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hurryupmerlin · 7 months

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, COREY!!

I was thinking "hey, what could I get Cor for his special day?" and someone said "a birthday cake." And I was like "what were you saying? A PWP fic about two traumatised PTSD-stricken clones having sex?" "No, that's absolutely not what I—" "On its way!"

Mal belongs to @riinoaheartilly

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The best thing about life as a deserter might be the afternoon naps. To be able to sleep when you're tired, to not have to torture yourself beyond your breaking point every day in cold mud holes and trenches, where you’re always in danger of not waking up if you allow yourself the weakness of sleep; that's a luxury he would hate to give up again.

No, wait. He needs to correct himself. The very best thing just walked through the door and is now headed for him. Warm autumn light shines through the small window, giving Ami's skin a golden glow. Mal smiles through heavy eyelids, the remnants of sleep still crumbly in the corners of his eyes.

“Good timing,” he says and extends a hand in invitation, “just woke up.”

Ami is wearing nothing but a thigh-length linen tunic that is way too big for him and Mal wonders where he got it, until he sees the telltale misweave near the hem and recognizes it as his own. Either way, it suits him.

The young man's movement pattern is tense though, he takes small tight steps, his face is unusually red.

"What have you been up to now again?" Mal asks with a snort.

Ami wordlessly climbs onto the bed with him and is met by strong arms that wrap him in a loving embrace. The slender body naturally nestles against Mal's flank and Mal dips his head to place a welcoming kiss on Ami's temple.

“Don’t wanna talk?” Mal tries and Ami shakes his head where it rests on Mal’s shoulder.

A beat. Then: “You are not allowed to talk either, okay?” Ami says it so softly, Mal needs a moment to process what he was just instructed to do.

“Okay.”

“You can say ‘stop’ anytime. But nothing else, yes?”

“Yes, Sir,” Mal quips, curious now.

For a moment nothing happens, as if Ami needs time to collect himself. Then a hand comes to rest on Mal’s crotch and the trooper skips a breath. There's not much hesitation after that. It's happening so fast, Mal can hardly adjust his thoughts to the situation. Expertly, Ami works him to excitement with nothing but a firm palm over coarse fabric, and shortly after, Mal is squirming so eagerly that Ami cranes to meet him for open-mouth kisses, giving him a counter-sensation to concentrate on.

"Ami, y—" Mal pants but he is cut off with a noise of disagreement, shushing him. He follows the directive again, closing his mouth ostentatiously and instantly gets rewarded.

A whole new sensation rocks through him as Ami's licked hand slips under his pants. He is warm, but on Mal's searing hot skin the touch seems almost cool around his shaft, gentle fingers curling, releasing, lazily stroking him.

Hardly anything is left of Ami's initial shyness. He works Mal routinely and willingly in slow strokes down, and sloppy but heartfelt kisses up; and Mal has no idea what he has done to deserve this benefaction but he gladly accepts it.

His body doesn’t even try to hide how much he enjoys it, sedulously growing under Ami's doing. Every stroke pushes him further to full size and when Mal doubts it can get any better, his lover dives down to pull Mal's pants to his knees and closes spit-soaked lips around him. Well, he literally stands corrected, because he quickly learns that up to this point he wasn't yet as hard as he could get. He files it as a pleasant lesson.

By now he's reduced to whimpers, biting back 'yes please's he's not allowed to vocalize, and all he can do is focus on not jerking into Ami's mouth like a proper bastard, despite how much his hips tremble with the need to. Clinging to his composure keeps getting more difficult the longer Ami teases him. He can't remember the last time he was this turned on, or this hard.

He could come like this, wants to come like this, wants to see Ami gulp him down, all soft lips and tongue and red cheeks. The muscles in his thighs tense – and suddenly, Ami releases him from his hot mouth. He nearly complains at the abrupt loss of pleasure, but in the end, all he does is throw his head back on the pillow with a pitiful sigh.

Ami looks up with big eyes full of tentativeness and Mal can’t help but smile at the adorable sight. With a gentle tug on his shoulders he gestures him to come up and Ami follows his request, crawling on top of him to snuggle against his chest.

“That was nice,” Mal rasps, heart still pounding from the excitement.

Because it really was nice. Completely different from sex with Bruiser, with whom his main concern used to be how to get him to finally shut his fucking face and cum as quickly as possible. This isn’t a hate fuck.

Ami makes a disagreeing noise in response to the words, placing his index finger on Mal’s lips. Mal’s eyebrows shoot up. We’re not done yet, huh?

He gets his answer in the form of a long kiss that turns from sweet to passionate over the course of minutes. Ami tastes like him at first and that’s something Mal hadn't considered a kink of his, but now that he got a sample, he wants Ami to taste like him all over.

Somehow, the boy has managed to position himself on Mal’s lap, straddling him as he sits up, and Mal gets overly aware of what position he’s in when a bolt of arousal shoots through him yet again, making him gasp into Ami’s mouth. Ami grinds against him and as it turns out, he’s really wearing nothing but that damn tunic, they’re skin on skin now, cocks brushing against each other, and Mal’s head is spinning so violently, all he can do is place his hands flat on Ami’s thighs in a desperate attempt to ground himself enough as not to just come right there and then and prematurely ruin it all.

Ami shifts his hips, an expression of topmost concentration furrows his brow. He leans slightly forward and upward, bracing himself next to Mal's chest with one hand while reaching for Mal's dick with the other and… the noise Mal makes when Ami alings them is unholy. Ami's cleft is already wet, all slicked up and ready for him, and it trickles slowly into Mal's brain that the answer to 'what have you been up to?' was and is: 'I prepared to have sex with you and went through with it.'

Which is a thing that doesn’t fit Ami at all, Mal wonders. His Ami is shy smiles and innocent giggles and— so fucking sexy how he completely loses control over his face as he eases himself onto Mal's length, with his eyes closed shut tightly and mouth slightly open, making broken little noises of half-pleasure, half-pain.

There's not much Mal can do to make it easier for him. He tries to hold his legs still and helplessly lets his hands roam over Ami wherever he can reach. The need to see and feel more of this amazing human being drowns him. He goes for the hem of the tunic, lifting up the fabric – and Ami's eyes snap open.

Slender hands curl around both his wrists and Mal lets go of the fabric, which cues Ami to intertwine their fingers and, with a stifling sob, settle deep onto Mal's lap.

A shuddering breath leaves Mal's lungs. He didn't know it could feel like this to be with someone, but he likes it more than he ever would've thought. For once no malice, no hurry to get done with it, no leaning against the next best cold surface, no fists and pain and harsh words just to feel something. Instead, now it almost feels too blissful. It fogs his brain, brings his core to a burn. It's horribly slow and yet not slow enough. Somewhere in him blossom feelings that are new and heavy and sweet, and maybe the tender little plant can become more, maybe it is enough for a sturdy garden that could survive even this freezing winter of obstacles they face.

For a brief moment, Ami's eyes flutter open, taking in the man under him. And if the slight tremor in his body tells anything, it must be that he shares the sentiment.

As soon as he's used to the stretch, his hips start moving. He lets them roll over Mal in a cautious half-thrust and Mal gives in to his desires, jerks up to meet him, coaxing deliciously sweet moans out of his lover as much as himself.

It's careful and loving, full of restraint at first, then they find an angle that fits and Ami loosens up, gets more demanding in the way he moves and Mal is happy to deliver whatever the other needs. They change rhythm ever so often when it gets too intense, when Ami's voice breaks off in desperate whines and Mal's thrusts become so frantic he has to halt altogether until his brain clears.

He plants his feet on the mattress which is giving him more leverage to roll up against Ami. And Ami, good, honest Ami finally does what Mal so desperately wants him to do – he breathes out something that very much sounds like Mal's name. He's gone so thoroughly by now, it takes him a while to come to awareness of what he's repeating over and over, that he's breaking his own rules, but then he lets go of the cybernetic hand to bite down on his own fist and with this, biting back any noises at all, much to Mal's keen disappointment.

Mal reaches for his hand again, pries it away to place light kisses on strained knuckles without taking his eyes off Ami. Their gazes are firmly anchored on each other and Ami's worry only shows in the way he works his lower lip with his teeth until it is swollen and crimson. The sight makes Mal smile again, and for Ami that's enough of an invitation to dip down and kiss him breathless.

Mal closes his arms around him, squeezes him tightly, and allows his hands to start wandering. His fingers cautiously ask permission as they slip under the tunic, lingering briefly. To his surprise, Ami allows it, and Mal's hands explore further, stroking over soft skin and palpable ribs until he dares reach forward, closing his hands around Ami's cock that was caught uselessly between their bellies. With a sigh, Ami hides his face against Mal's shoulder, but he keeps the rhythm they settled on, rocking against Mal in fast, deep movements.

The tension in his abdomen boils up. Mal wonders if he's allowed to warn him that he's feeling the buildup approach overrun, if it would upset Ami if he'd speak up or if it would be worse to take him at advantage like that. But the way Ami clings to him – closer than Mal has ever let anyone get to him – gives him confidence that maybe they really don't need that many words after all.

He makes a little noise and Ami catches on immediately, hums approvingly in response. Mal can feel the chuckle against his shoulder, kisses Ami's neck and Ami's now slow-paced movements draw out even longer as he feels Mal pulse inside of him.

The orgasm washes through Mal like a wave of electricity. His hands snap to Ami's hips, holding him still as he pumps into him, silent pleas of ecstasy written on his face, followed by mute curses of overstimulation, bracing himself with shuddering legs, chasing and letting it go until he's lying there boneless, reduced to heaving breaths and sweat.

He hardly had a chance to enjoy his afterglow when Ami stirs, detaches himself from him, unpinning the fingers still on him and Mal looks up.

"Well, that was… not how I had imagined our first time." He tries to lighten the strangely tense mood with a half-laugh. He'd never complain about the initiative, no objections to a surprise fuck. But when he had fantasized about sleeping with Ami, it had always involved a lot more romantic atmosphere, naked skin and words of praise.

To his utmost horror, tears start forming in the brown eyes he's looking into.

"Ami…," he tries, reaching out, but Amiss is crying now as if he unplugged a dam, backing away from the touch as Mal reaches out a hand to him and Mal's stomach twists in shock.

"I'm sorry," Ami croaks, throat tight, "I'm so sorry. I know it's selfish. I wanted to sleep with you so badly and I ruined it."

Mal is so appalled that the "what?!" that bursts out of him is far too loud for the quiet room. Ami flinches like a dog used to a beating and when Mal tries to make up for his mistake, wants to kiss him and calm him down, Ami jumps out of bed. His legs don't support him yet, still too shaky from the effort, and Mal gets up to look over the edge of the mattress where the cute idiot he fell in love with is sitting on the floor looking utterly crestfallen. For a hot second, Mal is on the verge of panic. He hates seeing Ami like this and he hates even more that he’s the reason for it, but the whole situation is so ridiculously wrong it's really hard to stay serious about it.

"I didn't mean it," Mal says, voice like dripping honey. "You didn't ruin anything. Please come back to me."

Pretty eyes look up to him through wet lashes. When Ami makes no move, Mal decides he's not gonna let Ami humiliate himself any longer, and he gets out of bed to pick the fightless boy up bridal-style. He still weighs frighteningly little, Mal notices. Carefully, he sets Ami down on the sheets and lies with him, cautiously approaching, inch by inch, until Ami turns to face him and closes the gap to bury his face in Mal's chest. It’s a relief he feels in every limb.

Mal's hand strokes dark bristles of hair, just grown out enough to let his fingers comb through.

"It was different than I thought it would be. But it was still amazing. You are amazing."

Amiss is curling into a ball against him and Mal chuckles.

"Wanna try it with speaking next time?"

"Next time?"

"I mean, I hope there's a next time. If you want."

"Yes…"

"Do you want to finish?" Mal offers, his hand gliding over Ami's hip, directed towards his front but Ami shakes his head no with a little noise and Mal keeps petting his side instead.

They lie like that for a while. At some point, Mal has the mind to pull the covers over them and from then on Ami starts to gradually uncurl in the warmth.

He wonders what's up with the two sides of this coin. How a man who certainly has a fair share of sexual experience according to the way he acts, at the same time seems so frightened by his own needs. Mal hopes he gets the chance to find out one day.

Eventually he asks, "Are you going to flee if I get up?" There's concern seeping through Mal's voice that he had planned to conceal. "I'll go get something to clean you up."

The concept of aftercare seems utterly foreign to Ami if the look of confusion is any hint. Ami only agrees after Mal reassures him with a kiss that drags on longer than he had planned for. Ami keeps chasing after his lips for seconds and thirds and Mal just gives in every time like a lovesick airhead. But who could blame him? He needs to hear it.

"I'll stay."

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ukulelehitter · 6 months

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I can't paint for 6 weeks but what i can do is put cayenne pepper on peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It's pretty good honestly

#i toasted the bread also #sprinkling a little cayenne pepper in hot chocolate is also good as hell #but you have to mix it with the hot chocolate powder or itll just float on top

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existingonthisplane · 1 year

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Random idea that I need to say now before I forget but

Ice cream parlor employee Mike x Café Barista Will

Imagine, Mike getting off after work, he’s freezing because for some reason where he works they believe they’ve got to freeze the employees as much as the ice cream.

He decides to stop by the café near his apartment, it’s pretty empty giving the time of night but Will is still there working. Mike can’t help but think he fits in with his warm brown hair and soft looking sweater.

He orders something he can’t remember and spends the rest of his time there staring at the cute guy behind the counter

(I made this TWO days ago and I thought tumblr deleted it, I was so sad, but it’s HERE in a

✨ r e s t o r e d✨

draft!!!! :D )

#this is so random #it really is just an imagine #idk where I’d even go with this #I’m a sucker for pining Mike #Will is also pining but I can’t write it atm since I’m supposed to be doing something else #byler #byler imagines #byler fic #mike wheeler #will byers #I am so tired haha #I feel like o have been floating since like 2 days ago and it shows in all of my conversations:D #look all I’m saying is Will is chocolate and peanut butter personified #he is cozy hot chocolate in the fall >:l #he is warm energy in cool weather #and Mike is just appreciating these facts in a very gay way #let him have his silly crush on the silly barista across from his parlor >:0000 #(I’m saying this like any of y’all are arguing with me)#stranger things

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blujayonthewing · 1 year

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[logs into vistaprint to look at our christmas card from four years ago because I put the hot chocolate recipe I invented from scratch on the back and I can't be fucked to go downstairs and look for where I have it actually written down]

#I had to invent my own hot chocolate one time BECAUSE we didn't have any hot chocolate mix #and the store might have been out? or they only had those single serve packets maybe? I can't remember #and all the recipes I could find use cocoa powder which I've never ever had success with...#it never incorporates properly in my experience it's always just hot milk with some powder floating around in it #I have no idea why hot cocoa mix Works but anyway #MINE you actually melt chocolate chips #and it whips ass #but I haven't made it that way in A While because it's a little more of a pain in the ass than you know...#scoop some powder and add Hot Wet lmao #gotta get a pot dirty. stand around the stove for an amount of time. make sure the milk doesn't boil. you know how it is #anyway I have screenshotted and saved the recipe so I don't have to go scrounging around vistaprint for it anymore lmao #about me

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milomeepit · 6 months

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why does the universe give the hardest trials to the silliest gays

#im coming off nightshift and forgot my headphones for my train ride home so i bought a chocolate bar from a vending machine #but i hit the wrong button and dispensed the empty slot next to the one i wanted #plus side!! there is a number i could call. spoke to a lady that reset the machine so i could get my chocolate :)#terrible news. it was hot today. the chocolate bar is a hollow puddle of floating cookie pieces within the wrapper #:( @world im already tired and have chest pain from too much caffeine today can i have one nice thing please #rambles

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penultimatestalematewithdeath · 1 year

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#food #inspired by all those southern food polls floating around #pennsylvania dutch #ideal breakfast is hot chocolate and toast with eggs scrapple and potatoes #tbh i was shocked that people didn't know what a fluffernutter was

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gertritude · 1 year

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hot cocoa bombs sound delicious but in practice it's like. All that chocolate is not going to mix properly with a giant mug of milk!!!

#THERES GONNA BE LITTLE BITS OF CHOCOLATE FLOATING EVERYWHERE [crying]#i like to put a mix of chocolate + hot cocoa mix + cocoa powder in the mug with a little bit of milk #stir. heat in microwave for 45-60 seconds. stir until chocolate is melted #then slowly add in as much milk as u want and microwave for two minutes #slurp slurp #also some extra salt or peppermint/vanilla is good

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missacensnakelover · 1 year

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The Gangreen Gang all here enjoying Baskin Robbins ice cream in the hot tub here!

Made by me! (x)

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transgnckon · 2 years

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My family trying to plan a trip to Disneyland PLEASE PLEASE I WANT TO GO DURING THE HOLIDAY SEASON AGAIN my plan starts now

I need to actually see Panchito I need to see my dad

#txt #i got to hug José back in 2019 which is everything to me but panchito wasn’t there 😭😭😭#also I love peppermint stuff I got peppermint hot chocolate float & peppermint mint ice cream my beloveds

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selfmetime · 1 year

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Air Fountain: The Revolutionary Device That Extracts 10 Gallons of Water a Day from Dry Desert Air - Never Run Out of Water Again!

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oversizedclothesdemon · 1 year

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So uh

To anyone who hasn't used their hot cocoa sets yet and said hot cocoa sets have caramel bits

They don't float, they plop in, yes I was disappointed, no the disappointment didn't last that long.

#hot cocoa #hot chocolate #hot cocoa set #not important #just wanted to say it to anyone with the same floating caramel bits dreams I had

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nerdpoe · 1 year

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Danny and Dani and Dan get Alfreded in three fell swoops

So like, sad time, but Alfred dies while Bruce is doing his world tour. He never survived long enough to see Bruce become Batman. Died alone in the Manor, after a particularly nasty fall and a broken neck.

But that was unacceptable.

Master Bruce, insufferable boy, could not lose another paternal figure in his life. Also the Manor was still a mess, and Bruce would need someone to make sure he didn't accidentally poison himself.

So he hid his corpse on the Manor grounds, and got to work.

And he was so glad he stayed; sure, it had taken a bit to stop glowing, but really the floating thing was amazingly helpful in reaching the chandelier, and after Master Bruce had returned he had gotten so many grandchildren.

Fast forward; Danny defeated Pariah Dark, he is Crown Prince of the Infinite Realms, Dan is attempting reformation and is technically a Prince by relation, and Dani is attempting to be Dan's parole officer and is definitely a Princess 100% she never forgets that no sir.

And Danny gets approached by some of the Observants, and they tell him that there is a very powerful ghost in Gotham, one that fully and completely blends in with humans and really needs to come to the Infinite Realms to complete his paperwork. But whenever they show up, this ghost thinks that they're there to force him to stay in the Infinite Realms.

And he kicks their asses.

Brutally.

For a bit he had a tiny kid ghost with him kicking their asses as well, but the kid randomly disappeared one day.

The Observants very clearly outline that this ghost is not Gotham herself, although the tax-evading criminal has been seen having tea with her.

Danny has no desire to deal with this; he just graduated high school and needs to focus on what college he's going to choose, so if Dan or Dani want to throw hands with some weird Gotham Ghost then by all means. Fuck taxes anyways, what did the Zone even take for taxation, what-?

So Danny splits his time college hunting and trying to find out how tax laws work in the Ghost Zone.

Dani goes to the old man first, and Alfred promptly sits her down and gives her cookies and hot chocolate, treats her like the kid she's never been treated like between Vlad and all of the Zone focusing on the Princess thing, and she feels at home for the second time in her half-life.

Dani gets a call from a nervous Observant, and promptly tells him she isn't going back either so nyah.

Dan goes to pick her up, and Alfred asks him if he is quite alright, he looks rather tense, and that if it is a fight he wants then the Justice League could probably use a new member, after all Alfred knows an upstanding young man when he sees one, and clearly Dan just needs a chance to prove to himself that he can be good.

Just like another young man Alfred knows.

Dan gets a call from a nervous Observant, and tells them that he's a little busy stopping an alien invasion, and is a tentative member of the Justice League now so he doesn't have time for their bullshit.

Also fuck taxes.

Finally, Danny has no choice.

He goes to drag this random old man and his little sister back to the Zone himself.

Alfred takes one look at him and slowly slides a flier for Gotham University across the kitchen island.

"Your younger sister speaks well of you," the dead butler says, eyes beaming, "and I believe that, given what she has said, you qualify for one of the Wayne Educational Grants for a full ride, so to speak."

Alfred never gets dragged into the Ghost Zone, although eventually he does learn that they weren't trying to drag him into the Land of the dead but were just trying to get him to do paperwork.

He never goes.

Bruce, however, is very fucking confused as to where these strange kids came from.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #story idea #little too specific to be a general prompt #just an idea

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infictionalwonderland · 11 months

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hot physiotherapist | j.potter

SUMMARY, james has a rugby accident and has to take physiotherapy - he’s pretty down about, but all that depressions forgotten as soon as he sees you, his physiotherapist. why had he not done this sooner?

James Potter was miserable.

A very odd occurrence, although it did happen (evidently). He was pouting the whole way as Remus drove them to the physiotherapists, Sirius was giggling to himself in the backseat the whole time—Remus, ever the angel he was, tried to cheer James up by giving him complete control over the music in the car and even greeting him with his coffee order and a chocolate croissant.

James was still miserable.

“Have fun, darling boy!” Sirius chirped out the window as James got out of the car, “try not to break any bones on your way in. God forbid you need physiotherapy.”

He burst out into borderline manic cackles and fell down completely into the row of backseats, never one to wear his seatbelt as he hated being constricted—James glared with upmost venom and hatred at the backseat windows, Tarzan looking cunt.

“I hope everything goes well.” Remus’ voiced gently, shooting his boyfriend a blank stare even as he tried to stop his own amusement. “D’ya want me to fetch you any food or anything for you when you come out?”

“No. Thanks.”

Remus winced.

James was still miserable.

He trotted his way indoors, cursing inside his head at the shooting pains all up his back and his hips, with the largest pout there ever was he made his way over to the reception and told them who he was—why he was here, before behind asked to take a seat in one of the rooms where he would be joined shortly by the physiotherapist.

He sat, frowning at the large room with equipment and soft turquoise coloured walls for a short about of time and then the door opened.

And then his world stopped.

In you stepped. . your hair was tugged into a low ponytail, front strands out of the pony to frame your face. He had died, he was certain. Your skin looked so soft, the beaming white lights giving you the most heavenly glow, he was sure you were an actual angel. Your eyes gleamed beautifully, and he was lost in the exact shade of them—trying to pinpoint every little detail and speck of colour. Your lips were pulled into such a fucking lovely smile, he could’ve melted (he did melt). Even from where you stood in the door, he was greeted in the pleasant aroma of your perfume and he felt like he was floating.

Your mouth was open—oh my god he was missing an opportunity to hear your voice—wait, what had you been saying. Balls.

“Um—h—muhuh?”

Double balls.

Your beautiful smile didn’t even waver in the slightest, though, amusement weaved it’s way into your eyes and created a mesmerising pattern into your irises that he forever engraved into his memory.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr Potter! My names Y/N and I’ll be your physiotherapist for the foreseeable future.” You grinned, walking closer to him, “Hopefully.”

Wha—was that flirting? No! You had said it in a normal tone, like Hi I hope I stay your physiotherapist because it is literally my job, James and I enjoy it. But—yeah, no. It was like that. You were so close to him now—so so much more beautiful up close, he didn’t think that was even humanly attainable.

“Yeah—i—I hope so too, ma’am.”

MA’AM?!

Somebody sedate me, he thought.

You didn’t seem thrown off or even slightly offended, or disgusted by him. Which was, good, really, really good.

Instead, you let out this little bubbly burst of laughter and fucking hell, James knew from that point he was gone and could never return. His eyes were probably comically wide and maybe in literal heart shapes but he could truly care less. He look at you in awe—your nose scrunched when you laughed, your eyes squinted and to James you just became even more perfect.

“Please, call me Y/N—Ma’am sounds overly American anyway—“

“Would you prefer Miss?”

I’m never leaving the house again.

You blinked.

He almost stumbled to his knees in apology though that would obviously only give you the impression he was more of a creep than you already thought he was—but—hold on. He watched, mouth falling open just slightly, as your cheeks flushed a very very pretty pink and your mouth formed into the cutest smile he’d ever seen in his entire life.

He was definitely leaving the house again, and it was going to be to come here everyday.

“Just Y/N is fine, thank you for being so considerate though.” You laughed teasingly.

“Can I be upgraded to just James?”

“Oh? You don’t want to he called miss? Or Ma’am?” You grinned at him, white teeth glistening from under your full lips, cheeks turning a faint rosy shade under the strength of your grin and a strand of hair swooping in front of your eye. He was in love. “Or, Sir maybe?”

Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

James is one hundred percent that he would’ve fallen over fast first had he been standing and he’s never been more thankful he’s not. He can feel his cheeks turn red—his face heating up to an embarrassingly tomato red state at an embarrassingly quick rate.

“Nah—Ju—Just James, please.” He huffed out, moving the material of his shirt dramatically off his chest and fanning himself. “Is—um, is it hot in here or is just you? Me! Is it just me?!”

You smile at him, adorably crinkle eyed and slightly pink cheeked, looking every bit the goddess and the angel James already knew with certainty that you were.

James Potter was, as it turns out, no longer miserable.

In fact, he can’t wait for his next appointment.

#james potter #james potter x you #james potter imagine #james potter x y/n #james x reader #james x you #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #the marauders #marauders #marauders imagine #the marauders imagine #sub james potter #james potter smut #remus lupin #sirius black

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honeykaes · 6 months

Text

masked fantasy

slasher!lyney x reader II 2.8k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, modern au, implied!yandere, implied murder, fingering, cunnilingus, use of toys, creampie, overstimulation, dacryphilia, praise pussydrunk!lyney, established relationship, gaslighting/manipulation, mention of blood, unedited

synopsis: you've been on edge lately seeing news report after news report of people killed by a masked pierrot serial killer, targeting people you seemed to vaguely know. your boyfriend, lyney, insists you drop it and focus on him instead to try to get your mind off of things. you listen, but something in the pit of your stomach continues to nag at you.

Gloomy clouds above hid the stars and the moonlight above. Rain loudly padded against the windows, a small waterfall streaming down it. You snuggled into your blanket further on the couch in an attempt to knock the chill away from the living room. A sigh emitted from your lips watching the 6:00 p.m. news report of yet another murder in your town from a masked serial killer. This wouldn’t very unique to some; however, you began to notice a pattern

The media and detectives have deemed him the Pierrot—a serial killer who dons a French Carnival-Style Jester mask. Reports from the police said he’s still at large and seemed to be killing indiscriminately, but you knew a little better. The photos of the victims all shared one thing in common with you, you had vaguely known them in the past.

One was an old high school classmate, another was a teacher's assistant who once assisted your professors in college, another was a barista worker from a cafe you sometimes go to, even old childhood friends you haven’t spoken to for years. You wanted to chalk it up to a weird coincidence but the pit in your stomach churned, discouraging you to relax.

You worry whoever this masked killer was, he was working his way to you.

Thunder suddenly boomed in the sky, causing your body to jolt from the noise. You let out a sigh; the stress seemed to finally be getting to you.

Your boyfriend walked in, an amused but concerned smile on his face. You and Lyney had been dating for a while now, meeting in college when you decided to study abroad in France. Eventually, you moved into his place that he shared with his two siblings—his twin sister Lynette and his adoptive younger brother Freminet.

Things were great with Lyney. He was doting, caring, and amusing as well. He made you happy; he felt real. He was someone you could imagine marrying maybe in a year or two.

“You alright? You seem a bit jumpy today,” he hummed, handing you a mug of hot chocolate. The aroma of the milk chocolate made your mouth water as marshmallows floated on top. You flash a small smile, taking the mug for him and taking a sip—hoping the warm liquid would coax your anxiety.

“Honestly, not really. The whole Pierrot serial killer thing has been really bothering me lately. I vaguely know the victims, albeit there aren’t people I know like that or associate myself with now. But, still! I recognize them,” you sighed, looking at the reflection of your mug. Lyney’s face slightly softened at your confession.

“...I’m scared that the killers are actually targeting me. Like this is some fucked up mind game or whatever. I’m scared it’ll also mean the people that I currently care about are in danger too. …like you,” you muttered. Lyney chuckled slightly before you looked up at him and narrowed your eyes. He covered his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter, murmuring apologies as he tried to calm down.

“Darling, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Besides, you have your amazing, attentive, loveable, strong boyfriend here to help. I’m here to protect both you and my siblings,” he chimed, leaning in to peck your forehead. You side-eye the man as he plopped down next to you on the couch, placing his mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table. He grabbed some of the blankets covering your lower body, getting in close to cover his form as well. Your thighs and sides pressed together as he smiled.

“I don’t know if a shortie like you will be able to fight off a psychopath,” you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Slight annoyance flashed through Lyney’s amethyst eyes as he pouted.

“You’d be surprised…” he muttered. You chuckled once more before leaning in to kiss Lyney’s plush cheek as his eyes softened in affection.

“Well, let’s just lighten the mood. We were going to watch Halloween special shows after all,” Lyney chimed, leaning over to grab the remote and change the television. That was right, today was supposed to be your date night. Freminet was having a sleepover with some of his friends and Lynette, begrudgingly, went out to give you two some space.

You felt Lyney’s hands underneath the blanket stroke against your thigh. At first, it was his thumb, before his whole hand slowly crept up and down. You gazed flickered to his that were glued to the television screen, albeit they were half-lidded and a smirk fell on his now rosy face.

“Well, aren’t you a bit touchy,” you murmured.

“Oh, am I? I didn’t seem to notice,” he hummed back, turning his gaze towards you. As he leaned in close—lips hovering by your own—a cell phone rang loudly. Your body jolted up once more, not expecting the sudden noise as anxiety shot throughout your entire body. Lyney flashed a sympathetic smile as a soft chuckle echoed out. He padded your thigh to try to comfort you, reaching out to grab his phone that was ringing out.

“We got to get you to relax, mon amour,” he murmured. He got up from his seat, walking away from your form.

Guilt gnawed on your body. You felt bad for being so anxious lately from this serial killer like your body is completely on edge as if you were a rabbit in the den of wolves, but you shouldn’t.

“I’m in my home. I am with my loving boyfriend. I am okay, I am safe,” you whispered out to yourself. Eventually, Lyney walked back in, and settled back to his spot on the couch.

“That was Lynette. She said that she would be coming home around midnight. It gives us plenty of time if you want this that is,” he stated, letting his hands trail across your thighs. You smiled, placing your hands on his cheeks. The corners of his lips curved up, leaning his head against your touch.

“I think a distraction would be good for me,” you whispered. His nose brushed against yours, lips hovering to where they once were before the interruption.

“Then forget all your troubles and leave everything to me…”

His lips finally found themselves to your own and you brought him closer to you. Your legs widened as his knees sank against the cushion of the couch to lean to you, deepening the kiss. Your hand reached over, softly grazing the crotch of his pants feeling his half-hardened cock pressing against his jeans. A soft moan escapes his lips, still connecting with yours before he parts away, and trails them along the nape of your neck.

“We…need to go to the bedroom,” Lyney groaned, continuing to kiss down your neck and nibble at the sensitive skin. Your body shivered, and you bit your lip to hide the smile creeping on your face.

“Oh, but you’re the one who has me pinned down here,” you reminded. With a grunt and pout, Lyney leaned back up, grabbed your hand, and found his way to your lips once more. The two of you bumped into walls—taking each other’s clothing off, leaving a trail to your shared bedroom. Lyney pushed you down on the bed as he slowly crawled on top of you with a mischievous smile.

“You seem so eager now. What’s the difference, chérie?” he hummed, dragging his lips across your thighs. His hands squeezed at your thighs as his lips finally trailed along the plush flesh. His hand reached to cup your cunt earning a soft moan from you as he nipped at your thighs.

“You seemed to be a great distraction, I guess,” you whined, grinding your core into his hand to encourage him to stop teasing you. Lyney playfully rolled his eyes, letting his two longest fingers sink inside your cunt, drilling them to precision and skill.

“‘I guess’” he mocked. “You, out of anyone, should know I’m more than just a ‘guess’. You know how well you enjoy passing the time with my fingers deep inside of you like this…or my mouth…or my cock. As he continued to plunge his fingers deeper inside of you, feeling your walls flutter, he couldn’t stop himself from grinding against the bed to try to get some friction on his throbbing clothed cock.

He soon learned near your drooling core, globs of your slick clinging against the fingers plunging inside of you.

“But, it’s fine. I’ll ensure you’ll think of me and nothing else. Just me and only me,” he stated. He finally pressed his lips against your clit as your body jolted in delight. Your hands dug into his soft ash-blond hair, pulling him in even deeper as his chuckles reverberated against the nub. He darted his tongue out, beginning to slowly swirl circles along the perimeter of it before letting his tongue flick rapidly on the bundle of nerves.

Your body shivered in pleasure, back arched, as Lyney tried to contain his smile, feeling your thighs beginning to press against the cheek of his face. He continued to flick his tongue against your clit before encompassing his lips around it and sucking on it—fingers not wavering and continuing to thrust inside of you.

Lyney lifted your leg against one of his shoulders and he pressed the flat of his tongue against the nub, offering a few gentle licks on it before he shifted back to suck on it. You writhed underneath him, as his blunt nails dug into your hips to try to prevent you from moving too much. The sinful sounds of slouching echoed out in the bedroom, your cheeks hot feeling overwhelmed by the attention and meticulous touch of both his mouth and fingers.

“Lyney, oh fuck. Please, please…!” you begged out. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, back arched once more—quivering—as you finally reached your high. His breath is heavy, letting your leg fall back down on the bed, leaning up to watch your pussy convulsed against nothing. His lower mouth glistened in your arousal as he licked his lips to clean up what slick clung onto there. The sweet taste of it was enough to make Lyney grin, watching your tired form trying to recover from your climax.

He leaned down against your side, feeling his hard and pulsating cock against the soft globes of your ass. He grabbed a handful of the globe, letting his cock slide between your thighs and slit a few times. As he made contact with your overstimulated clit you jolted and a soft whine emitted from you. Lyney laughed, tapping his tip against it a few times before he finally let himself slowly plunge inside of you.

As Lyney slowly sank deeper, He moved his mouth to your neck, groaning loudly, feeling your walls pulsating. When he finally bottomed out, his lips softly kissed your neck before rutting into you. The sound of slapping skin was loud inside the room and the smell of sweat wafted throughout it too. Lyney continued to nibble at your neck, admiring the bruises and hickies he decorated on the skin. His groaning got louder as he sucked a breath in, feeling your walls beginning to cave and tighten.

“Fuck,” Lyney moaned out loudly. You gasped as you felt him move and shift your body. Your ass hung in the air, as your head said laying on the pillows. His nails harpoon against your ass, drilling himself even deeper inside of you. As he continued to rut inside of you, he leaned down and kissed your back, groaning once more. He could feel your walls continuing to cave in, making it harder for him to control his thrusts and not lose himself too much in the pleasure.

He suddenly slipped out, cock quivering as he took a few breaths to try to control himself from climaxing. As he softly sighed, moving past it, he opened his eyes and admired your widening hole drooling out.

“W-What are you…” you asked, softly before Lyney pressed a finger to his lips. He reached over to the nightstand, rummaging through it. You thought he was looking for a condom, but your eyes widened seeing him pull out a small bullet vibrator instead. He held down the button on the side as the contraption began to vibrate erratically in the palm of his hands.

“I think keeping you on your toes would be best for tonight. Besides, I haven’t heard you use this before when I’m in the shower,” he chuckled as you bit your lip in embarrassment. He slid his cock back inside of you, before snaking his hand around and pressing the erratically moving vibrator against your overstimulated clit. You cried out his name, his thrusts deep and rapid. The whole bed creaked to his fast strokes, Lyney’s breaths getting heavier as he repeated your name in a slurred way as if your cunt had made him drunk.

“There…there…there…that’s right,” Lyney moaned out. You covered your face feeling tears begin to prick out as the pleasure and burn of overstimulation settled in. You shout his name, body convulsing as you reach your high for the second time tonight, writhing for what it seemed like hours beneath him.

In a dazed form, you felt Lyney flip you over admiring your absolute fucked-out form, quickly turning the vibrator off and throwing it across the bed. He continued to plunge himself inside of you. His eyes admire your chest bouncing to the fast pace of his thrusts. His cheeks were flushed and his voice whining, grunting, and groaning your name. You could barely focus on anything, your legs instinctively moved and wrapped against his small waist.

“I love you. I love you. Je t’aimerai toujours. Je n’aime que toi!” Lyney moaned out. He leaned his head back, snapping his eyes shut as he finally reached his high. His hips continued to bug, thrusting the ropes of cums deeper inside of you. He bit his lip as another soft moan emitted from him, taking heavy breaths before looking down at you.

He smiled, wiping away the tears pricking your eyes, speaking softly, and whispered in his mother tongue affection gestures to make sure you were alright. He placed his forehead against your own seeing you slowly come back from your senses, eyes completely tired but your form relaxed. There wasn’t an inch of tension he could see that you had before.

Lyney brought his lips down against your own, offering a slower and more sensual kiss.

“You know I’d do anything, absolutely anything for you. I love you so much it hurts,” he whispered. You smiled, pecking his forehead as he slowly pulled himself out of you. Soon globs of his cum began dribbling from your cunt and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Your eyes drift to the clock; Lynette will be coming home soon. You two needed to clean up and shower to avoid any unnecessary awkward conversations.

You finally closed your legs, moving to get up from the bed you accidentally hit the vibrator down as it fell to the floor. You sighed as you got up, your legs wobbly as you tried to readjust yourself.

“W-Wait! Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it and change the sheets. You just go clean up in the bathroom. If you need help just tell me, but I don’t want you to fall!” Lyney suddenly murmured. He seemed oddly on edge suddenly. You shrugged, leaning down to pick the toy up.

“It’s fine, it’s just right here. I can take…care of it….” your voice trailed off. Your eyes catch something odd under the bed. You reached to grab it, revealing that same Jester mask you saw on the news report from earlier. Parts of it seemed more damaged and cracked than the rendering the broadcast had, with a particular smudge with a dark red substance splattered on it.

Dried blood.

You look up in horror to gaze back at Lyney. His eyes, which you always knew were sweet and kind, looked back to you with more of a darker twist—his lips cemented in a frown.

“I told you to drop it, didn’t I…?” he sighed. You felt frozen in shock and fear as Lyney moved from the top of the bed to join you on the floor. His eyes, still twirled with that dark emotion you couldn’t read well, but his gaze softened. His lips curled up in a smile, you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if he was just trying to comfort you from the revelation.

He dragged his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the tears that cascaded down. You didn’t notice you were crying.

“....Because sometimes we prefer the fantasy than the truth darling.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #lyney x reader #lyney smut #lyney imagines #lyney scenarios #yandere lyney

2K notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 5 months

Text

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆ Tinsel ⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

A/N: all I gotta say is..WHEN IS IT MY TURN DAMMIT 🥲

joel deserves nice things™ ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

~word count: 4.9k~

pairing | boyfriend! Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: it’s Christmas and we’re all in misery, but your Texas hunk of a boyfriend makes sure that this holiday season you feel loved.

Warnings: fluff, smut, angst, mommy issues for the reader, typical holiday angst, readers mother is a bitch, mentions of smoking and consuming alcohol, unprotected piv, dom/sub vibes, fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, cock warming, light ass slapping, unconditional love, Sarah and Ellie exist in this universe (Ellie is adopted) best friend! Tommy, close family vibes, soft! Joel, protective! Joel, Tommy is like a big brother to the reader, reader has no physical descriptions, there is one scene where Joel picks the reader up, no age gap, Christmas traditions, +18, minors dni! Please let me know if I missed anything!

“Hey, babe?” You chimed from the living room. Both hands on your hips as you peered up at your beautifully decorated Christmas tree. “Do you think the tree could use some more tinsel?”

Your boyfriend, Joel Miller was in the kitchen with Sarah and Tommy who were on cookie duty, while Joel was crafting together the best goddamn gingerbread house your mother would ever see in her lifetime. (You hoped)

“Here she goes again with the tinsel.” Sarah giggled, gently nudging her uncle with her elbow.

Joel gave his daughter a playful warning glare before picking up a dusting of flour between his fingers and threw it at her with a grin. “Be nice, baby girl. Y’know how her mom is with this stuff. Everythin’ has gotta be perfect.”

“I’ll be there in just a sec, honey!” He called back, brushing his flour coated hands on his apron and retreated from the kitchen while Tommy and Sarah snickered.

“I still think we should add more tinsel, Joel. Maybe more ornaments? If she sees a single bald spot on the tree—” you’re caught off guard from bare, broad arms wrapping around your waist from behind. His aquiline nose brushes the exposed bit of skin along your neckline. He inhales deeply, smelling of cinnamon, clove, and ginger with a hint of Joel.

“Baby,” he rasps warm and deep, lips pressing to your warmed skin with affectionate sweetness. “The tree is gorgeous. I don’t see any bald spots.” A gentle squeeze to your hips, followed by another peck.

“But—” your voice falls short.

You melt back into his arms the way that marshmallows do in steaming hot chocolate. Pliant in his hold, suppressing a giggle when the scratchy bits of his patchy beard gently scrape your skin.

“But nothin’, baby. How about you help frost the cookies, hm? Get your mind off this damn tinsel.” You feel his lips curve into a smile along your skin. His chuckle vibrates up his chest and through your sweater covered spine. His hands drop from your hips, settling against the curve of your back, fingertips slipping into the denim pockets.

Cheeky.

A grumbled sigh from your lips, agreement, for the time being. The topic of tinsel would be brought up again. Your hand floated upwards towards his face, fingertips ghosting the patchy spots that you loved to press hidden kisses to. A finger hooks around his jaw, pulling him downwards to meet you in a kiss.

He obliges to your silent request. His nose brushes yours eliciting a sweet giggle to pass through your parted lips. The sounds of Santa Baby drowns out in the background. White noise compared to the steady thumping of yours and Joel’s synchronized hearts.

“I’ll be bringing up the tinsel again, Joel.” You murmur through the palpable warm tension.

“I know you will, darlin’” he tuts playfully, “But shh. Less talkin’, baby. Kiss me, doll.” He all but demands. The gap between you is closed. He kisses you sweetly, squeezing your flesh below the denim fabric. You swat playfully, melting once more when his tongue swipes your lower lip, testing—

“Ain’t hearin’ much talkin’ goin’ on in there!” Tommy remarks from the opening of the kitchen. Smirk plastered.

It’s Joel’s turn to grumble. A hint of annoyance on his breath. He breaks away from the kiss begrudgingly, but not before he can whisper just for your ears to hear, “we’ll finish this later.” Shortly followed by an encouraging pat to your jean clad ass, and a nudge towards the kitchen.

“These cookies ain’t gonna frost themselves!”

“Relax, brother. We’re coming!” Joel shoots you a wink with a suggestive tilt of his chin in your direction. The simple action alone sends a wave of arousal gushing through the thin fabric of your panties. A jolt, like a bolt of lighting.

4 years of dating your Texas hunk, and the sparks were still flying.

Sarah and Tommy both give you and Joel a cheeky little grin once you appear in the kitchen. An apron is tossed in your direction. Your eyes roll playfully with a shake of your head.

Joel returns to his gingerbread house making when you realizing that there’s one more member missing. “Is Ellie still asleep?” You ask while glancing at the clock along the wall.

“Must be. I’ll go and drag her out of bed.” Joel announced. He untied his apron and laid it flat across the table. He brushed past you on his way out of the kitchen.

Ellie Miller was in fact still dead asleep when he quietly pushed open her bedroom door. “Ohh Jelly Bean.” He cooed, using her least favorite nickname purposely.

A pillow was tossed carelessly in his direction with the intent to hit him, but Joel was ready for it and ducked out of the way. “C’mon, baby girl. It’s half past 10 and we could really use your help downstairs.” Joel said while reaching for the comforter to yank back.

“Can’t the cookies frost themselves? Y’know how I feel about the holidays, Dad.” She grumbled with her face squished into her pillow.

“Mhm. I sure do. Just a buncha commercialized crap around a jolly big ole’ fat man that breaks into people's houses, steals their cookies, and leaves crap under the tree. The only cool part of Santa Claus is his reindeer.” Joel said monotonically.

“You’re forgetting the bit where Rudolph is the coolest because of—”

“His bright shinin’ red nose. See, I remember these things, kiddo. Now, please get on up and help us out. If you don’t wanna frost the cookies, then you can help me finish with the gingerbread houses. Fair deal?” Joel crossed his arms against his chest while he awaited her response.

Ellie let out a long, dramatic sigh before she slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. I’ll come down and help out.” She grumbled.

“Thank you, grinchy.” He said teasingly while she shot him a playful glare. “There’s coffee downstairs too, if ya want any.”

Her nose turned upwards as she let out a disgusted sound. “Gross. Y’know how I feel about that stuff. It’s nasty. Smells like burnt shit. Don’t know how you drink that crap.” She grimaced.

“Hot chocolate?” He suggested with a warm grin.

“Now we’re talkin.’” She grinned.

Once the cookies were properly frosted, and the two gingerbread houses were fashioned, it was time for a well deserved break. Tommy volunteered to take Sarah and Ellie out sledding and then lunch while Joel stayed back to help you clean the kitchen.

Your boyfriend had his own idea of ‘cleaning’ and taking a break. You had just started the dishes when you felt his warm presence envelop and invade your senses. His strong arms were wrapped around you once more, and the tip of his broad nose was pressed into your neck, curls tickling your cheekbones.

“Have you come to help me with washing duty, baby?” You asked softly when his lips pressed an opened mouth kiss to your exposed skin. You learned very quickly early on in your relationship that Joel Miller was a lover, and a giver. He always needed to be close to you in some way.

“Mhm. I have, honey. But, I was hopin’ I could make you feel good first. I think the dishes can wait. Don’t you?” He nuzzled against you, thumbs slipping through the front pockets of your jeans.

“Joel..” you warned.

“Please, baby. I know the holiday season gets you all wound up. Let me help you relax, and then I will do the dishes and finish cleaning up here. Afterwards, you and I can settle in for a well deserved nap. How’s that sound?”

How did you get so lucky?

“You’re so good to me, baby. I suppose we can—” your words become lodged in your throat when his teeth graze your delicate skin. He nibbles playfully, knowing just how to get his girl going. His fingers toy with the button on your jeans before he pops it open.

“You’re my girl, ain’t ya? I live for makin’ you happy and feelin’ good. I love you very much, darlin.’ And I’ll be damned if this time of the year beats you down again.” He whispers while pulling down the zipper swiftly. His unoccupied hand slips under your sweater where he can feel your stomach clench inwards, the quickness of your breath while he splays his long, rugged fingers across your skin.

(If you ain’t dating a proper cowboy yet, then what the hell are you doin?’)

You allow yourself to indulge and melt into his grasp when his hand slips beneath the confines of your jeans, and below your panties. His broad fingers stroke gently between your folds, gathering up the slickness that has pooled there from this morning’s earlier interaction.

“Talkin’ of tinsel really gotcha goin,’ huh baby? Or was it the way that your handsome boyfriend was talkin’ to ya? Is that what got your pretty little pussy drippin?’” He purrs and your knees nearly buckle. Your Joel has never been shied away from dirty talk, and he knows how much you love it when filth drips from between his perfect lips.

You laugh, and it’s music to his ears whenever you let your guard down around him. Your head falls back ceremoniously against his shoulder, admiring his side profile through fluttered lashes. “It definitely wasn’t the damn tinsel, that’s for sure.”

“Thought so.” He mused with a rumbling deep chuckle. He’s acutely aware of your budding desperation taking the front and center stage when your hips buck upwards into his palm. “Someone’s a bit eager, hm? Want me to stretch this pretty pussy apart with my fingers, baby? S’that what my sweet girl wants?”

“Mhmm.” Is really all you’re able to get out because your mind is swirling, intoxicated with your boyfriend, and his goddamn hands that know how to play you to ruin. A flush rises to your cheeks, skin burning red hot like embers in a fire when his lips ghost the shell of your ear, sending a warm chill down every vertebrae in your spine.

“Can’t hear ya, honeybun. Gonna need ya to speak up for me.” His fingers dip down lower, teasing your tight wet hole that pulses around nothing, feeling empty and neglected thus far. His teeth bite down on your lobe, tugging it down playfully and elicit a desperate little mewl to slip past your lips.

“Fingers, daddy. Now. Please.” Your requests come out scrambled, misconstrued, but audible nonetheless. He seems pleased enough with your response and slowly sinks in two of his thick digits; ring and middle knuckle deep inside of your pulsing cunt. His hand encasing your entire mound while his thumb finds your clit with ease, curling his fingers inwards in a ‘come hither’ motion.

“Fuuck.” You moaned, wanton, depraved, love drunk on your Texas hunk.

His non-dominant hand that was presently resting along your stomach drops down. It takes him all of 5 seconds to tug your jeans down over your ass and thighs, exposing your bare skin to the room temperature air. His hand massages your supple flesh, curving against your spine before pulling back and returning with one firm smack to your left cheek that echoes through the expanse of the kitchen. “‘Atta girl.” He praises you lovingly, massaging the irritated skin before he delivers another smack, harder this time. It’s just enough to send you jolting forward into his hand, crying out his name.

The muscles in his bicep flex under the natural light flooding in through the kitchen windows. His fingers pump in and out, in and out. The mixed sounds of your pleasure, and your cunt squelching around his fingers sends blood flowing southwards to his hardening cock. You feel the press of him against your lower back when you reach around, fingers blindly searching till they find their home against the bulge in his jeans.

He grunts, lower lip taken harshly between his teeth, the speed of his wrist movements increase when you stroke him through the tight confines. You can feel all of him through the fabric, and you’re prideful that his desperately hard cock is just for you.

“Gonna fuck yourself against my fingers, baby? Gonna use me to get yourself off?” He questions hastily, breath shuddering when he finds himself grinding his hips in your hand with a need to satiate the building friction.

“Yes, daddy.” You whimper, mouth falling open in an ‘o’ shape when his fingers kiss that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. You’re so close, nearly at the edge when his fingers slip out, leaving you abandoned before his bending down and hoisting you over his shoulder like a rag doll.

His steps are calculated and precise carrying you up the stairs to your shared bedroom. He tosses you on the bed in a playful manner, lips finding yours in a chaste kiss while his hands tug your jeans down completely, followed by your panties. “Couldn’t wait any longer to be inside ya, baby” his words fall like whispers against your lips. You reach for his belt, undoing it with that sweet giggle that he loves so much.

He licks into your mouth like a man starved when you finally release him from his confines. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach. His lips detach, a string of saliva connecting you to him before he plops down beside you on his back.

“We don’t even need to fuck, honey. Jus’ wanna be inside ya. Take a nap with my cock keepin’ you stuffed full.” He’s vulgar, greedy when he reaches for you. You melt like putty, sticky and sweet, and dripping.

“I love keeping your cock warm, daddy. Almost as much as I love it when you send me to a new dimension.” You murmur, settling against his chest. Your hand reaches down between your bodies, grasping his length and guiding it to your opening. A combined sweet sigh when he eases himself inside of you.

“So fuckin’ perfect for me. Warm, wet, huggin’ me s’tight.” He sounds drunk now too. His grin is lazily, placid when your eyes meet in a loving gaze. His hips shift beneath you, bottoming out, filling, stretching, while you pull him in.

His chin dips down, capturing your lips once more. It’s probably one of his favorite things to do, kissing you. Lips that he believes were made for him. A peck to your nose follows, teeth nibbling, giggles, sweet sounds.

“Joel?” You ask through the domestic calmness that shelters you both.

“Mhmm?” He rumbles, words rolling slowly against his tongue.

“I love you.”

His arms shift to wrap around you, holding you close. Heartbeats entwined. “I love you too, baby doll. And no matter what happens this Christmas, you’re perfect to me. No matter what your mother thinks, or says, you’re perfect.”

“Did you knit these ghastly things yourself?” Your mother criticizes the sweaters you knitted for yourself, Joel, Tommy, Ellie, and Sarah. It was your first big knitting project. A daunting task at first, but the old ladies at the senior center you volunteered at were both charming, and helpful.

“Yes, mother. I knitted them myself.” Her words hurt, but that’s what champagne spritzers are for. You take a hefty sip from your champagne flute.

“Well, the pattern is all wrong, dear.” She drops the sleeve of your sweater with a sigh. “Your home looks lovely, by the way, but your tree could use more tinsel. I noticed five bald spots when I first walked in.” She has no idea how many hours you spent decorating the tree in the living room, the mantles, outside in the front yard. You worked tirelessly with your family, and she still had the audacity to say something negative about it.

You fake a smile, catching a glance from your Texas hunk who is preoccupied in the kitchen with making sure that dinner is absolutely perfect.

“Thank you for the compliment, mother. Can I get you more champagne?” You ask, hoping that you can just take a breather finally.

“Oh, thank you dear, that would be lovely. Where’s that boyfriend of yours, Joe?” She waved her wrist carelessly, bracelets chiming in your ears. Even after four years, your mother still didn’t call your boyfriend by his real name.

“His name is Joel, mother. And he’s in the kitchen with his brother who is helping him with dinner.” You respond flatly.

“Joe. Joel, what’s the difference?” She doesn’t get it. She never does, and never will.

“Mother, it’s rude. He’s my boyfriend of almost five years, and you can’t even bother to remember his name?” You’re on the edge of snapping. It's not fair that your mother thinks that just because her husband divorced her that she gets to make everyone close to her miserable too.

“He’s still your boyfriend? Well, by now I surely would think that you’d be engaged and married. Who in their right mind plays house with a man for almost five years? Dear, have I taught you nothing?”

Tears prick the corner of your eyes from the blow of her words. You and Joel never felt like you needed to get married. It was just a piece of paper, shared finances, social status that neither of you cared for. You loved each other, you loved Sarah and Ellie, and viewed Tommy like a brother. Wasn’t that enough?

“Excuse me, mother, while I go top off your glass.”

She doesn’t see the glassy look in your eyes when you snatch the flute from her. Your footsteps carry you directly to the kitchen. For a brief moment you think about tossing the glass into the sink and letting the crystal shatter, but you opt to set it down on the counter.

Joel and Tommy are watching you closely from a distance. You’re visibly upset, and no fake smile can hide that.

I just need a breather.

The air is chilly, and the sky is clear with twinkling stars. Your tears glisten under the Christmas lights hanging above the front step when you hear the front door open and close. You move quickly to douse out the lit cigarette that is pursed between your painted lips, feeling a twinge of shame from a habit you couldn’t quite break.

“You don’t gotta hide that on my account, sweetheart.” Tommy said softly with his hands shoved in his jean pockets.

“I just..needed something to take the edge off.” You know that there’s no reason to explain yourself to him, or anyone for that matter. Tommy’s been your best friend for years, and he was the one that introduced you to Joel in the first place.

“I get it. Family can be real assholes sometimes, huh? It’s like that one scene in National Lampoon’s where the wife says, “it’s Christmas and we’re all in misery.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, and the misery is my mother.” You scoff and offer him your cigarette.

“Ah. What did she have to say this time around?” He asks while taking the cigarette between your fingers and bringing it against his lips.

“What didn’t she have to say?” You stifled a bitter laugh. “Five bald spots on the tree. The sweaters I knitted are ghastly, and she refuses to call Joel by his real name. Oh, and the cherry on top? She thinks I’m naive for ‘playing house with a man who isn’t even my husband.’”

“Bald spots? Where? The sweaters you made us are adorable, and what a bitch. I swear, that woman grows more callous every year. Who cares if you and Joel aren’t married? What’s it any of her business to do in your private life? You’re happy, aren’t you? She’s jus’ bein’ bitter cus’ you got a man that loves you unconditionally, and her husband left her.” Tommy finishes off what is left of the cigarette before he douses it out with the toe of his boot.

More tears begin to freely fall when you begin to fold in on yourself. “I love that man so fucking much, Tommy. He makes me so unbelievably happy and I just wish she could support me. To be my mother for once in her goddamn life and not this jealous..entity.” You sniffled.

“Oh, honey, it’s Christmas time and tears are not allowed!” Tommy attempted to joke, but when he saw just how upset you were, he switched gears and wrapped you up in his arms. “She’ll never understand, unfortunately. But that’s her loss. She could be real happy for you, and Joel, if she wanted to. But jealous people miss out on those happy moments I’m afraid. She refuses to be happy, and that ain’t have anythin’ to do with you, sweet pea.” He reassured you.

What Tommy really wanted to tell you, but couldn’t say, was that soon enough he’d be your brother in law, and your Texas hunk was going to ask you to marry him, to be his wife, at the stroke of midnight tonight when all the guests would retire home.

“You’re right, Tommy. You’re absolutely right. She’s choosing to be unhappy for me. That’s her choice, not mine. And you know what? Fuck her. She doesn’t get to hold this over me. I’m happy, and I refuse to let her ruin that for me.” You hug him back tightly.

“‘Atta girl. Now, let’s get back inside before my brother starts worryin’ more than he already has. I’ll entertain your mother so that you can have a break. How’s that sound?”

“Really? You’ll do that for me? Thank you, Tommy. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. I’ll get her all liquored up.” He jokes with a playful wink.

Your lips peck his cheek in a non-romantic gesture. Tommy has always been your rock.

Dinner surprisingly runs smoothly, and you no longer have to deal with your mother because Tommy is talking up a storm with her, and she actually..smiles? Maybe it was just the champs.

Your Texas hunk is seated beside you with his hand resting along your thigh underneath the table. His thumb is rubbing reassuring circles against the silky fabric of your tights. He checks in with you between bites, silent glances, softened eyes. God, you loved this man.

Ellie, Sarah, and Joel helped you with the dishes while Tommy drove your cousin home. He had a crush on her for years, and finally grew a pair to make it known. Your mom, thankfully, went home with your aunts.

It was nearing midnight when Joel returned from upstairs after saying goodnight to the girls and wishing them sweet dreams. He found you curled up in the loveseat next to the fireplace, deep in thought with a half drunk glass of wine resting alongside the table. The rim of the glass was coated in a residue of your lipstick that had long since rubbed off.

“Is there room for me there?” He gestured to the loveseat with a small grin.

Your eyes met his in a soft gaze, and a subtle nod. And when you start to rise from the cushion, he stops you and instead lifts your thighs up gently before scooting in behind you so you’re draped across his lap comfortably.

“Are the girls asleep?” You ask as his hand rests around your hip.

“Mhm. Jus’ you and me, baby.” He replies with a swipe of his lips against your forehead. “Is everythin’ okay? You looked upset earlier..”

“Oh.” You sigh. “Yeah, everything is okay, Joel. It's just the holidays, and my mother, but I’m okay.” You reassure him while your hand drifts up towards the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair with your nails gently scratching his scalp.

“Yeah, I reckon she had some shit to say? I’m sorry, baby doll. But remember what I said earlier? You’re perfect to me no matter what your mother thinks or says.” He murmured. His hand that wasn’t resting along your hip reaches up, his thumb brushes across your chin, eyes boring into yours with sincerity and pure love.

“I just..I hate her sometimes, and I know I shouldn’t because she’s my mother, but she’s a bitter woman, and I don’t want her in my life anymore, Joel. Not when she’s like this.” You nearly croak, and his face falls. His lips curved downwards into a deep set frown. He senses your tears before they even begin to fall.

“Hey, just because she’s your mother, doesn’t mean that she has a right to be in your life, baby. It’s your life, and you get to decide who you want to be a part of it.” He can feel the weight of the small box growing heavy in his pocket. “Darlin’, I love you, and I just want my girl to be happy.” He confessed.

“You’re right. It's my life and I get to make those choices, not her. I’m sorry, baby. I don’t mean to—”

He shushes you softly. His thumb gently presses down against your lower lip before he steals a quick kiss to reassure you, and himself. “Hey, you ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for. You’re perfect. You’re amazing. Could give less of a fuck what your bitter mother has to say about it. I love you for you, and ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.”

He pauses, swallowing the lump that is growing in his throat. He releases your hip gently before reaching into his pocket. “I know I shoulda asked you this question a long time ago, but I had to be sure that..it was perfect. All my life I’ve found myself bein’ a hopeless romantic. Always giving, never receivin’ the same kinda love I put out there. Never thought that one person could make a man’s heart feel so full, so complete till I met you. Now, you know I ain’t one for cliches, but I love you with everything my heart has to offer, and I want nothin’ more than to spend the rest of my life with you, my beautiful, sweet, unconditionally lovin’, girl.”

“Joel..are you—oh my god.” You’re in disbelief, heart thumping rapidly out of your chest when he pulls out a small, forest green velvet encased box.

“I ain’t finished yet, darlin.’” He tuts playfully. “So, will you do me the honors of becoming my wife? And as your husband, I promise to never stop lovin’ you, t’never stop supportin’ you, no matter what life throws our way?” His eyes are glassy with freshly brewed tears. He doesn’t even have the chance to open the box and reveal the ring to you before you’re throwing your arms around his neck, nearly knocking the wind from his lungs from how tightly you’re hugging him.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you! Oh my god, a million times, yes!” You’re so happy you can barely contain it.

“Dontcha wanna see the ring?” He laughed warmly, wrapping his arms around you. “Ellie and Sarah helped me pick it out.”

“Aren’t you supposed to get down on one knee and all that?” You ask teasingly while you pull back from the hug and hold out your left hand.

“Oh, shit! You’re right! I’m doin’ this all wrong.” He chuckled with a shake of his head.

“No, fuck the tradition. Let’s do it our way.” You suggest and he smiles brightly, dimples peeking through. You open the box together revealing the dainty ring that had you written all over the design. An oval shaped diamond in the center, a shiny gold band, and two smaller diamonds on either side.

“It’s beautiful, Joel. You and the girls have impeccable taste.” Your heart swells when his lips press to your ring finger before he carefully slips the ring into place.

“It’s beautiful, but it doesn’t compare to the woman who’s wearing it.” He comments thoughtfully while your hands come to rest along his cheeks. His face is held tenderly while I love you’s are whispered only for yours and his ears. It’s not long before you're chasing one another’s lips. He kisses you with the same amount of passion every single time.

“Keep the sweater on, baby.” You request between kisses while his hands make quick work of tearing your thin tights open for easy access.

“I’ll buy ya a million pairs. Jus’ wanna make love to my future wife fireside without any obstructions.” His hands rest upon either side of your hips when you straddle his lap.

“And I want my future husband to sit back and watch his future wife ride his cock.” You finalize your words with a searing kiss while your fingers work open the button on his jeans. You push the material down just enough that you can pull his cock free.

“M’so fuckin’ lucky. God, I am so lucky. All my life I’ve been waitin’ for someone like you, baby.” He grunts lovingly, unconditionally when you finally sink down around him. “I can’t fuckin’ wait to grow old with you.”

Your hips roll slowly against his while he pulls you in with gentle hands. There’s no teeth clashing, or skin slapping. It’s just good ole fashioned love making by the fire. Just you and your Texas hunk.

Merry Christmas, Mr. Miller. You’re the only man in this world that deserves my heart.

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