consider giving my main fic, Forever Winter, a read - if you like slow burn angsty sad smut you’ll probably like it lol xx

#this is the shortest fic i've ever written lol #pls don’t judge me #i’m so sorry if this sucks #also highkey i didn’t know how to end it #i hope y’all like it #dolly pls forgive me #austin butler x reader #austin butler #austin butler x fem!reader #austin butler x afab!reader #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler one shot #fanfiction #austin butler angst #austin butler smut #austin butler fluff #Spotify

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dduane · 4 months

Text

In the EbooksDirect store: Owl Be Home For Christmas.

CONTAINS:

The Tree in Rockefeller Plaza

Young Wizards grown up (okay, in their mid-twenties, be that way.)

Gay wizards in bed (Just two of them. But you may be able to guess which ones...)

Dolly Parton (singing)

2020 behaving very badly

...and one little Owl who's mad as hell and NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANY MORE.

Please note that this is your last chance to obtain the ebook at its present low price before all the prices at the Ebooks Direct store go up on January 1st.

Get Owl Be Home For Christmas

(This work also appears in Interim Errantry 2: On Ordeal.)

...As usual, with regret, please note that due to Brexit, Ebooks Direct can no longer sell directly to UK-based readers. (More details here.) If you're UK-based, you can obtain the Kindle ebook of Owl... or the print or ebook versions of Interim Errantry 2 from Amazon.co.uk.

#Young Wizards #Young Wizards Christmas #LGBTQ #owls

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originallandlockedmariner · 4 months

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2023

Pickleball. Generative AI. Lula takes office in Brazil, Amazon Rainforest throws a party. Prince Harry refusing to stop talking about his frozen penis no matter how many times society begged him to stop. UFOs are real. Viral cat dubbed ‘largest cat anyone has ever seen’ gets adopted. Pee-Wee’s big adventure ends. Musk & X. Turkey-Syria earthquake kills thousands. India surpasses China as ‘country squeezing in the most peeps’. Tucker Carlson ousted. Miss USA and her 30 lbs moon costume. Wildfires in Kelowna and Hawaii. Macron tinkers with retirement age of the French. Paltrow can’t ski. Big Red Boots. Bob Barker leaves us. Alabama mom delivers 2 babies from her 2 uteruses in 2 days. Charles III. Ukrainian counteroffensive against Russian forces as the war drags on. Taylor Swift is Time’s Person of the Year. African ‘coup belt’. Flo-Jo dies in her sleep. Chinese spy balloon shot down. Hollywood writers strike. Human ‘nice mugshot’ Shitstain and his 91 indictments. Highest interest rates in 2 decades. The Bear’s Christmas episode. War in Gaza. Shinzo Abe is assassinated. Alex Murdaugh. Ocean Cleanup removes 25 000 lbs of trash from the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Vase purchased for $3.99 sells for $100 000 at auction. Barbenheimer. A third of Pakistan is flooded. Lionel Messi is the GOAT. Travis Kelce. The Sphere opens in Las Vegas. Regulators seized Silicon Valley Bank and Signature Bank, resulting in two of the three largest bank failures in U.S. history. “The Woman In Me”. WHO declares COVID ain’t a thing no more. Titan sub sinks, rich people die. Matthew Perry drowns. Dumbledore Dies (again). Massive sales of ‘Fuck Trudeau’ flags for jacked-up micro-dick trucks. Everything Everywhere All At Once. June-August was the hottest three-month period in recorded history across the Earth. Tina Turner dies. And the Beatles release a new song?! Wow… You got big shoes to fill 2024.

Archives for context:

2020

Kobe. Pandemic. Lockdown. Koalas on fire. Harry and Meg retire. Toilet paper hoarding. Alcoholism. Impeach the f*cker. Parasite. Bonnie Henry. Tiger King. Working from home. Sourdough bread. Harvey Weinstein guilty. Zoom overdose. Dip your body in sanitizer. 6 feet. Quarantine. OK Boomer. Home schooling (everyone passes). Murder hornets. Dolly Parton. Don’t hug, kiss or see anybody, especially your family. Chris Evans’ junk. TikTok. Glory holes. Face masks. CERB. West Coast wildfires. Stay home. Small Businesses lose, big box stores win. F*ck Bozos. ‘Dreams’ and cranberry juice. Close yoga studios, but thumbs up to your local gym. Speak moistly to me. George Floyd. BLM. F*ck Trump. Phase 2, 3 and Summer. RBG. Baby Yoda. Biden wins. Bond and Black Panther die. No more lockdown. Back to school and work. Just kidding... giddy up round 2. Giuliani leaks shit from his head. Resurgence of chess. UFOs are real. Restrictions. Dave Grohl admits defeat. Monolith. “F*ck... forgot my mask in the car”. No Christmas shenanigans allowed. Bubbles. Alex Trebek. Use the term ‘dumpster fire’ one too many times. Jupiter and Saturn form 'Christmas Star'. Happy New Year Bitches!!!! 2021... you better not sh*t the bed!!

2021

“We love you, you’re very special”. Failed coup attempt at the Capital. Twitter, FB and IG ban Donny. Hammerin’ Hank goes to the Field of Dreams. Bozo no longer richest man but still a twat. Leachman, Tyson, and Holbrook pass. The economy is worse than expected. Kim and Kanye split. Brood X cicadas. Dre has an aneurysm and nearly has his home broken into. Bridgerton. MyPillow CEO is a douche. Covid restrictions extended indefinitely. Captain Von Trapp dies. Proud Boys officially a Terrorist Organization. Richard Ramirez. Cancer takes Screech. Travel bans. Impeachment trial (again?… oh and this was barely February? WTF??!!) Suez Canal blockage. Myanmar protest. Kong dukes it out with Godzilla, while Raya watches. Olympics. Friends compare elective surgeries. F9. Canada Women’s Soccer Gold. Free Britney. Multiverses. Residential Schools in Canada unearth children’s bodies. Kate is Mare of Easttown. Cuomo resigns. Disney and Dwayne cruise together. Wildfires. Delta variants. Musk passes Bezos. Candyman x 5. Capt. Kirk goes to space. F*ck Kyle Rittenhouse. Astros didn’t win. Squid Game. Goodbye Bond. Dune is redone. Angelina is Eternal. Astroworld deaths. Meta. Omicron. Three Spidermen. Tornados in December? World Juniors cancelled. Pills against Covid. School opening delayed. And Betty White dies. 2022… my expectations are ridiculously low…

2022

Wow… eight billion people. Queen Elizabeth II passes away after ruling the Commonwealth before dirt was invented. The monkeypox. Russia plays the role of global a**hole. Wordle. Mother Nature rocks Afghanistan. Hover bike. Styles spits on Pine. Olivia Newton John, Kristie Alley, and Coolio leave us. Pele was traded to team Heaven. FTX implodes. Madonna and the 3-D model of her vagina. Pig gives his heart to a human. Beijing can brag that it is the first city ever to host both the Summer Olympics and Winter Olympics. Uvalde. $3 trillion Apple. Keith Raniere gets 120 years. The Whisky War ends with Canada and Denmark going halfsies. Mar-a-Lago. Nick Cannon brood hits a dozen. Shinzo Abe is assassinated. Inflation goes through the roof (if you can actually afford to put a roof over your head). Volodymyr Zelensky. European heat wave. Bennifer. Salman Rushdie is stabbed on stage, Dave Chappelle tackled, and Chris Rock is only slapped. Thích Nhất Hạnh. Heidi Klum goes full slug. Cuba knocked out by Ian. Liz Truss and 4.1 Scaramuccis. Taylor Swift breaks Ticketmaster. Human shitstain Elon Musk ignores helping mankind and buys Twitter instead. Riri becomes a mommy. NASA launches Artemis 1. Trump still a whiny little b*tch. Music lost Loretta Lynn, Christine McVie, and Meat Loaf. Democracy died at least three times. Pete Davidson continues to date hottest women on the planet (no one understands how?!) Microplastics in our blood. Alex Jones is a c*nt. So is DeSantis. Argentina wins the World Cup. Meghan and Harry. Eddie Munson rips Metallica in the Upside Down. tWitch. Roe vs Wade is overturned by the micro dick energy of the Supreme Court. CODA. James Corden shows he is a "tiny Cretin of a man". Amber (and the sh*t on the bed) Heard (round the world). Sebastian Bear-McClard proves he’s one of the f*cking dumbest men alive. Latin America's ‘pink tide’. Anti-Semitic rants by Ye. Bob Saget. A verified blue checkmark. Godmother of punk Vivienne dies. And, Tom Cruise feels the need for speed yet again. 2023… whatcha got for us?!? Nothing shocks me anymore.

@daily-esprit-descalier

#me #my words #doodles

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 1 year

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Pine-ing For You

Father Paul has a little accident while trying to set up Christmas lights and you decide to get festive.

I got this idea while chatting with @aherdofbees, and together we developed it to get our dear priest into quite the delicious situation. She made a 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 illustration that goes with this fic. Go on, click the linkie and like and reblog, because it truly is amazing.

Thank you so much for the inspiration Allison, I loved writing this!

NSFT/18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

Pine-ing For You - 5.3K

tw: explicit sexual themes, consensual unprotected sex, body worship, smut with a lot of feelings™, attmepts at humour

Crockett Island may have seemed dull most of the time to the untrained eye, but after more than a year of living there you knew better. The people, while many of them a bit subdued, all had their little joys in life, their passions, and though they were wary of strangers that came into their little town at first, they were among the most kind and hospitable folks you had the good fortune to have met.

However, when Christmas rolled around, even the untrained eye could perceive the shift in atmosphere. It was a jolly holiday after all and the people indeed were slightly jollier. Little by little, decorations began appearing around the island. Many of them were small and decent, maybe just a wreath on a door, or an electric candlestick set in a window. Some were larger, Christmas lights on the roof, perhaps a little reindeer in the front yard. Few decorated more.

Some of these more festive looking places were the schoolhouse, which had student-made snowflakes in the windows, garlands on the windowsills, lights hung from the roof and even a charming wooden nativity scene in front. The Flynn house and The Greene house also breathed a gentle Christmas atmosphere to everyone who walked by. And then, there was Saint Patrick’s. Apparently, Monsignor Pruitt adored Christmas more than anyone else on the island and it showed. Dozens and dozens of various decorations were found in one of the storage areas of the church by Father Paul, who literally begged you to help him put them up. Which you were more than happy to do.

So now there were artificial swags at every corner of the small church, boughs of holly, wreaths, candles and another nativity set, placed right in front of the altar. This one was more detailed and painted, obviously made to be inside rather than face the weather conditions. And it was quite obvious Monsignor Pruitt took great pride in his decor collection. All that was missing were some Christmas trees.

—

Many residents of Crockett Island used artificial trees for their Christmas festivities, but there were still those who couldn’t imagine celebrating their lord’s birthday without a fine fir or a pine. One day, about a week before Christmas, a group of volunteers would gather on one of the larger fishing ships and set off to the mainland to pick out live trees for everyone on the island who wanted one. Ordering worked through simple paper forms, delivered to mailboxes by Dolly Scarborough. One would write down their name, preferred kind of tree, and its size. Filled out forms were then dropped off in the little town hall, along with the money for it. Unlike everyone else (including you) who ordered only one tree, Father Paul ordered three - two larger to be placed inside the church, one smaller for his rectory. He was, of course, among the volunteers going to actually pick the trees up.

They returned around eleven o’clock in the morning. You stood on the dock, looking at the fishing boat full of tied trees with a smile. Paul would be hauling the trees for Saint Patrick’s and the rectory first, with the help from Ed and Riley Flynn, and you convinced Sturge to help you carry the large pine tree you asked for to your home.

“Thank you again,” you said, walking next to him. You genuinely tried to help him carry it, but after a few minutes of very awkward walking and a few broken off twigs, the handyman simply threw the big tree over his shoulder and hauled it the rest of the way by himself. “Do you accept payment in gingerbreads?” you asked with a grin and raised eyebrows. Sturge thought for a while: “Yeah. But it will cost you.” “Oh? How much?” you chuckled. “I want the entire sheet.” You gave a whistle and made an amused ‘tsk’ sound: “Inflation these days…”

—

Two hours later, you stood at your kitchen counter, decorating gingerbreads with white chocolate. The pine stood tall and proud in your living room. It truly was a beautiful tree, healthy and dense, its herby scent, having already filled the room it stood in, was seeping through the rest of your house. You heard the front door open and shut, followed by some shuffling from the hallway.

“Hmm, it smells nice in here,” came a dreamy voice, making you smile. When footsteps began approaching the kitchen, you turned around to greet the priest. But then: “What are you wearing?” you asked, laughing softly. Father Paul was dressed in his skinny jeans, like usual. What wasn’t usual however, was the 'ugly Christmas jumper' instead of the black clerical shirt, its colour reminding you of his gold chasuble. There was a white nordic pattern on front, consisting of snowflakes and reindeers. It didn’t look terrible, but since you never before saw Paul wearing something like this, it kind of took your breath away for a moment.

“Do you like it?” asked Paul with a smile, pulling at his sleeves which you noticed were rather tight at the wrists. “It’s hideous,” you replied snarkily, making the priest chuckle and walk closer to you. He noticed the half decorated gingerbreads right away and was just about to reach for one when you lightly slapped his hand away. “Ouch. What was that for?” asked Paul, fake hurt in his voice. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his torso: “These are for Sturge, for lending me a hand with that tree.” “Oh I see,” replied your lover, understanding on his face, “will you make some for us, too?” You rolled your eyes and couldn’t help but smile: “Of course I will, have I ever neglected you?”

Paul pulled you close to press a soft kiss against your lips, claiming your entire attention. Therefore, you didn’t notice his hand slowly creeping up and onto the counter until it was too late, and one of the gingerbreads was snatched and promptly bit into by the father. “You scoundrel!” you smacked his chest, while Paul only laughed with his mouth full, “you’re lucky I love you.”

He swallowed his bite and batted his eyelashes at you: “it must be the sweater.” You smirked and squinted your eyes. “The jumper is hideous,” you repeated and Paul shook his head: “You really think that?” You didn’t. Taking him in once more, you had to admit that it did look rather flattering on Paul’s tall lean frame. “I knew it,” he said smugly, “you can’t lie to me, you like it.” “I don’t like it,” you tried once more, the corners of your lips turning up inadvertently. Paul took another bite of the gingerbread: “Hm, you love it.”

A few moments later, during which you picked at the soft wool of your lover’s jumper while he hummed appreciatively at the taste of your baking, you gave him a kittenish smile: “Since you’ve got nothing better to do right now than be a menace,” he opened his mouth in mock-offence before smiling cheekily, “you could go and start with the Christmas tree, what do you say?” “Hm,” he thought, “I thought we’d do it together?” Your arms encircled his waist again, pulling him closer and lifting your head to meet his eyes: “We will, but you could at least start putting the lights on. It’s a beast of a tree and I wouldn’t be able to reach the top, unlike a certain tall priest.”

He gave you a soft smile and pecked the tip of your nose, before brushing his lips against yours: “Very well.” You watched in curiosity, as his hands came up to rest on your hips and his eyes bore into your own. And then, in less than a second, he was scrambling away, another gingerbread in his hand. You gasped and stared after him, mischievous dark eyes twinkling at you until he rounded a corner. “Unbelievable!” you called after him.

—

You were pretty happy with your work, before you on the counter lay a sheet of nicely decorated gingerbreads of various shapes. Save for the two Father Paul stole right under your nose, but you supposed Sturge wouldn’t really notice that. You were in the middle of moving them into a container, when a dull thud sounded from the living room. “Paul? Is everything alright?” you called. A deafening silence was your only answer for several seconds and you started getting worried, when Paul’s sheepish voice reached your ears: “Um… A little help here, (F/N)?” You finished storing the cookies away, wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and made your way to the living room.

You couldn’t see the priest at first, but when you did, you began giggling uncontrollably. Paul was lying on his stomach very nearly under the tree, the christmas lights cord in his outstretched hand. His torso was bare and you could see the yellow jumper and white undershirt tangled around Paul’s arms, caught on one of the tree’s strong branches. He was looking at you abashed, his cheeks a little rosy with embarrassment.

You learned fairly early on in your relationship that for all of Paul’s amazing qualities, his skill as a priest, his knack for cooking, and his knowledge of your body as a lover, he was sometimes quite clumsy and very accident prone. A week wouldn’t pass without him bashing his little toe on some piece of furniture and you’d often find small bruises on his arms and legs, prompting him to sheepishly explain the cause for them. It was usually doors.

“I’m so sorry,” you said after you caught your breath and walked closer to him, kneeling by his side, “but what happened?” Father Paul released a huff and an adorable pout formed on his lips. “I wanted to turn on the lights. I got under the tree, on my knees, and tried to plug the cord into the socket. I couldn’t reach it though, and wanted to get out, try a different angle. But, um,” he paused, wetting his lips with his tongue, “I caught my shirt on a branch. I tried to untangle it, but couldn’t. So I thought I’d just try to take the shirt off, free it from the branch and put it on again. This is as far as I got…” The priest looked angrily at his hands, “the sleeves are too tight at the wrists, I can’t get my hands out! I mean, I tried yanking away, but the tree swayed rather nastily and I was worried it would collapse on top of me.”

“Wait,” you said with an amused grin, “are you really actually trapped? You can’t get out of there?” Father Paul 'tsked: “Yes. I am trapped under a Christmas tree. Can you help me?” You smiled softly at him and pet his hair. You proceeded to move forward, crawling under the tree yourself (mindful of any mischievous branches) and snatching the cord from Paul’s hand. You plugged it in and the living room was suddenly illuminated by multicoloured Christmas lights. You crawled back and sat leisurely on the ground, close to the priest’s head. Paul looked at you expectantly for a while, but after seeing you showed no intention to free him, a look of shock came over his face: "Wha- You're really going to leave me here?”

You once more moved your hand to his head, fingers carding through his dark hair: “'Leaving you' is the last thing on my mind,” you moved until you were lying down next to him, hand now coming to stroke his cheek and jaw, “but right now, I think I like you exactly. Where. You. Are,” you exaggerated each word, thumb moving to stroke the edges of Paul’s lips. “You look like an early Christmas present,” you purred, leaning your head on your free hand. Paul closed his eyes at the feeling of your clever fingers once again combing through the soft curls on the back of his neck. “Are you-... are you really trying to seduce me while I’m trapped under a Christmas tree?”

You giggled airily, tugging at the soft hair gently and delighting in Paul’s tiny little gasps: “Hmm, maybe… Is it working?” Paul’s head fell down to lean on his arms, his cheeks got even darker and in a quiet voice he replied: “A little.” You slowly scratched at his scalp, smiling lovingly each time he leaned into your touch. "Hey," you said then, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you. Your thumb found his lips again and you gave him a look he could read perfectly by now. 'Tell me you're not ok with this and I'll stop.' it said. Warmth spread through Paul's chest, followed by a gentle tingle of anticipation.

He pressed his lips against your thumb further in a small kiss, before smiling slightly and blinking at you coquettishly, and he too attempted to speak to you with his eyes: ‘I want this’.

You gave him one more gentle smile, before leaning back and looking at him appreciatively: “My, my, I must have been so nice this year, what a lovely present.” The priest chuckled into his arms: “Are you going to tear the wrapping paper off?” Your head cocked to the side, a wolfish grin on your face. One fingertip stroked along Paul’s earlobe, descending down upon his pulsepoint and feeling his increasing heartbeat. “Nope, I don’t do that, it’s no fun” you shook your head, “I always unwrap presents slowly, peeling the tape off and trying not to damage the paper. Sometimes I even stop midway, because the anticipation makes it so much better.

“I think I’ll start with the parts that are unwrapped already,” you purred into his ear and moved closer, both of your hands coming to rest on his shoulders while you pressed small kisses into his hair, lips moving down to brush against the nape of his neck. “Hm,” you sighed contently, “such a pretty neck, long and elegant, like a swan, almost regal,” you bit lightly at the beginning of his spine, making your lover release a short gasp, “so sensitive.” You moved lower, hands sliding across shoulder blades: “Beautiful golden skin, like honey, soft, and warm, and very sweet.” Father Paul could feel more hotness entering his already red cheeks. Your whispered praises always had a profound effect on him. He hid his face in his arms.

“Strong shoulders and back, muscles defined perfectly but gently,” you continued and now dragged your fingernails across the entire length of the priest's back, making him quietly groan in pleasure. You’ve never met anyone who didn’t like their back scratched, but Paul seemed particularly enraptured by it. You made sure to lightly graze every inch of the golden skin, finding all the right spots, all the while pushing hot kisses onto every single freckle you could see and connecting them with your tongue.

Paul couldn’t help but chuckle when he felt your hands give his clothed bum a squeeze. “Girls love a guy with a lovely arse, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” you whispered cheekily and gave the lovely arse another squeeze, “alright, let me see the other side of this present before I start unwrapping it further.”

You helped Paul carefully roll over and onto his back, his wrists, still bound by his own clothes, now crossed over one another. Dark hair peeked at you from under the priest’s arms, and his pink nipples looked like little pearls screaming for attention. And they weren’t the only thing craving attention. Paul’s erection was tenting the dark grey skinny jeans and his eyes fluttered when you ran a finger over it. You gave him a grin: “Sorry, I’ve always been a little impatient, but I promise I’ll try to be good.” Paul shuddered out a laugh, his breathing a little shallow: “I wouldn’t be mad either way.”

Slowly you put a leg over his waist and straddled your lover: “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah,” you leaned forward and took his face into your hands, thumbs caressing his brow. “Thick, expressive eyebrows… Dark eyes, so, so large. Like a dolly,” you leaned forward to press your lips against Paul’s eyelids, then pulled away again, “cute, well defined nose, perfect for kissing,” once more you made your point by pecking the entire length of your lover’s nose, making him produce a fluttery chuckle.

“Though, of course, your entire face is perfect for kissing,” you smiled at him lovingly and then your fingers traced the edges of his lips, “but most of all it’s your mouth. That perfect cupid’s bow. I see it, and I want to trap it between my own lips. When you smile, when you pout, when you do that adorable little mouth shrug… When you talk, to me, to your congregation. When your mouth is slightly open and I can see your upper teeth just peeking through. I always want to kiss you.”

You crushed your lips against Paul’s, teeth clashing and tongues moulding against each other. He groaned into your hungry mouth and wanted to curl his arms around you, but soon remembered he was bound and released a desperate sound instead. You only parted from him when the lack of oxygen threatened to take your consciousness away. A tiny string of saliva followed you for a bit, before it snapped and landed on Paul's kiss bruised lips. You kissed the slight cleft in his chin and playfully dipped your tongue into it.

The emotion in your eyes as you pulled back could have made Paul cry, you were looking at him as if he was the rarest jewel, the most fantastical treasure in the world, as if he was your sun and moon and stars. “You have no idea just how beautiful you really are, do you? Inside and out,” you whispered, hands returning to stroke the side of the priest’s face, which was once more getting hot. This time however, he couldn’t hide it and as he lay there, absorbing each and every one of your words, Paul realised he didn’t even want to hide. You leaned closer again, whispering against his open mouth: “So beautiful, so very pretty.” An involuntary moan escaped him.

You smiled against his mouth, then ducked your head lower, nibbling softly around Paul's jawline before descending upon his throat, teeth scraping over his Adam's apple right as he swallowed heavily. You shifted until you sat directly on his hips and rolled your own, rubbing against his constricted erection and making his head fall back, those fine lips opening wordlessly. He took large gulps of air, hands involuntarily trying against his restraints once more. “Soon,” you promised, rolling your hips again, “but do try not to move your hands too much. I really don’t want the tree to actually fall down on our heads. Can you imagine explaining that to Sarah, when we show up all bruised and battered?”

The priest made an unhappy little sound, but tried to keep his hands as still as he could anyway. You made your way down his chest, nuzzling your face into his soft skin and delivering soft kisses and playful bites every time you felt like it. Paul sighed when your lips reached one of his nipples. You circled the nub with your tongue before sucking it into your mouth and pinching it with your teeth lightly. You used your fingers to stimulate the other nipple in perfect synchronisation with your mouth, trying various techniques and listening to Paul’s shallow gasps and quiet groans for feedback.

After alternating between the two, now red and swollen, buds for several minutes, you decided to carry on with your adventurous journey across Paul’s exquisite body, and ran the tips of your fingers against his ribs teasingly. You grinned widely when your lover made a little jump, trying to get away from your touch now: “N-no, don’t,” he gasped, but it was pointless. You again stroked over his ribs and under his arms, and was soon rewarded with choked laughter. “A-angel, please… please don’t tickle me right now,” he begged in between chuckles. You giggled, but took mercy on him, climbing up to steal a kiss: “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t resist.”

You sat back onto his thighs and gave the priest a reassuring smile after you laid your hands on his sensitive ribs again, this time your entire palms, intent on caressing him and bringing him pleasure. You stroked down, soon finding an obstacle in your way. Father Paul’s jeans looked so, so tight around his hard shaft it must’ve been painful, and you licked your lips as you made eye contact with him and rubbed the heel of your hand over his length. He shuddered and his eyes fluttered closed on their own. You repeated the motion, making your lover groan with pleasure.

“I think it’s time for me to unwrap my present,” you whispered huskily and waited for him to look at you. When he did, you sat even further away, all the way above his knees, and began making a show of popping open the button and torturingly slowly pulling his zipper down. Your fingers curled below the waistline on each side of the trousers and you tugged them down, little by little, revealing one, then two edges of his hip bone, protruding under his skin enticingly. You left the jeans bunched in the middle of his thighs and observed the priest amorously.

His hands, still crossed at the wrists above his head were balled into fists, fingers white at the knuckles. Paul’s face was flushed dark pink, with sweat gathering in his hairline, one drop of it having already rolled down his cheek. His lips were swollen from kissing. Well, his upper lip anyway, the bottom one was currently trapped between Paul’s teeth, but you presumed it’d be in a similar condition. He was breathing hard, his eyes dark with lust, and there was a damp spot on the front of his grey boxer briefs. You bowed to press a wet kiss just below his sternum, then lower, then lower again, relishing the soft tender skin of the priest's tummy.

You drew a circle around Father Paul’s belly button with your tongue and started pinching the area underneath with your teeth, teasing at the happy trail going down into his underwear. You looked up after reaching the waistband, catching your lover’s intense gaze. He whimpered softly when instead of going where he needed you the most, you bit into that tempting hip bone. “Please…” he whispered, feeling like he was going to go insane if you were to tease him much longer. Paul didn’t even realise his eyes were closed until your soft hand touched his cheek and he opened them again. You were smiling at him warmly, a look filled with tenderness. He willingly opened his mouth for you when you moved your hand to the back of his neck and kissed him soundly.

At the same time you finally pushed your hand under the waistband of his briefs and took a hold of his aching member. Paul moaned into your mouth in relief, his eyes shutting closed and eyebrows turning upwards. You fondled his manhood steadily, massaging it slowly with your thumb drawing little circles into the heated skin. He breathed hard against your mouth once he had to part for breath, and you stuck your tongue out to trace his lips before pushing it back between them. You were slow in your movements, yet Paul soon found himself nearing his peak.

“Wait,” he managed to get out and you let go of him right away. He tried to convey what he wanted with his eyes and, thankfully, you seemed to understand. You climbed off of him, lying down by his side instead so you could make out some more. From his position, Paul now had some access to your neck and he immediately used this fact to his advantage, pressing sloppy kisses and bites against your pulse point while you massaged his scalp with your fingers. He attempted to duck his head lower, but was held back by his restraints. He gave you another pleading look and you started removing articles of your own clothing, as well as ridding him of the jeans and boxers entirely.

Once you were as naked as he (save for the jumper and shirt tangled on his arms), You climbed back over him, bracing yourself on one hand above his head and pushing your bosom level with his face. Wasting no time, Paul began kissing the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to circle your nipples and flick over them. Meanwhile, your other hand was between your legs, two fingers slowly moving inside your heat in a scissoring motion, stretching yourself. You rested your head against Paul’s, your content sighs fanning over the priest’s black hair.

Suddenly, Paul produced an alarmed sound and turned his head away. You immediately lifted yourself off him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” you asked, your arousal now mixed with worry. He screwed his eyes shut before releasing a sheepish chuckle: “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just-... um, there is a pine needle getting somewhere it definitely should not be getting.” You started laughing quietly, Paul joining you shortly after. After you fished out the pine needle from under the back of his thigh and made sure there were no more pointy things threatening anything vital, you wanted to lean forward again, but Paul stopped you. “I want to watch,” he said. You smiled down at him and made a show of fucking yourself with your own fingers.

Once you felt sufficiently ready, you pulled your digits out and moved down Paul’s body, pushing your hips together. You rolled your hips a few times, the underside of the priest’s cock sliding through your wet folds. Using your now free hand, you reached behind yourself and guided your lover inside. Paul bent one leg at the knee and pushed his hips up to meet you halfway. Both of you choked out a small gasp. Despite your preparation, you needed a few moments to get used to Paul’s width.

You experimentally raised your hips before sinking back, trying to find an angle that worked the best for you. A few thrusts later, you felt a bolt of pleasure shoot through your spine and into your core, and grinned. You lowered yourself until your body was flush with Paul’s and carefully slipped your arms under his, hands coming to tangle into his hair. You connected your foreheads and looked into his eyes deeply as you started thrusting against him in that brilliant angle.

Paul’s laboured breathing and delicate moans blew across your cheeks, warming them more than the blood gathered there. You tilted your head to the side and let your lips connect in an uncoordinated kiss, keeping your eyes open. Paul’s hands were shaking from how much he wanted to reach out for you, all the while keeping in mind that was the only thing he couldn’t do, so he instead tried to convey all the ways he wanted to touch you in through his mouth, sucking on your lower lip, biting your tongue gently, licking a wet strip along your jaw.

Your movements sped up and the fire within you started burning brighter, every single thrust like a spurt of gasoline into a flame. You hid your face into Paul’s heated neck, feeling his heart hammering away at a rapid speed, sensing his groans and whimpers before actually hearing them. You wrapped yourself around him completely, as if willing your bodies to mould into one. The priest bent his leg a bit more, gaining better leverage to pound up into you, feeling his upcoming release nearing as well.

Once Paul heard your moans becoming more urgent, felt your walls beginning to flutter around him and saw your thighs trembling, he started nudging your head with his own, wordlessly attempting to make you look at him, reveal your face. He loved watching you fall apart, your face showing nothing but pleasure, raw, almost unhinged. It was a sight only he was allowed to see, nearly sacred. You raised your head with some difficulty and rested it back against his, your pupils blown wide and constantly disappearing and reappearing behind fluttering eyelids.

You were on the very brink, moments before plummeting down into the abyss, and your hips lost all sense of rhythm. “Come for me, angel,” Paul groaned and delivered a sharp thrust upwards, effectively shoving you over the edge. Your fingers closed in his hair harshly and a wave of pleasure exploded in your core, shooting into your veins like a drug. You gasped violently, releasing a series of short high pitched whimpers as your heat began pulsing around Paul’s twitching shaft. He continued thrusting into you, hitting that little bundle of nerves and effectively prolonging your orgasm.

You were blushing everywhere, sweating, trembling through heaps of bliss, yet a drunken smile bloomed on your face. Your unfocused eyes connected with Paul’s, their gaze intense and almost desperate. “S-so, ah, you’re so b-beautiful, Paul,” you managed to stutter out, and then only watched the fireworks go off in those nearly black orbs. They widened for a millisecond and then, as if a rope snapped, you could see Paul fighting to keep them even open. You would have almost thought he was in pain, with his hands trembling violently, his mouth opening into an ‘o’ shape to release a long moan, and his head tilting back.

Your walls were painted white, spurt after spurt of hotness spreading through your core. Together you shook through the aftershocks, slowly coming down your highs. You collapsed against your lover, trying to get your breathing under control once more. Several minutes of lazy kisses and whispered words of love later, Paul tried tugging his arms free once more, causing some more pine needles to descend upon your cooling bodies. You groggily climbed up his body until you were able to reach the treacherous twig and untangle it from Father Paul’s shirt.

The priest stretched his arms and proceeded to pull both his jumper and shirt off of him, tossing them somewhere to your left. Finally, finally, he was able to hold you and immediately did just so. “You were right,” he said quietly, voice hoarse, “it is a horrible sweater.” You giggled and let yourself slide down and onto your side, lying next to him. “I don’t know,” you purred, your hand coming to caress his cheek, “I think it’s starting to grow on me.”

You shivered slightly, your body having already cooled down from your previous activities, and reached for a blanket which was draped over your sofa. You threw it over the two of you and got comfortable in the father’s arms. “If there was an advent calendar of making love during Christmas time, this would definitely be there. Under the tree,” you mused, your voice light and airy. “Wonder what would be hidden under ‘24’,” replied Paul in the same manner, “making love after the midnight Mass?” You grinned into his neck, one of your hands slowly massaging his shoulder: “A lovely suggestion.”

“Still want to decorate the tree?” he asked after a while, pressing small kisses into your hair. You murmured something unintelligible and hid your face again. Paul chuckled lowly: “Okay, shower and a movie then?” “Yeah,” you breathed into his skin, “we’ll do the tree first thing tomorrow.” Paul hummed in agreement. You lay cuddled beneath the Christmas tree, the colourful lights dancing on your bare limbs and the smell of pine lingering sweetly in the air. “We could decorate the one in the rectory after. And bake those gingerbreads only for us.”

A giggle started blooming in your chest, soon turning into a full on laughter. “You really are unbelievable!” you bit into your lower lip and pulled back to look into his large eyes. They reflected the big genuine smile on Paul’s face perfectly: “I’ll even wear the sweater.” You shook your head and quickly crushed your lips against his. Absolutely unbelievable.

Thank you for reading, I hope you had a good time c: As always, you can find this story and all of my other stories over on AO3. Please, be sure to check out @aherdofbees tumblr as well, she makes the most spectacular art!

the first tags are sentences I had to restrain myself from using in order not to look like the last bits of sanity finally packed their bags and kissed me goodbye

@everythingbutresolved @agirlinherhead @rothko-mirror @littleredwritingcat @vintageglassheart02 @thexhostess @fatherpaulsimp @blackberries45 @daughterofaries @exorcise-my-demons sending kisses ××

#Are you stuck step-priest #Too bad father I'm the meow meow now #Father Paul and reader share two braincells and reader has them most of the time #midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #fanfiction #reader insert #father paul hill #father paul #father paul x reader #father paul x you #father paul smut #fluff #celebrating christmas by getting onto the naughty list #christmas smut #all aboard the thirst train!

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