#hanukkah leggings

[wallacelovesyou]

Wallace says happy first night of Hanukkah!

#wallace #three legged cat #ginger cat #orange tabby cat #tripod cat #happy hanukkah

[loubella77]

Never the wrong time of year for Hanukkah pants hehe

#hanukkah #hannukah #chanukah #chanukkahproject #happy chanukkah #leggings #haha funny #fit check #ootd #ootdfashion #ootdstyle #ootdinspiration #ootdshare #cute ootd #ootd (outfit of the day) #ootdinspo #ootdpost #tight leggins #legginslove #strong legs #gorgeous legs #thick legs #female legs #legs for days #lovely legs #great legs #legs #legs and heels #women legs #thighlights

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

#Family Lore #Dogs #It's Halloween babey #friday the 13th #blood mention #I hope that kid had a good night and at least one of his friends believed him #Long post #Video

[seattlesellie]

୨⎯ a helping hand ⎯୧

pairing: loser!ellie williams x fem!reader x dina nolastname synopsis: ellie's too shy and too nervous to take it all the way with you, and thank god dina's right by her side. warnings: weed, smut, mdni, soft dom!dina, awkward top!ellie, sub!reader, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving) authors note: this is based off of a request i got but accidentally deleted since i'm a little braindead ˚ ༘♡ ✧༺♡༻∞

It was thick, and and hazy, and the pungent smoke hung lazily in the air. The scent was… captivating. It wasn’t bad — no, it was a tad skunky and earthy, citrusy. Piney too, and a little bit of spice. 

Something that smelled sickly sweet wafted through the air. It was almost intoxicating— The way her Jasmine and Vanilla fragrance mixed with the musk and and the resin. 

Dina took the skinny spliff in between her fingers. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

Silence. 

Ellie’s eyes took a on a reddish hue. They were glossy, and bloodshot. She wore this languid, almost dreamy expression on her face. It rendered a slight droop to her eyelids and a gentle, unfocused gaze. She always got like this. 

She was not quiet— no, she was relaxed, calm. Shoulders dropped down, she wasn't hunching, she was perfectly serene, slightly manspreading on the velvety, emerald green colored couch. A piece of lint landed on her faded beige khaki’s, and she flicked it away gently. 

Everything seemed to move so slow. 

“Are you gonna let go of that blunt, D?” you questioned, lazily grasping and squeezing Ellie’s light blue stress ball in your palms. You caught her playing with that when she kissed you, once — Just a mere week ago. 

₊˚⊹♡

“Are you playing with your fidget while we’re making out?” Your voice was breathy and faint, just above a whisper. You could taste her on your tongue, bordering going on cotton mouthed. 

“No — no, I’m — It’s…” she stammered, and let the ball fly out of her hand and land on the concrete floor. 

An awkward silence. 

“You make me nervous” 

₊˚⊹♡

“It’s not a blunt, babe, It’s a spliff.” Dina took another drag, and handed it to you. 

“Whatever.” you shrugged. 

It caressed down your throat, a slight burn tingled in its wake.

Ellie always loved the way you smoked. A well manicured hand squeezing the bud between your fingers, the way your eyes were forced completely shut when you took a hit, the way your eyelashes fluttered while you exhaled. In all honestly, Ellie just thought you were very pretty. It was not the reason why she dated you; you were funny, and smart, and sweet — and the way you laughed made her stomach tie in knots and her heart feel like it was trying to leap out of her chest and leave her still as a corpse. 

But that “pretty” part, made her very, very nervous. 

She shifted on the couch, lifting her legs up to rest her chin on top of them. Ellie couldn't help but look, examine the way your chest heaved up and down, with her gaze fixed on you. She had a bit of a… staring problem. You saw her gaze from the corner of your eye, and smirked. 

“Can you two stop with your little sex games?” Dina's voice pierced through, breaking Ellie’s trance. 

“Sex games?” you probed, followed by a small huff. This wasn't a sex game. No, no... this was — purely innocent. Just two gals, who happen to be fresh as a daisy lovers, staring at each other while their best friend is in the same room.

“Ellie’s staring at you like she wants to fuck. I’m not a ghost — I’m here too, hello?” She waved her hand from side to side. You could tell she’s here too, you’d be lying if you said nothing in this living room screamed “Dina’s house!”. A silver menorah that’s been laying on the kitchen counter since Hanukkah, with a layer of fine dust collecting on top of the highest branch, a white crocheted mandala hanging slightly loose over the flat TV, bright colored crystals, and some dark ones too — splattered all over the antique mahogany table. Yes, Dina was definitely still there. 

But still, so was Ellie. And being around Ellie… made you want to… Well — Sex games? Is that how Dina put it? 

“We’re not doing anything” Ellie murmured, reaching over to take the spliff out of your hand. Her touch lingered a tad too long, lengthy finger softly caressing yours. Maybe you were? 

“You can go to the bathroom if you want. I wont peep” Dina suggested with a grin. That little devil. 

Ellie almost choked as she exhaled, You chose to ignore. 

“Promise?” You asked. 

“Swear.” 

Ellie huffed, Yeah right. 

“Gimme” Dina whined, signaling Ellie to pass her the half finished spliff. 

“I’m not done” Ellie’s defended, and took another hit. Her eyebrows were hunched together, and a small line had formed, creasing right between them. God, did she look pretty too. 

“Give it, bitch” Dina moaned, and abruptly took the spliff out of Ellie’s wet mouth, Ellie groaning in response. 

Dina rolled it between her fingers, and gave it a small squeeze. 

“Ew! You fucking drooled over it!” 

“Fuck you man” Ellie hissed, bumping lightly into Dina’s shoulder. 

“But seriously… Where’s like—“ Dina inhaled, blowing the smoke into Ellie’s face. 

“Dude—“ Ellie huffed, waving her hand in the air as if attempting to disperse the thick smoke that enveloped them. 

“Where’s the wildest place you had sex?” Dina questioned, as she smushed the spliff on the ashtray, then casually picked off some leftover tobacco from the table, absentmindedly wiping it on the red ceramic surface.

Ellie felt her cheeks turn an adorable shade of light pink. She was a blusher, you soon came to realize. 

The sex thing... that was an issue — Well, it wasn’t necessary an “issue” but it was… a thing. 

You and Ellie hadn’t had sex yet. ₊˚⊹♡

two full months of dating, resulting only in heated make out sessions. Sure, Ellie played with your tits, breathy and panting, and you almost came when she made you jump up and down her creamy thigh, crossfaded and washed by a sudden burst of extreme boldness, but that was that. When you lifted your skirt up to let her see what was underneath (that day, was a mint green colored lace thong) she hastily pulled it down, followed by a whispered “m’sorry”, and when you pouted, nauseous and incredibly embarrassed, she calmed you down with soft delicate butterfly kisses on your nose and on your forehead. 

“Wanna take it slow” she mumbled, her cheeks turning a rosy pink, lips curling down to a pout — almost matching yours. 

Maybe she didn’t really like you like that, you wondered, hugging your pillow, hot tears smearing all over the bedsheet. Maybe you weren’t attractive enough, perhaps she saw you more as a friend… A friend she liked to kiss and only kiss, a friend who made her stomach flip and her mind race, but still, only a friend. 

If you knew that Ellie spent the entire night after that glorious encounter with her purple vibrator in between her legs and a pair of your panties stuffed inside her mouth, perhaps you wouldn’t have cried. Perhaps… you wouldn’t have been embarrassed. Thing is, you didn’t know. So you didn’t kiss her hungrily after that, and you didn’t sit on her lap just to watch her get flustered like you always used used to. You kept your distance, respected her boundaries, and pretended to let it go. Small pecks, hand holding, and one kiss on the pulse of her neck — That’s how it went. 

₊˚⊹♡

You crossed your arms, and fixed your gaze on the yellow colored wall behind Dina. 

“We made out in Jesse’s bathroom” Ellie said quietly. That you did, right after Jesse’s birthday party, you needed to “Clean the bathroom” because “A girl threw up and made a mess”

Dina rolled her eyes, and turned to face her. 

“I asked about sex” 

“Mhm” Ellie hummed, feeling her toes curl inside her Chuck’s. She wasn’t going to get this. 

“Don’t know why you need to know so bad” 

“I'm just... curious," Dina stated, her smirk growing wider as she looked in your direction.

“You two seem like freaks.”

Ellie bit her lip so hard it almost bled. She couldn’t look at you, too embarrassed to see the look on your face, so she looked at the ashtray, examining its sleek cover. Would you pout again? just like you did when she pulled your skirt down? will you look angry? sad? disappointed? 

“Cmon” Dina grumbled. 

“I wont judge —“

She glanced at you.

“Promise.” 

You looked at her like you wanted to shut her lips tightly together with a piece of tape. 

“It’s been kinda dry for me and I’m trying to live vicariously through my best fr—“ 

“We haven’t had sex yet.” Ellie blurted. 

The room fell silent. 

Ellie’s eyes were glued to the table. 

Why the fuck… would she say that? 

Dina cleared her throat, her gaze fixed firmly upon you. Her lips hinted at a grin, but she suppressed it, pressing them together into a straight line.

“Oh” Dina quietly said. Noted. 

Ellie shifted on the couch, and mumbled something you couldn’t hear under her breath. Could have been a “so nosy” or a “fuck off”, but alas, it was barely above a whisper. 

“Happy?” she murmured. 

“Just…” 

Dina flipped her hair to the side, brushing her fingers through the thick, black strands. If you sat any closer, you would have been able to smell her pistachio-almond shampoo. 

“Surprised” 

“Pass me the weed? I wanna roll another one” Ellie groaned. 

“I dont have any” 

Ellie ts’kd, attempting to divert the conversation everywhere but towards what had just happened. Avoid, avoid, avoid. 

You sat quietly, manipulating the stress ball, squeezing it so hard your knuckles almost strained. 

It’s not like Dina didn’t know everything about you, because she did. It wasn’t confessing to some clueless stranger, this was Dina. And still, it hurt. You knew she wouldn’t judge you, never. But you — you would judge you. And that was worse. And now, this wasn’t an unspoken thing anymore. It was out there, waiting to be pounced on. 

Maybe… maybe you needed that. 

“Fuck” Ellie huffed. 

The room fell silent again. It wasn’t the smoke that made the air feel thick anymore. 

“Can I ask…” 

Dina turned her body to squarely face Ellie. 

“Why?” 

“No," Ellie stated bluntly, her voice tinged with raspiness and hoarseness. 

“Was it like this with Cat too?” Dina asked. She always knew how to hit the fucking jackpot. Cat. 

“No, t’wasn’t” Ellie rolled her eyes. 

“Can you let it go?” 

This was a conversation about you, that you didn’t even participate in. Until you did, because you truly couldn’t help yourself. Was it you? Did Ellie just… Did Ellie just like Cat better? 

“Is it me?” Your voice was shaky, soft and quiet. 

She wanted to say no, Wanted to ask Dina to just let it fucking go. 

It was silent for a moment again, till it wasn’t. 

Ellie took a deep breath, slid off the couch slightly as the need to hide under it slowly overtook her. She crossed her arms.

"Yes"

You felt something turning in the pits of your stomach. 

“Oh” you whispered, god, that was painful. It was you. 

Dina’s mouth fell agape. 

“No— not like that” Ellie retreated. 

“No it’s… I get it. S’fine” 

There was nothing Ellie needed more than a punch in the gut to knock her out and a fat blunt intertwined between her fingers. 

“You don’t get it though” 

“Think I’m gonna…” You hastily started to look for everything you needed. Sunglasses, purse, keychain. You weren’t doing this. 

“Gonna go” 

“Hear her out, babe… Sit” Dina calmly suggested. It was as if she knew exactly what Ellie had in mind. It was you, but not like that. How could it ever be like that? 

“Just… Fuck” Ellie mumbled. 

“Cat — she didn’t… Can you sit down?” 

You stared at the floor. Maybe you should sit down.

“Okay how do I—“ Ellie began, scratching her head. 

“How do I explain this?” She looked at Dina. Yes, Dina knew. 

“Calmly, and with reason.” She squeezed Ellie’s bicep, followed up with a small, breathy “Fuck you” from Ellie. 

“Cat didn’t make me nervous like you fucking do, man— She didn’t make me rethink every single step I took and kissing her— Fuck” 

Silence again. 

“Kissing her didn’t make me feel like my legs were fucking wobbly or whatever.” 

“I dont wanna disappoint you.” The way it came out of her mouth, so real, and so raw… you looked… wide eyed. 

“Ellie…” you whispered. 

“Why would you disappoint me?” Gosh. Give her a little squeeze! 

“Because what if I don’t fucking know how— What if you don’t like the shit I do and what if you think I fucking suck and leave me and—“ 

“Can I say something?” Dina interrupted. 

“No, Dina” Ellie nudged her. 

“Ellie shut up, you’re rambling and it’s probably turning her off more th—“ 

“S’not turning me off” It was your turn to interrupt now. "You don't know how?" the brunette asked Ellie, with a teasing smile. Oh, she was making fun of her. Ellie barely picked up on that, too frustrated by her own thoughts running circles inside her foggy brain.

"I do know how— Just... fuck, Dina, just let it fucking go" 

“I can help.” Is all she said. Quiet, but confident. She could help.

“What?” you were stunned. Maybe she had a printed guide? A 101 on lesbian sex? 

Dina rolled her eyes and flashed her pearly whites. 

“Remember that time… when you slept over?” She had to stop herself from grinning again. Her tongue was bumping her cheek, like a naughty little chipmunk. 

“What time?” As if there weren’t dozens of those times. 

“That… Time” Dina tilted her head slightly.

“Don’t know what time youre—“ you rambled, soon to be cut off.

“Ellie—“ Dina turned around to face her, yet again. 

“I fingerblasted your girl” 

“What the f—“ Ellie blurted, and her mouth fell wide open. 

“Dina!” you yelled. 

“I’m just—“ She lifted her hands up in defense. 

“I wanna help because it clearly felt good and—“ 

“Are you on fucking drugs?!” Ellie blurted, and immediately stood up. 

“I mean we fucking smoked, Ellie” 

It was almost comical — how fast paced all of this… situation was.

The room felt silent again. How many more times could this happen? awkward silences, questioning looks. 

“I’m saying I wanna help you, El” 

“Let me show you” Dina’s voice was quiet. Genuine. Begging… almost? 

Ellie stared at the floor. And then at you — and then at the floor again. She could feel her hands grow clammy, and a droplet of sweat forming and flowing down her neck. Show her? why didn’t that make her feel nauseous? Why did she feel it in her fucking crotch?

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie shook her head.

“Only if it’s okay with you” Dina murmured softly, and gave you a warm, calming look. Comfort — Dina. 

“And with you.” She took Ellie’s trembling hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"I can show you just what I did." 

Ellie dropped her ass on the couch, and fuck — if her legs didn’t feel so fucking wobbly again maybe she would have stayed standing up. But she sat, her legs slightly parting. 

“Okay?” Dina quipped. 

Ellie gulped.

“I won’t steal her from you… I’ll be your… tutor?” Dina questioned, a sly smirk forming on her lips.

“Dina” You and Ellie said in unison. Ellie glanced at you. She felt ashamed, she felt sweaty, sickly, and too fucking turned on to move a muscle. 

“Let me take care of this” She sounded genuine. Like she truly wanted to help. No grin, no smirk, no attitude, just long eyelashes batting softly as the sun sank lower in the west.

“Okay?” she quipped softly.

“Okay”

Dina smiled so wide she had to bite her entire cheek to stop herself from fully crumpling down on the floor. 

You glanced at Ellie, then Ellie glanced at you. She still couldn’t… fully look, But this was something. A small agreement. 

“C’mere” Dina patted her thigh softly. 

It took you a moment, but you took up on her invitation. Hesitantly, you crawled slowly towards her. When you lifted yourself up in order to sit on her bare thigh, her purple thin linen shorts ending right where your ass met her leg, Ellie felt it in her guts. Her face twitched, maybe in jealousy, perhaps in confusion, but none of it mattered, since her clit throbbed inside her boxers. She didn’t know what was more painful, seeing you — sitting directly on your best friends thigh, getting felt up by someone else, or the aching of her own cunt.

“And I won’t kiss her if you don’t… want me too. Just show you, okay?” Dina whispered. Always so fucking attentive. 

“Mhm” Ellie hummed, as her mouth felt too dry to form any real, clear sentences. It was as if time stood completely still. She could stop this, she could. She doesn’t want to.

Meanwhile, you, you were trembling all over. It was almost too much — and nothing even happened yet. Dina's thighs were soft, and her scent tickled your nostrils. Vanilla, jasmine, almonds, and a hint weed. Her chest was firm as it brushed your back, two soft mounds caressing it. She let out a long breath that lingered on your neck, you hummed softly.

“Ellie… come closer” she whispered.

“Get on the floor… right between my thighs, okay?” It was the way she had said it, that got you. The way it came out to soft, so delicate, as if she was trying to comfort her, make her feel safe.

Ellie slowly crawled right where she needed her.

Dina bunched your skirt up just a tad, revealing a little bit of your upper thigh to Ellie. She sat directly in front, almost as if she was watching a movie, the bystander that she was. Her chest rose up and down. She’s never even seen that part of you yet. 

“This okay?” Dina whispered in your ear, her saccharine voice making your entire body shudder in response. 

A barely audible "Yeah..." slipped past your lips, barely more than a whisper, breathy and faint.

“Ellie?” Dina questioned, adverting her look to face the girl. 

“Have you seen it yet?” 

“N… no” she huffed. Her clammy hand formed in a fist, short nails digging crescent little moons on her palms. She hasn’t seen it. Of course she hasn’t. She’s barely seen anything.

“It’s so pretty” Dina teased, bumping her nose into the crook of your neck.

“She has a really pretty one” she whispered, and began slowly pecking your shoulders. 

“You gotta make sure you treat her good.” kiss. “Make sure she’s wet for you” kiss.

Ellie was breathing like she had run a marathon in the Sahara desert for 18 kilometers.

“Do you wanna maybe… Move her panties to the side?” 

Ellie gulped, you almost heard the fat glob of saliva slip down her throat. her mind almost went entirely blank. This could not, under any circumstances, possibly be real.

Another moment of silence. 

“No?” Dina questioned, running her fingernails down your thighs. She pinched one of them, pulling the fat between her fingers, making you jolt in her lap. 

“Yes” Ellie groaned. 

“Fuck I wanna—“ Fast paced, and needy. Slurring her words and trying to stop herself from fainting on the floor.

She jolted forward, practically leaping towards you.

“Do it…” Dina teased. 

Ellie’s hands were shaky, and her movements were agonizingly slow. As she brought her hand up your thigh, slightly tugging on your skirt, playing with the hem of it, you felt your mind melting completely off. You could only whimper in response. 

With an unsteady pull, your skirt was down. It stood pretty right above your feet.

“God” Ellie groaned at the sight. All she wanted to do, was lay her head on top of Dina’s thighs, as if they were two soft cushions, and stare till her mind completely liquefied.

“Did you pick them just for her?” Dina teased, taking both of your hands in her palms. You hummed in response.

“She’s such a sweet girl, isn’t she?” she looked towards Ellie. Ellie could barely make eye contact with Dina, let alone with you.

All she could do is moan softly in response.

“You can do it, El”

“F—ffuck off” she hissed.

She slowly moved the fabric to the side, and her eyes almost closed entirely shut when she unraveled your drooling, messy cunt. She could see the big wet spot on your panties, and all she wanted to do was suck the juices completely dry, clean them with her tongue until all that was left on the soft cotton thong was her own saliva. she wanted to digest you whole, taste the sweetness running down her throat, but all she could fucking do was pull them to the side, and let out an incredibly harsh breath— bordering on a grunt, almost a whimper. 

“Isn’t it so fucking pretty?” Dina cood, patting your pussy lips softly, each little pat making you buck your hips forward. She played with the sticky strings of slick that hung loose in the air.

Ellie ran her fingers through them, as if they were the strings of her guitar.

You — poor you, didn't even know where to look. 

All Ellie could do was hum, and stare like a tortured, bordering on perverted soul.

“Tell her” Dina commanded. 

“Tell her how pretty you think it is” she parted your puffy lips slightly, revealing the beautiful pearl that resided inside. The cool air, mixed with Ellie’s breath, so so close to where you needed her, made you shiver.

You thought you could come with just her looking into you, examining you as if you were some sort of art work, the most beautiful one she’s ever seen, with details carved by the Gods themselves, a pretty little button, a hole that clenched in and out— inviting her in, and lips like gentle curtains, soft and ethereal.

“Its so… fuck” She huffed. She could feel her mouth watering, the soft muscle hiding inside slowly grazing the top of her mouth. 

“So pretty” 

Before you could move and react to Ellie’s praise, Dina plunged a finger directly inside your greedy hole. Small, delicate, sheer little bubbles made perfectly round of your own juices formed on the tiny tip of her middle finger. 

“Ow fuck!”

Dina, quickly as ever, smeared them all over Ellie’s plump lips. 

Ellie fucking whimpered, and babbled about how good it tasted, and almost instinctively licked all of the gathered slickness that formed on her mouth. 

“Thats a good girl” Dina smirked, patting her fingers on Ellie's left cheek. 

“Dont fucking good girl me” Ellie hissed, almost falling to her knees when she heard the needy, long, high pitched moan that escaped your lips when Dina caressed your cunt again. 

“I see how it is” Dina nodded, grinning like the little minx that she is. 

“Tell her” She whispered. 

“Tell her how good she’s being for you then” 

Ellie gave Dina a questioning look, and stared at your hazed expression. You were wheezing, it was all so fucking much. Dina’s finger slipping in and out, Ellie staring and panting like a cat in heat, and the way Dina started slowly but surely, grinding your hips back and forth to meet Ellie’s hungry, desperate gaze was making you see a million galaxies every time you dared to close your eyes shut. 

“You’re being so good” Ellie whispered. 

“So good” she repeated. She was telling it to herself, now. 

Dina’s middle finger began forming slow circles on your clit, making you whimper out quiet sobs into her neck. 

“Look at her… I think she likes the circles”

She fastened her pace, making you cry softly.

“Tell her you like them”

“I li— I like the circles… God— yesss” you hiccuped, bucking your hips faster and harder towards Ellie’s face.

The way she looked at you, like she was absolutely ravenous, was inexplainable.

Ellie sat on her knees, legs slightly parted, both of her hands laying on the plush of your thighs. Forcefully, she parted them further apart.

She was utterly hypnotized by the way Dinas fingers pinched your swollen clit between her fingers, tugging at the little button. Every time she gave it a little slap, and stopped those agonizingly slow circles she was forming, almost as if she was creating something out of clay — Ellie noticed how your eyes completely shut, she noticed the juice leaking from your hole directly into your ass, making Dina’s thighs glimmer as the slick created a small, sheer puddle on her thighs. 

Ellie had to stop herself from taking her pants off and grinding on the fucking floor. 

“You like that baby?” Dina cood, plunging two fingers inside of your hole, pumping them in and out slowly. She made sure she was putting on a show for Ellie. 

“M’— oh fuckfuck” you babbled, feeling it jolt inside of your stomach. 

“You ready? Ellie? Touch her fucking clit” 

“I c—“ Ellie panted pathetically. 

“Make her come, c’mon, make her fucking come” Dinas voice was breathless and desperate. Somehow, she managed to keep it stern. She was in charge, for now.

Ellie’s fingers met your cunt, pinching your puffy outer lips together, her gaze fixed directly upon it, marveling in how louder you got when it was her who had her fingers caressing you. Dina made you feel good, sure, but it was Ellie who made the coil in your stomach tighten. It was her you craved. 

You needed her. 

“El—Mph— Ellie” You cried, as you felt her movements grow faster and faster. She wanted to drown herself in it, at last — her mouth was on you. She gave no warning, was she truly the student here? 

It was fervent, and warm, and the tight, pink muscle caressed you everywhere, from your clit, and then lapping up the juices gathering in your entrance, it all happened too fast. 

The thing is, she couldn’t help it anymore. 

“Put your—“ Dina breathlessly mumbled. 

“Put your finger inside when you eat her out” 

Her ears perked up, and she obliged. Ellie pumped them in and out, so long they almost grazed your cervix, over that one sweet spongey spot inside, rendering you almost unconscious. 

“Fuckkk” Ellie hissed, as she hungrily kissed your clit, sucking the sensitive little button in between her lips. 

“I wanna fucking—“ Ellie panted 

“Dont you dare keep your mouth off of her, Ellie —"

"You like when she does that?" Dina mumbled, gripping your tit with her left hand, her right one opening your puffy lips together to let Ellie's fingers slip inside easier, quickly pumping in and out like she was trying to win a race.

"I love it— oh god" you babbled. You were almost riding Ellie's entire face, your thighs clenching around her.

"Make her cum Ellie" Dina tugged the taller girls hair.

Oh, she fucking did. 

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x reader x dina #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #the last of us #wlw #lesbian

[withahappyrefrain]

3 is the Magic Number

For @wicked-blathers' Kink or Treat event! Yes I'm several days late, shhh, it's fine..

Summary: you and Peter decide it's time to start trying to expand your family

Warnings: strong breeding kink, soft dom Peter, overstimulation, creampies, daddy kink, choking, did I mention breeding kink? Also Peter having baby fever.

It all started when your cousin brought over her infant at Thanksgiving. 

You couldn't help but coo over the baby, with his bright eyes and gummy smile and little fingers. When your cousin asked if you wanted to hold him, you immediately said yes and brought him over to Peter.

"Look at him! Isn't he cute?" You gushed to your husband. 

"Yeah, he's quite the charmer already," Peter commented. But his eyes weren't on the baby, they were on you. 

"You look like a natural holding him," He whispered as his arm wrapped around your waist. 

You didn't think much of his comment at the time. 

That night, your legs shook as he held them over his shoulders, thrusting into you deeply. 

"Gonna fill ya up," Peter whispered, his eyes never leaving the sight of his cock entering you, "Ya want that?" 

"P-please," you choked out. At the time, you were so focused on how he was hitting that sweet spot that you didn't realize this was the first time he talked about coming inside you. 

In hindsight, you couldn't blame yourself for not picking up on the signs. It was difficult when his calloused fingers were rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You did notice how the following month, when your family had gathered together, Peter couldn't take his eyes off of your cousin's baby. 

"I think Peter wants one too," Your cousin motioned over to the table. 

You looked to find Peter was kneeling down at the table, causing him to be at eye level with Reid, who was currently lying down in the baby lounger. 

It was a sweet sight, Peter offering one of his fingers to Reid, his honeyed eyes never leaving the baby. A soft smile stretched onto his face as Reid attempted to wrap his tiny fingers around Peter's. 

Other relatives mentioned their theories on Peter's desire to have children to you that night. You knew he wanted kids, it was one of the first things you two discussed on your first date. 

You had been married for several years, taking the steps towards having children: paying off student debt, finding stable jobs, buying a townhouse. 

It came to a head when you received a reminder from your OBGYN one night.

"Fuck, I gotta make an appointment," you said out loud. 

Peter looked up from the exams he had been grading, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, "For what?" 

"My IUD. It's been five years and I need to get it replaced," you explained as you pulled the app up on your phone to look at the availability of appointments.

"Or," Peter started, his fingers toying with the pen,  "you could…..not replace it." 

You nearly dropped your phone at the comment, "What do you mean not replace it?" 

The tips of Peter's ears were turning red, which was funny considering he was the one who brought it up. 

"You could just… have it taken out," He mumbled, his long fingers fidgeting with the pen he had been using to grade. 

"If you want to start trying for a kid, I need you to actually say it instead of beating around the-" 

"I want to start trying for a kid. I've wanted to start trying since I saw you holding Reid at Thanksgiving." 

There was silence after his statement as you processed your husband's words. 

"I….I've wanted to start trying since I saw you sitting with Reid when we went to my family's for Hanukkah." You admitted. 

His eyes widened. Peter knew you wanted kids just like him, but he honestly wasn't sure what to expect when he brought this up. He had prepared himself for "we're not ready" or "not yet". 

"So….we should start trying for a kid," He stated. 

You couldn't help but giggle, "Well, first I have to get my IUD taken out." 

Peter joined you in laughter, "That is kinda important." 

You wiggled your eyebrows, "Kinda?" 

"Yeah, just a little." Your giggles erupted into full on laughter, filling the bedroom. 

"So when can you get it taken out?" Peter asked as his laughter subsided. 

"Eager, are we?" You grinned. 

"I've been waiting for this since our first date, forgive me," Peter deadpanned. Despite his tone, the comment still brought heat to your face. 

Trying to play it off, you looked at your phone, pulling up the app your doctor's office used. 

"The soonest appointment is next Wednesday at two-thirty."

"Take it." 

—---------------------------------------

To say Peter was excited was an understatement. 

"Apparently taking prenatal vitamins before you get pregnant helps," He said as he held up the bottle. 

"Who told you that?" You asked before taking a bite of your apple. 

"May." 

You nearly choked on the piece of fruit, "Did you tell your aunt we're trying to conceive?!" 

Peter shrugged, "She outwardly expressed that she wanted to be a grandparent when I turned eighteen. I figured if anyone has any tips, it's the person who works in a hospital." 

"Who else have you told? The latest villain you've been fighting?" 

"We should also stop drinking now. And stop eating fish high in Mercury. Those things lower your fertility," Peter said as he read over the article on his laptop, ignoring your comment. 

"You do realize that this won't happen overnight, right?" You were excited but didn't want Peter to be disappointed. 

"I know. But you can also get pregnant as soon as you get your IUD taken out. So we might as well increase our chances." 

"I also can experience cramps and slight bleeding when I get my IUD taken out. So it's unlikely we'll be able to start on Wednesday," you explained. 

"Oh," Peter said, clearly having not thought about that, "Well, that gives us more time for the vitamins to take effect and to get all the alcohol and mercury out of ya."

—------------ 

The removal was far less painful than the insertion. 

As you entered your apartment, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you into a broad chest. 

"How ya feeling?" Peter murmured into your hair. 

"Sore. I'm also bleeding." 

Peter squeezed the flesh of your waist, "I'm sorry bug." 

"I feel bad for you. You seemed pretty excited to start," you giggled. You couldn't help it; the slight pout on Peter's face was adorable. 

Peter shrugged, "I've waited six years. What's a few more days gonna do?" 

You couldn't help but lean your head into his chest, his arms wrapped around you. His lips pressed against your forehead, his beard creating a soft friction. 

"I love you bug," he whispered against your skin. 

"I love you too Tiger," you looked up, your chin against his chest, "you've really waited six years for this?" 

Peter's cheeks became flushed, "Yeah." 

"Pete, we've been together for six years." 

Now the tips of Peter's ears were bright red, "I….I figured you were the one early." 

A giggle escapes your lips, the one that always brought a smile to Peter's face because it was sweeter than any love song he had ever heard, "How early Pete?" 

"First date," you heard your husband mumble. 

—----------------------

Usually on Saturdays, you and Peter were up and running errands. 

But today, you two opted to sleep in. It was nice to wake up and find that he had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him. 

"Hi bug," He whispered into your shoulder, his voice deeper than usual. 

"Hi Tiger," you whispered back, your fingers brushing the hair away from his forehead. 

"How ya feeling?" His nose brushed against yours. You couldn't help but admire the way his eye crinkles had become more pronounced over the years, along with the smattering of gray hairs throughout his beard and hair. 

"Pretty good. Think my body has adjusted to not having something inserted up my vagina." 

Peter grimaced, "When you say it like that, it sounds like some form of torture." 

"Can't most of the things those with a uterus have to do, be classified as torture? Waxing, shaving our arms and legs, growing a human?" 

"Growing a human isn't torture if you want it," He countered. 

"I know, but it's not gonna be easy." 

"I know," he pressed his lips against your temple, "and I'll be there for you every step of the way." 

"Even if it's two in the morning and I'm craving pretzels and mint chocolate chip ice cream?" You asked. 

"The bodega is just a few swings away," Peter assured you, bringing a smile to your face. 

"What about when I cry over otters due to my emotions being heightened?" You asked, a light tease lacing your voice. 

Peter rolled his eyes, "you already cry at otters." 

"They're so cute! And they hold hands so-" 

"So they don't get separated when they sleep," Peter finished for you. 

"Have I cried over Otters before?" You asked, confused. 

Peter chuckled as he stroked your hair, "when you're quite drunk. So I'd say I'm pretty prepared." 

You rested your head on his chest, breathing to the rhyming of his heartbeat. 

"I've also helped deliver several babies in the back of a taxi," Peter added, "So I have you covered there." 

You shuddered at the thought, "I'd rather you swing me through the city than deliver our kid in the back of a taxi." 

"Perhaps we should get you pregnant first before we decide on delivery options," Peter suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. 

"I'm honestly surprised you didn't jump on me when I said I felt fine," you admitted. 

"I wanted to be polite and say good morning first," Peter said, sheepishly. It was hard not to jump on you, but you were his wife after all, not some animal. 

Your laughter was silenced by Peter's lips, his body now pressing against yours. 

A whimper escaped your lips as you felt Peter's hips roll against yours. His large hands snaked underneath your Tshirt, squeezing your breasts. 

Your hands tangled themselves into Peter's hair, tugging on the messy locks in an attempt to pull his lips away from your neck and back up to yours. 

The removal of your clothes wasn't sexy or smooth. At one point, Peter had to get off you to pull down his sweats, huffing as he did so. 

"Wanna be close to you," He mumbled as he got back on top of you. You continued to chuckle. 

"I'd say you're about to be very close to me," Your chuckle turned into a gasp as Peter pulled down your shorts, your core now exposed to the cool air. 

Peter's body shimmied down the bed, placing his head in between your thighs. 

"That's n-not- oh- h-how babies a-are made," you gasped as his tongue began lapping up and down your slit. 

"Gotta warm ya up," was all he explained before attaching his lips to your clit. In hindsight, it wasn't a bad idea. It had been close to a week since you two were last intimate. 

The gaze of his honey-clouded eyes burned into your bare skin. He watched your face as his fingers filled you. You were beautiful as always, with your slightly parted lips and knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets. 

But today was different. It wasn't that he didn't desire you all the time, wished to be consumed by you and make a home amists tangled bedsheets. 

He just didn't think it was possible to desire you any more than he already did. 

But then he saw you look at that baby, your big eyes filled with love, adoration, and care. And then you agreed to have his child. 

He wanted to bury himself in you. 

You were teetering over the edge when he pulled himself up and away from your thighs. A whine left your lips, your hips desperately bucking up as a desperate attempt to chase some friction, some type of relief. 

"I-I know but, but if I keep going…." He shook his head as he chuckled at himself. Ironic that he was now slightly embarrassed at how close he already was to coming, considering he originally didn't want to go on a blind date with you. 

Funny how things change. 

Moans trailed past your lips, down your chin at the sensation of his hard cock slipping through your wetness. Fuck, you could hear yourself, hear how wet you were. The tip of his cock repeatedly brushed over your throbbing clit. 

"I won't last much longer," Peter finished his sentence as he pushed himself into you. 

He didn't mind the sensation of your fingernails digging into his broad shoulders. Your touch always grounded him. It was what he craved at the end of a long day, at the end of a strenuous night of patrolling. 

Peter entered you slowly, bottoming out. For several moments, the bedroom was silent, apart from your panting. Your eyes couldn't leave his. It felt like your first time again, how neither one of you seemed to want to make the first move. But not out of hesitation, not out of fear of making a mistake. 

You wanted to savor the moment. But you also wanted him to consume you. 

So, you reached a hand up to push several strands of hair out his eyes, allowing him to see your reassuring nod. He pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in. 

The bedroom began to be filled with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours, your moans blending with his heavy panting. 

Fuck you were gorgeous with your head thrown back against the pillow, back arched. It wasn't the first time he had seen such a sight. He had even taken a picture of it before, the polaroid tucked away in his wallet. 

It was the fact that Peter was going to come inside you, without anything to prevent himself from filling you up. Chances were low you'd get pregnant right away, unless there was something new he was about to learn regarding the effects of a radioactive spider bite. 

But it could happen, the fact that you two would continue trying to make it happen, drove him absolutely wild. 

"Gonna fill you up real good, 'kay?" You nodded, the corners of your vision beginning to blur from the intense pleasure. 

"Yeah? Is that what you want? To be full of me?" 

The edge was getting closer and closer, making it difficult for you to form a coherent response. 

"You wanna what?" Peter asked as one of his hands snaked down to where your two bodies met. 

"W-wanna….I wanna…." His thrusts were getting harder, more purposeful. The circles he was tracing on your clit added to the pleasure he was submerging you in. 

"Use your words pretty girl," He cooed, "C'mon, you can do it." 

"W-wanna make you a Daddy." It was now Peter's turn to widen his eyes at your words. For a brief moment, his hips stilled. 

Then they picked back up again, this time with a determined force. 

"Come. Now. Come right fucking now," He grunted. 

Peter was a lot of things, and sometimes that was dominant in the bedroom. But he had never ordered you like that. 

"You heard me. Want you to make a mess on my cock before I fill ya up." He lifted up your legs, pinning them to his hips. The new position allowed him to fuck you even deeper, pushing you over. 

You were incoherent as you came, only whines mixed with slurred chants of his name leaving your mouth. Peter followed quickly behind you; it had been tortured not having sex with you or masturbating for nearly a week, but he knew it would be worth it. 

When your eyes opened, your knees were now pressed to your chest, Peter thrusting into you. 

Fuck, had he not come yet? No, that was impossible. He had. You remember the feeling of warmth spreading through you, his hips stuttering, the raspy goans he let out- the telltale sign of him coming. 

He had come, and by how full you felt, quite a bit. 

Fuck.

Peter felt your eyes boring into his skin. Part of him felt guilty for not feeling guilty about continuing to fuck you. 

But you just felt so good coming around his cock. And even though it was far from the first time he came inside you, it felt so much better now, now that he knew you wanted him to fill you up, you wanted his cum to take. 

Peter needed it to take, it was an overwhelming desire he now had. His mind was clouded with thoughts of you, stomach round and your tits full. Thoughts of you holding a baby that had his eyes and your hair. Thoughts of a little one running around the place. 

Your lips were engulfed in a sloppy kiss, jolts of pleasure lighting up your body with each thrust. His body pressed your hips further into the pillow he had placed underneath. 

"Gotta make sure n-nothin comes out," he explained in between kisses, his voice breathless. 

All you could do was nod and cling onto him. You were entirely at his mercy and it thrilled you. Maybe in hindsight you should be concerned about how your husband seemed downright feral for you. Maybe you should reflect upon how much you enjoyed it in your next therapy session. 

Lots of maybes. But for once, you weren't concerned about them. They weren't creeping into your brain, slowly but surely taking over your thoughts until it consumed you. 

You were in a good place. You had a steady job that you enjoyed at least half of the time, depending on the day. You had a roof over your head. You were with someone who loved you, all parts of you. 

This was what safety felt like. This was security. 

"I love you," you whispered so softly, you were surprised he was able to hear it. 

"Love you too," He pressed another kiss ro your lips, "You're gonna look s'pretty, full of me." 

That mouth of his was going to be the death of you. 

"Y'gonna be such a good mama too," the sweet words were a stark contrast to his sharp thrusts. 

You wanted to praise him, to give him words of encouragement. But all you could was just nod your head as he continued to thrust into you. The only sounds that came out of you were pathetic whines as he continued thrusting into you. 

Peter loved how your whines increased in pitch as his cock brushed against that sweet spot over and over. A near scowl formed as he saw you bury your head into the pillow. 

"What's the matter? Don't want the neighbors to hear how badly you want me to put a baby in ya?" 

You clenched at his words, eliciting a groan from Peter that was so guttural, your legs began to shake. 

Every little reaction your body had to him only pushed Peter forward. The coil in your stomach was tightening. Peter knew you were close, your teeth always dug into your bottom lip, your hands desperately clinging onto any part of him you could reach. 

"C'mon bug, n-need ya to make a mess on Daddy's cock," He said before sinking his teeth into your neck. 

His words, combined with the sudden pain of his teeth digging into your, drove you over that sweet edge. He was the ocean, pushing and pulling you under. Just when you thought you had reached the surface, you were pulled back in by his long fingers stroking your clit, prolonging your pleasure.

Peter only lasted a few more thrusts before he came inside you again. You felt spent, unable to move. 

He acted quickly, pulling out of you and quickly replacing his cock with his fingers. 

Peter's name came out as a strangled moan when you felt his fingers curl inside you. 

"I know, it's sensitive," He moved his body down until he was in-between your legs, "But I'd hate for any drop to go to waste." 

Your hands latched onto his hair as he closed his mouth around your clit. It was too much: your previous orgasms, Peter's current goal of keeping you full of him. 

Overstimulation was kicking in, causing you to throw your head back. Your thighs wrapped around his head, your body going against what your brain was saying. 

He fucked his cum back into you with his fingers, his tongue lapping at your swollen bundle of nerves. Peter grinded his hips into the mattress. He couldn't help it, you sounded so pretty when you chanted his name like that. 

"Just one more, give me one more, 'kay Bug?" He said in response to your desperate whines. 

Your next orgasm was intense, your walls squeezing Peter's fingers so tightly that you were surprised they were still able to move. 

Your head rested against the pillow, the room filled with nothing but heavy panting. The bed creaked as Peter's body moved. 

Suddenly, your back was no longer touching the mattress. Instead, you felt the cool air touching your skin, your head spinning from the sudden movement. 

Peter's hands gripped your hips, holding you above his. A gasp escaped your lips upon feeling his cock slip through your folds. 

The ache you felt as his cock entered you was familiar and warm. When you looked up, it was the first time you noticed that his eyes had darkened, almost black. 

He looked hungry. 

"I got ya, just hold onto me." Your hands gripped his broad shoulders as he thrusted into you. 

Pleasure quickly overtook the pain. Peter was memorizing with his head thrown back, kiss swollen lips parted. His hands gripped your hips, driving you down on his cock. 

God, you could stare at him for hours. 

"H-how do y-you still have anything left?" You asked, breathless. 

Peter let out a low chuckle, "Didn't jack off for a week. Been savin' up for ya." 

Fuck. He had been planning this, planning to fuck you until you were reduced to nothing but broken whines and grabby hands. 

And his plan was working. 

You slouched over, your head hovering above his broad chest. The room felt hazy. It took everything in you to focus on Peter's chest, the smattering of hairs, freckles, and moles. His skin grounded you, having physical proof that he was safe and here with you, that he wasn't still out on patrol and you were just imagining scenarios to calm yourself. 

You rocked your hips forward, grinding against his. The movement earned a lewd groan from your husband, one of his hands trailing up from your hips to clutch at your chest. 

Peter was trying to hold out, was trying to be respectful and a considerate husband. But when your lips attached themselves to his neck, your teeth sinking into his flesh, he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

He bent his knees, allowing him to thrust into you while his other hand snaked up to your throat. 

"Touch yourself," he groaned, looking up at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world. Like he was looking up at a piece of artwork in The Louvre, and not you. 

But that was one of Peter's habits that you fell in love with. He made you feel special, made you feel worthy enough. Made all the self doubt you held wash away in moments like these. 

So you listened to him, a hand reaching down to where your two bodies met. 

The pleasure ebbed and flowed into and out of sensitivity. Your walls clenched around his cock, pushing him closer. 

Peter tried, he really did. But you felt so divine, so transcendent, he couldn't help it. He threw his head back as he came, slamming your hips down against his as he emptied inside of you. 

The sensation of feeling him come inside, combined with how full you felt, pushed you over. You slumped forward, your head resting on his chest. 

Peter's hands remained on your hips, pinning them to his. 

"Just stay there baby. Soak me up." You nodded your head weakly at his words. It wasn't like you could move, given the grip he had on your body. 

The two of you laid there in bed, your hearts racing. Once he realized you wouldn't move (you were far too spent), Peter's hands trailed up to your back, drawing comforting circles. 

After a while, he wrapped his arms around you and gently switched positions, your back now against the mattress. You hissed as he pulled out. 

"B-break," you mumbled. 

"I got ya," He whispered in between pressing feather-like kisses across your forehead and temple.

"You think it took?" Peter asked after a few moments of silence. 

You couldn't help but giggle, "Can't your Spidey sense tell?" 

Peter moved down, pressing his ear against your stomach as if it were a shell from the ocean. 

"Can't hear anything, guess we gotta try again," he smirked. 

"You seem really broken up about it," you deadpanned. Peter's face broke out onto a grin. 

"Darn," His voice was dripping with sarcasm and he even snapped his fingers for added effect. 

"What happened to wanting it to take the first time?" 

Peter shrugged, "I mean, I still want to put a baby in you sooner rather than later, but…figured it would be fun to try for a little bit." 

Your fingers ran through Peter's hair, trailing down to his bearded cheek, "Peter Benjamin Parker, you're insatiable." 

Peter's lips formed a mischievous smirk before they began nipping at your neck, making its way up to your jawline. 

"Maybe you can help me?" He asked, his breath hot on your ear. 

"I need a break, I don't have a super short recovery time due to a radioactive spider bite." You looked into his eyes, hoping your pout would be intimidating, or show your annoyance. 

Instead, Peter laughed at your adorable expression. His eyes looked over your features as his fingers brushed against your cheek. 

"I hope they get your nose," He said before placing a kiss to it. The comment brought warmth to your face and body. 

"I hope they get your hair. And eyes." 

Peter shook his head, "You have way better eyes."

"You have kind eyes. I want our kids to be kind," you admitted, your fingers gently threading through his hair. 

"They will be," Peter pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, "Because you're their Mom, the kindest person I know." 

"They also have you as their dad." 

Peter didn't respond, focusing on tracing your features with his long fingers. 

"I still want them to have your eyes," He admitted, a sheepish smile overtaking his face.

You rolled your eyes, "Can you use your Spidey sense to tell them that?" 

Peter laughed, nuzzling his nose against yours, "Guess I'll have to wait until they can hear noises and recognize voices." 

And he did. When you showed him the positive pregnancy test six months later, he talked to your growing bump every night. Sometimes he told stories, sometimes he whispered dreams and hopes. But always, he managed to make a reference about how your child needed to ensure that they had your eyes. 

In true Parker fashion, Benjamin Richard Parker was born with honey-casted eyes, just like his father.

#my writing #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x y/n #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm!peter x reader #tasm fic #andrew garfield x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman smut

[angel-of-the-moons]

Alone Time

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem! Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Fluff, smut, oral (m + f! receiving), protected sex, PiV sex, Jake has a certain kink, unprotected sex, every good mama deserves to have a train run on her, body insecurities, affirmations, porn with a big heaping slice of life, could this be considered cucking? Or voyeurism/exhibitionism?, broken condom

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

This fic is connected to "Small Surprises" Pt. 1 and Pt. 2.

A/N: I had to do it lmao.

Taglist: @simp4-fictional-men @autismsupermusicalassassin @princessakirika @mochimoqa @pimosworld

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Your life was a strange one, now. You'd gotten used to the looming, musty-smelling god that lingered in your apartment and spent time with your daughter; you'd gotten so used to having the man--er, men--in your life at your side when you wake up in the morning.

You'd especially gotten attached to their little fishy friends!

But, hey, you wouldn't change it for the world. Hanukkah and Christmas came and went, so did New years. Poor Victoria, she was hiccuping and crying because the fireworks were too loud and terrified her, prompting Jake to immediately cradle her, and even Khonshu moved to slam your windows closed to muffle the sounds. (Although you lectured him about cracking one of the panes in his haste.)

And now, Valentine's Day was coming up, and you weren't entirely sure what to get for your boys.

Victoria, bless her tiny, sweet, adorable little heart, cut out some messy, colorful, and craft-herpes (glitter) covered hearts to each of them, doodling various things each man liked. Steven's heart was brown with gold glitter and had little Egyptian designs scribbled here and there, Marc had a few sports items drawn on his white and blue-glitter heart, Jake had a bright yellow and white heart, a crude scribble of his car drawn on next to his name.

She even made one for Khonshu. It was gaudy. Bright, neon pink, purple and blue glitter all over, and had small drawings of birds on it, with a crescent moon with a smiley face in the middle. His face couldn't emote, but you couldn't help but grin like an idiot (and had to elbow Steven in the gut to keep him quiet) as your innocent daughter handed her little art project to her "Cranky Bird Grandpa 'Shu". You were positive his pride took a blow when he accepted it in front of the two of you, but the way he gingerly held the little gift silently told you that he did, infact, like it.

Why Khonshu's personality seemed to shift around you and Victoria, you were unsure. You'd never asked, and to be honest you kinda didn't wanna know. You just chocked it up to, hopefully, Khonshu realized his existence didn't have to solely revolve around justice and violence. That some of his more forgotten attributes could be indulged in; such as him being a protector and a healer.

One time, Victoria fell and scraped her knee at the park, bawling as blood trickled down her delicate little leg. Before you or Marc could leap to your feet, Khonshu was there (invisible to others, of course) and whispered something to her. She repeated it, and by the time you two got there, Khonshu was gone, disappeared into a puff of mist, and Victoria was no longer injured.

Marc had asked her, worried, about what Khonshu said to her, the moment you got into the car. You were vaguely paying attention, at first, distracted at how his beard had come in, and he'd stopped being so meticulous about his appearance that his usually raven locks and beard (the one Jake insisted they grow out) were peppered with silver.

"What did he say, Vicky?" Marc asked.

"Jus' said that I had to say the words." Victoria answered vaguely, playing with her little scarab plushie in the back seat.

"What words, baby?" Marc asked, feeling a nervous sweat break out on his neck. You had to place your hand on his thigh to snap him back to reality.

"The words!" Victoria said, pursing her cute little face, her nose all scrunched up at his lack of automatically knowing what she meant. "He said, I gotta say the words to ask for help, so he can fix me!"

"...Wait." You turned in your seat to look back at her as you approached a red light, Marc watching her warily through the rear-view.

"Honey, do you mean a prayer?"

"Duh!" She scoffed, like it was obvious. "'Shu used to fix people all the time, he says. But nobody says the words no more so he can't. I had to say em so he could do it!"

You and Marc blink at each other, mulling over what your daughter just told you, a thick silence hanging in the air that was only cut through by her munching on some veggie sticks (all carefully arranged by color, of course. The red ones tasted the best, so they went first!).

"....I forgot he could do that." Marc murmured softly, looking back at the road as the light turned green.

"Yeah!" Victoria peeped. "'Shu says he can't do it no more cause it's hard. It's easier to find bad guys than fix people 'cuz they don't him ask for it no more."

You watch as Marc's jaw tenses and a look of confliction creases his brow.

Living under basically forced servitude tends to blind one to any benevolence their "benefactor" may have possessed at one point.

...And apparently still possessed. He'd never thought--none of them had--to consider that Khonshu never dispatched them to heal anyone, because A.) Nobody prayed to him for that anymore. B.) It wasn't in Moon Knight's abilities to heal anyone. And C.) Evil was just so much easier to root out.

The rest of the ride home was quiet; Marc, Jake, and Steven's headspace abuzz with this revelation.

You, meanwhile, still stressed out over what to get Marc, Steven, and Jake.

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"I still don't trust him." Marc muttered stubbornly.

"I understand why, and you have your rights to." You sigh softly, kneading the muscles in his shoulders. You were sitting behind him on the bed, his legs draped over the edge. "But you have to admit, he's strangely... sweet to Victoria."

"I don't trust it." He huffs again, his eyes closing as your thumbs work a particularly stiff knot between his shoulders.

"I know. But believe me, if he tries anything..." You mutter as your brow creases and you apply just a bit more pressure, earning a groan and a strained chuckle from Marc.

"Shit, I think the old man is more scared of you than what the Ennead might do to him if he fucks with the sky again." He says. "You and that broom."

You grin and press yourself against his back, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you slip your arms around his midsection, feeling the mix of softness and muscle, there.

"Well... me and my broom are fearless companions." You chuckle.

Marc stutters out a short huff as your fingers brush the trail of hair running beneath waistband of his sweatpants. They were doing very little to conceal the growing erection that throbbed against his thigh.

Marc tipped his head and looked at the monitor next to the bed, showing that Victoria was happily snuggled in bed, curled up with her arms squeezing Digger the scarab plush and snoozing peacefully.

Thank god that little girl usually slept like the dead...

"So..." You say, leaning in to nip at his ear as you comb your fingers through his curls, small water droplets clinging to the strands. Your nails scraping against his scalp, he groaned.

"You don't gotta work for the old man tonight." You say, kissing down his neck and to his shoulder, feeling how goosebumps formed beneath your soft lips; your hand slowly sliding up from his happy trail to his chest.

"Ay, hermano, you don't say yes I'll fuck her for you." Jake's voice rang out.

Marc grunted at his unwanted offer and demand; usually when it came to being intimate with you, the two of you worked out a system, setting up times, etcetera. And when spontaneous things like this happened, Jake and Steven would leave you and Marc alone, and the other ways around.

But of course Jake would occasionally peek in to tell Marc different things to do to you to get the best reaction, or hell, sometimes he'd cheer Marc on like a weird perverted, one-man cheerleader.

"Hmmm... Jake?" You chuckle, taking a small bit of his muscle in between your teeth playfully.

"Fuck. Yeah." Marc gasped, your palm sliding slowly back down until it was all the way under his sweats, stroking his throbbing cock leisurely. He could feel Jake linger, just barely... he would be a spectator tonight, it seemed.

"Ah, should've known. Steven's a good boy and tends to leave everyone alone when it comes to one-on-one time." You chuckle, placing a small kiss to your bite mark. They'd be gone by the time he suited up next, but you knew all the boys had preferred little "badges" to wear.

With Marc, he liked your bite marks, your hand occasionally tugging on his hair. With Steven, it was hickeys and lipstick stains. With Jake, it was scratches on his chest and back, maybe a bitten lip.

However you were all careful not to make them too obvious. The one time Victoria brought up a hickey she spotted on Steven's throat, you swore you saw steam puff out of his ears and his brain explode.

"A-A bug bit me, poppet, th-that's all!" He told her.

"Oh! Okay." She replied to him, not questioning it further, content to go back to playing with her dolls. (She had mummified one of them while you two were making lunch, which concerned you because Khonshu helped so it was as frighteningly accurate as it could get on a chunk of plastic...)

Marc groaned and he bucked his hips up into your touch, his hand falling to where he felt yours beneath his pants, encouraging you.

"Damn, baby." He huffed, already feeling beads of precum begin to drop from the tip of his dick.

You tug his head to the side and kiss him hungrily, your lips connecting as your tongues sloppily danced with one another.

"Your mouth?" Marc hissed.

You nod with a hum slipping around him and to your knees on the soft carpet at his feet, your eyes dark and hungry as he lifted his hips, letting your soft, delicate hands pull his sweats all the way down.

"We honestly may as well stop getting dressed right out of the shower." You chuckle, biting your lip as you pump his cock with your hand, your cheek resting on his thick thigh while you give him a teasing look.

You press your thumb against the weeping head of his dick, sighing. "....because either way, one of you boys get wound up and we wind up naked again."

"Can't help it around you." Marc groaned as you ran your tongue up the underside of his length, tracing the pulsing vein there.

"Clothes just fly off on their own when you're around us, baby."

You snort and roll your eyes, giving his tip a little love nip before licking the large drop of sweet-salty fluid off it, and popping it in between your lips and swallowing him down.

"Fuck." He growled as you bobbed your head, sucking tight and hollowing your cheeks while he petted your damp hair shakily.

"So fucking good, baby."

You moan appreciatively, squirming as you feel your panties start to squish, your clit throbbing almost in tune with his pulse as you take him deeper.

You gag a bit when he gets a little overzealous, and he pulls you back, panting and brows pinched up in concern. "Shit, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a teeny bit of a warning next time, honey." You giggled before pulling him back into the hot wet cavern of your mouth.

Marc's eyes rolled back in bliss as your tongue stroked him, his lips snagging his teeth beautifully as his eyes drift to the monitor again to check on Victoria.

Dead asleep, but this time with a little foot poking out from her blankets.

He made a soft whine as the plush of your lips squeezed his sensitivity flesh, your teeth grazing just after, providing a singular myriad of sensations.

Gods, your mouth was downright sinful. The first time you gave him a blowjob, he thought he died again, his orgasm slamming into him like a runaway train.

Afterwards, you sheepishly admitted that sometimes, the only way your ex would get intimate with you while you were pregnant was oral, because he said the sight of your stretch marks made him uncomfortable, and he had his concern for "the kid".

Yeah, it was more likely because he was already having sex with your friend on the side by that point.

But with your boys? They loved whatever they could get, and treasured every millisecond of it. Sometimes a little too much; Steven had a habit of cumming before he even properly fucked you, especially while spending time between your legs with his tongue to the point you were worried he smothered between your thighs.

So many times he'd stain the insides of his boxers and pants, just from eating you out.

Marc groaned, his cock jerking in your mouth to signal you he was going to cum; and you hummed around him greedily, sucking harder to milk him of whatever he could give you.

"Fuuuuck--" He breathed hard, the first spurt of cum shooting out and coating your tongue; his taste heavy and thick and oh-so addicting as you happily drank him down, swirling your tongue around as you pulled off.

Marc chuckled breathlessly and collapsed onto the bed, his arm resting over his face, "Shit... I swear you could suck the soul outta one of us."

You slowly crawl up his body, looking down at him as you support yourself with your hands and knees with a cheeky grin. "That good, huh?"

Marc leaned up and kissed you softly on the lips. "That good."

His hands find their way up your thighs to cup your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he bunched your microfiber sleep shorts beneath his fingers. "Now lemme return the favor."

You squeaked and laughed as he flipped you on your back, his hands almost ripping your buttons on your shirt open to get to the skin beneath, licking and placing open mouth kisses as he moved down to your breasts, his tongue flattening over your perked nipples as his hand slides down to your tummy.

You squirmed a bit, you always do when he palms your squishy lower half. After having Victoria, you didn't "bounce back" like those gorgeous mothers online always seemed to. Your belly was stretched, visible purple marks that faded to an almost silvery sheen over time, but you just couldn't lose the weight that came with your pregnancy.

Your ex didn't like your obvious signs of your growing child within your womb, but your boys? Gods, they adored it. Because it was proof you carried that sweet, adorable, curious little girl that you all loved so much; your body keeping her safe and warm until she was ready to greet the world for the first time.

"Baby." Marc said, looking at you, his dark eyes soft and loving as his flattened his calloused palm over your squishy tummy.

"C'mon... I know that look."

"I... I can't help it." You mumble as he plants feather-soft kisses over your eyelids.

"You need to stay off those mom forums." He joked. "They're full of photoshopped women, or women who can afford surgery to hide a previous pregnancy."

"I know..."

Marc leaned down, kissing his way down your tummy, planting more and more kisses over each and every stretch mark, until his lips reached the waistband of your shorts.

"You're fucking gorgeous, baby. Every scar and bit of baby fat included."

His fingers tapped your hips and you lifted them so he could all but rip them down your legs, practically licking his chops as his eyes landed on your soaked and puffy folds, a soft patch of hair on your mons.

He kissed his way down, further, his thumb spreading your lips and labia, smearing your slick around as his lips formed an "o" around your clit.

You moaned deeply, hand tangling in his mass of untamed curls as his fingers toy with your entrance; tracing it but not sliding inside.

"Marc!" You bucked impatiently.

"So greedy." He chuckled, the vibrations from his voice sending jolts through your clit, making you jump and yelp.

The way his beard tickled and scraped your cunt and thighs had your head swimming, your slick soaking the salt and pepper hairs on his face.

When his fingers finally plunged in, your toes curled and your hands gripped your blankets tight.

"Marc." You mewled.

Marc used his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back as his index and middle fingers curled inside your tight, gummy walls; giving his tongue unfettered access to wrap around the sensitive nub.

You hips tilted and your back arched, and you had to bite down on your lip to stifle the cries that wanted to come from your mouth. Your clit was sensitive, it always was; but god forbid your baby daddy ever give a fuck about that.

Marc and the boys? Oh, they loved to abuse that knowledge every time you two were intimate. Especially when they were using their mouths on you.

"Shit, we need to find a babysitter Vicky's comfortable with." Marc growled in between open mouth kisses to your sweet lips, his fingers curling in the most devilish way.

"Wanna hear how loud we can get ya."

You hiccuped softly in an effort to control your breathing and stuttering voice as your orgasm started to creep up on you. All you could do was blabber out a short "yes" when Marc nipped at your clit again, pressing his fingers up at juuuuust the right angle, sending your eyes rolling so far back into your head you swore you could probably see your own brain for a split second as those wonderful waves of ecstasy beat away at the shores of your sanity.

Marc continued to thrust and curl his fingers, slowing down to stretch out your orgasm until you were ready, your poor hungry hole fluttering and clenching around his digits for more.

Marc, the cheeky little shit, made a lewd display of licking his fingers clean, spreading them into a wide "v" as he wrapped his tongue around each one, licking you completely clean.

You growled playfully and pulled him down to you, slipping your tongue past his lips, tasting a little of yourself in his mouth as your kiss turned sloppy and very messy; his beard soaked all the way through from how much you had gushed onto his tongue and mouth.

When you parted (because your brains finally told you that you needed oxygen to keep living) you were both flushed and hungry for more, and Marc reached down, squeezing your baby fat softly.

"All this is ours, and we aren't trading it for anything."

And damn, did he spend the rest of the night proving it to you.

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"Aunt Layla!" Victoria squealed, running and practically leaping into the woman's arms.

"'Tawar." She giggled, waving excitedly at the hippo-woman trailing just behind.

Layla laughed loudly and you grinned as she and your daughter brushed noses. It was weird, at first, meeting Marc's ex-wife (and Steven's ex-girlfriend) but you were happy they were still on friendly terms, friendly enough, that Layla wanted to meet you and your little girl.

Victoria latched onto her immediately, the moment she sat down in your living room, the curious girl pattered up to her after waking up from her nap, still drowsy as she clambered onto the sofa, and curled up in Layla's nap, resting her head on her chest.

It was so cute you almost started crying. Even the goddess, Taweret, squealed and wiggled her feet at the sight. Given she was the goddess of mothers, children, and other related things, it made sense that she adored your daughter (like Khonshu, but the old pigeon would never admit to it.)

Taweret tagged along on most visits because she wanted to meet the woman and child responsible for gaining so much trust and love from the boys to ease their pain and loneliness. She also just wanted to meet your daughter because, c'mon. Victoria was adorable and everyone so far loved her. Even the "bloody old pigeon" as she and Steven were so fond of calling Khonshu.

Layla settled and hefted your child onto her hips, walking over to give you a side hug and you two exchanged cheek kisses in greeting.

"Hey, love!" Layla said to you both. "How have things been!"

"Oh, wonderful. Victoria's started reading multi-chapter books already." You sigh, smiling in wonder at your daughter.

Victoria giggled bashfully and started rubbing her cheek onto Layla's, reaching out to touch Taweret's outstretched palm.

"Really? So soon?" Layla blinked in amazement.

"Yeah, the doctor said it's not entirely uncommon that some autistic children develop certain skills quicker. She's already reading some of Steven's textbooks to him!" You reply.

"Damn, give her a few weeks and I'd wager this little ankle-nipper will be able to put any of those scholars at the museum to shame." She snorted.

"Steven said the same thing." You chuckled. "Even joked that they could probably go into Uni together."

"Oh gods, that's cute." Layla giggled as Victoria dug her fingers into her curly hair to play with the silky mass.

"Steven had a meeting at the museum today, he'll feel so sad for not saying bye." You say wistfully.

"Eh, it's one night. He will survive." Layla scoffed playfully.

"...Thank you so much for agreeing to take her." You sighed at her.

"Hey, hey, no problem. It's Valentine's and you two have been so wound up lately you need some alone time." She winked at you not-so-subtly.

You blushed a bit at her implication and laughed nervously as you reached for Victoria's overnight bag.

"Oh--her favorite blanket and toys are in there. Her shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, Digger is in there, too, because you know how she gets without him--"

"Relax, I know this'll be her first time away from you." Layla smiled warmly. "But she'll be fine. The hotel is just a block away, and plus, nothing will happen to her. Not with a goddess and her Avatar looking out for her, eh?"

Your shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh. "Yeah... Yeah, you're right. It's just..."

"No, no I get it." Layla's eyes twinkled. "...So how many squishmallow things has Steven and Victoria accumulated?"

You laugh out loud and point behind her, the corner of your living room where you'd had your Christmas tree was now stacked with several plushies, mostly squishmallows of various kinds, including a very large pineapple named "Maui" that Steven and Victoria loved curling up against to read together.

Layla snorted when she looked, shaking her head. "Well, could collect worse things, I s'pose."

"Like taxidermied bugs and animals?" You joke.

"Oh that's a horrible thought!" She grinned.

"Yeah, well, like you said..."

Layla laughed again and moved so Victoria could lean up to you and rub noses, and you could pepper her soft little face with plenty of kisses.

"Be good for your Aunt Layla and Taweret, okay?" You ask her gently.

"I will, mommy!" Victoria chirped, rubbing her face onto yours lovingly, breathing in your perfume.

You waved as they all left, feeling almost bereft and out of place in your suddenly too quiet flat.

You decided, after a few moments of nervous lip chewing, to walk back to your bedroom.

You walked to your closet and moved aside an old suitcase, revealing a long black box wrapped in hot pink ribbons.

After that night with Marc, something clicked inside your brain and you knew what to get for the boys.

Or rather, what to get yourself for the boys.

You set the box on the bed and looked at the article of "clothing" sitting inside the box. You'd ordered this set of lingerie after Jake and Victoria snuggled on the couch after watching Zootopia together.

You made sure to have it delivered "accidentally" to your neighbor's flat, and she handed it over to you like you two were smuggling contraband into a prison.

After all, you didn't want the boys to find your surprise, now did you?

It took a bit, but you'd stripped down and hastily pulled on your new set. All straps, the fabric was easy on your hands, so you knew Steven wouldn't be overwhelmed by the texture when he touched you.

And boy... would he want to touch you.

The straps covered up nothing and so much at the same time, leaving nothing to the imagination while still, leaving so much.

Looking into the mirror, you swallowed thickly. It looked nothing like it did on the models on the site. Where they had flat, toned bodies and perfect figures...

You had soft, rounded out features, stretch marks and of course, the baby fat.

You chewed your bottom lip hesitantly, your first instinct to take it all off and shove it back into he closet when you saw what you didn't like.

But... you knew that Marc, Jake, and Steven loved you. And that they would go feral if they saw you in it.

For added measure, you slid on the sheer, white stockings up to your thighs, the soft material squishing the plushest parts of your legs.

You had to shove the second one up hastily when you heard the front door unlock, and Steven's voice.

"Ey, love?" Steven called out.

"Uh--egh--fuck--hold on a minute!" You say, scrambling for your fluffy bathrobe. It concealed enough that they wouldn't see much... save for if they looked at your feet.

Steven had walked into the bedroom just barely after you'd tossed the box back into the closet and the door clicked shut, you awkwardly smiling and standing with your hands clasped in front of you.

"Heeeyyy... You!" You tried pitifully.

A thick brow raised behind those dark-rimmed glasses of his. Gods, he looked gorgeous. Dressed in a nice smooth button-up, his blazer buttoned halfway up and his curls falling into his face? His sweet, boyish curiosity had you already blushing.

He looked every bit like the kind of professor many college students would fantasize about taking "extra credit" with...

"What's got you in a tizzy?" Steven chuckled, walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Oh uhm.... Ah." You squirm, giggling at his kisses.

"Is it because Victoria is out?" He asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious pup.

"Well, uh, eh... Uhm." You cough awkwardly. Oh, this was a horrible idea. So stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Oh! Actually, hold that bubble." Steven chirped, fishing out a small paper bag out of his back pocket.

Inside the bag, was a small box. A jewelry box.

Your hand goes to your mouth as he opens it up and grins sheepishly. "Took us forever to agree on something. Marc was being a real bellend about it, y'know?"

He frowns over at your mirror, his brows creasing as he scowls at his reflection.

"What! You were!" He snapped.

Inside the box was a silver pendant, cut in the shape of the crescent moon, with engraving on it.

"We love you, to the moon and back."

"A bit cheesey, innit?" He mumbled, pulling at his sleeves as his hands darted all over your face, his teeth snagging his lip.

You honestly felt like tearing up. It was so... so cheesey, and so romantic. Very much a Steven thing to do. But you could tell even Marc and Jake had a hand in it, too. It was a united effort.

"Steven...." You begin, lifting your eyes to lock with his doe-like brown ones.

He tosses a nervous, awkward smile.

"I love it. It's gorgeous." You say, your thumb brushing over the shiny material.

"Let me put it on you?" Steven asked you hesitantly, as if worried you'd say no.

"Sure." You smile warmly at him, noticing how his demeanor lights up and he cheerfully brings the chain around your neck as he moves to stand behind you, carefully locking the clasp so the moon hung just beneath your collarbone.

You hear Steven go "huh" under his breath as his fingers brush beneath your bathrobe, touching the straps of the lingerie you were concealing.

"What's this, love?" He asked you, and you jolted slightly.

Oh, shit. Right. The lingerie. You'd almost forgotten it!

"Uh.... It's.... Eh...." You stammer out awkwardly, stepping away to fiddle with the sash of your robe.

Steven watches, curiously and patiently waiting for you to speak, his head tilted to the side.

"So, I've been trying to figure out what to get you guys for Valentine's day, y'know? I was stumped, trying to think on what I could do, so... I... Um."

You looked at Steven, his curls flopped over his head, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he nods, urging you on.

'Damn it, now or never...'

Your fingers undo the knot of the robe and let the fluffy material slip down to hang from your forearms, your face erupting in a heated flush as you feel his eyes rake slowly up and down your body and hear him gasp just barely audibly.

"Oh, love." He breathed. "You... That looks--"

He snapped his head to the mirror, his face scarlet red. "Sh-shut it! I was--no! You just shut it!"

You watch as he looks at you again, bashfully as your eyes reconnect. He rubbed the back of his head and said sheepishly, "S-Sorry.... Jake just won't... Stop being Jake right now."

"Oh..." You reply, licking your plush lips anxiously as Steven walks closer to you, his hand reaching out to brush the various straps, moving to delicately cup one breast, his thumb brushing over the strap that covered your nipple as he continued to look at you and that silver pendant that hung from your neck.

You really completed a gorgeous image; like a swan perched elegantly on a lake's smooth surface.

Sometimes, Steven felt like a clumsy and loud goose next to you. He knew it was a poor comparison, that you would never look at him or Jake or Marc that way, but he had his own insecurities as much as you did...

"Do... you like it?" You ask slowly as his other hand, warm and more than a little sweaty rests on your hip.

"We love it." He replied, leaning in to kiss you softly on the lips. As he pulled away, you noticed his dark eyes become almost smoky--heavy.

"We.... Wouldn't mind seeing this on you more often."

"Well... Hm." You say, feeling his hands encircle you, moving down to cup your ass as his mouth kissed your jaw.

His calloused fingers squished and rolled your cheeks beneath his palms, pulling you closer to his own body, allowing to feel his hardening cock press against your thigh while his knee parted your legs and your back connected with the cold plaster of your bedroom wall.

The chill made your nipples harden, poking through the fabric of your lingerie and you yelped at the sensation.

"Hell.... You 'right, love?" Steven asked, his curls falling over his forehead as he looked at you with wide eyes.

"Yeah." You chuckle, goosebumps erupting on your body. "The wall's a little cold."

"Oh...." Steven says, his lips brushing your ear.

"Then... we best move to the bed, yeah?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You were positive there were going to be bruises on your hips from how desperately Steven had gripped them, rabbiting into you, his cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly, the sound of slapping skin sinfully loud inside your bedroom.

"S-Steven!" You squeaked, your poor cunt abused and sensitive as he fucked you, the texture of the condom he wore sending little shocks through your body with each drag of his hips.

You had already cum--twice--once from Steven's hands and mouth, and once more from how he'd fucked into you.

Steven had cum while his face was buried between your legs, rutting his clothed hips hard against your mattress as you squirmed and writhed against him. The way he looked when he pulled back, lips swollen, face flushed; his beard wet from your juices, his hair tousled and hanging over his brow. He looked utterly fucked out and he hadn't even been inside of you yet.

"....k-know, love." Steven whimpered, rutting into you a bit more, practically bent in half over you as he kneeled between your legs, his cock angled at an eye-rolling tilt so it slammed once more against your g-spot.

"Almost--almost--" He panted hard, his grip on your hips slipping a little because of how sweaty you both were, so instead he hooked his hands through the straps that still adorned you and used them for leverage as he relentlessly pounded into you.

You dug your nails into his shoulders as you pulled him down, mouthing at the apple of his throat as it bobbed, tasting the thin layer of sweat that dewed his skin, sucking a bruise onto the skin, there.

"L-Love!" Steven whimpered, his pace stuttering as you feel him twitch inside of you, the condom beginning to swell a bit as he pumped his load into the safe cocoon of latex.

His hips slowed into languid rolls, prolonging his orgasm just by a tiny bit as he came down from his high.

You kissed his temple softly, petting his sweat-damp curls as his breathing began to even out. You feel him slump against against you and his arms lock.

You feel a shuddered breath escape him before his breathing finally became steady.

"Steven?" You ask him softly, running your fingers through his hair again.

He lifted back and supported himself on his forearms, looking down at you with a grin, his eyes twinkling.

"Think again, cariño."

"Jake." You breathed, already feeling a thrill creep up your spine as his lips traced your jawline.

"Steven got to have you all dressed up," His fingers playfully snapped one of the straps on you, making you squeak softly. "Now it's my turn. Can't let such a nice, pretty present go unwrapped."

"Oh.... So you're gonna take it off me, now?" You asked, shuddering as he pulled out, still rock hard.

"Nah." His hands went to your hips and with a jerk, flipped you onto your belly, pulling your ass up, his hand kneading the soft flesh as he looked down at you.

He moved the panties to the side to see your red, puffy cunt. "Coño más bonita que he visto."

He didn't change the condom; instead, he pushed right back into your pussy, groaning deep in his chest as he felt your heat grip and squeeze him invitingly.

"Nice..." Jake hissed through his teeth, pulling back slowly before sinking back in, relishing in how your body so eagerly welcomed him back inside of you; your thighs glistening so beautifully, wetting his own, dripping down his shaft to coat his balls as he started fucking you into a steady rhythm.

He winced himself, feeling tense as the body had cum while Steven was in control, so his nerves were still highly sensitive to everything right now. He wasn't going to last long, he knew and it frustrated him. He made a mental note to remind the other two to leave him alone with you for a day or so at some point, wanting to be able to ravish and ravage you properly.

He leaned over, kissing the skin between your shoulder blades as he muttered against you.

"Touch yourself for me, mamí. Want to feel you choke my cock." Jake rasped.

You moan weakly, complying with his request as your fingers slide down beneath you, grazing circles over your engorged clit, choked-out whimpers coming from you as Jake began thrusting into you hard and rough, his skin slapping you so hard you thought there would be red marks from the sheer ferocity of it.

"Oh, god--Jake--" You wail into the pillow, your fingers swiping and circling more and more, trying desperately to match his pace as your squishy, wet walls crushed his cock beneath their fluttering onslaught.

He growled and fisted a large bit of the straps in one hand, pulling your ass back against him, watching as your skin rippled and jiggled with every slap as he fucked into you over and over.

"Fuck, yes. Just. Like. That." He hissed, each word punctuated by a slam of his hips into yours.

You could feel another orgasm just about to burst, your head swimming in that blissful haze as Jake plowed into you at a bruising, aching pace.

"Such a gorgeous mamí." Jake said to you, his voice was heady with arousal.

"So fucking pretty, such a good fucking mamí. Sabes lo bonita que eres, ¿no?"

Your mind was turned to mush as your orgasm washed over you, filling every pore with a dizzying pleasure, rendering you barely aware of what he was saying, let alone to translate it as his hips snapped into you one final time.

However... You felt a new sensation inside of you, and with a few jagged, harsh thrusts, you felt Jake cum inside of you, flooding your deepest reaches with his thick load, making your eyes snap open.

"Shit." He groaned, pulling out of you, watching as the ripped condom clung to his cock, a thick ring of white at the base as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"Well, now. This is a pickle." He laughed.

"Jake, you--you know that--" You sputter, groaning as you roll over to look at him.

The bastard didn't seem upset in the slightest; that cheeky little shit!

"Yeah, yeah, mamí." Jake smirked at you as he pulled the ruined condom off of his cock as he caressed one of your spread thighs idly.

"Then why aren't you--FUCK!" You wail, feeling him bottom back out in one deep thrust, your nails scraping his skin at the blinding sensation.

Jake grinned as he nipped at your throat, "Baby, whatever happens, we aren't going anywhere. Even if that means I stuff you so full--or Steven or Marc--that your belly gets all cute and round."

You whimpered and gripped at the meat of his shoulders as he started fucking into you again, blood once more rushing straight through his dick, renewing him with more energy and drive.

"I think Vicky would love a baby brother or sister, no?" He muttered out, his tongue dragging over your fluttering pulse as it hammered against your skin. "So... Why don't we give 'er one?"

"D-did y-you even a-ask M-Marc or St-Steven?!" You cried, bouncing and pushing against your pillows and blankets as he fucked you.

"Don't have to... They've fantasized about it enough already." He laughed.

His lips kiss and glide over your skin as he rips the upper part of your ensemble down, freeing your breasts to bounce free from their strappy confines as Jake whispers in your ear.

"And believe me... Marc definitely wants to fill you up, now, bebita."

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #moon knight smut

[ivystoryweaver]

With You Part 2

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Summary: Your fiancé Marc experiences his first hangover in 2 years. Can he face you in the light of day, and admit to you and Steven what he knows about another alter?

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader, though there is one optional fiancé(e) and muñeca(o). (Reader’s choice). No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/notables: Angst, comfort, hangover (ish), cursing, cuddles in bed, assumptions, longing, feeling inadequate, brief reference to past trauma, self-worth probs (I mean, it’s Marc). Let me know if I missed a warning. Banter? If mild sarcasm bothers anyone... Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Dividers by saradika

Steven fell asleep right away - for that, you were grateful. But sleep did not come easily for you. As Steven nestled into the crook of your neck, arm slung across your torso, you could only hope he would sleep off that three-quarters bottle of whiskey.

Pushing your fingers through his soft curls, you pressed your lips to his temple, waiting until his breathing slowed and steadied before confessing into the stillness of the night.

“Marc...I know you can’t hear me right now...” Your lip trembled as you pulled his body closer, gently twisting his soft strands around your fingers. “But we love you. We’re with you. Nothing will change that.”

You supposed it could be considered odd to be speaking to Marc even though it was Steven who fell asleep tangled up in you. And perhaps it was also presumptuous to speak on Steven’s behalf, to Marc. But you knew it was true.

The next morning, you woke up first, after a few, merciful hours of sleep. You hoped not to disturb the man beside you, carefully slipping away from his grasp. After a quick trip to the restroom to freshen up, you clambered to the kitchen, cursing yourself for not grabbing your fluffy slippers or a thick pair of Steven’s fuzzy socks. Your damn, drafty flat was going to give you all pneumonia, you were certain of it. 

To that end, you started preparing both coffee and tea, unsure of which handsome man would be enduring a hangover this morning. For Steven, you oscillated between a red and a golden tea - hibiscus or chamomile. Marc may have been born and raised in Chicago, but Steven Grant did not mess around about tea. 

Finally deciding on the hibiscus, you grabbed the air tight canister of tea leaves - there would be no dreadful teabags (as your darling Brit quoted Dame Julie Andrews) in your flat. 

Hopefully Marc would drink the tea, but, just in case, you put on the very impressively American coffee maker before finding the bread for some toast.

After everything was hot and ready to go, you crept back into the bedroom, figuring it all might go cold before your sleepy headed fiancé roused. No matter. You just wanted to be prepared.

You didn’t have to wait long because someone stirred just as you pulled on the fluffiest pair of socks with little goldfish (a Hanukkah present to Steven last year) and threw Marc’s favorite tan hoodie over your white t-shirt. Your legs were still bare and you decided that at least your grumpy, hungover boys might have a silly sight to wake up to, if nothing else.

Easing down beside your love, you gently raked your hand through his bedhead, probably your favorite way to (innocently) touch them. 

With a groan, your fiancé squinted, throwing a dramatic arm over his eyes, as if a thousand suns were burning them. (It was still dark in the bedroom). 

“Oh, god,” Marc uttered, his arm flopping back on the mattress. 

You adored Steven, but you were thrilled it was Marc. You needed to speak to him, or at least take care of him. 

“Good morning,” you softly greeted, reaching to massage his temples before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Mm-mm, bad morning,” he groaned, rolling over and burying his face in your stomach. His hands somehow conveniently slid right inside his hoodie and underneath your t-shirt, which sent you toppling over, giggling elatedly. 

Marc was a very pouty but adorable puppy sometimes. Grumpiness just worked on him. You liked to joke with him that he would make the cutest grumpy old grandpa someday. Thankfully, he was more interested in using your tummy as a pillow at the moment than the heaping shame and anguish from last night. 

“Thirsty,” he murmured, nuzzling against you. Damn, it was too bad he didn’t feel good, because he was unintentionally turning you on. 

“I got you, baby,” you whispered, prying yourself from his grasp to get his breakfast.

“No, don’t go,” he protested, locking his arms around you, his hot breath falling on the exposed skin of your abdomen, where your shirt had bunched up. “You’re m’pillow.” His words came out all muffled and so, so cute. 

God, he was distracting. “Are you calling me fluffy?” You teased. “I was just going to get you some water. And maybe some aspirin?”

“Wanna sleep,” came his mumbled reply. “You left me.”

“To make you some coffee, you baby,” you playfully shot back, finally climbing out of his grasp.

A few minutes later, you returned with a tray filled with tea, coffee, toast, water and painkillers, only to find Marc planted face first in the pillows. How he managed to look so damn good after downing a bottle of whiskey and sleeping five hours, you would never know. As his muscular back expanded with a deep breath, you almost tossed the tray full of remedies to the side and climbed on top of him.

Later, maybe. 

After a little coaxing, he finally sat up, taking the prepared tray onto his lap. Simply seeing what you’d done to ease his pain this morning reminded him of his shameful display last night. His eyes flickered over to yours, dropping down to the gesture of care and love.

“You...” He exhaled shakily, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

There was no need to argue over breakfast. You gently smiled in return, rubbing his forearm comfortingly. “I made you coffee, but...maybe you’ll try the tea? Steven says the antioxidants--”

“I was an asshole.” His jaw clenched, his gaze now fixed on your hand. The tenderness of your touch burned him with shame.

“You were?” your eyebrow shot up questioningly. “Hm...”

Marc was used to this from you. Just like you had taken a swig of his whiskey last night, your nonchalant reply should not have surprised him in the least. 

You were a champion of the real. He had never met a soul like you, and that’s probably why he was insanely in love with you.

All that mattered to you was the reality of any given situation - what was right in front of you. You were so damn hard to fight with because ... well, you didn’t fight. And for someone as self-punishing as Marc, who spent his youth hearing what a miserable failure of a human being he was, it took him a long time to understand that your steady gentility and raw honesty were not dismissive of his trauma. No, you met it, and him, head on, accepting him and loving him exactly how he was.

You had never asked him to change, never expected him to be anyone other than exactly who he was. After years of self-sabotage, it was unimaginable to him to not have to live up to someone’s standard. He never had successfully lived up to anything, in his mind. 

But you were different. The first time you “fought” had blown him away. He snapped at you, feeling inadequate over one thing or another and you simply said, “No.” He thought you were being dismissive of him, maybe even mocking him, but you were as earnest as ever, telling him, “You think that now. That’s okay. I simply disagree.” Then you kissed your thumb and pressed it to the grumpy crease between his downturned eyebrows. “I love you exactly how you are, Marc.” 

It was the first time you’d said you loved him and he was just...speechless. You then kissed the corner of his mouth and carried on with the evening. That’s why it was so easy to tell you about Steven. 

“I don’t remember you being an asshole,” you shrugged, bringing his mind back to the present. “But I do remember you being upset. And crying.” Scooting a little closer, you twisted the cap off the bottle of painkillers. “You wanna tell me about that?”

He watched your hands, pouring a couple pain pills into your palm, picking up the glass of cool water to make him an offering. His eyes met yours and he knew you were there to ease his pain in every possible way. 

Still, it was so hard for him. And anything too hard typically led to disassociation. 

To gain an extra moment, he took the medicine, gulping down the entire glass of water. 

“Now, what sounds best?” You sweetly asked, nodding to the tray, your gentle smile completely melting him.

“I-I don’t think Steven and I are alone...in the body,” he gulped, his eyes wide and worried. 

Sitting up straighter, you slowly nodded, reaching to take the tray from his lap and set it safely on the night table, giving him time to say more, if he would.

That’s all he said.

Shit, you suddenly worried you didn’t know how to ask questions without sounding offensive, despite the library’s worth of research you had done on DID. But you weren’t an investigative journalist, you were this man’s fiancé(e). So you would start with him. 

“And that scares you, Marc? Upsets you?” 

He glared at you. “Obviously.” Then shook his head. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You swallowed, trying to proceed carefully. It was so, so good that he was opening up to you. Instead of playing a guessing game, you decided to be your normal, candid self. 

“Do you know who it is?”

He sort of did. Another man.

“Does he have a name?” 

Lockley. He was pretty sure.

“Have I met him?”

His dark eyes locked onto yours. “I don’t know. Have you?”

Well that certainly explained one reason he was so terrified. 

“No, I don’t think so. Does Steven know?”

Marc reluctantly confessed how hard he’d tried to hide it from Steven. 

“I knew this was all too good to be true,” he brokenly whispered, eyes downcast once more. “You, me, Steven, free...happy.”

“We are those things,” you agreed, keeping him focused on the here, now - the real. “A change doesn’t mean we weren’t those things, all this time.”

“You don’t understand...” Marc rubbed his eyes in frustration (with himself) and tried to ignore his growing headache. Maybe he really should eat and drink something. He tried to tell you about Khonshu. He was going to tell you everything, and Steven too. But it was too much at once, so you found yourself with Steven once more. 

Steven was very impressed with your choice of “hangover tea” and made sure the body got the nourishment, rest and shower it so needed. He missed his morning classes at uni, but did manage to make it to his shift at the university library, which ran from mid-afternoon to early evening. 

Since Steven seemed to determined to not miss a shift over a hangover, you decided to go ahead and work your shift at the hospital, as planned. The two of you would meet back at your flat for some supper and then, hopefully at least one of you could get some more information out of Marc.

Things didn’t go as planned. 

You returned home, assuming your fiancé would be there, just the same as the previous, fateful, sobriety-breaking night, but no one was home.

You looked around the flat, texted, called. Started dinner. Texted.

Took a shower, called. Called the university library - no Steven. 

Shit. 

Dinner was cold, you had texted the boys a novel, likely filled up their mailbox with voicemails. It was a desperate look - you were aware, but the worst thing you could imagine, aside from the actual worst thing that could happen to a person, was that maybe Marc was on a bender somewhere? It wasn’t exactly his drinking style, even back in the day, but...

Your feet were going to wear holes in the goldfish socks from all the pacing. It was past bedtime, midnight, 1am...should you call the police?

You were now truly, deep-in-your-bones terrified. In four years, neither Steven or Marc had ever just disappeared like this, not without telling you. Sometimes they could be a little radio silent when Khonshu was involved, but...

Maybe they weren’t them. Maybe it was the other. The new alter. Well, new to your boys anyway. You didn’t know anything about him, but one of the first things you wanted to know was - did he possess the ability to reply to a damn text message?

You got your answer twenty minutes later when you heard the slightest thump come from your bedroom. Hoping you had imagined the sound in your intense worry, you engaged in stupid-horror-movie-behavior and went to check out the sound, in the dark.

The moonlit profile of your fiancé sent a dozen feelings through your mind and heart at once, but as usual, you went with the borderline comical response first.

“Did you just come in through the window?”

Dark eyes snapped over to you as...Marc? pulled a flat cap off his head, loosening his curls. Tossing it to the side, he reached for the fingers of dark leather gloves, pulling them loose one at a time, but saying nothing.

You gulped. “Marc?”

Once the fingers of his glove were loosened, he discarded it and reached to work on the other hand, his body language holding none of Marc’s sorrowful tension, nor Steven’s anxious hunching. He moved with ease, dropping his second glove before pulling off his leather jacket. One you’d never seen, actually. You could tell that even in the dark.

Then he eased toward you confidently, like a panther, reaching to pull loose the tie around his neck. Okay, not Marc.

Once the dark tie was free of his neck, he toyed with it in his hands, wrapping it around one fist as his head cocked to the side. 

You forgot to breathe for a second. 

He finally let the thin fabric drift down to the floor and reached for the buttons of his white shirt.

Okay, enough. “You’re not Marc,” you uttered desperately, taking one step back. “Are you?” 

He matched your step backward with a step forward. Then he shook his head once. 

Oh. What had Marc said this morning? “L-Lockley? Is that right?”

He froze.

You decided, in that fleeting moment, to deal with the reality in front of you. You drew a steadying breath, releasing the fear and worry that had plagued you all night. Clearly, he was right in front of you, so he was at least safe. And despite the very distracting sort of striptease thing he just did, he admitted he was another.

So you weren’t going to be afraid anymore and give in to bullshit stereotypes. 

You stepped forward. “Do you know who I am? I live here, with you.”

He nodded. 

He was frustrating, this one. Sighing, you rubbed your tired eyes. “Have we met before, Lockley?”

The slightest smirk pulled up the corner of his mouth. 

“Jake.” 

He inched closer. 

“But you can call me anything you want.”

Well, damn. Huffing out a laugh, you quickly regained your footing. “Smooth. Never heard that one before...Lockley.”

His smirk eased into the slightest smile, but his eyes remained dark, boring into yours before tracing down the shape of your body. 

“I can see why they’re so taken with you, muñeca(o).” 

You always knew the right thing to say with Marc and Steven like 100%, all the time, but damn if this window-crawling, stripteasing man with the velvety chocolate voice didn’t have you stumped. 

Showing you a bit of pity, he extended his hand, offering a proper introduction. “Jake Lockley.”

But once you extended your own hand, he gently grasped your fingers, bending over slightly to lay a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Pleasure,” you shot back, taking his hand and kissing it right back. 

He chuckled lowly as you retreated. 

“Listen, Jake,” you said his first name pointedly, “I’m glad you’re okay. I was really worried tonight. Do you happen to know where my fiancé’s phone is?”

Eyeing you carefully, he reached down to grab his leather jacket, producing Marc and Steven’s phone from the pocket. Handing it over as a peace offering, you sighed, a little relieved it wasn’t lost, only to realize it was powered off. 

“Do you always turn off their phone?” You challenged, attempting to turn it on when you realized...

“It’s dead,” he explained, seeming the slightest bit unsure for the first time this evening. “I was going to...I thought you would be asleep.”

You frowned, confused.

“When I got back,” he clarified, his accent clearly American, although from a different region than Marc’s, it seemed. “I thought you would be asleep, like usual, and when you woke up, one of them would be with you.”

“Like usual?” You gasped. “You come in through the window while I’m asleep...like usual?”

Shit, it kind of sounded creepy said aloud like that. Jake knew meeting you would be a disaster. He really should have paid attention to whether you were really sleeping before he ninja’d his way inside. 

“Look, cariño, don’t worry about it,” he deflected, returning to the task of unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ll be gone as soon as I fall asleep.”

“No,” you protested, moving close to him - as close as you dared. “No, I don’t want you to go. I just met you.”

His confident, dark gaze softened, and he almost dared to hope...

“Look,” you tried again, “I just want to know why we haven’t met before. And why Marc is so upset. And why is he drinking again--”

“Marc was drinking? Shit,” he uttered, pacing away from you. Jake had always successfully evaded his alters, and made a point to do so as he continued their life in the service of Khonshu. 

He should have seen this coming. Most of the scum he took care of in the dark of night didn’t even make him break a sweat, with or without the healing armor of an ancient god. But as word of a powerful nighttime avenger spread in the underworld of London, threats arose equal to the threat Jake posed. 

Just a few days ago, some asshole with powers of his own got the better of him, knocking him out cold. Jake had assumed that Khonshu had intervened but now he wondered...

If Marc woke up in the Moon Knight suit, he would absolutely freak the hell out. Which...now that he thought about it, he had no memory of getting home that night. 

This was just perfect. Jake could live without Marc and Steven knowing about him. He’d lived that way all this time, but you were something else. He hadn’t wanted to meet you like this. He had screwed up, and now you were only worried about Marc. He was worried too, honestly.

Now you would never want to know him.

#with you fic #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #gn reader #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #oscar isaac fic #mcu #moon knight #marc spector x you #steven grant x you #jake lockley x you

[jostyriggslover96]

Holiday Traditions

Summary: Kira (OC) and Jack Hughes are hosting their first winter holiday together. Pressure is already on, but to top it off, it's the first time their families are meeting. Insert a winter storm that has other plans, what does this mean for the holidays? (Kira's thoughts are in italics). Part of the HEART FIRST Series, checkout Summer Rituals, Someone Unexpected, and Best Thing in My Life if you haven't already!

Note: Thank you for all the love this Jack Series has gotten! The plan was to have this out in December, but health issues had other plans. So here it is, I hope you enjoy! If anyone wants to be tagged in future Jack pieces, just let me know! Special thanks to @hockeyboysimagines @heavenlyhischier @grandprixbarzal for all their support with this fic!

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety, holiday celebrations, sweet sweet fluff.

Word Count: 3.7k

Holiday Traditions

I was a bundle of nerves as I paced the perimeter of the living room in Jack’s apartment. Why was I a bundle of nerves? With exams over, holiday shopping done, Jack’s apartment decorated to the nines, and delicious Christmas and Hanukkah goodies flooding the kitchen counter…everything was in place. There would be no last minute shopping or last minute baking or even last minute gift wrapping. But still, I was more nervous than ever. 

“Babe, it’s going to be fine,” Jack’s voice broke me from my trance. Glancing over my shoulder I noticed him standing at the edge of the hall, watching me. Watching me pace, shake my hands, and fiddle with my rings. 

“How can you say that?” I asked, my voice shaking as I turned to face him fully. His expression was warm, comforting. He didn’t have a worry in the world right now. In fact…he was smiling. 

“Well they’re our families, not total monsters,” he chuckled as he crossed the room and took a seat on the couch, legs spreading as he got comfortable. 

“But this is the first time they’re meeting, it’s a big deal!” I exclaimed. 

“They’ve met before,” Jack clarified. 

“FaceTime doesn’t count,” I scoffed, arms crossing as I rolled my eyes. Jack let out a deep chuckle again. Sometimes I wish I was that laid back. 

“Come here,” Jack commented as he patted the empty cushion beside him. Shuffling over to the couch and plopping down on the cushion, Jack didn’t give me much time to get comfortable as he pulled me into his lap. Shifting around slightly as his arms wrapped around my waist, I curled an arm under his shoulder before resting my head there too. “Are you nervous to see my family?”

Lifting my head, I gazed into his blue eyes, which were now drowning in concern. “No Jacky, I love your family! We had so much fun at thanksgiving, and Ellen has very good baby pictures of you,” I giggled. Jack let out a groan as he shook his head, clearly remembering his mom pulling out a photo album from her bag at thanksgiving to show his girlfriend. 

“I’m going to have to check her bags when she gets here,” he mumbled distantly, causing me to let out another giggle. 

“You were so cute Jacky! It’s not like my dad didn’t show you our family album when you came for my birthday,” I reminded him with a stern look. 

“I could get used to two thanksgivings,” he proclaimed with a content sigh. We both sat in silence for a moment. Comfortable in each other’s arms. “Now tell me pretty girl, what are you nervous about?”

I had almost forgotten about the tension I was feeling minutes earlier, Jack always knew how to soothe me. “I just want everyone to click, it would be nice to have holidays together,” I sighed as I stared at my hands which were fiddling with the silver ring on my middle finger. 

“Kira, our families already love each other. Our dad’s have plans to fish in the summer and our mom’s text all the time,” he reminds me, tilting my head back so I can see his reassuring smile. 

“You’re right Jacky,” I nod, a smile slowly forming on my lips. 

“Remind me why they’re all flying in together?” Jack questioned. 

“It was cheaper for my family to fly in and spend the night with your parents than to come directly to New Jersey,” I explained as I rested my head on his shoulder once more. 

“Oh right, and they land at 7:15?” 

“Yeah, they should be boarding…now,” I commented as I checked the clock on my phone. Dropping my phone behind me, I nuzzled closer to Jack, cherishing his warmth. 

“This will be a great holiday, and hey, we get to teach your family a little bit about Hanukkah too,” Jack whispered before pressing his lips gently to the top of my head. Just as Jack pulled you closer in his arms, giving my waist a squeeze, the perfect silence was broken between the two of us by a *ping* on Jack’s phone signaling that he just got a text. 

I felt him reach into the pocket of his sweats for his phone, a moment passed before he let out a “shit!”. 

“What?” I asked absentmindedly, eyes fluttering closed as I enjoyed his embrace. 

“Text from my mom ‘we have a problem, a snow storm came in fast. Flights are being grounded’” he read to me. 

My eyes flew open as I leaned back in his arms, “Well shit,” I exclaimed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack and I spent what felt like hours sitting in silence once we understood the gravity of the situation. We would be alone for Christmas. That message took a while to sink in for me. There hasn’t been a single Christmas in my life that I have been away from my family. I know that would change as I got older but this year was unexpected. We would be alone for Christmas. 

It didn’t really sink in until a FaceTime call with my family who were cozy and settled in at the Hughes’ house. Of course my parents were disappointed about the circumstances but they seemed to be enjoying their time with Ellen and Jim. Even my brother was out playing hockey with Luke despite the treacherous snow storm. Hearing my dad discuss his blossoming friendship with Jim made my heart swell with joy. Dad friendships are the cutest. 

As I hung up the call with my family, the joy that filled my heart dissipated as my heart sunk once more. I’m so happy that my family will enjoy their Christmas with the Hughes’ family and that everyone seems to be meshing well, but I wanted to be there so badly.

There would be no Christmas baking or decorating the tree or driving around to see the lights. There wouldn’t be any overly competitive card games or sneaking cookies while my mom isn’t looking, or Christmas movies by the fire. There wouldn’t be any traditions this year. Nothing felt lonelier than that. 

~~~~~~~~

Wallowing in my despair, I buried myself further into Jack’s sheets as I stared blankly at the wall. My hope for the season of joy was fading quickly. Silence filled the room and my heart. Just as I was really about to spiral into the abyss of the holiday blues, the bedroom door flung open. 

“Kira, I have a surprise for you in the kitchen,” Jack’s melodious voice filled my ears. Somebody still had the holiday spirit. 

“No thank you,” I responded solemnly as I pulled the comforter up to my chin. With my back turned to Jack, I could still hear him shuffling around the room. He wasn’t exactly known for being quiet. Suddenly I felt the bed dip as Jack shifted his weight onto the mattress before a hand rested on my shoulder. 

“Babe, I know this isn’t the Christmas you wanted and you’re probably devastated not having your parents here. I think you’ll really like this surprise though,” Jack whispered soothingly as he gently rubbed my back. 

“I’ve never missed a Christmas with them Jack,” I whispered as hot tears stung my cheeks. Sniffling as I used the comforter to dry my eyes. 

“I know my love, it’s absolutely awful and I’m not trying to erase how you’re feeling. I remember my first Christmas without my parents, I cried into my pillow on Christmas Eve.”

Glancing over my shoulder I looked at Jack, trying to gauge if he was being honest. “Really?”

“Really.  I’ve never told anyone that. I just want you to know that you’re not alone,” he commented as he took the opportunity to pull me into his arms. 

“Thank you Jacky, truly,” I smiled as I wrapped my arms around him, enjoying as his warmth enveloped me. 

“I really think this surprise might help,” his breath danced across my skin as his lips pressed close to my ear. 

“Gosh, you and this surprise,” I groaned dramatically. Secretly curious to see what he had planned. Throwing my arms up in mockery, I rolled out of the bed and slipped on my slippers. Jack chuckled while I acted like a total drama queen as my mom would say. 

Shuffling out of the room, I let Jack lead me down the hall into the kitchen. Gasping as we turned the corner, I noticed all the baking ingredients were out on the counter paired with a rolling pin and cookie cutters. 

“Are we making cookies?” I turned to Jack in shock as he smiled back at me. He simply nodded to confirm my suspicions before another voice rang through the room. 

“You bet we are, can’t skip out on traditions,” I heard my mom’s voice. Glancing around the room, knowing she couldn’t be here, my eyes landed on the laptop on the counter. Making my way to the computer, I was overjoyed to see my mother’s smiling face on the screen. “I know we can’t be there sweetheart, but we can still be together.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I glanced back at Jack who was leaning against the wall, taking everything in. “You did all this?”

“He sure did, such a caring young man,” my dad chimed in from the laptop. Jack’s cheeks turned a flush shade of pink at the compliment from my dad. 

Reaching out for Jack, I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug, signaling my gratitude. “Thank you Jacky,” I whispered in his ear. 

“Anything for you,” he pressed his lips to my temple as we stood in each other's arms for a moment. 

“Could we get started? I’m hungry,” I heard Luke groan from the computer. 

“Lucas!” Ellen scoffed at her youngest son. Pulling back from Jack I saw the whole scene unfolding. I couldn’t help but giggle as the youngest Hughes’ boy was being scolded. 

“Well are you going to stand there hugging each other or can we start?” My brother's voice questioned. I rolled my eyes as I pulled away from Jack, walking back to the counter to scold my brother. 

“Don’t be jealous that you don’t have anyone to snuggle up with right now,” I gently teased. My brother's eyes widened as everyone’s attention turned to him. 

“Whatever,” he scoffed as everyone let out a quiet snicker. 

“Okay, keep it together kids.” My mom declared as she corralled all of us. “Now let’s get started by everyone washing their hands,” she instructed as Jack and I moved to the sink. I couldn’t control my beaming smile as we all got to work on sugar cookie dough. This is what I wanted. This is what I loved about the season. Time with my family, and my new family too. 

~~~~~~~~

Everything went surprisingly smoothly as we all followed my mother’s careful instructions; although we did have a few burnt cookies. “It’s okay Jack, I always burn a few too,” my mom offered reassuringly. 

It didn’t feel that weird spending time with them over FaceTime, Jack and I didn’t miss a thing. We got to witness Luke and my brother tossing flour at each other much to Ellen’s dismay. We saw our fathers look perplexed as my mom explained how the mixer would knead the cookie dough for us. My mom even corrected Jack’s flour measuring technique as we got our dough together. “Jack, stop eating the dough, we won’t have enough for all these shapes,” I warned as I smacked his hand away from the mixing bowl. 

Jack never struck me as a baker, but he definitely held his own with me. We both seemed to enjoy the quality time together and with our families. 

The quality time didn’t end there, once the cookies were out of the oven and were cooling Jim announced that we would be lighting another candle on the menorah. Jack snuck a cookie before we got settled, “for quality assurance reasons.” I rolled my eyes as we settled on the couch before getting started. Jack had already explained some of his family’s Hanukkah traditions to me but getting to participate in them was extra special. 

As we all gathered around our Menorahs, Ellen took the time to share the story of Hanukkah with our family. Jack shared how the lighting of the Menorah works and why there were only a certain number of candles on the Menorah, as we weren’t on the 8th day of Hanukkah yet. My heart warmed as Jack, Ellen, Luke, and Jim said the blessing as we lit our candles. 

“There, like this,” Jack whispered to me as his hand wrapped around mine to guide me in lighting the candles. Jack’s simple reassurance calmed any remaining nerves that I was feeling. In fact, I felt closer to Jack in a different way, learning more about him and what’s important to his family. Our connection feels more…intimate now. All the sorrow I felt earlier in the day has completely faded. 

Once the menorah was lit, Ellen spoke a bit about what the meal they would traditionally share and how gifts were a part of the Hanukkah tradition. “Jack don’t worry, we’ll bring your gifts next time we’re in town,” Ellen reassured her son. 

Ellen even brought out her dreidel to show us, as I was inspecting it while she held it up to the camera, Jack whispered in my ear, “at least you don’t have to play dreidel with Quinn, he gets way too competitive.” Despite Jack trying to be quiet, Ellen still laughed, confirming that the oldest Hughes’ boy did get very invested in winning games of dreidel with his brothers. 

The whole experience of sharing Hanukkah with Jack’s family was beautiful, which I kept sharing with Ellen as I thanked her for including us while we decorated cookies. I could tell by Jack’s reactions that this was a really special experience for him too. While everyone was distracted, Ellen told me that Jack hasn’t ever brought someone over for Hanukkah. That alone made my feelings for Jack grow even more, if it were possible. Knowing that he cares about me, and hearing that validation for other people was everything. He is everything. Maybe it’s the season but I’m feeling stronger for Jack than ever…maybe even like I might be in love with him. 

~~~~~~~~~

Later on as we were winding down from our sugar highs, my dad announced we would be doing our traditional tree topping ‘ceremony’. 

“You have a whole ceremony?” Luke questioned as he was shoving another cookie in his mouth while my dad gathered the star for the tree. 

“We use the term ceremony loosely, you’ll see,” I explained as Jack gathered the star that we had purposely left off the tree for this moment with my family. 

Once everyone was ready my dad explained that our tradition was to discuss what brought us joy or hope in the holiday season before putting the star on the tree and ‘officially’ lighting it. 

“Oh, like sharing what you’re thankful for at Thanksgiving,” Jack exclaimed. 

“Exactly,” my dad smiled. We all went around sharing one by one something that brought us joy or hope during the holidays. It felt like it always did, just with more people to share it with. That brings me joy, I smiled to myself. 

“Kira, it’s your turn to share,” my dad prompted. 

“Okay,” I paused, noticing that everyone’s attention was on me. Slightly intimidating.  “Well, to be honest, I was pretty upset this afternoon when I heard that you wouldn’t be coming. But,” I took a moment to breathe and gather my thoughts. My heart was overflowing with gratitude at this moment. Jack pulled me a little closer as he held onto the star, before giving my waist a reassuring squeeze. “All of you have brought me joy in this season. Especially carrying on our traditions in any way we can and sharing them with each other. I just feel so lucky to be a part of all your traditions.” 

My breath caught in my throat as I felt a lump forming. Biting my lip to try to keep my composure, I almost lost it when Ellen said, “we are so happy to have you as part of our family Kira.” 

“Me too,” I choked out before we moved on to someone else sharing their holiday joy. It was true, this was my holiday joy, spending this day together. That’s just a testament to how much Jack cares, noticing how upset I was and coming up with such a special way for our families to spend the holidays together. Jack, and his family, are truly something special. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

After saying goodbye to our families, Jack and I sat cuddled on the couch as a random Christmas movie played in the background. Both of us were enjoying hot chocolate and each other, neither really focused on the movie. 

“Thank you for today,” I said as I sipped my hot chocolate. 

“You’re welcome babe,” Jack replied as he stared off at the TV. 

“No seriously, thank you,” I leaned forward to set my hot chocolate down before gently turning his face so he was focused on me. “Thank you for taking care of me and for being so thoughtful in putting something like this together. Jacky, this meant so much to me.”

“Kira, it killed me to see you upset today. I care about you so much and I would do anything to make you happy,” Jack’s eyes locked on mine and in that moment, I knew. I knew this man would care for me the way I needed. I knew without a doubt that Jack was different from any of the men before him. I knew what he meant to me. 

“Jacky, I know this is maybe too early for this,” I let out a shaky breath. Its now or never. “But I’m falling in love with you Jack,” I said before holding my breath, unsure of how he would react. 

Jack paused for a moment, deep in thought. “I know I’m young and have a lot of life left to live, but I know I have never felt this way before. Kira, I know I’m falling in love with you. I just feel lucky everyday that I get to call you mine.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. Jack Hughes is falling in love with me! “Can I kiss you now?” I questioned. 

“You know I’ll never say no to that,” Jack smirked as I practically pounced on him. Straddling his lap, my hands ghosted over his cheeks as I leaned in to capture his lips with my own. His soft lips floated over mine in perfect unison as all the feelings we’ve been holding in came out. Our lips engaged in a delicate dance as Jack’s hands burned on my skin as they ran down my back and cupped my butt. We were lost in each other, no sense of the world around us for what felt like forever, but in reality was probably a few minutes. 

Pulling back for air, we both sent each other looks that conveyed everything we were feeling. I, for one, have never felt so loved. “You know what might be fun?” I pecked Jack’s lips while posing my question. 

“What?” He chuckled at my giddy demeanor. 

“Starting a tradition of our own for Christmas,” I suggested. “Something fun!” 

“What about something adventurous?” Jack encouraged me. I nodded my head in agreement. 

“Maybe something we wouldn’t normally do.”

“What about….sex on the balcony?” Jack proposed while sending a suggestive smirk my way. 

“Seriously? It’s freezing,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him. 

“I’m kidding,” he let out a laugh at my unimpressed response. 

“Sure, you’re kidding. I’m not freezing my ass on the balcony for you,” my eyes narrowed as I sent a skeptical look his way. 

“I am kidding, I swear,” he quickly stopped giggling. Clearing his throat and adjusting me in his lap, as if he is getting serious. “What about going to the beach? I know it’s cold but it would be a nice walk.”

“Oh I love that idea Jacky!” I said in awe, his brain could flip from sex to something sweet like that in a second. He was truly something else. “Ooh!” I gasped in excitement. “Now you might not be into this idea but just hear me out.”

“Go on,” he urged me, now sending me a skeptical look. Unsure of what I was going to suggest. 

“What if we collected seashells and painted a few? We could create, like a jar and add to it every year,” I suggested hesitantly. I doubt Jack would be into painting seashells with me but it would be such a special memory. 

“Sure, I think that’s a great idea,” he responded, squeezing my hips softly. 

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed. “That would be a really special memory.” I let out a squeal of excitement before jumping off his lap and starting to create plans for our adventure tomorrow out loud. 

“You know, you’ve set the bar for holidays very high Mr Hughes,” I commented as I paused my planning for a moment. 

“Well I guess I better start planning for Valentine’s Day now,” Jack smirked from the couch. 

“Just so you know, I really love chocolate and champagne,” I quipped. 

“Just so you know, I’m a big fan of the color red…and lace,” Jack winked, his swagger sending shocks through my body. 

“Well, I will keep that in mind,” I replied as my smile turned into that of a Cheshire Cat. I have just the outfit that will drive Jack wild. Valentine’s Day would surely be one for the books. 

To think how quickly this day changed, how quickly it went from sorrow to joy. How quickly we went from no traditions to new traditions together. How we went from dating to falling in love. Really how quickly we went from strangers to more. Meeting Jack Hughes this summer changed my life in the best way. Now here we are, falling in love and starting new traditions together. My hope for  the future is that these traditions and our love continues to grow. 

#jack hughes #my writing #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #nhl imagine #nhl #nhl hockey #hockey #nj devils #new jersey devils

[dharmasharks]

Keep a candle burning

Pairing: Steve x Bucky | Fandom: MCU

Rating: Explicit/No archive warnings apply

Major tags: Modern AU, Exes to Lovers, Childhood Sweethearts, Idiots in Love, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Jewish Bucky Barnes, Shrinkyclinks

Summary:

Bucky has been sitting cross legged on the floor with Steve Rogers for three hours. He feels giddy on two donuts too many, his ribs tight and hot from laughing. But mostly he feels smug as hell: he cannot wait to tell Clint how wrong he was when he said this was a terrible idea.

Well, what Clint had actually said was, “Are you out of your mind? Steve, as in Steve, is going to spend Hanukkah with you, in your studio apartment?”

—

In which Bucky can totally, definitely last eight nights without falling for his childhood best friend. Again.

Read on ao3 >

Written for @hanukkahbingo! Thank you times a million for all the hard work that goes into modding this event!

#lighthearted holiday fun and shenanigans and fluff! #do I know how to write fluff? can't wait to find out #hannukahbingo #my fic #stucky #stucky fic

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Tragically, an IDF helicopter attacked a building in Gaza that had Israeli soldiers inside. At least one of them was killed. I've heard people claiming that there's no such thing as mistakes or collateral damage, that if Palestinian civilians get killed, it's because Israel wanted that, but this is a reminder that mistakes DO happen, and that every army, no matter how good, will get some people killed that it never intended to. This soldier's family asked for his details not to be published. May his memory be a blessing.

Israel is going to open a border crossing into Gaza, which had been closed since the Oct 7 massacre and Hamas attacks on the border crossings, in order to make the entrance of humanitarian aid into Gaza even more efficient.

A man shot at a Jewish synagogue in the US last night, on the first eve of Hanukkah, while shouting "Free Palestine." If it's anti-Zionism, not antisemitism, why do these incidents keep happening?

We're hearing here in Israel more and more reports on canceled Hanukkah festivities and candle lighting due to different claims, but the bottom line remains heartbreaking no matter which excuse is used. The biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust led to further punishment of Jews.

Here's extra Hanukkah candles for all Jews out there, please know that here in Israel, we are always with you!

In NYC, a shop that's a part of an Israeli company decided to have a special sale to raise money for the Israeli rape victims of Hamas. Two of the shop's employees resigned. Reportedly, they're women. The Jewish community replaced them with volunteers.

Alabama Attorney General Steve Marshall sent a letter to media organizations, including the New York Times, warning them about their coverage of the Israel-Hamas war, since their reporters were "clearly embedded with Hamas."

For anyone who still doesn't understand why most Jews have been upset since Oct 7:

Following the discussion in congress about antisemitism, where the presidents of Harvard, MIT and UPenn couldn't bring themselves to denounce a call to genocide the Jews as harassment, Rabbi David Wolpe, a member of Harvard's committee to combat antisemitism, resigned, saying it became evident to him he couldn't help create the change he was hoping for.

I mentioned Gal Eizenkott in my daily update post yesterday, the 25 years old son of Israeli minister Gadi Eizenkott, the IDF's former chief of staff. Gadi is a part of Israel's war cabinet, the small team making the most essential decisions on the fighting. The IDF's spokesman, Daniel Hagari, mentioned yesterday that Gal didn't have to serve in this war, he volunteered to.

This is not that important in the larger scheme of things, but since I've shared vids of IDF soldiers helping Palestinians in Gaza, why not also one of IDF soldiers helping animals in Gaza? Especially since I love donkeys. They are SO sweet. Israeli soldiers fighting in Gaza found, during a break, a donkey that was abandoned in a field, with its legs tied together by a rope. The soldiers set it free:

This is 68 years old Dror Kaplun.

He was believed to be kidnapped by Hamas. Last night, Israeli archeologists working on the scene of the Hamas massacre managed to find frgaments of his bones next to the fence of his kibbutz. He was the son of Holocaust survivors. His wife Marcel was also murdered. May their memories be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

[writing-for-marvel]

Cause That’s When I’ll See You Again

DBF!Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader

Summary: The one time of year your dad’s best friend is in town is during the holiday season - the perfect opportunity for some no strings attached, filthy sex with a man who actually knows what he’s doing, but year after year it becomes harder to convince yourself you’re only in it for the orgasms.

Festive prompt: a roaring fireplace

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, oral sex (f receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, a little angst (cause it’s me and I can’t help myself), happy ending, fluff and soft feelings, age gap is implied although exact ages are never mentioned

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: Happy Holidays to my Thot Neighbourhood Secret Santa, the lovely, beautiful and talented @jobean12-blog. Jo thank you for being such a ray of positivity and love on this site. You are one of kindest souls with the warmest heart, thank you for being you. I hope you enjoy this and have a wonderful holiday season ♥️ also a HUGE thank you to @late-to-the-party-81 for putting so much time and effort into organising this Secret Santa - I love and appreciate you Jen 💜 banners by @vase-of-lilies and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

A sense of déjà vu washed over you as you laid a tartan blanket in front of your crackling fireplace.

It was that time of year again, where colourful festive lights were strung throughout your neighbourhood and flurries of snow dusted the town, the combination of which produced an intangible magical quality, one you wished you could forever encapsulate and preserve in a snow glow.

The festive season was finally upon you.

Despite the chilly temperatures, most people’s spirits were warmer than ever, including yours. This time of joyful celebration also happened to coincide with the one time of year your dad’s best friend, the beefy and dangerously handsome Ari Levinson, returned home from his almost year long stint working overseas.

And to ensure that he wouldn’t be spending the holidays by himself and celebrating Hanukkah alone, your friendly father invited Ari to spend the festive season with your family.

The first time you slept together had been accidental - well, if you can call finally giving in to the massive crush you had developed on the burly framed, sex god, who never failed to affectionately refer to you as ‘Toffee’ because the chewy confection had been stuck in your teeth the first time you met, an accident.

But once you kissed him, allowed his large, assertive hands to roam over your every curve, and let his tongue taste every drop of your arousal for him, you knew you were in trouble.

You swore you’d never cross that line and act on such feelings, but when said sex god, with eyes as blue and inviting as a warm summer sky, looked at you like a ten course meal he wanted to devour, well, all logical thinking and restraint flew out the window, along with your panties.

The entire following year, you wondered if your dalliance was fated to be one glorious night. Whether Ari considered it a moment of weakness on his behalf and if he regretted what the two of you did, or if he was as desperate for it to happen again as you were.

The following holiday period, your questions were answered almost immediately.

The first time you two were alone again, all it took was one quizzical glance and you knew he too was thinking back to the night a year ago.

Perhaps it should have concerned you just how easily you gave yourself up to him, but you were honestly so desperate for him to have his way with you, to utterly ruin you again, that the desire between your legs overruled any self-control your brain tried to exert.

From your experience, none of the men your age knew anything about how to satisfy a woman, but there was no doubt with Ari, by your third orgasm, when you were floating on a cloud of pure bliss, you were convinced your bodies were made for each other.

This particular year he had a whole two weeks at home before departing again, and you made use of all fourteen euphoric days.

“Fuck, Toffee, so wet and messy, just for me - your pretty pussy gonna cum on these fat fucking fingers again? You gonna make a mess all over daddy?” His low growling voice was already such a turn on, but when he talked to you like that, you couldn’t stop yourself from cumming right then and there.

“That’s it, pretty girl, doing such a good job for me. Look how beautiful you are bouncing on my cock.” His praise spurred you on, lifting yourself up and sinking down on him again so he filled you completely, but when he reached to where your bodies connected, strumming on your clit, the coil in your stomach tightened as he brought you closer to your orgasm. “Wanna feel you cum around me baby, can you do that for me?”

“Still can’t get enough of me, can you Toffee?” He spoke into your ear as he pinned your hands above your head, fingers interlocked with yours, his weight pinning you to your bed, hips rolling into your own filling the room with salacious sounds of skin slapping skin. “You’ll never get enough, will you? I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you either.”

As you laid beside Ari the day before he was due to leave, content listening to the crackling fireplace, head resting on his broad chest, his strong arm wrapped tenderly around your waist, pulling you back into him as if your touch itself sustained him, you couldn’t help your mind from wondering if you meant more to him than simply an easy fuck; someone he knew would be available to take his sexual frustrations out on for the couple weeks a year he was home.

You had never met someone who fucked you so rough, but also treated you with such tenderness, as if you were something worth taking care of.

There were moments throughout the past couple weeks, when his eyes weren’t consumed with just pure lust for you, there was something else swirling around those desire-blown pupils. But you told yourself it must be your imagination. Surely he couldn’t truly be looking at you with the devotion you wished he felt for you.

When time came for him to leave again, you didn’t have the words to express to him how you had treasured the past two weeks. You were fully aware that he was your fathers best friend, and even if that weren’t reason enough to prevent your heart from becoming attached to him, you knew his position which took him overseas for the majority of the year should be. Whatever this was between you two, it could never turn into something real.

But that didn’t stop you from wishing it could.

The following year was pure torture. When you had only hooked up just once, you could at least resign yourself to the thought that it was a one time thing that meant nothing to him.

But now, knowing you had both been so eager for it to happen again, and the expectation that come the next holiday season you would pick up right where you left off, made you miss his presence even more.

The thought itself was exciting, but also agony.

Because, even if you wouldn’t admit it aloud, you missed not only the toe curling orgasms, but the way his eyes softened when they looked at you, how your body fit so perfectly with his as he cradled you to sleep, and the tranquil happiness you seemed to only find in his company.

Unbeknownst to anyone else in his life, Ari had made the executive decision to have an additional two weeks at home this year, designed to be spent solely with you.

He knew he couldn’t offer you the life or relationship you deserved, but just in this one aspect of his life he wanted to be a little selfish.

He wanted his sweet Toffee all to himself for these next four weeks, watching as your face contort in the most exquisite way as pleasure washed through your entire body; he wanted to wake up beside you and spend the cold mornings bundled up with you, listening to your voice as you read chapters of your new favourite book; but more than anything, he wanted to kiss you every chance he got, roughly kiss you until you were completely out of breath, sweetly kiss you when you were in the middle of a sentence because he just couldn’t wait until you were finished, tenderly kiss you right before you fell asleep so you would dream about his lips on yours.

Being able to spend a whole month with Ari was like a dream come true.

He spent an entire day teaching you to make sufganiyot just as his mother had done every Hanukkah when he was growing up.

Promised to beat you at every board game you kept stored at your place, but you were also convinced he let you win every time.

You sat by the roaring fire, one blanket stretched to cover both your laps as you read in peace, simply enjoying being together, even if you were doing something separately.

Someone could be confused into thinking that given the intimate nature of how you spent your days together, the pure tenderness which softened your gaze and the doting, involuntary smile tugging at the corners of your lips whenever you gazed at him, your relationship was much more significant than occasional fuck buddies.

But you couldn’t allow yourself to think like that - not only did Ari live most of his life oceans away from where you did, but he was best friends with your father. There was no way the two of you could ever have something that sembled a real relationship.

However, it was undeniable that when the two of you were together, it was something even more magical than the holiday season itself. The sex was incredible, that was evident by the number of life shattering orgasms he could pull almost on demand from your body, but it wasn’t just the sex.

He could make you laugh like nobody else, helped you feel confident in your body, provided an environment where you were comfortable enough around him to divulge secrets you hadn’t even told some of your friends. He brought out the best version of you you didn't even realise existed before him.

After a particularly sensual and passionate night, you laid together by the roaring fire, however it was the warmth which came from snuggling beside Ari’s strapping naked form which you were most interested in. For the first time in your life you felt truly content, protected, but most of all, loved.

The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, he made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, he could so easily fool you into thinking you were the only one for him.

Saying your inevitable goodbye was excruciating. Each year it became progressively more painful, and you weren’t sure you could manage the searing heartbreak which would come next year when you were positive you were already in love with him.

You couldn’t keep living like this, wondering for close enough to an entire year if the man you loved would still want you next festive season, whether in the time you were apart he had found someone else to settle down with, or if he wouldn’t be able to make it home for the next holidays, or came to the realisation of any one of the numerous reasons he wouldn’t want to continue sleeping with his best friends daughter.

You made a pact to yourself that the next time you saw Ari you’d tell him. Tell him how insanely happy he made you, how all you could think about was if next holidays you would get to experience that feeling of pure rapture when you were together, and how it killed you to consider that might not be a possibility. Tell him how possessive you were over him and that the thought he satisfied his needs with anyone else over the period you were apart ripped your heart from your chest. Tell him how even though it was entirely impossible and beyond impractical, you wanted to spend every moment of your year laughing with him until your cheeks ached, learning every aspect of his passionate soul and making love to him every chance you got.

Tell him that you loved him.

A knock on your front door pulled you from your reverie as you straightened the corners of your tartan blanket. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach and your heart clenched with dread.

This was it.

When you opened the door Ari looked handsome as ever, broad and tanned as if he had spent far too long in the sun. But it was the twinkle in his striking eyes at the recognition that it was you behind the door that made your heart flutter in your chest.

He didn’t speak a single word as he dropped his bags inside the entrance and pulled you into a tight hug. His embrace was warm and familiar, and even though it was Ari who was technically returning home, in a way it felt like you had as well.

“Ari?” The inflection in your voice indicated it was a question. Ari pulled back and studied your face before answering.

“Yeah Toffee?” His features stiffened and all of a sudden he looked worried. You had never seen him look this anxious before, and you made the quick determination that you didn’t like it one bit.

“I’ve had something on my mind literally all year and I need to come out and say this before we pick up where we left off.” You nervously babbled, peering down at how your hands were shaking.

“You’re in a relationship?” His voice was filled with sorrow which tore your heart in two.

“What? No. Actually, it’s sort of the opposite.” You nervously giggled, the sound of which seemed to calm his nerves. You took a deep breath to summon the courage you needed to confess your secret when his gorgeous eyes looked at you so expectantly. “I’ve been so hung up on you the past year I haven’t been able to think straight - well if I’m honest it’s probably been longer than just this last year. And I know this might ruin everything, and that it probably puts you in an awkward situation because of my dad, but Ari I think I’m in love with you.”

He took that moment to finally kiss you, like he was a suffocating man and your lips were his air. Lord, you had missed the tickle of his beard and how he smelled warm and musky, with a hint of tobacco. Every intimate feeling you had left unsaid you poured into that kiss, finally feeling free to convey every last emotion into your expression of love for him and not have to hold back as you had previously.

When you finally pulled away, needing air, Ari rested his forehead against yours, scrunched his nose and affectionately rubbed the tip against your own.

“My darling Toffee, I know wholeheartedly that I am in love with you.” You had never seen Ari smile as much as when he confessed those words.

“You do?” You asked, and he responded with an ardent kiss to your lips.

“This moment right here, reuniting with you, that’s what got me through the whole year. You’re the person I come home for.”

This time it was you that kissed him, eager, luscious and downright possessive. His luggage long forgotten, you steered him towards your living room and the cosy space you had set up next to the fireplace for an occasion just like this one.

You’d already had some very memorable holidays with Ari, but you were certain none would compare to this year.

#em writes #Ari Levinson #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fic #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x reader #the thot neighbourhood #tis the season to be thot-y #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #dbf!ari levinson #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson one shot #Chris evans #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans one shot #chris evans imagine #holiday #holiday fic #Hanukkah #festive fic

[carousel-crows]

For your icemav prompt suggestion thing!! So stupid but maybe Ice sees how good Mav is with Bradley/kids and he just instantly swoons lmfaoo

thank you thank you thank you! this is such a cute prompt!

——

Tom Kazansky knew a lot of things, that could not be disputed.

In his profession, he had to know a plethora maneuvers by heart. He could do extremely complex math in his head. He knew who was flying and where. He knew his flight manual so well he could recite it in multiple languages.

He knew things about his wingman, too. He knew that Pete "Maverick" Mitchell was dangerous. He knew that he flew like a maniac. He knew that he had a reason to. He knew of the guilt he carries around, how ghosts follow him. He knew that Pete bounced from foster house to foster house, and sometimes he thinks that he deserves it. Tom knows he doesn't. He knows that Pete's eyes are the boldest green he's ever seen. He knows about his love for forehead kisses and strawberries on his waffles.

He did not know that Pete was good with kids.

He knew that he had a godson/nephew. He did not know how great of an uncle he is.

The second Mav saw the boy, his grin grew bigger than he'd thought possible. The boy shrieked when he was scooped up by strong arms and kissed soundly on his cheek. Mav swung him around to sit him on hip, laughing. He could see Carole Bradshaw smiling tiredly, seemingly relieved that they were all here.

"Hey, Baby Goose. I've missed you."

"Hi, Mav."

The boy sees him standing there and buries his head into Mav's shoulder shyly. "Who's that?"

"That's your uncle Ice, Bradley. Him and me fly together. Can you say hi?"

Bradley lifts his head and smiles. "Hi, Ice. Did you know my daddy?"

Ice nods. "He was a good man."

Bradley frowns, confused.

Pete, seeing that, says, "Uncle Tom lives here with me. We want to go get ice cream with you and Mama. Do you want some?"

A squeal escapes Bradley as he nods. "Yeah, Uncle Mav!" he turns to his mother, eyes wide. "Please, Mama? I'll be extra good!"

Carole laughs. "Of course, honey."

Bradley cheers, and Mav flings him around happily.

He was smiling so wide. God, he was so good with him. He would be such a good parent.

Ice shocks himself at that. He'd never thought about having kids, especially now that he was with Pete. The Navy was no place for children.

But the thought of somehow having a child that looked like them, a proclamation of their love. Light hair, green eyes. Or maybe dark hair, with shockingly blue eyes.

Having a little girl tug on his pant leg and asking to be picked up. A little boy exclaiming happily after finding a coin on the sidewalk. Hanukkah and Christmas. Birthdays. School and graduation.

"Ice, you good?" He's dragged from his thoughts by his lover's concerned voice.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he smiles, then starts toward the car. "I was just thinking."

"Dangerous."

"Shut up Mitchell."

Carole and Bradley are already pulling out of the parking lot. He unlocks his car, sits down, and starts the engine.

"Are you sure you're good, babe?"

"You're good with kids. It's cute."

He looks a little surprised at that. "Oh."

"I've never thought about having kids before." He turns to look at Pete, nervous.

"Me neither. Until you." He pecks him on the cheek. "We should look into it, when we're ready."

That surprises Tom. "Okay."

He isn't quite sure how that would work, but he doesn't really care. He'd do anything for Maverick.

"I love you, Tom. I'd do anything for you."

"And I would do anything for you, my love."

——

i think i accidentally might've given Ice baby fever. No regrets.

if i have time i'll make this into a full on fic, idk.

#icemav #jewish tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #carole bradshaw #baby bradley bradshaw

[elvisabutler]

Belle decorates Professor Presley’s classroom on Valentine’s day their first Valentine’s together and she’s a grinning mess through out class wearing his jacket and opening her legs for him to see what she is (or isn’t) wearing underneath only 😌 and just so much fluff and love and hot sex with big daddy elvis

my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand

summary: you decorate elvis's office for valentines and give him a bit of a present for the holiday. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: professor! elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x student! female reader ( nicknamed belle ) word count: 2837 warnings: big daddy elvis. elvis using a walking stick/cane. implied praise kink. student and professor relationship ( everyone are of legal age ). religious talk. oral ( f receiving ). p in v sex ( unprotected ). referring to lil elvis as a pacifier. use of the derogatory name jezebel, but in a playful way. public nudity. mild indecent exposure. belle being brazen as hell. reference/threat of caning in a sexual way/sexual punishment way. author’s note: this is several months late but hi anon this was adorable and i loved writing it to the point where it flowed embarrassingly easily from my fingers. hopefully you like it and as always y'all i love comments and screaming and prompts like this. truly they keep a woman writing and going.

The thing about holidays is that you've never really liked a lot of them. October led to Halloween which led to parties where people would talk and talk about you as if you didn't exist nearby. You might be friendly with most people but there was always that subset of people who have to judge you for your actions. Judge you for every little small thing you've done since you became a student at the college. November led to Thanksgiving and the entire campus being empty while you stayed because as much as you love your parents- you don't want to go home to see them more than once a year and especially not for a holiday that has all your family around asking if you've found a nice boy at college yet. After the first time you answered you found a nice man and not a nice boy- well they felt the need to offer more opinions. No, Thanksgiving was never worth it. December brought Christmas and Hanukkah for your family and the family friends you might as well call family. That's the set of holidays you don't mind. That's the set of holidays where you can let loose and relax and answer questions about your love life because they're peppered in with questions on how school's coming along. How your studies are going and warnings that if you do meet a nice man to make sure he had your best interests at heart.

Honestly, this past December was your favorite with the secure knowledge that you had someone waiting for you back on campus. Your relationship might have been new and both you and Elvis might be walking around like baby deers when it came to doing anything to upset the balance of it but it's still yours. It's still a solid thing that has you smiling and has everyone insisting you've got to bring him soon, that it doesn't have to be a holiday- they just want to see the man who has their girl so happy. You spend New Years at home too but you make sure to call Elvis and hear him tell you softly that he misses you before you tell him that you do too and that you'll kiss him as soon as you see him.

Everything is fine until you realize that it's February and that means it's Valentine's Day. You can't decorate the lecture hall, though you want to but you can at least decorate the podium and his office. You can decorate those things and give him a surprise because you don't have any classes that day. You're free to do whatever it is your heart desires and if that's teasing the man you're sure is the love of your life and the man you want to spend the rest of your life with- well- that's your business isn't it.

It had occurred to you that this was a risky idea but there's something delightful in finding that Elvis has a pink jacket you've never seen him wear but covers you enough that if you want you can barely wear anything with it. Truly you just want to see his reaction to you practically naked underneath a jacket of his while in class. You choose a class that has less people in it, one of the upper level classes. You think perhaps you should sit in the front but you know that at the top of the room he could very easily see your exposed body while no one else would. So you choose a spot right in front of his podium on that very top row and wait until the middle of his lecture to do a single thing. His eyes haven't left you from the moment he walked in, placing a kiss on your cheek with a raised eyebrow that you just answer with a smile. His reaction the moment you open his jacket just enough to see what's underneath has you giggling softly.

You had chosen to where a skimpy set of underwear- one you know shows how wet you already are and shows just how much you want Elvis. You know he can see the faintest hint of your pussy and you know from the way his eyes zero in on it that in the back of his mind he's picturing his face being buried between your legs as you explain St. Valentine's to him. Or perhaps your end goal, perhaps that's what you want and you're just deciding that he wants it just as much. Your chest is more exposed, no bra in sight and the cold air of the room has your nipples pebbling, turning into targets that he wants to zero in on to suck and nip and turn puffy with overuse.

"I- I-" he stutters out, tripping over his sentence as he tries to wrench his eyes away from your exposed body before whispering to himself, "Christ almighty woman."

"Professor Presley?" You and him both hear the voice of a male student trying to get Elvis to focus and get back on track. "Are you alright? You look a little flushed."

A giggle threatens to escape you as you watch him swallow, trying to figure out the best way to answer that question without exposing your actions. You shut the jacket once more and Elvis's eyes narrow briefly before turning to the student. "I'm just fine. Ya know how it is when the weather's like this- half the damn campus is sick wit' somethin'. Nah, I'm- Feelin' fine, my boy. Now as I was sayin'."

And so it goes for the next hour with you teasing him over and over watching his hands grip the heart shaped decorations on his podium and watching as his jaw tightens and he practically growls when he sees a few students try and turn around to see just what he's looking at. Before class ends you slip out the back door and make your way to his office. You hear his booming voice bellowing about class being dismissed and can't help the way you laugh as you pull the jacket tighter around you. The extra key Elvis had given you to the office allows you to sneak inside and sit down in his chair at his desk. You expect him to be there in a few minutes but it takes closer to fifteen before you hear the door open and hear his rumbling murmur.

"Jezebel," he murmurs, practically stalking across the room till he stops at the desk, his cane somehow remaining far more quiet than it normally is. "Teasin' me like that. Oughta cane ya for that, darlin'. Give ya a lil punishment for actin' that way. Thought ya were gonna be all sweet wit' the decorations."

You lean back in the chair a little bit, not because you're scared but you're curious to see if he'll lean over you, if he'll remind you of one of the many reasons you fell for him. Remind you of how you are strong and can fight and put up with the best of them, but he- he is something else entirely. He is a bear of a man with strength curled underneath all that fat and bulk. Your body inadvertently shudders as he does lean over you his hands resting on the arms of the chair. Your words are quiet but only because you're trying to be coy. "I am sweet with them, Professor Presley. I wanted to make sure your office looked sweet so you could eat something sweet in here."

His eyes roam down to the sliver of skin exposed by his jacket and he takes his hand, opening it up to reveal what he'd like to call his Valentine's present. You in his pink jacket, inviting him in between your legs like a succubus craving her neck meal. Inviting him in like you're his salvation and damnation all at once. A breath leaves him shakily as he moves to grab your hand in an effort to get you out of the chair. "Desk, Belle. On my desk. Let me see the feast you've got for me. See how sweet my treat really is."

The way you practically scramble to get onto the desk is a little embarrassing if you're honest with yourself but when it comes to Elvis sometimes you do things you otherwise wouldn't. You're not subservient to anyone and yet sometimes with him you truly are. You keep the jacket on and allow it to settle on your shoulders as you lay down on the desk, exposing your breasts and torso and neck for him. A part of you knows you shouldn't touch yourself but seeing Elvis's pure lust written all over his face has your hand drifting down between your legs, fingers slipping between your folds easily. There's a moment where you're too distracted to notice Elvis watching you, too distracted to notice how his breathing shifts and how his cock is rising to the occasion the more he watches you until he grabs at your wrist and pulls it out. "Puttin' on a show. Ain't ya just my angel sent from above to be a lil devil," he moves your hand up to his mouth and licks at your fingers, causing your toes to curl just a little, "sweeter than the best pie I've ever had. Practically candy all on its own."

What happens next isn't what you expect, necessarily but you don't know why you didn't. Elvis drops down to his knees and you hear the slight crack in them before his hands- his always burning hands grab at your underwear, practically yanking them off as he pulls you to the edge of the desk. He licks his lips and inches his face toward your waiting cunt before taking a moment to just inhale the scent and to nuzzle at your folds with his lips and nose and chin, coating them in your already copious amount of fluids. A growl leaves him that you feel in the pit of your soul before he practically dives in, his tongue laving at your core, dancing around your clit in ways he knows drive to madness. Your hands move to his hair, sliding through and gripping with such ferocity Elvis growls once again against you. His intensity reminds you of an animal- a predator savoring their meal, devouring what's rightfully his. Your fingers pull and twist in his black hair, guiding him where you need him the most at any given second. You move him away from your clit, trying to make this last when you feel your body start to tighten, feel your legs start to tremble and tighten around his back, marveling in the strength of it as he continues his onslaught, giving your clit a little nip for trying to guide him away from it.

"Elvis-" you moan, trying to have your brain remember what it's like to say words, trying to remember what it's like to breathe, to think, to have a thought in your head that doesn't revolve around how his tongue and lips feel against your clit and your folds. "Need- Gonna-"

All he does is squeeze your hips, his rings digging into your skin as he sucks your clit one last time bringing you over the edge with a scream you can't hold back. For a brief moment you swear you see stars as you try and catch your breath. When Elvis pulls away from between your legs, leaning on his haunches you see how completely covered in your come he is and a shudder runs through you as you shakily sit up and try to grab onto him to pull him up. You want to kiss him and taste yourself. You want to have his body, his comforting warm weight against you. You want to feel the scratch of the hair on his belly against your soft skin. He catches what you're trying to do and helps as best as he can before finally getting into a standing position and pushing you farther up onto the desk where you can lay down. Your lips start to kiss at his neck, licking some of the sweat off of his skin as your hands claw and rip a button on his shirt trying to get it open. He chuckles, rutting against the desk a little as he helps you with it, shucking off his shirt as you decide to shift your focus to his belt instead. That you can do, that you can do so you can reach his cock. It only takes a minute before you pulling him out of his underwear and moving to try and suck it before he pushes you back against the desk.

"You ain't gettin' your pacifier today, Belle. Teasin' me like that deserves a punishment and I know ya love that thing too much. Nah, gonna fuck ya and maybe if ya real good for the rest of the day, maybe when we get home ya can have it. But right now? Oh, Belle, darlin', no suckin' on your lil' pacifier." His voice is practically a croon before he leans against you, the scratch of the hair on his stomach causing you to cry out softly and whine.

"Elvis- Why-" The words and the whine die on your lips as cock slides into you, filling you up as you thump your head against the desk lightly. You'd think you'd have gotten used to it. You'd think you would have gotten used to the stretch and the subtle burn of his foreskin catching inside of you but even now it's different. It slides through your pussy with ease and yet you clench around it as you watch Elvis's face contort and hear his grunts as his fingers tighten around your hips once more.

"Fuck- Always like a damn vice grip 'round me. Always tight 'round me." A hand moves to grab at your chest, playing with your nipple as you keen at the sensation. "Too much? Ya want me to stop touchin' 'em? Leave 'em be?"

"No!" You cry out, your hips grinding against his, chasing after his cock as he pulls out and pushes back in. You try and wrap your legs around him before he shakes his head.

"Ya made yourself a pretty lil present for me. Let me enjoy it and show ya how much I love ya and it." His words are gruff, practically snarled out as he moves faster and faster, his hips acting like he's 20 something instead of the 40 something he is.

It's too much, you think. It's too much to feel how he stretches you as he fucks you. It's too much how his hand squeezes your breasts and your nipples. It's too much how his mouth slots against yours and how both your lips are kiss bitten and how your teeth keep sinking into his lip in between his nips to yours. It's too much how you feel his hips start to stutter a little like he's going to come. It's too much how you feel your body shudder and feel your hands clawing at his back, slippery against his sweat. It's too much how your skin slides against his and how your body relishes in the feel of his chest hair and the hair on his stomach. It's too much how his whole body weight has you pinned against the desk as if you're minuscule to him. It's- It's too much.

"Please." You mutter against his lips and you feel him pull away before the hand that had been playing with your chest finally slides down between your legs and rubs your clit just so that has your hips trying to lift up only to be stopped by his sheer bulk against it. You come with a whimper of his name and heaving breaths as you feel his come fill you with a certain warmth that settles deep in your bones.

Elvis collapses on top of you as he tries to catch his breath and you take the time to play with his chest, play with his chest hair with a small smile. When you've finally come down to Earth you manage to speak, whispering softly against his skin with a kiss. "Happy Valentines."

You watch as a smile crosses his face as he looks at you with such an intense love you can't help but bite your lip. "Ya know how to give presents for it." A beat. "Ya also damn lucky ya ain't in my class. Would've had ya tell me all about St. Valentine's while 'tween ya legs."

A smirk crosses your face before you kiss up his neck, stopping once you've reached his lips. "Maybe that's how I can earn my pacifier back tonight?"

Elvis's eyes become just a little bit lidded as his hand that still hasn't left your hip tightens its grip. "I think ya might have a deal, Belle."

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis if you don’t want to be tagged for this series, tell me, i just copied from one of my other elvis fics. also if i missed you in this tagging and your name doesn’t look like everyone else’s welcome to the horror of being one of those people who tumblr won’t let me tag.

#elvis presley #big daddy elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #professor presley #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fluff #elvis presely #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #austin elvis #austin butler elvis #ally writes

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Happy Hanukkah-Mas! - A Beth and Alfie Solomons One Shot Story.

They're baaaack! I absolutely adored returning to their world for a little one-off treat, guys, and hope you all love catching up with them again, too. Enjoy :)

Words - 7,478

Warnings - Fluff and smut, lots of it! Minors DNI!

There is much as a mother that I feel my arm in perpetual twist over, my emotions stirred by the large, slate blue eyes of my son, Abe and my daughter, Flora. They truly do know how to get around their father and I with such insufferably effective cuteness. The celebration of Christmas in our Jewish household is just one of those arm twisting, big, cute eye pleading moments that I speak of. 

Although my husband and I are very liberal in our faith, not anywhere as stalwart in our Jewishness as generations gone by (heck, even my beloved bubbe has a tiny Christmas tree and Father Christmas themed decorations!) we do enjoy observing the traditions of Hanukkah, especially passing this onto our children. We light the menorah and recite our blessings before taking to the kitchen and getting into a god-almighty mess while preparing the latkes and jellied doughnuts.  

Let it be known here that Bethany Solomons and deep frying do not exactly go hand in hand.  

Up until their respective ages of five and two, the children seemed perfectly content to revel in our deep frying, dreidel playing, menorah lighting and song singing traditions. That was until these tiny souls began noticing the traditions of their friends slightly differed from ours. Suddenly, there was talk of turkey and tinsel, of baubles and a large, fresh scented tree. Father Christmas was a name that began to be spoken more freely.  

In fact, it was Flora who changed the tides there while scrambling onto her daddy’s lap one evening when she was two, tiny hands fiddling with his beard as she went through her nightly routine of ‘let’s ask daddy as many questions as humanely possible’ where one particularly struck my husband in a direct hit to the heartstrings.  

“Daddy, Father Christmas doesn’t come to our house. Is that because we’re bad children? We’re on the naughty list, aren’t we?” 

To watch him sit there, his eyes glassing as he tried not to allow for his emotions to be so heavily stirred by our youngest was something I could not endure without shoving my nose into a nearby magazine in order to hide my own tears.  

“Nah, my little peach,” he’d eventually offered, after swallowing a lump in his throat he likened to the size of Cyril, our beloved sixty-kilogram bullmastiff. “It’s just that we believe different traditions, innit? You’re only on the naughty list when you’re running around here covered in chocolate and refusing to get in the bath, ain’t ya?” 

He’d then tickled her into submission, or so he’d thought. Flora, just like the man whose lap she was sat upon at the time, is nothing short of persistent in the pursuit of achieving an end goal. After Abe had returned home from his karate class, he too joined in.  

Never let it be said that my offspring cannot work as an effective emotional tag team. Our first Christmas tree was purchased the following afternoon. Cyril duly lifted his leg to it. Alfie was incensed. The children scream laughed. All was well, if not a little soggy.  

Happy Hanukkah-Mas, everyone! 

Taking a pause from typing, Beth reached for her wine, the kitchen quiet and fresh smelling after her efforts in deep cleaning had left everywhere sparkling. It was that time of year again, where the Solomons clan began their dual holiday festivities, the nine days of their Hanukkah coming to a close, ready to pave the way for all things Christmas. 

“No peeing up the tree this year, matey.” she spoke, her hand reaching for the soft crinkles of Cyril’s muzzle, her faithful old companion sniffing her fingers as she offered him fuss. She could barely believe he was twelve, an age almost unheard of for a bullmastiff to reach.  

The giant dog now lived a much more leisurely pace, long walks replaced now by a little trot around the block, the dog returning to lie himself in the middle of the welcome hall and huff about it for a good ten minutes before he’d wander off, usually in search of the children.  

If Cyril’s heart beat for anything other than a good marrow bone from the butchers, it was Abe and Flora. Beth honestly feared for the day they would come to lose him, knowing the devastation that would befall the family to be bereft of their longtime canine companion. He was more than that to them, though.  

Cyril Solomons always was, and always would be their first child. 

“Where’s your dad?” she asked, the dog’s ears pricking as he heaved himself up, ambling out of the kitchen and down to the office, Beth pushing the glass door open.  

“Evening, baby beast.” No, Alfie had never ceased use of the same pet name for her that he’d coined nine years previously, back when they’d first gotten together. “How’s the article going? Nearly done, yeah?” 

She half shrugged with a hum. “About halfway through. I’m bloody knackered, though, so I’ve come to steal you. My tummy is rumbling.” Moving around the desk, she placed her wine down, seating herself in his lap. “What’s with these? These Solomons crinkles you have going on here?” 

Her finger was playfully batted away, her hulking bear of a husband laughing gruffly. “You and your bloody cheek,” he began, kissing her head. “Them lines are the Abe and Flora crinkles these days, them and their fuckin’ demands. Look at this ‘ere, right. She can’t just want the doll you can go to Smyths and buy, can she, your daughter. Nah, gotta want the fuckin’ Rolls bleedin’ Royce of dolls that daddy ‘ere can’t pissing find in stock!” 

He had a penchant for that. When the kids were good, they were their children. When they were causing him mild to moderate strife, they were solely Beth’s.  

Looking at the screen, she shook her head, reaching for the mousse and closing the browser window. “I found it already, it’s on the way from a store in New York. DHL have assured me it’ll arrive by the eighteenth.”  

“Well then why didn’t you fuckin’ tell me, Bethany with the lovely legs? Lovely legs that are gonna catch a right walloping. Sitting here for hours, I’ve been, looking for that fuckin’ doll!” 

“I did!” she exclaimed, slapping his hand as he began laying smacks against her thigh. 

“Fuckin’ lies!” 

Leaning in close, she widened her doe eyes, her nose touching his. ���I bloody did! Magda will back me up, she was standing right next to me when I told you.” 

Her playful growl was met by muttering and grumbling. “Moody sod.” 

“Yeah, but you love me, treacle,” he chirped, Beth leaning to kiss his cheek.  

“That I do. Now, come on. I meant it when I said my tummy was rumbling, so you need to emerge.” Picking up her wine, she slid back to her feet, Alfie wheeling his chair closer to the desk once more.  

“I’ve just got one email I need to...” 

“Alfie,” she warned. 

“Five minutes, darlin’. You go order the food. Get us a chicken madras, a keema naan and all the dippy stuff with the poppadom's. Go on, go be a crackin’ wife and order in all the nosh that’ll have me farting like bagpipes for the next day or so.” 

She threw her head back, her laugh loud. “Five minutes, or I deliberately wake Abe and get him to come in and ask you all about where babies come from.” 

“You bloody dare,” he warned, Beth leaning back around the office door. 

“Don’t try me, boo.” Poking her tongue out, she giggled, heading back into the kitchen and taking a seat once more, putting in their order with the Royal Bengal before tapping away a little more of her article. She’d just closed her laptop when Alfie joined her, pulling a bottle of San Pelegrino from the fridge and splashing it into a glass, adding ice while telling her about his working day.  

Since becoming a father, he’d done what nobody expected and actually relinquished a little control over his empire, allowing those he employed to get stuck in with the lion’s share of the day-to-day operations, in order to be present for his children. Losing his own father so young had made him realise just what he’d missed growing up, now he had little ones of his own.  

The kitchen was soon filled with the aromas of India, Beth adding everything to bowls, Alfie hindering her every step of the way, and Cyril hopeful that a few morsels might be dropped upon the floor.  

“It’s nice to be able to have a bowl of samosas out and not have to fight off tiny hands for them,” she mused, picking one up and dunking it into the mint dip.  

“And then only half eating them, storing the fuckin’ things away behind cushions and in shoes an’ all that,” Alfie spoke through a mouthful of poppadom, shaking his head. “Them bloody kids. Wouldn’t have ‘em any other way, though.” 

Neither would she. They were loud and boisterous, but that came with the territory. Seven and four years old meant a perpetual state of noisy. Those noisy states were out of the front door at nine the following morning, both off to their bubbe Solomon’s house for the morning. Beth dropped them with Sarra at just gone half past, leaving her to fight the traffic to head over to Primrose Hill, her breakfast date already there waiting for her.  

“Oh babe!” she cried, opening her arms to Mimi as she rose from the table. “I thought you were bringing the baby? Aww, I was looking forward to a little smush!” 

“No, she barely slept all night, so I’ve left her with Josh and a tonne of expressed milk. Bloody boobs are so sore, and I thought having implants was bad!” Kissing her cheek, Mimi then gestured to the table, a latte waiting for her. “Thought I’d order that in for you. I might be a knackered new mummy, but at least I remembered my erm...” she trailed off, winding her hand around as she thought on the word. “I always want to say my Antoinette, but she was a queen.” 

“Etiquette?” Beth offered, Mimi snapping her fingers. 

“That’s it!” 

Some things never changed.  

“So, how have you been, other than tired with sore boobs? I bloody remember that only too well, Mims,” she spoke, picking up her latte and giving it a cautionary blow before taking her first sip. Ahhh, a double shot. Heaven. How well her beloved Mims knew her.  

“I’ve been alright, you know,” she began, perusing the menu before her. “I mean, a woman can function perfectly well on ten minutes of sleep a night, can’t she?”  

“And if she can’t she gets used to it pretty flipping quick,” Beth quipped, making her decision over breakfast quickly. Pancakes with turkey bacon and eggs. She was famished. “How did your check-up go? Are all the sore bits healing nicely?” 

Both women had suffered quite badly during childbirth, Beth’s experience with Abe something so terrible, she very nearly elected a C-Section for Flora. Her midwife had advised her against such, though, stating a natural birth would be much better when she was fully fit and capable. Flora had been a blessing, thankfully, a speed birth of half an hour in active labour, her little girl out in six pushes.  

Mimi nodded as she sipped her orange juice, setting the tall glass back down. “Everything is healing as it should be, and I should be fine to ride again soon!” She’d kept her beloved horses, Bryn and Sunny, thinking at first that she would put them out on loan for a time to someone with enough of that very commodity to devote to them. That was until her darling friends had stepped in to help, Beth and Kinga appointing themselves as exercisers of Mimi’s four-legged friends.  

Being a much more skilled horsewoman than she had been nine years before upon first meeting Mimi, Bryn and all of his naughtiness was appointed to her, Kinga more novice and being tasked with Sunny’s exercise. They went most days in the afternoon, the people at the stables where they were kept taking on their day-to-day care.  

It was one of Beth’s favourite parts of the day, riding out over the fields after lunch aboard Bryn, or working him over eye wateringly huge fences in the arena, the likes of which she once never thought she’d have the bravery to attempt. 

Mimi had taught her well.  

“Oh, before I forget, give these to Magda before she raises merry hell with me,” Mimi then spoke, picking up a bag from her feet and passing it across to Beth. “She loaned me these for Josh’s office Christmas do. It was such a nice night, made even better for wearing a pair of this season’s Louis Vuitton’s on my feet!” 

Yes, Magda would indeed raise merry hell if any loans from her beloved wardrobe department were not returned promptly. Beth took the bag with a smile, placing it down beside her favourite bag of all time beneath the table, the dark blue Birkin Alfie had bought her all those years ago. She still had to shake her head in wonder sometimes, being a woman of such staggering wealth because of whom she was married to.  

Her world had blended with Alfie’s so effortlessly, it often felt like a dream to her still. There she was, with one of the women he’d once dated, Mimi now a married mother herself and long fully integrated within Beth’s friendship group as well as still being – as Alfie always worded it - ‘the bestest mate a fella could ask for.’ After Josh and her mum, Alfie had been the first she’d called upon finding out she was pregnant with her now eight-week-old daughter, Alissia.  

“How did you cope, being away from Liss for a few hours?” she asked with a smile.  

Mimi looked pained immediately. “I hated it! I missed her so much, and I know she was perfectly fine with Josh’s mum, but it didn’t feel right, not having a little bundle in my arms!”  

She remembered it well with Abe, becoming very emotional on her first night out with Alfie after he’d been born, being left in the care of his godparents, Magda and Dennis. Magda had switched her phone off in the end, Beth had called so incessantly to make sure he was okay. ‘You’ll bloody wake the little fella if you keep on calling me! He's fast asleep on Dennis’s chest, just threw up a load of milk all over the dog an’ all. Having a wail of time, he is!’ she remembered being assured.  

Moving their discussion on, both pledging they would never be the kind of women who couldn’t form conversation over anything other than their children, they sat and spoke about all sorts while catching up, Beth’s most recent articles, Mimi’s tentative plans to begin her own accounting business so that she could circumvent a return to office life and instead, work from home and be with her baby. With Josh earning so well now within the publishing world, her return to work truly didn’t need to be expedited quickly either.  

After breakfast, they made time to pamper themselves with a little salon treat, Mimi having a much-needed deep cleansing facial while Beth opted for a massage, wanting to be nice and relaxed for what would likely turn into a chaotic afternoon. It was Christmas tree shopping day, meaning that her children would go from their usual volume of eight right up to eight thousand, such was their excitement at the fairly new tradition.  

“Oi! Abraham Solomons, I see you back there, winding your sister up!” Alfie shouted, looking in the rearview mirror of his Range Rover two hours later, en route from his mother’s house to the garden centre.  

“She’s kicking me, dad!” 

“She can’t even reach you over there, mate. Nah, don’t you tell me no fibs, or this car gets turned around, right?”  

“But dad!” 

“Enough, my son!” 

Abe shrank down in his car seat with a scowl that was a hundred percent his father, Beth turning to give him a warning look that eventually turned into a smile. The Solomons crinkles were very much a hereditary thing. “Be a good boy.” she cooed, grabbing his foot and giving it a shake. Flora was asleep after ten minutes, Abe entertaining himself by narrating a commentary about the people they drove past in the streets, pulling up outside Birchen Grove Garden Centre after twenty minutes.  

“Come on, Flora snorer,” Alfie chimed, rousing his sleepy youngest. The noises that came from that child while she was sleeping. Beth had nearly haemorrhaged from laughter when he’d likened the sounds to ‘that geezer from the Police Academy films’ back when she was a baby. “Come on, my little peach. Let’s look lively, yeah?” 

“No daddy, I want naps!” she protested, Beth being dragged to examine a display of Christmas wreaths by a much spritelier Abe. 

“Child, you’d sleep your life away if we left ya to it. Come on, daddy’ll play pack horse and carry ya.”  

“Okay.” Immediately she reached for him, beaming as she buried her face against his neck. He gave it all of three minutes, the shiny bright of the garden centre’s Christmas displays delighting her eyes so much, she was scrambling to the floor and running off with her brother.  

“Breakage expenditures guesstimate?” Beth quipped, raising an eyebrow as they ran for a display in excited frenzy.  

“Bloody zero!” he bellowed, making a lady walking past him jump. “Go on, get over there and round up ya kids, duchess. I’ll go sort the tree.”  

She rolled her eyes. “Always my kids when they’re being disruptive.” She strode off, not before Alfie aimed a perfect smack to her bum, calling her little ones away from the glass baubles and trinkets, grabbing a basket on her way. She sensed more ornaments would be chosen, and she wasn’t wrong. At least they kept on brand with the theme of green, blue and silver, though.  

“Abraham!” Alfie barked, appearing with a Christmas tree over his shoulder a short time later, finding his son meddling with the nativity display. “Put the false prophet down, son.”  

Beth cringed, shielding her eyes for a moment beneath her hand as her husband drew disapproving stares, Abe unceremoniously returning to the baby Jesus doll back into the manger with all the passion of LeBron James performing a slam dunk.  

“Do you have to be so vociferously Jewish in your denouncing of the Christian lord and saviour?” she hissed, Alfie beaming. 

“Yeah, darlin’,” he laughed, scratching his beard with his free hand. “I bloody do!” 

Herding the children in the direction of the sales desk, she offered appeasing smiles to those offended by her husband and his boom. “Oy fucking vey.” 

Once the tree had been affixed to the roof, the children and purchases packed away, the family Solomons headed to lunch, the little ones making their demands known for a trip to Five Guys. Burgers often worked very well in placation, especially since Beth had designs on dragging her family to do a little bit of shopping afterwards. Kids with full tummies were often slowed down a tad by the weight of their meal.  

While Alfie was having his ear and wallet bended by two very enthusiastic children at the Hotel Chocolat shop, Beth moved down through the shopping mall a little, coming to a small nostalgia store. Since celebrating Christmas was mostly for the children’s benefit, she and Alfie didn’t exchange gifts for one another, but what she saw in the window swiftly negated that.  

“I’ll take them both, please.” she spoke to the sales assistant, hardly able to keep her giggles in as she watched him retrieve the two Ren and Stimpy plush toys from the window display. She would never forget how hard she had laughed all those years ago, when she and Alfie had gotten stoned together one evening, back when the lines between journalist and subject were becoming blurred.  

“Do you mean Ren, as in Ren and Stimpy?” 

“Yeah, the little angry weasel, or whatever he was.” 

The little angry weasel. The memory still brought her the same feelings of hilarity as they’d shared out in the garden of their home, when they were just beginning to fall for one another. She remembered it well, how she’d sat there with him, smoking weed while inwardly lamenting how unfair it was, to have met her perfect person, but with a very imperfect set of terms and conditions that went hand in hand with dating him.  

She couldn’t imagine her life now, should Alfie not have changed his mind. It often made her feel a pit in her stomach, if she thought on it for too long, being driven out of his life in that Uber, Alfie remaining with someone as deadly as Amira had proved herself to eventually be. Thankfully, the unhinged woman who had almost killed her remained languishing within a prison cell to that day.  

Yes, Beth kept tabs on her, just in case she had qualified for parole ahead of the recommended ten years post-sentencing. She couldn’t not now she was a mother, something within not trusting that her long custodial sentence would change her feelings towards her; or pose a risk to the safety of her children upon her release.  

Shaking the less warming thoughts of their past from her mind, she paid for her purchase and left the shop, popping into the Elemis store quickly to repurchase her skincare goodies, before she was met by her husband and two chocolate wielding children.  

The drive home was uneventful, the kids once again on excited mode as soon as they stepped foot into the house, hurling themselves at the many boxes Beth had brought up from the wine cellar the night before containing the Christmas decorations. With the tree placed into the stand, protective netting cut and two shrieking children armed with ornaments, Alfie stood back and watched the scene for a few moments, grinning adoringly at his little family.  

“Let me go and get a few work things done so I ain’t worrying about ‘em all weekend,” he spoke, giving her a little nod. “I’ll fetch you a Merlot on me way back, duchess.” She turned to blow him a kiss before he left the lounge, his grin still firmly in place as he headed down to the office, playing catch up on a few pressing demands on his time for half an hour. 

He then headed to the kitchen, preparing himself a coffee and sorting Cyril’s dinner once he got there. 4:47pm on a Saturday. That time nine years ago would usually mean the house was full of the hustle and bustle of various women getting ready, him returning from a leisurely dog walk and doing a quick bit of business prior to taking his three girlfriends’ out to somewhere fancy. 

How things had changed, and all for the better. 

On that particular Saturday evening, they were playing gracious hosts to Magda and Dennis, their friends coming over for dinner in a few hours, Alfie lifting the lid on the crockpot and giving the beef Bourguignon that had been slow cooking all day a good stir. Nobody cooked like his mother, but bloody hell, Beth gave her a run for her money.  

Furnished with a coffee, he took the large glass of wine through, handing it to his wife with a kiss. “You’ve done a cracking job with that, as usual.” Nodding toward the Christmas tree, he smiled, Beth leaning back into his embrace as Abe flicked the socket, all the warm white lights twinkling into glittered life.  

He might have complained, but beneath the layers of outward distain, he secretly loved Christmas just as much as he did Hanukkah. The joy it brought to his children was immeasurable, and for them, he would move the earth. Putting up a tree, buying gifts and having a nice turkey roast were small by comparison.  

After the decorations had been carefully laid out, Beth placing winter spice wax melts into the burners dotted around the home and running the vacuum around, the kids made their demands for dinner, Alfie sorting them with their request for fish fingers while Beth went to put the clean laundry away and run herself a bath.  

By the time she was done, she refilled the tub for the children, drying her hair while Alfie put himself on bathtime duty.  

“Daddy, look! You’re Father Christmas now!” Flora chirped, giggling as she covered his beard in a barrage of bubbles from the tub.  

“Nah, I ain’t! I’m not that old, and me belly ain’t that big either!”  

She was quick in her cheekily delivered comeback. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Oi!” he growled, picking up the small bucket bath toy and emptying it over her head. “Less of that, or I’m phoning Father Christmas and telling him not to drop by here on Christmas Eve, right?” 

Flora was aghast, Abe tittering to himself. “You wouldn’t, daddy!” 

“Yeah?” he spoke, reaching for the kid’s shampoo. “I do a hundred sit ups a day to make sure I ain’t got no Father Christmas belly, so you’ll cast your aspersions elsewhere, you hear me?”  

“Daddy, daddy,” she began, Alfie beginning to lather her hair. “Are aspersions what mummy makes with the cheese and butter?” 

He and Beth snorted with laughter immediately. “No, little babe. That’s asparagus.” 

“Oh!”  

“Blimey, she’s Mims mark two.” Beth laughed, shaking her head as she finished drying her hair. Once bath fresh and towel swathed, the children were dried and dressed in their pyjamas, both gladly going to bed with little protest. This left the couple with approximately ten minutes to get changed, Alfie sauntering around their ensuite naked as the day he was born, hampering Beth’s progress with her makeup.  

“Got time for a quickie?” 

She scoffed, loading her blusher brush and giving it a little tap. “Darling, with you there’s no such thing. Besides, they’ll be here in less than five minutes, and I’ve got to get the starter in the oven.” Turning around, she sighed painedly, looking down to see a certain part of her husband pointing right at her. “Later. Promise.”  

Giving his cock a good squeeze, she evoked his rumbling groan, delighting his neck with a little nibble before heading into the walk in, pulling on her underwear, grey flared trousers and a simple cropped white sweater. She then remembered her meal choice and changed it for black. There was no way she fancied trying to get Bourguignon sauce out of pale cashmere, she thought, racing when she heard the doorbell chime. 

Clipping her gold hoop earrings in, she was just alighting the stairs when the bell sounded for a second time, Beth jogging down the remainder and jumping over a snoozing Cyril.  

“Where you bloody been?” Magda charged, kissing her cheek. “Shagging, were ya?” 

“Almost,” she winked, reaching to kiss Dennis and take the bottle of Bollinger he carried with him with thanks.  

“Sold that Aston Martin this morning, so I thought we’d celebrate, love,” he spoke, Beth congratulating him as she swung the door shut behind them, Cyril heaving himself up to welcome their guests. “Hello, old lad. Claus sends his regards.”  

Out of their four rottweilers, Claus was the only one who remained, just turned nine and much like Cyril, a lot slower on his feet. It didn’t stop him from showing their two newer dogs who was boss, though, the couple switching from their preferred breed when two beautiful Staffordshire bull terriers had come up for adoption at Battersea Dog’s Home. Magda had triumphed in bending Dennis’s ear about it until he’d finally relented, bringing home Marley and Karma almost two years ago.  

“Where’s me kids?” the lady herself cried, noticing the lounge empty of small people. 

“We put ‘em to bed, or if they’d seen their auntie there’s no way we’d ever have got them to go willingly,” Alfie spoke, opening his arms as he entered the lounge. “How are ya, Mags? Lookin’ gorgeous as ever.”  

“They’re half the flippin’ reason I came!” she joked, kissing his cheek. “And thanks, you nearly had me here in joggers and a t shirt. Been up to my fucking eyes with it all day, I have. Inventory. Beth! Has our Mimi brought them bloody shoes back, or have I got to go up Primrose Hill and lynch the soppy mare for ‘em? Had to include ‘em on the list without ‘em actually being there to save me flippin’ hide!” 

She breathed a sigh of relief when her bestie lifted the bag from behind the sofa, pointing to it. “Come on, come tell me all about your wardrobe woes while I get this champagne on ice.” 

Magda did not disappoint. The inventory of the wardrobe department was a huge undertaking, Magda spending the four days it took before everything was cleared ready for the new season’s attire to fill her sacred space catalogued and cleared out, the items heading back to their respective fashion houses.  

“So I’m there, right, and I’m yelling at the dopey cow that two C’s mean Chanel and two G’s mean Gucci, and if she can’t work that out then why the fuck is she trying to carve out a career in fashion in the first flippin’ place! Told her to go get me bloody coffee and have a think about it while she was gone. Honestly, these flamin’ bloody bastard people they send me to train!”  

Some things truly never did change. Magda had not softened at all, and Beth still found much entertainment in her various tirades against the newcomers to ELLE magazine. “And you wanna know the best part? Only fucking walks past Ralph Lauren during his visit and asks who he is!” 

Beth was aghast. “You’re bloody joking me!” 

“Babe, I nearly fell through the fucking floor!” Taking the champagne handed to her with thanks, she toasted her, pulling her cigarettes from her bag. “Just going for a quick smoke, back in a flash.”  

They had a truly lovely evening together, all discussing their impending break out to Santorini to escape the cold grey that was a winter in London, heading over for a week the day after Boxing Day, wanting to see in the New Year in the sunshine at Beth and Alfie’s luxurious villa.  

“I’ll still never forgive you, mate. Stoned and naked, chasing me down, you twat,” Dennis remarked, remembering back to the first time he and Magda had visited the island to stay within Alfie’s abode, the man himself roaring with laughter at the memory. God, it felt like it had been yesterday, yet nine long, fun filled years had passed in the time between.  

“At least you didn’t have him rubbing his cock all over your leg!” Magda snorted, Alfie winking. 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t bloody love it, Mags!” She pulled a kissy face at him, lifting her wine glass and taking a big gulp, washing down the remainer of her food. Beth truly had done a splendid job with everything.  

The pair stayed for coffee before heading home, Beth loading the dishwasher while humming to music playing on her phone, the feel of Alfie’s hands rubbing over her bum signalling his arrival in the kitchen.  

“Right, now it’s just us and you’ve got the dishes all seen to, it’s someone else’s turn for a bloody good seeing to. Know what I mean, treacle?”  

Oh, how she did.  

She only just about had the chance to add a tablet into the slot and kick the door shut before she was thrown over his shoulder, squealing as he smacked her bum with every step that took them up to their bedroom.  

They tumbled into a kiss, greedy, sinful, longing. All that they had once been hadn’t been diminished by marriage, children or time, their fires still burning as brightly as ever for one another. Making short work of their undress, they hit the bed in a tangle of limbs, Alfie quickly extracting himself to go and flick the lock on the bedroom door, save another embarrassed explanation to Abe over what they were doing.  

“Were you and mum wrestling?” the little lad had inquired, after his parents had hastily dressed upon the morning they’d been caught at it, back when he was five. 

Alfie had never cringed so hard in all his life. “Somat like that, my son.” It had been down to Beth to tentatively explain the birds and the bees, Alfie making himself scarce at speed. 

With any entry from small people prevented, he returned to the bed, grabbing Beth’s legs and lying himself between them, his mouth returning to hers with a hungry grunt. The noise had sparks fluttering through her core, the sound of her husband stirred by passion causing tingles to spark, the scent of her arousal intoxicating to him, his hand sliding down her body to cup at her. She gasped, biting his lower lip before their tongues danced wickedly again, a thick finger swiping at her folds, feeling her petals, the heat of her magmatic against him as he explored.   

“Been wanting this all fuckin’ evening, baby beast.” he panted, mouth slipping to her neck, pressing sumptuous, full-lipped kisses that made her shiver like a summer rose touched by the first chill of autumnal frost. 

A sob welled in her throat, pouring from her like wine as that thick digit pushed within, her glistening walls hugging upon it, eyes a burn of blue fire, body keening against his. God, how she still craved him with such unbridled hunger, their connection every inch as magmatic as it had ever been. She rocked against his hand, greedy for more, a second finger joining the first as he held her neck and returned his lips to hers, kissing her with unmatched thirst. 

He was rigid as iron against her hip, her hands smoothing over tattooed flesh, his muscles cording beneath her touch. She grasped him, pulling upward on his cock, sending a ripple through him that caused his chest to jolt. There was no touch more perfect than that of his wife. He breathed raggedly against the swirl of her tongue, head dipping, teeth sharp at her nipples in turn, fingers curling within her soaking cunt to rake exactly where she needed them to.  

She gasped words of longing, Alfie’s mouth descending in a path of loving, heated kisses, the taste of her skin like sweet berries upon his tongue, every touch a constellation laid over her pale curves, igniting her lust to burn like a forest fire. 

Her sex called to him like a siren through a dark, misty night, polarizing, screaming to him, his mouth descending to feast upon her. Closing his full lips around her glistening folds, he sucked upon her hungrily, the elixir of her pouring into his mouth as he tasted her, lost himself to her, felt himself burn to hear the aroused cadence of his beautiful wife.   

She tasted like sharp honey, womanly nectar seeping onto his tongue as he lapped at her in greed, craving more as he buried his mouth against her, her pale legs virtually knotting themselves around his head. Her wail filled the room in soft song, and the sound burned the edges of his very marrow, his heart skipping beats. 

Her hips rucked against his face, a rush of heat evoked by his tongue tracing never ending circles at her clit making her glow, the pleasure biting and throbbing, his hands roaming her all over. She felt besieged by all he bestowed upon her, the touch familiar but never boring. It never was with Alfie. Monotony was not a word heard of within their bedroom. 

Driving his tongue harder against her potent bundle, feeling the little bud beginning to quake under the unrelenting licks, he watched her, her body quivering as he caused a caustic rush. Glimmers began to skitter through her as he brought her to the brink of it, Beth teetering as he paused in tease, gently blowing upon her clit before sucking once again.  

She came apart with a feral cry, her thighs rigid, panting as her release washed over her in ceaseless waves. His lips tended a diligent path back to her mouth, cock daggering into her trembling centre, a rumbled gasp floating from his mouth to hers as he felt her walls fluttering around his girth.   

He stretched and filled her, hands weaving through the long dark of her hair, Beth moaning against each sweet kiss offered, tasting herself upon his mouth. The very flesh and blood of him drew out the primal need within her to give him everything and take what he so willingly poured into her. 

Their intense love and lust for one another collided in perfect alchemy, her slippery walls flexing around him as she glossed the thick cock splitting her wide, her wails like celestial music drifting into his mind as she wrapped her beautiful legs around him. Pushing into his chest, she turned him, Alfie hitting the bed with a thud and a chuckle.  

“Oh, so the duchess wants to be in charge for a bit, ay?”  

She grinned, leaning to him, offering kisses steeped in smoking honey. “Well, if there’s one person you relinquish control for.” 

She began to move against him with tantalising allure, her hips circling as she bore down on his length, little pricks of pleasure melting down her spine. It took diligence, but he was soon a mess beneath her, sweat streaking his tattooed flesh, his cock throbbing within the clench of her walls. Her movements became more focused, wanting to send him reeling into the blinding eclipse of pleasure, feel his enormity crest beneath her.   

The soaking clench of her cunt fluttered strongly around him, the pressure perfect as he felt it crackle furiously before the fire ripped through him completely. With his cock pulsing, he filled her of all which she milked from him, his head thudding back against the bed, gritted teeth finally relaxing as he swam in ecstasy.  

His soul floated somewhere above him, rendered a shaking wreck by her, colours illuminating behind his closed eyelids, everything fluid as the waves continued to wash through him, his heart thundering. She gentled her motions, coming to a stop, her walls flexing around him, but not in the same way as he knew would have had she reached the same cataclysmic finish as he, and for that, he would make much amends. 

They lay stroking one another, chattering, laughing as the night hours drew out. He needed a little more recovery time, now he’d hit his mid-forties, but once that was attained... 

Beth shrieked loudly as her back hit the bedroom wall, glad the children’s bedrooms were a fair enough distance for her yelp not to wake them, laughing excitedly. His mouth covered hers, her legs firm in their hug around his waist as his hands glided over her sweat slicked hair, hips beginning to drive forth into her burning centre. 

She wailed at the fever-hot intrusion of him, merciless in his delivery, fucked hard and fast against the wall coated in luxury paint. His groans spilled onto her tongue, swirling with his, her moans arrowing into the epicentre of his lust for her as he drove into her like a piston. 

Her elegant, dark red nails clawed at his back, marking him, the sting both sharp and sweet as he persisted in frantically building her up to inferno. For him, she would burn to her very bones and back. He’d never accepted any less. 

Alfie never would either. 

Her cries of abandon filled the air as he slowed his rhythm, backing off from a frenzied, merciless pounding of her cunt to a slow, purposeful movement, dragging every girthy inch of his cock in a sumptuously slow glide against her twitching walls.  

Spearing her again hard, he reached her hilt and shuddered with overwhelming desire, arms snaking beneath her trembling thighs to spread her wider, allowing him to bottom out deeper, filling her to the very summit of her cunt. He then slowed, everything potently drawn out, the tempest swirling slowly, but by no means less brutally.  

He was soaked in her slick, her walls hugging him snugly as he withdrew slowly once again, his cock glistening in the low light. It was almost too much to withstand for him, how hot she smouldered all over, but nowhere more so than her cunt. She was like magma around him, without the pain of an unhealable burn.   

Alternating, he drove into her hard again, balls smacking against her with a lewd slap as he began to fuck her frenziedly, Beth demanding he go harder, her nails once again clawing like a feral feline as she felt her ascension flood her body. Sparks skittered through her, her release the full moon rising over his dark horizon as she came apart for him with maddening intensity.   

He pounded her voraciously, giving her no time to recover from his afflictions, fucking her with consuming vigour. Her aroused cries grew louder, her voice breaking with fervour, each thrust the ignition for lightning to begin darting up her spine once more.    

“That’s it, baby. Come again for me.” He growled low in her ear, tongue brushing her throat and his hand fisting her clammy hair to yank her head back, the howl of release reverberating through his ear as his teeth implanted themselves into her shoulder, the pain adding to the overwhelming pleasure.    

Little tremors wracked his cock as he slowed again, wanting to experience those pleasurable twinges as intensely as possible. Re-establishing the surging pace, he let go of her hair and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to take the full, unyielding brunt of every acerbically delivered thrust.    

His groans were as low as rolling thunder, chasing the next release he knew she had for him. They were slick with sweat, bodies simmering, ready and willing to boil for one another again, the embers of their fuck growing, glowing, the fire roaring through them as he felt himself spill into the viscid clutch of her cunt as she shook hard through her own release.   

They swam in bliss together, alone in the bright light of orgasmic abandon, just him and her entwined, the rest of the world falling away. The sound of her soft exclamations through each laboured gasp brought him back from it, looking at her adoringly.  

“My Bethany. Still a little wild’un, ain’t ya, darlin?” 

Trying to catch her breath, she left out a comic huff, kissing the tip of his nose as he chuckled. “Always am for you, boo.” 

He carried her to the ensuite, both taking a quick, refreshing shower to cleanse the sweat which had beaded them, Beth pulling on a clean nightie and Alfie his pyjama bottoms, unlocking the door on the way back to the bed. Gone were the days of enjoying sleeping with nothing other than each other wrapped around their nakedness, now that they usually had early morning visitors to their bed.  

Whistle, beep, snore, grizzle, whistle, snore. Yes, they could only be the sounds of one person that awoke Alfie at 5:52am the following morning, pulling back the duvet to see Flora snuggled up beside him.  

“Ahh, ‘ello, Officer Jones,” he spoke, stroking her messy hair, Beth snorting with laughter at his side. 

“We have to let them watch those films at some point, they’ll love them,” she spoke, referring to the Police Academy films, one of the characters who of course her daughter seemed to take after in the sound effects department.  

“Yeah, when they’re a bit older,” he agreed, pulling back the duvet to see Abe snuggled in beside his mother. “Ahh, the other one found his way in too. Like homing beacons, innit?” 

Just then, the door was shunted open, their furry child ambling in and jumping up onto the foot of the bed, the family complete. Flora stirred, rubbing her eyes and smiling widely. “Cyril.” she croaked, crawling from under the covers, her fleecy security blanket within her grasp. Plonking herself down next to the gargantuan dog, she covered them both with the swathe of soft, grey fleece, kissing his head and wrapping her arms around his neck.  

“I suppose you’re going to get up and workout, hmm?” Beth asked, Alfie turning over and wrapping her in his arms, reaching to gently stroke Abe’s head.  

“Nah, love. I’m happy exactly where I am.” 

That went for all five of them. 

The End.  

#alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x ofc #modern alfie solomons #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders au #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons #alfie and beth

[ivystoryweaver]

Based on this request from @i-still-dont-like-your-face "I'd be interested in what you'd come up with for 'Making new traditions' for the non-holiday prompt list for any of the moon boys"

^ I wrote 2 answers for this ask. Read the fluffy drabble.

Summary: You and Jake don't celebrate the holidays in his car

Pairing: Jake Lockley x gn!reader

Word Count: 805

Content: nsfw, language, smoking, mentions of holidays but reader and Jake don't celebrate (and prefer it that way), oral- m. rec, creampie, car sex/semi-public sex implied

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Years had passed since Jake had even thought about a holiday as anything other than a night to drive people around shit faced from holiday parties. Christmas Eve was no big deal to him and he couldn't remember the last time Steven or Marc celebrated Hanukkah. December was just another month and that was fine by him.

He met you at a Halloween party. He wasn't celebrating that one either - he just wanted to make some good money.

Then he saw you.

You shared his cigarette and fucked him in his back seat. Nothing completely new. Honestly, he never planned to see you again but apparently, you ran in the same shady circles and kept the same ghastly hours.

By late November, you frequented his back seat (and his front seat, and the hood of his car). And you had somehow become the only one.

Jake asked if you had Thanksgiving plans. You told him he could stuff you full.

December rolled around and, honestly, Jake dreaded the thought of being dragged to a holiday gathering of any kind, especially one involving family.

He was a lone wolf.

Except he'd become a bit attached to you.

One night, he was driving you around, when the radio trolled an ancient Yule tide carol.

You groaned and asked to turn the station. Jake smirked to himself, obliging you, secretly pleased that you asked and didn't turn it yourself.

But there was one thing he had to know. "Have any holiday plans?"

"Like you fucking care," you chuckled, dragging your fingers up his inner thigh temptingly.

"I care if it involves me."

"Why would it?" You shrugged him off, boldly cupping his crotch.

He smirked.

"You do any of that shit? Christmas trees, menorahs? Or anything?" His breath hitched as attempted to ignore the trace of your fingertips raking back and forth.

"Or nothing," you flatly returned, rubbing him insistently, feeling him grow hard beneath your palm - the thick weight of him straining against his slacks.

"Don't see the point. December's just a month."

Silence engulfed the cool leather interior of Jake's car as you drove by a huge display of holiday lights.

You didn't even notice them as you popped the button of his trousers and dragged the zipper down.

"Fuck," he groaned as you pushed your fingertips under layers of fabric to find him hard and leaking for you.

Despite that fact that Jake was driving in a populated, holiday-lit area, you unbuckled your seatbelt and leaned over to swirl your tongue over his tip.

"Jesus...I'm driving," he hissed, the reflexive jerk of his hips 'accidentally' pushing his cock up into your waiting mouth.

You sucked hard, holding him inside your hot cavern, giggling around his length as you felt the car swerve and come to a stop.

"Fucking hell," he moaned as you stubbornly wrapped your hand around his base and swallowed his tip, bobbing your head up and down so intensely that Jake's gloved hand slapped the window.

"Mierda," he grunted, his other hand gripping the nape of your neck to shove you down.

You gagged so hard you couldn't think straight, but Jake was finishing what you started, his thick hips bucking up into your mouth deliciously.

You had planned to tease him a little but his gloved grip held you in place. You obliged him, refusing to tap his leg for a breather, loving to feel him lose control.

And he did, right down your throat. You swallowed every hot drop greedily, pulling off his softening member with a pop.

"Well, that was fast," you teased, licking your lips clean from the mess dribbling down them.

"Almost crashed the fuckin' car," he grumbled, stuffing himself back in his pants. Glancing around, he noticed a family of four strolling by, admiring the holiday displays around them.

"Guess we could have picked a better spot," you admitted, noticing how nothing was hidden with lights this bright.

Jake's eyes found yours and he winked.

"We can give 'em a show."

You found yourself laughing, which wasn't something you really ever did in December.

"I think we should," you agreed, climbing across his lap without invitation, and sealing your mouth to his.

Your body melded with his under the bright lights, and you went right on making out until eventually Jake was ready to take you right there in the front seat, not stopping until you both slumped against the seat, exhausted.

"We should do this every December," he joked a while later, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Make it a tradition."

You curled up on his chest, spent and sated.

"You still want me around next December?" You questioned, your voice sounding smaller and more hopeful than you intended.

He cupped your face and turned your gaze up to his. "Yeah. I think I do."

Non-Holiday Prompts - check out this list, OP did a great job with it

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[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 16

word count: 466

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

December 24, 1988

Dear Will,

For as long as I can remember after becoming friends with you, I’ve spent Hanukkah with your family, and you’ve spent Christmas with mine. I’m not sure when exactly this tradition started, but I think it stemmed from me being a whiny little shit as a kid. It was probably along the lines of something about feeling left out. I’m not even Jewish, and you’re not Christian (neither am I at this point, if I’m being completely honest with you), but we make it work.

Hanukkah at your place was great this year. Your mom’s cooking was fucking legendary, which is kind of funny, because on any other day, she wouldn’t be caught dead in a kitchen. But Hanukkah is different. And I’m glad that she raised you and Jonathan to embrace your Jewish identity. I think it’s pretty admirable.

Speaking of admirable; I have absolutely no idea how you got through tonight in one piece. I’m barely holding it together. You know how I talked in one of these letters about that grace you have during horrible situations that helps you persevere? You certainly had it tonight. I fucking wish I had that.

Every time my dad said something related to his objection to having you over, or how art was a terrible career path to take, or how we weren’t to do any funny business later (which we weren't going to do anyway, because we aren't dating), I wanted to fucking lunge across the table and strangle him. Every time I found myself teetering on the edge of murder trying to stand up for you, though, you’d put your hand on my leg under the table and run your thumb against my knee, almost as if to say, I can take it, Mike, don’t worry. But I do worry. You deserve so much more than what you can simply “take.” And I hate that my dad has the sheer audacity to insult you like that, even on a fucking holiday. He has no chill.

…Well, neither do I right now, so the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I guess.

Anyway, I’m just writing this to thank you for helping me keep my cool. If it weren’t for you, I probably would have ruined the night with some indignant squawking about how you’ve been through enough and how my dad’s remarks were nothing short of dense. But I’m glad I didn’t blow up, or else you probably wouldn’t be too keen on staying over into tomorrow morning like you usually do. I really hope you like the gift I got for you. Spoiler alert: it’s a new set of pastels. And no, you can’t not accept them, because I threw out the receipt.

Merry Christmas, Will.

Love,

Mike

-

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