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supernaturalgirl20 · 1 year

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Driving home for Christmas

Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, smut 18+, quickie in the car, unprotected sex, mild cursing.

A/N: ok so these little one shots with Marcus are gonna tie in with my Xmas series Our Last Christmas. There little snippets into their life before all the problems started 🥰

Part of @toomanystoriessolittletime December writing challenge 🤘

Series Masterlist

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Marcus closed down the boot before running around and hopping into the driver's seat. He turned his gaze towards you with a bright smile, “all set, baby?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Marcus reaches over and gives your thigh a quick squeeze and shoots you a wink before turning the key in the ignition. The hum of the engine stirs the butterflies in your stomach to life once again and you worry your bottom lip.

You’d both been invited to Marcus’s parents house for Christmas this year and it would be your first time to meet them. Hard as you tried to get out of it, you couldn’t put it off forever considering you’d both been dating just over a year.

Marcus insisted that you had nothing to be nervous about and that his parents would love you. Especially his mom.

“And we’re off,” Marcus says as he pulls out of the driveway. Twenty two hours to shake these nerves, you thought to yourself.

***

“So I was thinking,” Marcus says, his eyes flickering towards you, startling you from your thoughts. “We can drive until we get as far as Nashville and then we can stop for the night. I’ve booked us into one of the fancier motels.”

“Fancier motels? Didn’t know there were any,” you say with a chuckle. “Are you getting smart with me baby?” The hint of amusement in his voice has your eyes drifting up to him. His gaze is set on you and his eyebrow is quirked.

“Never, baby.”

“Hmm,Hmm. Anyway, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me,” he says with a wink. “We stop for the night. Get some grub and a decent night's sleep.”

“Oh I don’t think we’ll be getting much sleep,” you mutter softly. You can see Marcus shift in his seat beside you and you smile at the effect your words are having on him. “No?” He asked, his voice soft and low.

“Definitely not. I mean we can’t very well have sex in your parents house now can we? So we gotta make up for it.” A groan slips past his lips as he adjusts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening just a little.

“And why can’t we have sex in my parents house? We’re adults. We’ve been together a year, they know we have sex. Or at least they assume.”

“Yeah, but not the kinda sex we have baby. You're not exactly quiet. Plus we like it on the rougher side and I’m not sure your mom or dad want to hear that.”

“Jesus fuck, baby. If you’re not careful I’ll pull this car over and fuck you right now.”

“Promises promises,” you say, with a flutter of your eyelashes. Suddenly the car is veering sideways and Marcus is pulling it off the road.

“Marcus, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna fuck you baby. Like you wanted.”

“What?” You squeak, as you sit up straighter in your seat. “Marcus we can’t. We’ve only been on the road for four hours. We have at least another eight before we stop for the night.”

“Exactly. Eight long hours. I can’t wait that long to feel you wrapped around me, especially not when you're talking dirty to me.” He drove the car down a small dirt road and parked before he unclipped his belt and reached over and did the same to yours.

His hand ran along your waist before gripping you tight and pulling you into his lap. You puffed out a breath as you settled your legs either side of him, his arousal hard and evident against your thigh.

The hand that was resting on your waist wrapped itself around your neck, pulling you close. Your lips meet in a frantic kiss that grows more heated by the second. He groans into your mouth as you slowly grind down on his thick length. “Shit baby. I need you,” he pants as he begins to fumble with his belt.

You both frantically and rather awkwardly remove your trouser before he lines himself with your entrance and pushes you down onto his cock. “Oh,” you both moan as you stretch to accommodate him.

It’s hot and messy and the car rocks with the movement of your hips as you ride him. His hands are holding you tight - one wrapped around the back of your neck, the other holding onto your hip, as he pushes you down harder on him.

“Are you nearly there baby? I’m not…fuck…I’m not gonna last much longer.” He grunts loudly as he rests his head back against the seat, his gaze focused on you. “I’m almost….oh fuck…oh god yes…I’m gonna…”

Marcus doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to break your focus as you ride him hard, seeking your release. He watches you taking in your face as you bite your bottom lip in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you. “Fuck baby, look at you taking me so well. Never gonna get enough of you.”

He grunts loudly as he spills himself inside your tight walls panting out ragged breaths as he rests his head against your chest. “Well, that was hot as fuck,” you breathe out and you can feel the vibration of Marcus’s chuckle against you. “I think we need to do this again. At least four more times on the road.”

He’s sitting back now, his gaze focused on where you’re both joined. “Shit I’m getting hard again.” You gently pat his chest before slowly moving off him. “I think the other Mr Pike is gonna have to wait for a while.”

Marcus pouts as he fixes himself and waits for you to strap back in. “We are stopping again before the motel,” he says matter of factly, his finger pointed in your direction.

“Can’t wait,” you say with a wink as you begin to tuck into your croissant. You’ve made yourself completely comfortable, taking off your shoes and resting your feet on the dash .

Marcus’s hand reaches over to rest on the back of your headrest as he reverses, his eyes drifting down towards you.

“God I love you,” he whispers in a soft, low voice. Stopping mid chew you turn to look at him, a sheepish smile on your face. “I love you too, baby.”

I’m gonna marry this girl, Marcus thinks to himself as he pulls back out into the road.

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#pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike x female reader #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x female reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal x reader #December writing challenge

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 1 year

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Day 5 - 12 days of Christmas challenge (2022 edition)

Title: The hint

Theme: Reindeer (Dec 17th)

Fandom/Character(s): Loki x reader

Warnings (if applicable): none

Word Count: 1200

December writing challenge prompted and organized by @12daysofchristmas

“So, who do you like?”.

Tony had a big fixation on this. He had been asking you who your crush was for the past three weeks. You wouldn’t give in —and he sure was stubborn.

“No one you know”.

“That’s a lie, right, Queen Elsa?”, he turned to Loki —who ever since came to light he could actually know when someone was lying, got treated as a lie-detector machine—. Loki simply rolled his eyes and tried not to pay any mind to it. Failing incredibly so.

“That’s a lie, indeed”, he said bitterly. “Now, could you let me read in peace?”.

“Yeah, you’re disturbing us, Stark”, you complained, pointing at the library sign of ‘please, keep quiet’.

Tony pressed his lips together and decided it was time to leave it there and come back to the subject later. He left you and Loki to read in the couches in peace.

“What’s with his obsession, Gosh?”, you sighed as you went back to your book. Loki knew the answer. He thought about it, hiding his face behind the thick book he was barely skimming through.

“He’s trying to play matchmaker and doesn’t know how to”, he finally sighs out. You put your book down, looking at him bewildered.

“Shut up”.

“You asked me to—”.

“No, it’s… an expression of surprise, are you serious? With who?”.

Loki raised his eyebrows.

“You don’t know?”.

“Know what?”.

“Everyone in the compound knows. Even some from the internet know”.

“Loki! Know what?”, you became impatient.

“Thor’s crush on you… and your crush on Thor, come on”.

“I…”, you choked out a laugh. “I don’t have a crush on Thor”.

Loki frowned.

“You don’t?”.

“Am I lying?”.

“You’re not. Which is weird”, he said. “Who’s your so secret crush, then? The soldier?”.

“Which?”, you asked, and then denied with your head, “it’s none of them anyway. No, I won’t tell you. Please, don’t become the new Tony Stark on this, thank you”.

Loki made a defeated pose by showing you his palms and went back to his book in silence.

And then it happened again in the middle of a training session. You dodged Bucky's hits and grabbed his wrist, twisting it and immobilizing him. He kicked you and you fell to the floor. He won.

Tony got closer to you and handed you a water bottle.

"You're distracted".

You didn't answer, and then muttered, "what?".

"I said you're distracted. And you just proved me right", he sat you down and Bucky felt a little out of place so he began leaving. "What's on your mind?".

You sighed.

"Since when do you want me to talk my problems out of me instead of training them away?".

"Sometimes we need to talk about them", he said, and you nodded and sighed.

"Loki said Thor has a crush on me. Is that true?".

Tony grabbed his face in pain.

"What the hell? Loki said that?"

"Yeah".

"Why would he say that?".

"I asked him what was up with you and all the crush questions. He said you were trying to get me to date Thor".

"He's an idiot".

"I— wouldn't argue that, but—".

"Do me a favor. Tell me who on Earth is your crush so I can be over with it. I won't tell anyone, I just need to make sure".

"Make sure of what?".

"Is it Nat? Do you have a crush on Nat?".

"No! I mean, she's gorgeous, but she's not the one I fell for".

"So, there is someone. I knew it!", chanted Tony, and left in little hops, emphasizing his enthusiasm.

“Hey! Hey!”, you stopped him before he could leave completely. “I need to ask you this”, you said, and he nodded. You took a deep breath. “Are you playing matchmaker?”.

“Yes”, he said.

“With whom?”.

“I can’t tell you yet”, he was about to dismiss you but you stopped him again.

“It’s easier if you tell me, so I don’t waste your time and you don’t waste mine”.

“I can’t. I promised him I wouldn’t tell you and—”.

“And since when do you really keep your promises…?”, you said, and then it hit you. “You are scared of him. And it’s a he. Okay. That narrows it down a lot”, you chuckled. He became pale. “If you tell me without telling me, that means I figured it out, right?”.

“That’s not how it works”.

“It’s not been explicitly said otherwise, either”, you said, and Tony sighed, thinking you’ve spent way too much time around Loki. “Alright. Tonight’s dinner, you’ll give me three hints”.

“One hint”.

“Two”.

“One hint and nothing else”.

“Okay. You’ll give me one hint and I’m going to guess who it is. If I guess you drink a sip of champagne and that way I know I can ask him out if I want to”.

Tony thought about it.

“That’s brilliant”.

So that very same night, Christmas dinner, everyone was seated and eating happily the monstrous amount of food that had been served. Somehow, you were too focused on the hint Tony would give you at any time to even eat a bite.

Tony looked at you as he served himself some champagne and you paid attention. He was going to show you the hint now. He got up and grabbed one of the small ornaments in the tree —a reindeer.

A reindeer.

A fucking reindeer? That was the hint?

You scoffed and denied with your head, trying to mimic to Tony that it wasn’t fair, and that clue was too broad and weird for you to ever understand it. You must have looked pretty upset, because by your side, Loki grabbed your hand.

“Are you okay, dear?”.

“Yeah”, you chuckled, and then you took a good look at him. You had been so focused on Tony’s hint that you didn’t even notice your own crush had been sitting there, all gorgeous and regal by your side. He was wearing his leather black and green armor without the cape, and had managed to get a smaller set of his distinctive horns to match the outfit. “Wow, you look stunning”, you breathed out. His long eyelashes batted a couple of times, and, blushing slightly, smirked.

“You’re one to say it”, and then pointed at Tony with his eyebrows. “Is Anthony upsetting you somehow with that ornament?”.

“Yeah, it’s just a game. Hey. Who do you think…”, you began asking him, and saw Tony grab his face in desperation. “...of all of us, would look the most like a…”, you stopped in your words, as you noticed the most evident answer was the man with a pair of horns on his head.

A reindeer.

Is it… Loki?

“Most like a leather deer?”, chuckled Loki, looking at the ornament by Tony’s side. “What kind of game is this, the deer game?”.

“It’s a reindeer”.

“Well, the reindeer game, whatever”, he laughed it off. Your mouth was open in shock. You looked at Tony.

“It’s Reindeer Games!”, you exclaimed out of the blue. Everyone on the table turned around to see you. You, hopeful and nervous, waited for Tony to answer. He sighed in content and lifted his champagne glass.

“Cheers!”, and took a long sip.

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#loki x reader #12daysofchristmas2022 #loki #loki laufeyson #loki has a crush #loki x avenger!reader #avenger!loki #loki with horns #loki fanfic #fanfic #mcu loki #writing challenge #december writing challenge

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scorpio-marionette · 1 year

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Christmas Cravings

Pairing: Max Phillips x F!reader

Rating: R for Restricted; 18+ ONLY

Warning: Mentions of pregnancy, cravings, snow storms, and breeding; pre-established relationship

A/N: This is inspired by an actual Spanish Bakery in St. Augustine, which is about an hour away from me.

Part of @toomanystoriessolittletime December Writing Challenge

❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄

It shouldn’t have been possible. Afterall, Max is technically dead. The most he can guess is that the biology of vampires is either under researched at best, and at worst grossly assumed and guessed. Regardless, you were pregnant with his child. The usual symptoms were expected to occur. Morning sickness, body aches, fatigue, cravings. What wasn’t expected was just how prominent your appetite would become. Both for food and for him. You’re practically insatiable, and that’s saying something. When Max had turned he was akin to an animal in bed, but you? You are a goddess who seeks that which she desires. Wringing out your pleasure and his as if the world ended that day. You tire him out. He wonders if his vampirism magnifies the hormones your body creates. Again, the lack of knowledge fails him. Luckily this time it isn’t a moment of you jumping his bones to fill you with another child. Rather you’re looking to fulfill a sweet tooth. Though the fact that you have more or less mounted him, bare legs on either side of his hips and your lace clad pussy bearing down on his cotton covered cock doesn’t escape him. Neither does the way you subconsciously grind down onto him as if to just slide him into you for a moment. Max controls himself however. His lady needs a very special pastry after all.

Your request on this very early morning is for a unique pastry that can only be found in the little Spanish Bakery, in the small historical town about an hour away from your shared apartment. You had fallen in love with the sweet yet tart taste of the fruit on the flakey, pastry bed, but it’s difficult to get ahold of it sometimes. The Spanish Bakery only bakes enough for the day. Once they sell out you have to try again tomorrow. One good thing about being woken up at 4 a.m. by your pregnant girlfriend is that Max now has the time to dig out the car, drive to town, and buy the bakery out of your desired treat. One bad thing is that now you’re awake… and you want to go with him… outside… in the snow…

“Absolutely not.”

Max will not have you leaving the house, pregnant with his miracle child, while it’s freezing outside! It’s not safe nor healthy for the baby, or at least that’s what he’s read. You should stay home and do menial exercise. Nowhere does it say you should trek through snow for a midnight snack. But alas, you refuse to take no for an answer. Max may not realize it, but you feel you’ve been cooped up too long. The surprise at having a seemingly impossible pregnancy has made Max cautious. Making him want to keep you safe, but locked away. You want to get out of the house for a little bit. The recent snow storm makes you even more eager to go. The news said there should be about a foot and a half of frozen water piled up outside your door. Why wouldn't you want to go see that?

Your lover argues that him going makes sense because the cold doesn't affect him at all. You argue that you're getting in the car whether he likes it or not. Huffing at your insistence, he hauls you up into his arms and carries you up stairs. At first you think he's going to leave you there. Using his inhuman speed to run to the door. Instead, Max drags out a pair of his socks, sweatpants, and the hoodie he wore last night. He pulls the socks onto your feet. Their size is a bit too big for you. He pulls the pants up your legs. Their elastic ankle cuffs hold your socks in place. He tucks your shirt into the pants to hold it down as well before pulling his hoodie down over it. A wishful thought that his scent will keep you from doing anything more rash. He asks which hat you'd like to wear and you naturally ask for one of his. He makes sure the black woven beanie is secure over your ears before picking you up again and walking you out to the car. Already dressed to play the part of the desperate boyfriend freezing to get his girl a snack.

On the road, you stare out of the window. Some people have opted to leave their Christmas lights on all the time, so you delight your senses in the colorful twinkling lights. As you enter town, you're astounded at the festive feel though most people are still asleep. The window displays have yet to resume their performances but the effort is palpable in their static presence. You long to run from shop to shop to see what they've done with their decor, but one over protective vampire makes you stay in the car.

Pulling into the parking lot behind the bakery, you can see an inviting golden glow among the other darkened store fronts. Max exits after he's sure you won't leave the safety of the vehicle. As he approaches the front door even he is amazed at the warmth that seems to fill him. As if this bakery were magic. He knocks on the door. He shivers a bit when the grandmother opens the door. Using his best apologetic smile, he asks the woman if he can come in. And it's as if his heart had beat again.

What he thought was the front of the shop was actually the back of another. The chocolatier next door actually. The grandmother graciously informed him that the bakery was in fact closed for the day, but that she and her grandchildren have been baking all the usual to take door to door for their neighbors as snow day treats. Max quickly apologized for intruding and explained why he had come. Never one to leave anyone out, the grandmother simply turned around to a tray of freshly made pastries. She pulled out a cake box and promptly filled it with all the pastries on the tray. Max was actually going to tell her that it wasn't necessary to give him all she had, but the woman merely waved him off.

"There's something special about you," she claimed cryptically. "And I have more in the oven."

Thankful, Max takes the box and returns to you. Clamoring in, he presents you with the kind gift from the grandmother. You squeal in delight at the sight of your beloved snack. Much more in the box than you could hope to eat, in a day at least. You throw yourself over the box to smother Max in kisses, but stop before your appetite switches to him. Settling back into your seats, you take a couple pastries as Max starts the car. Once back on the road, you hand Max his treat. You prop your feet up on the dash, much to his displeasure, and enjoy your snack on the way home.

#december writing challenge #max phillips #max phillips x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

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marvel-and-mischief · 1 year

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❄️ December Writing Challenge ❄️

Day 25. Tea Party

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader Words: 981 Warnings: reader is the mother to Pero's daughter

December Writing Challenge masterlist

Pero’s daughter, Bell, was two when she started copying his every move, determined to be a mini version of her father. You had to remind him to be careful what he said and did in front of her, warning him that if she took up any of his bad habits it would be his responsibility to teach her otherwise.

It was small things at first. Bell learned early on to stuff her mouth with as much food as possible before chewing and swallowing. Pero was mortified when she nearly choked on a chunk of bread she’d sneakily grabbed from his plate one evening. It scared him so much he refused to eat in her presence for a week. Other things, such as pointing her finger when she talked, pacing with hands on hips, certain words in Spanish you didn’t know the translation of but by the look on Pero’s face were not appropriate words for a small child, were thanks to Pero’s influence.

When Bell was four she accompanied Pero to the tavern once a week, during the day time, to work on fixing up the building in whatever way the owners needed him to. He would teach her how to fix a candle holder to the wall, how to mend a broken table leg, what to clean the rugs with. She listened intently and worked enthusiastically (as much as her small hands could). And afterwards she would run ahead of her father to get home to tell you all about what she learned from her papa that day. It filled Pero with pride everyday that he had such a bright, happy, spirited child.

Sometimes the tavern owner would see them to a table at the end of their work, place a tankard of mead in front of Pero and a small bowl of pickles in front of Bell. She would pick at her favourites whilst watching Pero take a big gulp of his drink, tankard landing on the table with a loud thump, then belching into his fist. Her giggles would travel through the empty tavern, making Pero laugh with her. And then she’d copy. Taking up her bowl with both hands, having a drink of the pickled liquid, pulling a face at the sourness and slamming the bowl whilst fake burping in Pero’s direction. It was the funniest thing Pero had ever seen.

She did this at home too. Picking up her jug of water at the dinner table, drinking large gulps before producing a fake burp that had Pero’s ribs hurting from laughter.

You pulled him into the kitchen one evening, leaving your daughter to eat by the fire whilst you and Pero washed and dried the dishes.

“You’re going to tell me off?” Pero asked, already moving to distract you from chores by pressing you up against the counter.

“Would it make a difference if I did?” Your smile is sweet but your eyes are alight with adoration for your husband.

“Probably not,” he admitted, kissing your forehead, “I cannot say no to her, you know this.”

You kissed him slowly, pulling away only because you have more to say.

“Maybe don’t encourage her to drink mead. She is only four,” you reminded him, turning your head when he goes in for another kiss. Pero grumbled half-heartedly but conceded with a nod, if only so you’d keep kissing him.

It took a few days but Pero had an idea that he hoped would keep you from worrying. He set up the dinner table with a child-sized wooden saucer and small drinking cup, and a Pero sized saucer for his much bigger tankard, both filled with water. When Bell entered the room she looked at the set up, confusion and intrigue alive on her face.

“Come sit. Join me in drinking tea.”

Bell excitedly threw herself into her chair and peered curiously into her cup.

“What is teeeee?” She asked, dipping her finger into the liquid. Pero picked her finger out of the cup and placed it on the table pointedly.

“Tea. I have been to a place where they drink something that is both sour and floral. And they sit with the people they love and drink this tea and talk.”

Bell thinks this over, then shakes her head.

“But this is water, papa.”

Pero guffawed.

“Yes, Bell. This is water. But we can pretend.”

“Why?”

Pero picked up his tankard and took a small sip, mindful that Bell watched his every move. He did this slowly, until she copied with her own small cup, carefully placing her cup within the ridges of the saucer.

“To spend time together.”

“But we do!” Bell exclaimed, arms reaching wide as though it were obvious. “We work! Mend broken things and you take me fishing in the pond. Then we eat with mama. And you tell me stories until I fall asleep.”

Pero nods throughout. He hadn’t realised how much she took into her little heart, all the moments he spent with her meant the world to him but he hadn’t stopped to think that they meant everything to Bell too. He cleared his throat quietly.

“That is all true. But we do not have time to talk because we are always busy.”

Bell nods, then remembers.

“What about mama? We need everyone we love to drink tea.”

“Mama is usually busy in the day.” Pero looked around, never wanting to disappoint her. “We could invite your toys?” Bell was running into her room before Pero had finished his sentence, coming back with an armful of wooden animals of various sizes and her most important possession, a stuffed cat named Mr Muggles.

“They will join for tea,” she said, placing her toys around the edge of the table, giving them little pretend sips out of her cup.

Pero watched and smiled, a little teary eyed but with a full heart.

#wwdilfcember #december writing challenge #pero #tovar #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #the great wall #pedro pascal #pero tovar x f!reader

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acatalystrising · 1 year

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How is it December already?? Wow, has this year flown by. The Boba Fett brainrot isn’t going anywhere, and since I know the holidays can be difficult for a lot of us, (myself included), I plan to focus on one shots that are either holiday themed (or at least with lots of fluff, c’mon) throughout the month! Anything from full scenes, chaptered fics, headcannons - I’m going to see where it takes me. If you have any requests, as always, feel free to send an ask! 💚🖤

As for today’s one shot, it’s merely a sample of what’s to come. This one is SFW, but any scene regarding Boba’s throne should include some kind of warning. 😉

The throne room was crowded - nearly stuffed to the seams.

You hovered at the door, overwhelmed by the noise, gaze flinging across the room to Boba. He sat on his throne as he always did - resolute, the very picture of power. And no matter how many times you’d seen him like this, it always stirred something deep within you that curled down your spine and left you breathless.

There were no alcoves left to slip into, no tables that weren’t already crowded. You mentally cursed as you scanned the wall for even a space to stand, but they too were also occupied.

Your skin prickled and you looked up, meeting Boba’s helmed gaze from across the room. He subtly lifted a gloved hand and beckoned you over with two thick fingers. You swallowed down your apprehension of the mingling crowd and nodded, stepping inside.

You ignored the probing gazes as you passed, keeping your eyes locked on the only person who mattered. He watched you approach, helmet tilting slightly to the left as you ascended the steps and stopped before him. Someone whistled from behind you, and Boba gestured at his thigh with a steady tap of his fingers, helmet dipping in an encouraging nod even as he shot an unseen glare at the offender.

Cheeks burning, you sat on his thigh, all too aware of the strong, corded muscle beneath you. Once you were settled you leaned back against the armrest, and the strong arm resting on the stone slid closer, gently supporting your back and drawing to closer to his beskar clad chest. He was grounding to your anxieties, touch calming, an anchor in your spinning world even as his gesture made it clear to all present that you were his, and his alone.

You watched the crowd all partaking of the food and drink he offered, even as you felt his grip on you tighten just enough to remind you that while he spent some of his wealth appeasing his partitioners…when it came to you, Boba Fett didn’t share.

His helmet leaned next to your ear, deep voice low enough for only you to hear.

“You needn’t hesitate, mesh’la,” he spoke so casually despite the power he held in the room, fingers tracing circles over your thigh. “I’ll never let them touch you.”

“I know,” you dipped your head almost shyly, and he hummed, shifting you closer until you were nestled comfortably against his shoulder, legs slung inward dangerously close to his groin, his much broader legs still spread wide. “I couldn’t find anywhere to sit.”

He chuckled, the sound thrumming deep into your chest and sending heat pooling in your core.

“Come now, little one,” his voice was nearly a growl in your ear as he gestured at his thigh. “You’ll always have the best seat in the house.”

#boba fett x reader #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fan fiction #boba fett fluff #boba fett #daimyo boba fett #book of boba fett #boba fett fic #the book of boba fett #tbobf #my writing #acatalystrising writes #december writing challenge #writing

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lilacliquors · 1 year

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i was thinking ... i enjoyed kinktober so much, what if we did a 12 days of ficmas? i'll share a list of 12 holiday - themed prompts for december and you can request for character's just like kinktober. and my birthday is december 29th so i might do something special then, too!

#atom speakz #12 days of ficmas #december writing challenge

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bubblegumleander · 1 year

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I wanted to try putting my writing somewhere and decided to them over on Ao3 (only the writing challenges for right now). So, hopefully, you'll go check them out:

#december writing challenge #ao3 series #i don't know

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fastcardotmp3 · 5 months

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fluke

for @steddiemicrofic December 2023 prompt: PINE | words: 508 | rated: G | established relationship; no CW (I wrote fluff, are you proud of me?)

They come into the land by a total and complete fluke.

An empty Tennessee plot that hasn't seen use in decades, it's got a shed of a cabin built by Eddie's great grandfather, likely no modern plumbing, and it's perfect.

A perfect fucking fluke that the Munson family is fractured in enough ways that Eddie and Wayne are the only direct decedents around to inherit the land and all of its endless potential.

Or so Steve calls it.

“I mean, look! A balcony,” he jogs out a handful of yards across the snow-dusted plot of land, spreads his arms wide like he can see it, “right here-- a table and chairs-- a spot to look out at the view.”

The view is also a fluke. A gorgeous overlook of the Blue Ridge Mountains sort of fluke.

“It could even be two-story with stairs,” he gestures upward, such a skip in his step and a flush to his cheeks that Eddie can't help but think that he's a perfect sort of fluke too, Steve Harrington, “that lead right up to a second balcony right outside the bedroom. Yeah?”

He's beaming, positively glowing, and Eddie is mostly just stunned when he nods in agreement. Arms crossed tight to hold in the warmth of his coat and the hair not tucked into his knit cap whipping across his face in the wind, he nods.

Next month, Eddie will turn thirty years old even though he was supposed to die at nineteen, and Steve Harrington's face is going soft with something like understanding as he plans out the blueprints for the house they'll grow old in.

High up in the mountains. So far from the holes in the ground that once tried to drag them to hell.

“C'mere,” Steve strides back over to him, some of the broad exuberance leaving his step but none of the joy as he grapples for Eddie's hand and drags him to the other side of the plot, “okay, so from about here--” he gestures to where they stand, “to over by those trees, there's space for a guest house, don't you think?”

“A guest house?” Eddie looks at Steve questioningly.

“For Wayne. Now that he's finally retiring.”

Eddie may be the creative force when it comes to words and sound between them, but it's in moments like this that Steve proves the kind of vision he has. He can stand here on a nearly empty plot of land, a cabin so neglected the windows are boarded up and the porch rotted through, and still he sees a life.

A future. A family. Not just a fantasy but their prize, if they choose to take it.

“Hardwood floors. Pine,” Steve says, grin only growing as Eddie gapes at him in awe, takes his face between gloved palms, “oak furniture-- I'll build it myself.”

Eddie exhales, fog of breath dancing across Steve's crooked nose. “You really would, wouldn't you?”

Steve grins and kisses him soundly in the place that will become their home.

What a remarkable little fluke.

#dot fic #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicrofic december #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff I say! a fun challenge while i try to figure out how to be excited about my own writing again i say!#i wanted to write like a bunch more of this actually so paring it down was tricky

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the-slumberparty · 6 months

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Naughty or Nice Challenge

For this challenge, you get to choose if you're Naughty or Nice. Below you will find two sets of prompts, naughty or nice, to choose from. While this challenge marks the end of year season, they do not need to be festive in theme, however we do encourage you to incorporate any of your cultural or personal holiday pasttimes.

This is an event for November and December, with a final due date of January 5, 2024 for late submissions.

ℝ𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤

🩷 This challenge is open to all fandoms and characters.

💜 Dark creations are accepted but we will not accept underage, incest, or bestiality. Please don’t forget to add warnings to your works appropriately.

❤️ For written pieces, there are no word count limits, but we do ask that you add a “read more” beyond 500 words.

🩵 We hope that creators can create an inclusive work and encourage writers and creators to use appropriate tagging, ie, f!reader, etc..

💙 For this challenge, we will accept sequels or continuations to previous works. Please be sure to link the original work in your submission.

💚 Creators may submit three pieces of each medium (up to three visual pieces and up to three written pieces)

💛 Be kind to yourself and to others. We are here to support and include each other.

!Tag this blog in your submission so we see it.!

🩷💜🩵Prompts below the cut🩵💜🩷

𝐍𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲

“All I need is you beneath me.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I know it hurts, baby, but I feel so good.”

“What would they say if they knew?”

“You’re going to have to cry a little more if you want me to care.”

“I didn’t ask you to talk. I said do it.”

“Do it or I’ll make it hurt.”

“Do I sound like I’m joking?”

“If I have to tell you one more time.”

“If you didn’t want to hurt, you shouldn’t have hurt me.”

“Don’t look away.”

“Smile pretty for me.”

“Enough whining.”

“I’ve been watching for so long, I can’t wait any longer.”

“I saw the way you look at them. You don’t look at me like that.”

“You deserve this.”

“I love how weak you are.”

“If you didn’t want this, you’d behave.”

“No one else is gonna take care of you like I do.”

“You’re so pathetic it gets me off.”

“I wanna hear how much it hurts.”

“It’s so cute when you try so hard.”

“I want everyone to know who you belong to.

“I better not catch you looking at them again.”

“Sit down and shut up.”

𝒩𝒾𝒸𝑒

“You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

“Don’t ever let me go.”

“I dream about you every night.”

“I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“Wait, are you asking me out?”

“I made this for you.”

“You’re going to spoil the surprise.”

“I’ll do it, but it’ll cost you a snuggle.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“You could have just told me.”

“It’ll be okay. I’m here.”

“You forgot something. A kiss.”

“I’ll go with you… if you want.”

“This is the best night of my life.”

“I remember when we met. I’ll never forget.”

“You make my stomach do this thing.”

“I made us a picnic, but it’s raining and I’m lost.”

“Every time you look at me, I melt a little.”

“You’re never going to get rid of me.”

“There is no me without you.”

“You really did all this for me?”

“Kiss it better.”

“I wanna be more than friends.”

“I never hated you. I just didn’t want you to know how much I liked you.”

#navy and roo's sleepover #creator challenge #end of year challenge #november #december #writing challenge #naughty or nice challenge

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caramelcoffeeaddict · 4 months

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A Boyfriend for Christmas [Klaine Fanfic]

Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, OC Finchel Child [also includes extremely brief appearances by Rachel Berry, Burt Hummel, Carole Hudson-Hummel, & Finn Hudson] Chapters: 15/15 [Complete] Word Count: 9,221 Rating: Teen&Up Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff Summary: When Kurt takes his 6-year-old nephew, Caleb, to see Santa, he's mortified when Caleb asks Santa to give his Uncle Kurt a new boyfriend for Christmas; Blaine - who is working as one of Santa's helpers - however, is eager to help Caleb get his Christmas wish. Author Notes: Written for the December Klaine Fanworks Challenge hosted by @klaineadvent. all 21 daily word prompts were used to complete this story. Original Post Date: December 2023

READ ON AO3

#december klaine challenge 2023 #prompt: all words used #klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #glee fanfiction #glee #kiwi's writing #dkfwc #december klaine fanworks challenge #klaine advent #fic: abfc

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 1 year

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Day 1 - 12 days of christmas challenge (2022 edition)

Title: If it walks like a cat and purrs like a cat

Theme: Bells (Dec 13th)

Fandom/Character(s): avenger!Loki x reader, Peter Parker/Loki/reader

Warnings (if applicable): none

Word Count: 300

December writing challenge prompted and organized by @12daysofchristmas

Tlin tlin tlin tlin

"Hey, what's that?", you huffed, trying to review for your exams. Peter didn't raise his sight and kept on reading his paper.

"That's… uh, I'm not supposed to say".

You frowned.

"Why not?".

"Mr. Stark told me you'd get mad".

"That's an even better reason to tell me".

The bells approached more and more, so you stayed quiet. Once the bells reached the door, Loki appeared, walking into the library with a cat necklace, full of bells.

You kept on looking at him puzzled, wondering how the best dressed man you've ever met thought that necklace was a fashion statement. It was more of a fashion scream in horror.

Loki sat by your side —not without having alerted the whole library of it— and said nothing about it. Didn't even acknowledge it.

"Okay, I'll bite", you sighed. "What's with the cat necklace?".

"It looks good on me", he lied.

"Mr. Stark put it on him and he can't figure out a way out of it", blurted out Peter. Loki got suddenly exacerbated.

"He used Midgardian technology! It fights my powers if I try to use them to free myself!".

"Why would he do this? Are you on a prank fight?", you asked, as he sighed out exasperatedly and put his head on your lap.

"He wants me to stop sneaking up on everyone. Says it's dangerous because all of them have PTSD and he works at a lab. I don't do it on purpose! I just walk quietly".

"Oh, I know, sweetie. I'll talk to him, that's unfair", you cooed, caressing his hair. He closed his eyes and rested there for a minute. "Oh, did you just purr?", you joked.

You could barely hear the bells going away because of how loudly you and Peter were laughing.

Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds, @vicmc624 , @spiderlaufeyson @theaudacitytowrite @bi-andready-tocry @alorev @justasmisunderstoodasloki @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @theetoastyghosty @lokiprompts @sarahpaq08 @lostgreekgod @likeitloveitblogit @tsnelf7 @asgardwinter @lalalalokii @notmesimpingforanothabritishlad @xorpsbane @wannabemonsterfucker @christineblood @asgardianprincess1050

#12daysofchristmas2022 #writing challenge #christmas writing challenge #december writing challenge #writing prompts #loki x reader #loki / reader #loki / peter parker #loki & peter parker #loki is a black cat

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scorpio-marionette · 1 year

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A New Chapter

Pairing: Gregor New (GvsE) x Ghost F!reader

Rating: PG

Warnings: Fluff, harmless hauntings, mentions of death

A/N: For those who may be unfamiliar with Gregor, he had a dream of becoming a world renowned hair stylist. His avant-garde taste wasn’t taking off with critics, so he makes a deal with a Morlock (or demon for lack of a better term) and becomes famous. However, as with all deals, there’s a catch, and his praise soon turns to ridicule. After which, he leaves the celebrity hair business to become a barber.

Part of @toomanystoriessolittletime 's December Writing Challenge

❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄

It's a rare weekend off in the Chicago suburb Gregor lives in now. After years of trying to distance himself from the sudden rise and fall of fame, he feels at peace in a new place. New, now that's ironic. Perhaps even his legacy. To be constantly on the cusp and to simultaneously be the first to fall. What luck to have. What a life to live. At least in his new favorite bookstore, he doesn't have to worry about all that. All the books here have been well loved by all who have owned them, and will be by whomever shall choose them next. The store is familiar. The old man who owns it is like family, and Gregor, or Greg rather, is a regular. Even your presence is constant in this facet of Greg's life.

When Greg first found this shop, he was issued this warning:

There is a woman upstairs who likes to sit and read in one corner.

DO NOT DISTURB HER.

She is my granddaughter, and she was taken from our family too soon. Her spirit is here because this was her safe place from all the bullies at school.

Let her read. She will come and go as she pleases.

She means you no harm so long as you don't upset her.

What the old man and Greg hadn't expected however was that you'd get attached to him. It's not that you followed him home or anything. It's that you actually interact with him. Much like you, Greg has created his own little reading nook up on the second floor of the store. It's actually on the same side of the room as yours. The first few times seeing your translucent form was jarring, but after a while his brain seemed to ignore that you weren't solid. Almost filling you in mentally so that his brain wouldn't melt. That's when you started moving around him. He could hear books sliding on and off shelves. The creaking of floor boards from added weight being applied and then removed. After about three or four months, you appeared in front of him. A quiet hello passing his lips. And you've joined at the hip ever since.

Of course you couldn't express yourself vocally. You were using too much energy just manifesting yourself. Instead, every morning you'd leave a note for Greg to answer. You started with names, hometowns, and occupations. You told him how you died. Asked how he lived. He told you he made a deal with a demon-like creature, but was saved. He changed his ways and moved from L.A.. You ask him simple questions and difficult ones. Just a fun trivia session to look forward to. Then you started leaving books. Selections you felt you should recommend to your new friend. Each one read and a review given.

With every passing day, your existence is both filled with joy and dread. You love every moment spent with your grandfather and Greg, but you long to be alive again. You hadn’t meant to fall for him. He’s just been so kind and understanding of your situation. How could you have not fallen? Even your grandfather has picked up on your woeful emotions. Weary of your growing feelings. Greg seems blissfully unaware. You tell yourself that you need to move on. That he can’t be yours. Then he walks in with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You hide from sight to watch him climb the stairs. He walks to your corner of the room and places them on the little table kept there, next to your chair. In the flowers is a card with your name on it. When Greg moves away, you approach to take the card.

Good morning Angel,

Today is the anniversary of your passing. At first I was going to leave these at your grave, but then I thought ‘why should I do that when I’m going to go see you today?’ So I brought them here instead and wrote this card for you. A reminder that even though I can’t hold you in my arms, I hold you in every story you give me. For you are my heroine, my princess, my home between the bookshelves, and I hope I am your man in every story you read. I thank whoever allows you to stay among us because somehow they knew we I still need you.

Yours if you’ll have me,

Gregor

#pedro pascal #gregor new #good vs evil #GvsE #gregor new x reader #gregor new x female reader #ghost reader #december writing challenge #writing challenge

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marvel-and-mischief · 1 year

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❄️ December Writing Challenge ❄️

Day 20. Ski Resort

Pairing: Jack Daniels x GN!Reader Words: 655 Warnings: angst (I know its xmas, I'm sorry), Jack calls reader 'darling'

December Writing Challenge masterlist

Fingers swirl softly in a figure of eight up and down his neck, swiping the sharp line of his jawbone, disappearing into the slope of his tendons just shy of his collarbone. Up and down. It’s what he’s choosing to concentrate on. Not the dark clouds of regret, nor the whisper of their names, both of which are trying to infiltrate his mind like a whip cracking through air. Those fingers reach around to the back of his neck and pull him forward until foreheads are touching and two breaths are mingling.

Jack slowly opens his eyes to see yours, concerned and watching him carefully.

You’ve pulled Jack out of his mind before but this time is proving difficult. You’re surrounded by strangers in a ski resort halfway up a mountain, curled up on a beat-up, leather loveseat in a secluded corner of the resorts visitor centre. His hands are shaking where they grip onto your winter coat but he’s a lot calmer than he was.

You’d been taking a walk through the resort, Jack saying a cheery welcome to anyone who passed by. You were planning your day; breakfast at the old pub in the village, Jack was going to teach you beginners skiing in the afternoon, then back to the hotel to dress up for a glamorous dinner date at a French restaurant in the evening.

But something happened before you could even get to breakfast, a curious incident that saw Jack having a panic attack in the middle of the street and you ushering him into the nearest building to calm him down.

Jack can see the questions on your face, the worry in your eyes that were wet at some point, whether from tears or the snow outside he’s not sure. He wets his dry, cracked lips, thinks about what he’ll say, then settles on the truth.

“I did some terrible things in a past life. In a place just like this one. To good people. And I can’t ever forgive myself.”

You have no idea what he’s referring to, knowing only the minimum when it comes to Jack’s history.

He wants to tell you everything but is a coward in the face of your almost certain rejection. Selfishly, he never wants you to find out about the version of himself he’s deeply ashamed of. In a perfect world you’re only to know shiny, improved Jack 2.0 who’s learned from his biggest mistakes and knows how to be a better man. He’s aware relationships don’t last if secrets aren’t told, but these aren’t ordinary secrets and he really wants to hold onto them for as long as you’ll let him.

“Why did we come here if it’s only going to remind you of a bad memory?”

“I thought I was over it. Turns out I’m not.” He sounds disappointed in himself, shaking his head in frustration.

“Let’s go home, Jack.”

Jack blinks, imagines what home means; safety, a quiet mind, unequivocal peace. He longs to be back home.

“You sure, darling?”

“I’m sure I can’t ski.” That makes Jack laugh, a soft release of air that warms your cold face. You’re still huddled closely together, a few feet away from the reception desk and a disgruntled receptionist that keeps eyeing you both with distaste. You want to be like this but a thousand miles away in the privacy of your home, where you can fall asleep together and wake up in a better state of mind. You think about your hotel room in the village, how you’ll get back there eventually, Jack a little worse for wear but lighter in the knowledge that you’re sticking by his side wherever he goes.

“Talk to me,” you whisper, “when you’re ready I’ll be listening. But for now, let’s go home.”

Jack will talk, when he’s ready, and he can feel that it’ll be soon. But as you say, for now ‘let’s go home'.

#wwdilfcember #december writing challenge #agent whiskey #jack daniels #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman: tgc #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x gn!reader #jack daniels x gn!reader #pedro pascal

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wowbright · 5 months

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Fic: Wedding Gifts

Fandom/pairing: Glee, Kurt/Blaine

Event: December Klaine Fanworks Challenge 2023

Words: ~2,400 words

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Blaine has some unconventional wedding ideas.

Notes: This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe. It takes place after Out of Eden, which I am still in the process of posting to AO3. It’s among the possibilities for their future. The stuff Kurt gets scandalized about is related to LDS wedding/temple ceremonies, which members are not supposed to replicate outside the temple.

* * *

“Oh my gosh, Blaine. We are not doing a presentation at the veil at our public, outdoor wedding.” Kurt spoke firmly, but how was he going to possibly win this argument? Of course Blaine would bring it up when they were naked in bed, Blaine’s legs sprawled over Kurt's thighs, his head on Kurt's chest, and Kurt an absolute pool of jelly, his brain and body spent from the things Blaine had done to him.

Let's try a new position, Blaine had said. But it hadn't just been a position. It had been a revelation: Blaine hovering over him, praising his cock and demanding things of it that Kurt wasn't sure it could deliver, not letting him come and not letting him come when Blaine was riding him past all sanity, their hands clasped together at the side of Kurt’ head and Blaine using them for leverage, pushing against them as he lifted himself up and then plunged himself back down onto Kurt's erection, over and over again, and stammering and moaning and bossy in a way that he never was outside of bed and that he had only recently begun to let himself be in it, and Kurt really did like it when Blaine got that way, because it meant that all his reservations were gone, he was afraid of nothing, and so when Blaine told him No, not yet Kurt, you can’t come yet, I still need you inside me, I need you to fuck me so slowly, I need your cock filling me up and oh stretching me and you’re oh yes you’re so big give it to me oh yes like that Kurt yeah Kurt fuck me like that give it to me give it to me I love your cock I love you oh yes— Well. It was Kurt’s pleasure to oblige.

“It's not public,” Blaine said innocently, running his thumb back and forth over Kurt’s nipple. “We sent out invitations.”

“You know what I mean. There will be non-members there. And what about the members. Are you trying to give them heart attacks?”

Blaine propped himself up on one elbow and looked down on Kurt with a seductive smile. “You mean, like I gave your member a heart attack?”

“Don't you dare bring up that mind-blowing sex when we’re talking about our relatives.”

Blaine smirked. “It was pretty mind blowing, though, wasn't it? Kurt, the things you do with your—"

“Ahem.” Kurt cleared his throat. How was he getting hard again already? When he'd orgasmed, it had felt like Blaine was pulling every last ounce of delight from the center of his body and out onto the surface, out into Blaine. But apparently his body had some secret stores Kurt didn’t know about—or, more likely, Blaine had spilled his own pleasure back into Kurt, and was doing so again now, recharging him body and soul. “You will not use orgasms as a bargaining chip in our wedding planning.”

“It wasn't just the orgasms that made it mind-blowing, though, was it?” Blaine said, and Kurt almost answered but then decided not to, because he refused to let Blaine distract him into agreeing with his cockamamie wedding ideas. He made a face at Blaine that he hoped approximated a glare.

“Oh, fine. Be that way,” Blaine said, flopping onto his back. “But who cares what they think? This wedding is for us, not them.”

“Um, technically it is for them, Blaine. Given that we're already legally married.”

“Yeah, but that was in a courthouse in front of two people we didn't even know, and this is our public declaration of love. And I want us to declare it in our own way. We said this wedding was about celebrating the roles our guests have played in our lives and inviting them to celebrate our relationship. And if people show up and they can't handle how we choose to express our love, they shouldn't come to our wedding.”

“Ah. So it's a big fuck you to your family, huh?”

“No!” Blaine pouted. “My mom would love it. She figures we're going to the celestial kingdom already. She's so bummed we can’t get sealed in the temple. But if we had a veil … and it wouldn't be the whole presentation at the veil, anyway. Just some white curtains. Lots of people have white curtains at their wedding. You have to have a canopy in case it rains, and if you have a canopy, you need to have something on the edges to keep the rain out. I'm just saying we could step through them at the start of the ceremony, instead of going down the aisle.”

In spite of himself, Kurt was becoming intrigued. He rolled on his side toward Blaine. “Together?”

“Well—” Blaine mirrored Kurt’s action. They were almost nose-to-nose. “I was thinking maybe you first, and then you could pull me through?”

Kurt almost burst out with That is not just stepping through curtains, Blaine! That's what grooms do with their brides at the veil! But Blaine looked so hopeful, and his eyes were so wide and eyelashes so long that speaking crossly would be like shooting Bambi. Kurt reached for Blaine's hand. “Are you the bride in this scenario?”

“Sort of?” Blaine said. “I don't know. It's just always the way I pictured it.”

“Always?”

“Well, since I first dreamt about it. In Germany. When I was starting to realize I was in love with you. I had a dream about you pulling me through the veil. And I couldn't explain it, but it felt so right. I guess that dream has never left me.”

“You never told me about that.”

Blaine shrugged. “It never came up. But now we have a wedding where we can do everything the way we want, the way that speaks to us? This speaks to me, Kurt.”

With the way Blaine was looking at him, that tender look that always made Kurt feel like he’d been blessed more than any other human being in the history of human beings, Kurt wanted to say yes. But if he did that, he would be ignoring his own gut. And if Blaine had taught him anything, it was that they didn't have to do that with each other. “I don't know, Blaine. I'll have to think about it. I know my relationship with the temple has changed, but it still feels … I don't know, maybe too bold? Besides, one of us pulling the other through—isn't that a little heteronormative? Just because you like to bottom doesn't make you a bride.”

“Oh, but you see, it's the opposite of heteronormative! It's reclamation. It's a challenge to narrow gender roles and the church’s myopic vision of family.” Blaine’s joyous smile turned sly. “Besides, can you really call what I just did with you bottoming?”

Kurt snickered. “You mean, because you were on top in more ways than one?

Blaine crawled over Kurt. They slotted their hands together on either side of Kurt's head. “I can take charge again for you, if you want. I know how tired you get, how you sometimes need a break from holding the reins.”

“Are you talking about sex or about wedding planning?”

Blaine smirked. “Maybe both.”

“Because next thing you're going to tell me is that you want mirrors at the wedding.”

“Well—”

“No!” Kurt protested, but it came out with a peal of giggles. “We are not doing mirrors. If you need us to stand between two mirrors so that we can see our coupledom infinitely reflected back to us, we can order that for the honeymoon suite.”

“Hmmm.” Blaine lowered himself onto Kurt, pressing the beginnings of his renewed erection onto Kurt’s belly. “That's not a bad idea.”

“You like that?” Kurt said, returning the gift by pressing his own reburgeoning arousal into Blaine’s flesh. “Besides, wouldn’t that be better? To see us naked together, joined in the flesh for eternity, me inside you and, if you want …” In spite of himself and the fact that they were already baring themselves to each other, Kurt felt himself blush. “… you inside me?”

Blaine's eyes went wide, whether from surprise or arousal, Kurt wasn't sure. “You'd want that?”

Kurt shrugged. He could be coy, too. “Only one way to find out.”

“Have you tried …?” Blaine wiggled his fingers against Kurt’s meaningfully.

Kurt wasn't sure whether to nod or shake his head. “Sort of? I mean, I did it in high school a couple times but I would get self-conscious and stop. And I’ve tried it a little when we've been apart, but I've never come from it—not because I don't think I could, but because…” Kurt felt himself flush all the way up to his hairline. “I wanted to save that for you? Which, talking about heteronormative—”

“You want me to do that, now?” Blaine said quietly, with the calm sincerity of reading a scripture verse. “You want me to finger you?”

Kurt nodded.

The initial stretch wasn't as intense as Kurt expected. Maybe that was because of the orgasm he'd had less than an hour ago, or maybe it was thanks to his occasional practice. Still, he let out a guttural moan that would have embarrassed him if it wasn't this and it wasn't with Blaine.

“You okay?” whispered Blaine.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kurt panted. “Keep—” A spark ignited deep in Kurt’s groin. “Oh!” He had liked this in high school. He’d enjoyed it in each of his practice sessions. But here, with Blaine on top of him, kissing him and moving his finger carefully inside him, it was beyond enjoyment. Because it was them—their bodies moving together, serving each other. Because with Blaine, Kurt could be himself, free and unashamed.

Blaine slid his finger in and out, whispering to him softly, asking him what he liked and what he wanted and what felt good, “because I want you to feel good, Kurt, I want you to feel so good.”

And Kurt tried to be snarky, but it came out as, “Not so—oh—not so—yes. Blaine.—not so bossy—oh God oh God oh God—not so bo—ahhhh—ssy now, a-are you?”

“You want more of that?” Blaine asked tenderly. “Another finger?”

And Kurt didn't even have to think about it, the words just came out of his mouth, pleading, “Yes. Oh, yes.”

Now Kurt was starting to feel the stretch, and he liked this, too, liked the way his body could open for and accommodate Blaine, liked that he'd been designed to experience pleasure in multiple ways, and now was not the time to analyze if he liked this better or the same or less or if it was just different, a different way to love Blaine and draw closer to him, a different way to experience his body and the goodness of his physicality and his desire.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” Blaine asked like he was whispering a special request to Kurt at sacrament meeting.

Kurt shook his head. “Kiss me.”

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed—the way they used to on their little loveseat in Germany, back when they had rules about shirts on and buttoned and no making out in the bedroom and every touch was a sacred shock to the system, and they would kiss each other into fervors of passion that only more kissing could quench—only now Kurt was splayed on the bed, Blaine inside him and their dicks twitching against each other’s flesh, and it felt good, truly good, in Kurt's body and in his soul, and Blaine experimented with different ways of stroking and different speeds and “would you like another finger, Kurt? Do you think you can take three?” and everything went blurry but also exquisitely in focus: the thrum of Blaine’s body in time with his; the need inside Kurt, growing like life itself; the soft grunts and groans they each made, so that Kurt sometimes didn't know if he was moaning his own pleasure or in response to Blaine’s—not that it mattered, it all felt the same—and Kurt found himself thrusting back on Blaine's fingers as much as Blaine was thrusting into him, found himself delirious with the pleasure of it, found himself calling out yes yes yes yes yes yes oh Blaine yes and when Blaine asked, “Do you want to come?” Kurt couldn’t answer because he wanted to but also he didn’t want this feeling to stop and so he spread his thighs out as far as he could and took Blaine’s fingers just a fraction deeper and that—oh, that, oh, Blaine, you’re inside me Blaine, fuck me, Blaine, you’re—

“Oh, Kurt, you’re so hot, you’re so beautiful, I want you so much Kurt, oh Kurt, oh Kurt, I can’t help it, I think I’m gonna come—"

And Kurt held Blaine’s face as he came, watched his mouth drop open and his eyes go wide but never losing their focus on Kurt, making Kurt feel like he was some sort of miracle, and maybe he was, because they were, they were a miracle when they moved together like this and when they loved each other, and Blaine’s semen fell warm upon Kurt’s belly and yes, yes Blaine, I want to come, I want to come for you.

It was like an earthquake and a blessing and a thousand metaphors that Kurt would never have the language for, because Kurt never had the language to describe the level of ecstasy that Blaine kept bringing him to, for the depth of love that existed between them.

“That was okay?” Blaine said a few minutes later, when they’d caught their breath and the faculty for forming complete sentences had returned to them.

Kurt burst into laughter. “Yeah, Blaine, it was okay.”

“You want to try it again sometime?”

“If you're amenable.”

Blaine smiled and kissed Kurt's cheek. “You want me to deflower you?”

“You mean, more than you already have?”

Blaine nodded knowingly.

“I was thinking …” Again, Kurt felt the familiar heat return to his face. “Maybe on our wedding night? Or on our honeymoon?”

“Hmmmm,” Blaine said with a teasing look. “That's not too heteronormative?”

Kurt bit his lower lip as he shook his head. “Nope. It’s a wedding gift.”

“For you or me?”

Kurt rolled onto Blaine and kissed his chin, his cheek, his forehead. “That’s the beauty of it. We’ll find out together.”

#december klaine challenge 2023 #day 4: presentation #mormon!klaine #wowbright writes fic #klaine fic #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #also the characters in here argue about whether things are heteronormative or not #you may not agree with their judgments but hey that's cool #but whether they are heteronormative or not their views are their own and have grown from their particular mix of baggage and liberation #so if you don't like it sorry I didn't know how else to write the characters #and stay true to them #at least they are dialoguing about it #which makes it sound like this story might be emotionally intense #when actually it is just them having fun arguing over wedding plans and getting sexy

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