Lad working at the local leisure centre who goes about on thursdays and does leaflet duty - pins up new posters, takes down old ones, leans up the noticeboards a bit, drops leaflets with deals in local businesses
At one of the playgrounds when he sees a little girl run over and skid nastily
Helping her off the tarmac and looking around for her mum, going "who are you here with, love?"
And a tall man coming over who is, frankly, fucking scary. He's in a dark suit even though it's a warm Thursday afternoon, scowling features, who kneels and looks the girl over
"Hands," he says briskly, and pours from a bottle of water over her hands, gently checking them over for grazes. "Any pain?"
"No."
"What did you trip on, Miss? Are the straps on your shoes secure?"
And the girl carefully checking her shoes, and the lad watching as this genuinely really little girl like
Checks the strap, tucks her finger in against the heel of the shoe. Clumsy with her little baby fingers, but obviously has observed the process of checking her shoes are on properly enough to do the same thing
"Yeah. I think... it's just slippy."
"Very well."
And the old man standing up
And saying, "Thank you," in his very grave and gravelly voice, and they walk off
Then the week after he's in the leisure centre and as her mum wrestles with her swimming gear he's like, "So was that your grandfather at the park?"
The little girl wrinkles her nose and goes, "No, that's Hargreaves."
And he's like, um, okay. Is he like... your babysitter?
And he's never seen like. A 60yo man in a suit be a little girl's child minder before
And she goes, "No, he used to be in the silly service, but now he's my attendant. Mummy says he's very highly trained."
And he's like. What.
Bc he can kind of imagine an ex-civil service (he assumes she means) man looking after a little girl between butling or whatever but like. This isn't Downton Abbey and this little girl and her mum aren't posh. They're just normal
And he watches them go like ??????
And seeing them around town and not like, staring, because he doesn't want to be weird to this little girl, but when be does see them, she is normally with Hargreaves, and he does tend to sort of step back and let her play or explore, occasionally sitting and going through a map or reading to her
And when he sees the three of them together, the little girl and her mum usually walk hand in hand with Hargreaves behind them, or Hargreaves carries her whilst walking behind the mum
Always in a suit. Dark blue or black or shades of grey. Nice suits. Shiny shoes.
"Excuse me," Hargreaves actually approaches him one day, and asks him a question about one of the charity concerts at the castle in the summer, and he answers
And then goes, "um. So. Are you-- you're her ATTENDANT?"
And Hargreaves looks back at him, and sort of smirks
And goes, "What, you're of the opinion the girl should rove freely, UNattended?"
"No, just... you know. Most kids just have a minder or a nanny or a grandma or... And she said you were in the civil service."
"I was."
"And now you're a childminder?"
"I'm a personal attendant."
"And she calls you Hargreaves?"
"That's my name."
"Your last name."
"Bertie Wooster doesn't call his valet Reginald, does he? He calls him Jeeves."
"But she... but you..."
And the old man is smirking at him still, and he's really scary, still, but he's... he's wearing a pin with a green flower.
"Is that a carnation?" he asks.
"It is, yes," Hargreaves says softly. "Does that interest you?"
"Um."
"I'm a little old for you, I think."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't, did you?"
"... um..."
And he's blushing, he knows he is, as Hargreaves glances past him to the noticeboard.
"Which of these little pamphlets has YOUR phone number on it?"
And there's a sharp grunt and they both whip to look, but she's fine, she's landed very steadily after almost tripping, and Hargreaves watches her as she slowly sits down again.
And he writes his number down for Hargreaves.
And it's literally two months later where he meets the three of them out, and as Hargreaves takes her to get ice cream, he's talking to the mum
And she's chuckling bc she obviously knows Mr Hargreaves has a boytoy and has teased about it a bit
And he's like. So. What the fuck
And she's like, what?
And he's like. Well we've been seeing each other for a few weeks now and he's not explained like... how and why. You're a normal person. Why does your little girl have like. A gentleman's personal gentleman. But for a little girl
And she pisses herself laughing
And is like. Babe, John is my father-in-law. She just calls him Hargreaves and insists he's her attendant or a bodyguard because she's six and it's a game they're both REALLY attached to. He is not actually in our family's employ. He is just really formal and likes to indulge his granddaughter
And he feels. So fucking stupid
But also WAY less embarrassed, contextually, about how weirdly horny he is about Hargreaves ironically calling him sir in bed
Attending parties is not your thing. Ever. You've tried telling your parents this but, of course, your feelings don't matter.
The ballroom is so crowded you quickly become overwhelmed from the noise and the heat. While Mother is distracted, you find a door you can sneak away through. You tell yourself you're just going to go to the bathroom but, in truth, you wouldn't mind if you got lost on your way back to the party.
So you do. Wandering the halls of the giant manor, you let yourself admire the art on the walls, simply enjoying the quiet. You'll keep an eye on the time so Mother and Father don't realize your missing.
But then you find the library. Walking in you feel like Belle from Beauty and the Beast. There are so many books! And it's so delightfully quiet and peaceful.
As you wander you don't notice the man sitting on the floor. He's watching you with curiosity and suspicion. He worries you're here specifically to disturb his reading, that Mother and Father sent you to drag him back to the party he despises.
When you spot him, you're startled and he becomes less suspicious.
"I'm so sorry, M'Lord," you curtsy. "I was simply hoping to enjoy some quiet for a minute."
"Then by all means, be quiet," he answers. "And yes, you may read so long as you do not disturb my own again."
You beam and curtsy your thanks, being mindful to keep from talking.
Though you keep yourself quiet, Loki finds himself unable to return to his own reading. Perhaps he should get your name before the night is done.
Very haughty professor in a magical university who's extremely stern and tightly buttoned-up, disgusted at students' distractions by sex and drink and food and anything other than studies
Student he's failed, a big proponent of pleasure, taking an artful and appropriate revenge
Charming a multitude of sleeves and selling them off around the campus - enchanted to feel sweet and tight and wet, just like a real mouth, or arse, or man's cunt
Some just the sleeve, others toy dolls in miniature, others still the shape of an arse and cunt, grippable by the cheeks or the hips
Activating the enchantments all at once one day when the stuck-up prof is giving a hugely attended ceremonial talk, suddenly stumbling midway through, flushed, sweating, making quiet, gasping noises none of them has ever heard him make before
Watching this ascetic 40yo virgin whine at the lectern
Eyes dilated, mouth wide open as it's fucked open by phantom cocks, watching him stumble to the floor and press helplessly back into the ghosts fucking open his other holes, splitting him in two, and leaving him writhing and moaning as he's used by a hundred invisible hands and cocks, and loving it
the thing was, she wasn’t going to be able to pass the recertification exam, and she couldn’t figure out why. annabelle studied. she practiced. she pulled out every trick and shortcut she’d learned during her two years as an EMT and none of it worked. she just – she didn’t get it. it made no sense.
“wake up,” she urged the dummy, pressing her hands to the pulse points on its wrists. “come on. what the fuck.”
“yeah, i don’t think that asking nicely is going to do the trick,” hank said, his eyebrows raised. his helmet, the special one they’d decorated for him with craft supplies from michael’s when he’d gotten promoted to firestation chief, sat askew on his head. “i can see now why they didn’t pass you.”
annabelle rolled her eyes. “it’s a psychological thing,” she said. “it’s like, you give the brain an instruction and it follows naturally. and the pulse-point thing always works. i don’t know why it’s not, like, in any of the books, but i swear to god it’s worked for me every time.”
it was true that annabelle had the best record on low body counts, which was good because she was the smallest person on the team not counting Georgie, who was a corgi. jake and lillian were always making fun of her for having been the shortest of their whole rookie class. but it hadn’t ever been a problem before; annabelle rarely had to carry anybody out, because she was good enough at getting them on their feet.
but none of that would matter if she couldn’t pass her stupid recertification exam, because they’d take her badge and she’d have to go be, like, a doctor or something.
hank blew out a long breath and sunk down to where she was kneeling on the station floor in full fire gear, giving CPR to the practice dummy, whom they called dierdre. there was a little light that went on when you’d saved its life. it had been a dull gray for an hour now.
“look, AB. i know you’re a good firefighter, and i know you know how to deliver CPR. just do it like you do it during an emergency. you’re overthinking it.”
“but this is what i do during an emergency!” annabelle cried, throwing her hands up. “i put my hands on their pulse points and i use psychological mumbo-jumbo and they just get up and walk!”
hank blinked. “…really,” he said, voice flat. “people who’ve been inhaling smoke for half an hour just … get up and walk.”
“the brain is an incredibly powerful organ,” said annabelle, shrugging. “look man, i don’t know, okay? but it works. i haven’t had to actually do CPR in like a year and a half.”
he gave her a long, quiet look and said, “well….huh,” before pushing himself back up onto his feet and frowning off into the distance. “keep practicing,” he said after a minute, and left her there.
-
hank switched her team.
“what the fuck, man,” she said, sliding into the truck next to him as the sirens went on. “i can’t get CPR on one fucking dummy and suddenly you don’t trust me to do my job without supervision?”
carl and bethany very carefully did not meet her eyes in the rearview from the backseat. bethany pulled a magazine from beneath the seat and said loudly, “look, carl, jennifer aniston and brad pitt are getting back together.”
“thank christ,” said carl. “i’ve been really worried about jen.”
hank gave annabelle the flat look that had gotten him promoted to firestation chief in the first place, the one that said i’m your dad and you don’t want to disappoint me. as always, annabelle wilted underneath it, sliding down in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. it was a difficult feat in full gear but she wanted him to know she was feeling sullen.
“i trust you completely,” hank told her, his voice a light scold. “i want to see you in action so i can help you figure out what’s going wrong with the dummies. sometimes it’s hard for the brain to accurately remember everything that happens during a crisis.”
annabelle rolled her eyes. “i told you,” she said. “it’s just – it’s the same thing every time, I’m not like, blacking out.”
“great, then i’m about to learn a cool new trick,” hank said serenely, and pulled the truck out of the lot. annabelle kept her gaze focused out of the window, watching the city pass as carl and bethany talked loudly about which celebrities were dating which other celebrities and who wore what better. she tried to swallow down the nerves that tightened her throat. maybe the dummy was right. maybe she was doing something else and didn’t remember it. maybe the last two years had been a fluke and she had no business being a firefighter. maybe she was about to get fired.
there wasn’t a fire, though the alarm was going off. instead they found a bag of smoking popcorn and the collapsed heap of a forty-five year old bachelor type, down to just his boxers and a pair of slippers with llamas on them. he had no pulse.
hank held carl and bethany back, directing them to deal with the smoke from the popcorn; annabelle he pointed toward the resident with a jerk of his chin.
she sighed, kneeling by his side. she pressed her hands flat to his heart and then dragged them across his chest and down each arm, to his wrists. with her thumbs on his pulse point, she hissed, “let’s go, man. up and at ’em. you’re not meant to die in your underwear while cooking popcorn, come on.”
she held her breath for a few moments, conscious of hank’s eyes on her, and let out a long sigh of relief when she felt his pulse jump beneath her, watched his eyes flicker. “what the fuck?” he asked, voice a croak. “what happened?”
“you gotta eat more vegetables, bud,” annabelle told him, and looped his arm over her shoulders to help him get to his feet. she was so relieved she could have wept, but instead met hank’s eyes with a challenging glare. see? she thought. i told you. “let’s get you to the ambulance.”
-
“the bad news is that you have a lot of practicing to do if you want to pass your recert,” hank said without preamble, showing up at her apartment. she didn’t think she’d ever seen him in jeans before. it was weird. “the good news is i understand your problem now.”
annabelle stepped aside, beckoning him in. “what problem?” she demanded. “it worked! you saw it work. that’s the opposite of a problem.”
hank shrugged. he handed her a trifold that he’d clearly printed off at home. it said so you think you’re a necromancer. annabelle blinked down at it, and then up at hank, and then down at the trifold again. “i … don’t understand what’s happening here,” she told him honestly.
“i’m not in the community and they’re kind of cagey, so i can’t really tell you a lot,” hank told her, stilted and visibly uncomfortable. “but i have a cousin who is, and um, i just want you to know that this doesn’t change anything. you’re still who you’ve always been and you have my complete support. we’ll figure out how to get around the recert. maybe i’ll – i can put you on admin duty to give you time to study. we’ll say it’s because of an injury.”
“hank,” annabelle said, with some urgency. “hank, this flier says the word necromancer.”
“yes,” agreed hank, looking relieved. “oh, good, you’ve heard of it already. i thought i was going to have to have the whole your body is changing talk.”
annabelle shook her head. “no, i – hank. you know that … um, you know that necromancy isn’t real, right? people can’t bring other people back from the dead. that’s crazy.”
“annabelle, not four hours ago you instructed a dead man to stand up and he did.”
“okay, he wasn’t dead, obviously. he was almost dead, at best.”
“no. he was dead.”
“i felt his pulse! it was very faint!”
“you called his pulse. no one else would have felt it, because it wasn’t there except in response to you.”
“hank, what the fuck.”
he shrugged. “read the flier,” he instructed. “and bring dierdre home with you. you’re going to have to practice a lot if you want to get recertified, considering you haven’t one time had to use any of the skills you learned the first go around.”
he bussed her temple as he went by, letting himself out of her apartment with a friendly wave. annabelle looked down at the flier in her hand with a frown. when she unfolded it, the first page said, everyone’s necromancy journey is different, but most people discover their gift by accident. have you ever brought a pet back to life? touched an elderly relatives hand and seen some of the color flood back into their face? or perhaps, more subtly, been able to keep cut flowers alive long past their purchase date?
annabelle looked at her kitchen table. she’d had the same vase of tulips on it since she moved in, three years ago. it was true they periodically started to wilt, but she usually just changed their water and they were fine, popping back up one after the other as she slid them into the fresh vase.
“well shit,” annabelle said, letting the flier fall from her hands.
Tumblerians tumblrites and tumblers, all and alike make writing and art prompts out of things that weren’t meant to be and that is a beauty beyond compare. Thank you members of tumblr for the amazing stories and art and for sharing it with the small world that is this website.
Jack Abbot eats pussy like it's his God-given right.
Hungry, starved, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Don't come between a man and his meal.
You think he cares if you've shaved or not? Open your legs. Let. Him. Eat.
Sitting on his face isn't a suggestion. It's an order. Take a fucking seat.
Yes, he'll be able to breathe. Breathing in your scent before he gets a taste is like an aphrodisiac.
And, yes, he can and will fuck you with his tongue. He's an expert and you know he doesn't do anything half-assed.
His hands love to dig into your thighs and hips so he can move you just where he needs you. And he loves to add his fingers to stretch your sweet cunt and add more stimulation...
Speaking of stimulation, he doesn't understand men who can't find or simply neglect the clit. Correction. They aren't men. Jack is.
Don't you dare hold back your sounds. Say his name. Moan. Whimper. Anything. Be as loud as you want.
He grunts and groans, wanting you to know just how much he loves tasting and pleasing you. The vibrations and the tickle from his stubble drive you crazy.
If you don't make a mess all over him, he'll think he did something wrong and he will remedy that. That usually involves making you come again. And again.
What? He's a giver. Give it to him.
As much as he loves having you ride his face like your life depends on it, he loves to lay you down and dive in. Such a hungry man.
Pull his hair. Grip his head with your thighs. Play with your breasts. Go on.
It's a gorgeous view for him, looking up at you between your thighs. Such a sight to watch you writhe and tremble.
It's a gorgeous view for you, too, when you catch a glimpse of those intense eyes and the shine around his mouth. It's the kind of stare that makes your heart stop and race all at once.
Yes, he'll give you his cock. Just be good and give him one more.
He talks you through it, of course. You know he does. Because you're so beautiful when you let go for him. So good. So fucking good.
And just when you think it's too much, you break so beautifully. He guides you and makes sure you feel every ounce of pleasure.
He licks his fingers like he can't let a single drop go to waste, and you come back to yourself long enough to feel the head of his cock start to push in. It feels like heaven once he's inside.
And Jack? He fucking smirks.
Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business.
Another short lucavrin one shot, a little over 1.1k words. I'll eventually add some of these to ao3, but sharing with tumblr for now. 🖤
By some miracle, Lucanis did it.
He convinced Davrin to join their book club.
It was a good way to bond with the crew some more, he told him. It would help keep his mind off of things, if nothing else.
What Lucanis happened to leave out was the fact that it was once again his turn to choose their next book, and what did he go with? Why, a romance, of course, but not just any romance! This one had a monster hunter as the main love interest, which meant that they were in for a load of fun when it came to the fight scenes.
Not everyone seemed to think so, though.
For the next week, any time he caught Davrin reading, his dear Warden was always scowling at the pages, his brow furrowed and nose wrinkled. And every time Lucanis asked him if everything was okay, Davrin immediately brushed off his concerns, even as his grip tightened upon the book. Every day, his grumbling intensified, growing more frequent as he progressed throughout the story, unable to put it down as utter madness unfolded right before his very eyes.
Safe to say, Davrin was not impressed, and he had thoughts —plenty of them!— by the time their next meeting rolled around.
When they all gathered in the dining hall after dinner that evening, Lucanis and Neve stood off to the side while he made them some coffee, the two of them watching the scene play out in front of them in amusement.
By the time Bellara started the meeting, Davrin was wound up tight. He sat stiffly in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, his leg bouncing up and down underneath the table.
It wasn't the first time one of the group took issue with a book due to inaccurate portrayals, as was to be expected when they had a crew as varied as theirs, and it wouldn't be the last time either. The others, all too aware of where this was headed, could hardly keep their expressions in check.
Lucanis didn't even try.
"Okay, so…" Bellara cleared her throat. "Davrin, would you like to start?"
"No, no." He gave a dismissive wave. "I'm g—"
"Oh, come on," Harding blurted out. She nudged him in the side. "It's your first book with us! We read about monster hunting. Who better to open the discussion than you?"
"Right." Clenching and unclenching his jaw, Davrin's nostrils flared as he inhaled, slow and deep, then exhaled through his mouth. "'Monster hunting.'" He even pulled out some air quotes for good measure. "That's what that was supposed to be." After a quick glance around the table, in which he was confronted by several expectant looks, Davrin relented with a shrug. "Alright, fine. I'll go."
As Davrin grabbed his book and flipped through it, Emmrich choked back a chuckle in order to chime in. "May I suggest starting with the positives first?"
"You may, but I'm not going to." Davrin didn't waste any time in pulling out the loose pages he brought along with him, holding the paper up for everyone to see. "I took a few notes."
"Only a few?" Lucanis snorted, which earned him a glare in return. Unable to hide his smirk, Lucanis encouraged him to carry on. "By all means, enlighten us then. Don't let me stop you from speaking."
"Trust me, I won't." Davrin shifted in his seat to get comfortable. "First off, let's talk about that fight against the giant. Look, I get it." He threw his hands up in the air. "It's supposed to be this big, heroic moment where our protagonist and their love interest meet, but no 'seasoned' hunter I know worth their salt is ever going to…"
While he rambled on, everyone listened, asking questions when the opportunity presented itself, but no one dared stop him once he got started.
Lucanis didn't even realize he was smiling at him until he turned to hand Neve her cup of coffee, only to find her already staring at him. He couldn't decide which was worse to face in that moment, the knowing arch of her brow or that teasing quirk of her lips. Either way, Lucanis knew it spelt trouble for him.
Instead of holding her gaze, he peered down into his coffee instead.
"What?" he mumbled.
"You know," Neve whispered, "if this was your way of dropping a hint to him with the whole monster hunter romance, then I think the message might have been a little misconstrued."
Huh?
When all Lucanis could do was blink at her, Neve shook her head at him, then jerked her chin in Davrin's direction.
Realization dawned on him.
"Ah. No, that wasn't my intent." Not that it was the worst conclusion anyone could jump to, but Lucanis had chosen the book for another reason. "Do you—" He paused, considering this new perspective. "Do you think Davrin assumed that as well?"
"Truth be told, I don't think Davrin processed much beyond the emotional damage that book dealt him." They shared a quiet laugh together, lapsing into silence long enough to savor their first sip for the evening. "Although, that begs the question. If not for that, then why did you choose that book? Were you trying to make him mad?"
"Hmm…" Lucanis shrugged. "In part, perhaps, but believe it or not, he's enjoying himself right now."
"Is that so?" Neve peered over at Davrin, who was still busy ranting. "Could've fooled me."
"Look at it this way," Lucanis suggested. "He's an incredibly smart man with a vast array of knowledge about his chosen profession. Yes, he'll mention jobs to us here and there, but he rarely ever goes into as great of detail as he's capable of."
Lucanis only ever got a true glimpse of how deep that well of knowledge went when they got drunk together that one night, swapping stories back and forth. It was quite invigorating, watching Davrin get excited about a topic, how his eyes lit up…
Now, Lucanis had the honor of watching it happen all over again, except with sobriety offering the clarity needed to fully appreciate the moment, and it appeared that Lucanis wasn't the only one affected. The others remained riveted by the conversation, each new question leading into another until they were barely talking about the book anymore at that point. Passion filled Davrin's voice, and his hands danced around from one gesture to the next, Davrin leaning forward in his chair while he spoke.
"And you just provided him with the perfect opportunity to do so," Neve stated, impressed.
Lucanis tapped his finger upon his mug. "Precisely."
Neve watched Lucanis while Lucanis watched Davrin.
Eventually, she reached out and pinched him on the cheek.
"You are such a sap!"
"Yeah, yeah." He shooed her hand away, grinning into his drink. "Don't go spreading it around."
Ahhh!!! This was so perfectly written, I could hear everyone’s voice. Lucanis is definitely a sap, but it was lovely that he thought of something with low stakes to get Davrin to open up to the group about his work. Also love that the group knew exactly what they were in for.
It’s hot and you decide it’s time for ice cream! You have the best ice cream and all the best toppings set out. Which babe can’t handle the temptation and decides they want to eat you instead? Do they feed you ice cream afterwards to make up for ruining you your plans?
I'm just thinking of Hal, construction worker, coming off of a long, painfully busy shift. On top of all that, it's hot as hell out and he's gotta be wearing his protective gear; heavy boots, heavy gloves. Even if he were young again, it'd be a drain on him.
He steps out of his truck and walks up to the house. If nothing else, he's got you. You're the breath of fresh air that keeps him going. His reason for doing, for being. And he'll happily sweat in the sun all day if it would mean taking care of you.
As he walks in, he smells that you've cooked his favorite dinner. He steps into the kitchen and sees you setting everything up. When you spot him, you see the love and gratitude in his big blue eyes. That smile that still gives you butterflies.
Smiling, you kiss him, "you go have a seat, Sweetie. Figured you could use a pick-me-up."
"All I need is you, Sugar," he says as he wraps his arms around you.
"Please, Hal, I can practically hear your stomach rumbling," you giggle as you break his hold. "Go get cleaned up and I'll have dinner ready."
He can't deny the truth about his stomach so he quickly goes and showers. When he goes back to the kitchen he's wearing nothing but those grey sweatpants he knows makes you crazy. He eats quickly but is able to savor every bite. He knows it means the world to you that he enjoys your cooking. He might be playing up some of his moans of pleasure to tease but your giggles make it all worthwhile.
Between the meal and your company he's feeling so much better.
"I've got a surprise for you for dessert," you tell him as you both clean up the table.
"Oh? You got some new panties?" He winks as you giggle.
"No, nothing like that Hal," you gently chide. You go to the freezer and pull out his favorite ice cream. His eyes widen appreciatively but you're not done. You also grab caramel sauce, chocolate sauce, cherries, all of his and your favorites. "Whatever you want, however you want," you tell him as he smiles at everything.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Then take off those clothes and sit on the couch because you're the best damn dessert a man could ever ask for."
You giggle as heat rushes to your face, "just make sure to put the ice cream in the freezer. Don't want it to melt." You take off your clothes, practically doing a striptease for him, as he fulfills your request, his eyes never leaving you.
Characters: Timothée and his twin sons, Dionysus and Zagreus
A/n: welp. I’m posting this because I want to and deserve it. I still haven’t finished Crown Him but this is a scene from the modern AU spinoff Ive been holding back trying to finish the main canon series first. But Househusband Spring Timmy cannot be denied much longer!!! Happily posted for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor’s Househusband Mini Challenge, I briefly introduce to you 3 of the main cast of a future (almost modern family-esque styled) spinoff series: Everything is Everything 🥰
“Dad, I cannot eat a single other gingerbread cookie.”
Timothée just looked at his child, lost and hurt. “But… Dio, the bake sale is next week! How will I know it’s been perfected if I don’t get feedback? I need—!”
But Zag was walking passed and doubled back at the sight of cookies. He plucked it from his dad’s hands and bit off the head. Timothée looked at him expectantly.
“Well??”
“Good crunch,” Zag started with a nod. Holding up the cookie, he broke a leg off, “Good snap. The ginger has a nice bite, not too overpowering. What am I getting there?”
“I candied the ginger first.”
Zagreus snapped his fingers as he hummed appreciatively. “That’s it, that’s it! Gods and that nutmeg!”
“The nutmeg is fresh, I ground it myself,” Timothée said, wringing his hands like a contestant on a Food Network competition.
“And…” Zagreus pursed his lips, searching and searching. “Is that vanilla beans?”
“Just a teaspoon.”
“Bold choice. Audacious even. But it paid off.” Zagreus held out his hand and Timothée clasped it in both of his as he shook it. “Well done.”
“Thank you, chef,” Timothée breathed, choking up.
Dio gave them an unimpressed look over his homework. “Y’all got issues.”
Dead-eyed and exhausted editor at a newspaper in a magical city - the press is very unpopular with the king, but due to a bunch of legal and bureaucratic oddities, he is required to fund the newspaper and the editor has appropriate editorial control over his presses
But. Good gods.
He keeps getting sent these dewy-eyed and naive novice writers fresh from university courses that teach rhetoric and memorisation far more than they do analysis, and he is so desperate for a writer who will be critical of ANYTHING. not even the king, not even the government! Just anything! Please!
And he's looking through archived essays and pieces of writing whilst considering his new hires and stumbles across an absolutely scathing analysis of the royal palace's architecture. He's got no real interest in architecture, but this piece has voice, and it's so well-cited, and so BITCHY
References the inspirations for the palace coming from certain ancient elven palaces wanting to evoke a sense of continuity of power, vaulted ceilings and whispering corridors used for eavesdropping, service separation and similar - coldly critiquing the class divisions obvious in its design
Comparing it to other palaces and public buildings that aren't so blatant, and are just way more efficient
But mostly just saying how fucking ugly everything is. Ugly gauche paintings poorly curated and badly hung. Bad colour schemes, shittily built archways and pillars, etc
And he realises he's sat here and basically read a thesis on how the king is a prick by virtue of his ugly palace, looks to the author to see if he can pick this kid up
And is baffled and befuddled when he recognises the name. This guy is on his fucking payroll. He writes fucking horoscopes.
The editor fucking hates fortune telling, and that shit is basically only in his paper because it gets people to pick it up. He occasionally skims them and they're all airy fairy bullshit and vaguery
This kid ??? Writes horoscopes and occasional ad copy and obituaries??? And wrote... THIS?
Goes into the office and slowly goes to the corner where this young man sits at his desk and works, and after like 5 minutes he's like "Hey, sir! Did you know that you're staring at me?"
"Did you write this?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, uh huh."
"This... is good. Why don't you write more things like this?"
"Oh, I don't know, it's, um..." and this kid is fucking shrinking in his seat. He's an obnoxiously, painfully cheerful young man, and it never occurred to the editor that he had brains enough to be interesting. He's now wilting under his stare. He almost whispers as he says, "It's so... mean."
Stumbling through an explanation that his priest used to drill into him that shows of temper or anger, even through sarcasm or humour, were uncouth and unacceptable and sinful, and he used to work on this essay as an outlet for his negative feelings because it felt less scary than writing in a diary
It was never meant to be published or submitted anywhere: a friend had had to pick up a paper and bring it in one day for a deadline when he was feverish in bed, and this ended up being brought in instead of the right essay about runic layering in modern magical observatories
Whispering, chin to his chest, that it's not a good thing to put negative energies into the world, to make people think bad things or have unpleasant thoughts, when it's righteous instead to soothe them and warm their hearts and cheer them and distract them from their hardships
And this editor on his last nerve inwardly like. Okay. Don't strangle him. Don't strangle him. He's insane and it's his priest's fault, and maybe at some point we'll strangle the priest. But we can work with this. We can make him into something. We can do this.
"Um, sir? You're... staring. Again."
"Mn," the editor grunts, slowly turning and walking away.
And after a few seconds the kid says, in the chipper voice of a young man who has firmly decided to forget the last five minutes of his life, says, "Uh. Okay! Talk to you later, then!"
The March of the Forgotten transpired once every Firstfall. By then, the autumnal foliage had passed its peak; bright colours already fading from senescence, the beauty of its transition another harrowing reminder of the toll of time.
Where the Veil was thinnest, in a dense forest near the edge of the Necropolis, spirits, both old and new, strode through mists of quietude. The procession wasn’t met with profligacy, as was the norm for Nevarran pageantries, but with deep reverence. Above all, it was an opportunity to see history resurrected, to mingle with the dead.
A short distance away, Emmrich Volkarin stood, observing the sea of transparent figures drifting past him. Manfred was at his side, emerald eyes glittering. His ward was transfixed, for once his curiosity subdued, not even a hiss escaped him.
Emmrich scanned the thinning crowd, gaze calculating, always searching for two faces in particular. His parents. Yet luck had never been in his favour, no matter how often he paid his respects.
When the last spirit finally dissipated, its embers rejoining the currents of the Fade, Manfred’s shoulders wilted in disappointment. He turned to Emmrich, expression dim.
“I’m afraid that was the last of them.” Emmrich’s lips quivered, fighting to keep his smile from faltering.
A soft hiss, bones rattling as Manfred pointed to where the spirits had been. His naivety just about shattered Emmrich’s heart.
“That won’t be necessary, Manfred. They’ll come next year, surely.” He lied. Though was it for Manfred’s consolation, or his own?
My writing submission for the @thefadediscordserver's 2026 Emmrich calendar! Art by the wonderful and incredibly talented @paramortality 💀❤️
Summary: You have wonderful news to share with Bucky and Alpine helps you.
Word Count: Almost 2.3k
Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, crying, pregnancy, mention of HYDRA, implied sex, POV shift (you, Bucky, and Alpine), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)
A/N: Some sweetness to start off the week! @soelstress, thank you for the suggestion of the sign and letting me run with this.❤️ Beta read by the amazing @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
The bedroom was close to silent when you woke, snow softly falling outside. It was the kind of winter morning that coaxed you to stay under the covers just a little longer and bask in the warmth of the man holding you. Turning your head, you smiled tenderly at the sight of Bucky sleeping, his mouth parted slightly and his hair loose around his face. His breaths were steady and gentle. It was beautiful to see him peaceful like this.
No missions. No nightmares. Just the sanctuary of your bedroom and home.
You brought a hand to his cheek, your wedding ring shining in the low light. He moaned low and pushed his cheek closer to your palm, seeking you out in his sleep. Some days, you still couldn’t believe that he was your husband and wanted to spend his life with you. It was a dream come true.
And your dream was only getting brighter.
“Love you, Bucky,” you breathed, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Both of us.”
His hand drifted seemingly on instinct to your stomach when you shifted and you held your breath. Did he know? Or did he at least suspect?
Bucky always said that you were beautiful, but he asked recently if you switched up something in your skincare routine. He noted that you had an extra glow. You played that off as lighting and a new vitamin, which wasn’t a lie since you started taking a prenatal.
He hovered more than usual, too, his brows furrowed whenever you mentioned feeling fatigued. He cancelled a few things so you could get more rest. You also caught him staring when certain smells made your nose wrinkle, and he quietly tossed the items out before you could ask.
Your husband always took care of you.
But did he know?
Either way, he’d find out soon enough since today was the day.
You somehow managed to slip free from his hold, which wasn’t an easy feat, and got out of bed. You didn’t want to wake him just yet. He deserved to dream sweet dreams for a bit longer.
“Hey, Alpine,” you whispered when you spotted her curled up near the front of the bed, a perfect ball of white fur. She blinked at you before she stood and stretched. She knew you needed her.
You tiptoed out of the room, the cat following with grace and purpose. A flutter of nerves filled your chest before it shifted to excitement. You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face, the secret you carried ready to be shared.
The tiny chalkboard sat where you left it the night before. You’d lost count of how many times you wrote the message, erased it, and wrote it again, wanting it to be perfect. Picking it up with a shaky hand, you reread the message until the letters blurred together.
Mom & Dad are getting me a HUMAN!
Your stomach dipped and your hand flew to it.
Your baby.
You suspected you were pregnant when you missed your period, but you’d never forget the shock, happiness, and love that filled you when you saw the positive test. It had been real then, but it was sinking in just how real it was now, right on the edge of sharing the news with your husband. You and Bucky were already a family with each other and Alpine, but it was growing.
“Do you think I’d be a good dad?” he asked, his voice so small it put a crack in your heart.
“I know you’ll be a good dad if and when that day comes,” you answered, relief and love softening his eyes.
“When,” he said determinedly, his hand warm against your stomach. “When we have a baby.”
You smiled softly at the memory. You thought about how to share the joyous news until it made sense that Alpine should be the one to do so. She helped save Bucky in many ways before you came along and she accepted you as his partner without question. She would be a wonderful big sister to your baby.
“You ready?” you asked. She meowed and sat up straight, and you smiled as you placed the chalkboard around her neck. “Let’s go get your dad.”
Your eyes instantly filled with tears. Dad. He was already one to the beautiful creature in front of you, and soon to the baby you made together. You took a steadying breath, willing yourself not to dissolve into a blubbering mess.
Damn hormones. Thank God Bucky didn’t see you cry over that paper towel commercial the other day. How would you have explained that?
Alpine bumped her head gently against yours before she turned and strutted down the hall. You wiped your eyes and followed, your heart pounding in your chest when you stopped in the doorway. Bucky groaned when Alpine planted herself on his chest, and you held your breath as his eyes opened.
This was it.
“Al, what the hell?” he muttered, the sign swinging dangerously close to his face. You almost laughed before he sat up, careful not to knock his little partner-in-crime back. A flood of emotions crossed his face as he read the sign again. And again.
You exhaled because you had to. Was he happy? Was it his dream come true?
“Sweetheart…”
Bucky checked the sign again to make sure the words didn’t change to FEED ME or You forgot my treats again, Old Man. But they didn’t. He wasn’t dreaming. And he suddenly couldn’t breathe.
“Mom & dad are getting me a human,” he read out loud, his voice cracking.
You stepped into the room, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. There was so much love radiating from you. More than he ever thought he deserved.
“Is this…” He swallowed hard and got to his feet. He crossed the room in a few strides, grounding himself as he cupped your cheeks and searched your eyes for the answer he already knew. “Are you…”
“Yeah, Bucky. I’m pregnant.” You let out a watery laugh. “We’re having a baby.”
His heart cracked wide open.
He pulled you into his arms, holding you like you’d slip through his fingers if he let go. His lips found your forehead, your temple, your cheek. He felt your smile before he kissed your lips, and he couldn’t stop smiling either. The world had given him a special kind of happiness when you came into his life, and the world was blessing him once again.
A baby.
You were pregnant with his baby.
It all made sense now.
The glow he couldn’t quite place. The fatigue that hit you out of nowhere. The random smells that bothered you. And he didn’t mention it in case he was too hopeful, but his enhanced senses picked up that your smell was slightly different.
God, you were pregnant.
Of course, you were.
“I knew it deep down,” he whispered, kissing your lips again just because he could. “I knew something was different.”
It was everything he wanted and more.
You laughed softly again, a tear sliding from your eye. “You did?”
“Yeah.” His thumb swept across your cheek to catch it. “You were glowing, tired, and…” He cleared his throat when his voice broke again. “I just didn’t want to say it and it not be true.”
That would’ve devastated him.
HYDRA chipped away at Bucky’s humanity until there was almost nothing else left. He recovered, but he hadn’t dared to hope. Alpine helped him heal more, and then you came along and gave hope back to him. He loved again with his whole heart. And he quietly prayed that one day your family might expand because he wanted to be a dad to your child. Even if it never happened, loving you and Alpine would always be enough.
But you had just given him something precious.
You had given him more hope for tomorrow.
He exhaled and laughed, a sound torn between disbelief and awe. His hand drifted down and hovered over your stomach, almost afraid that he hadn’t earned the right to touch. “May I?” he asked.
You covered his hand with yours and guided it.
The moment it settled there, something inside him shifted permanently. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t something dangled in front of him just to be ripped away. It was real.
“I’m gonna be a dad,” he said barely above a whisper. “We’re gonna have a baby.”
Your smile made his heart swell.
He dropped to his knees and pressed the gentlest of kisses to your stomach. His baby was there. “I meant it when I said when and not if. I just…” He looked up at you, tears pricking his eyes. “I didn’t think I’d get this lucky.”
He wrapped his arms around you, his head pressing against your belly. For a moment, he thought he’d sob. He’d go to every single appointment and turn down any mission that would keep him away from you. He’d buy baby books and read every single one. And there was the spare room that he’d have to change into a nursery.
Alpine jumped off the bed with a meow, the sign still dangling around her neck. She batted his thigh with her paw, demanding some attention. She deserved it.
“You little sneak.” He picked her up and briefly pressed his face into her fur. “You knew before I did, didn’t you?”
She meowed smugly.
“You did great, Al,” he promised. “Really great.”
He chuckled and looked up at you. His wife, the love of his life, and the mother of his child. His chest ached with something beyond love and devotion, something he couldn’t name but felt with his entire being.
“This is the greatest gift you’ve ever given me, apart from saying ‘yes’ on our wedding day,” he said softly, setting the cat down and removing the sign with gentle care.
“It’s the greatest gift to me, too,” you said, making his heart full all over again.
“Al,” he said, a teasing smirk on his face. “Thank you again for your help, but you may want to give your mom and me a minute or two.”
Your eyes widened. “Bucky, what are you-”
He chuckled when he picked you up and carried you back to bed, something primal blending in with the love he felt. He wasn’t planning on letting you leave it for the rest of the day. Not when he had you to worship. Not when they had so much to celebrate.
“I love you,” he said, meant for both you and your baby.
“We love you, too, Bucky.” You gazed up at him and he fell in love with you all over again. “We love you, too.”
Alpine’s tail slowly swayed as her mom and dad finally settled back into bed. She left when the laughter and joy faded into soft breaths and noises not meant for her. She was certain it was that every act that changed everything.
She padded into the kitchen just as the timer went off, releasing food into her bowl. It was sufficient, but she fully expected a treat later for doing such a good job delivering the message. After that, she’d take a much deserved nap.
Oh, her dad and mom. They loved each other so much. Truly.
Her dad’s heart still thumped faster whenever her mom walked into a room. And her mom helped dad’s nightmares fade and made him smile again. They were a perfect match.
But, honestly, it took them long enough to figure out the good news.
She had known for weeks, long before the test and the chalkboard. Her mom’s scent changed, and so had her energy. Something on the television made her cry for no reason the other day. And her dad hovered more. He always did that when he loved something deeply.
Humans could be terribly oblivious creatures. But dad and mom were her humans. She wouldn’t change that for the world.
And soon, there would be another human in their home. A little brother or sister. Someone smaller. Louder. One who would grab her fur and cry at inconvenient hours.
She would allow it because this was her family.
She would supervise. She would guard the door during naps. And she would help her dad watch over and protect her mom until her sibling arrived and after.
Later, once the noise in the bedroom died down, she made her way back. Dad held mom close, their breathing slow and even now, his hand resting protectively on her stomach. They cried happy tears. She could tell.
She jumped on the mattress and curled up beside them, the air light and happy. She would demand her treat soon, but this was good for now. This was right.
And she was going to be an excellent big sister.
Bucky’s thumb traced a heart on your belly, your chest tight. You were going to cry all over again if you weren’t careful. “If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up,” he whispered.
“It isn’t a dream. It’s our life,” you whispered back, letting him pull you closer. “And it’s our miracle.”
He kissed your temple. “You’re the miracle,” he said, your heart skipping a beat.
Alpine purred in agreement.
Snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the world in beauty and quiet. Inside, surrounded by warmth and love, you, Bucky, and Alpine eventually drifted off to sleep. Your husband’s hand stayed on your stomach, protective and loving even while he rested. Your cat kept an open ear, also a guardian for your family. You’d make plans for the future tomorrow.
Today, you’d rest, let yourselves have this moment of love and peace and celebrate your growing family.
Oh, the happiness and tooth-rotting fluff we deserve. How protective will Alpine be as a big sister? And how will they announce it to the team? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Warnings: cannibalism mention, murder, reader willingly used as bait, blood and gore
A/n: this week’s prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial made me want to dip back into this AU! It also coincided with @writeformesinpie’s yandere prompts so I did a little 2 for 1
There was a new rumor about these woods now. One that spread from the lips of common criminals in the seedy underbelly, not the good simple townsfolk.
It was said there was a wood nymph that lived there. She was always comely and defenseless, humming unawares to herself as she munched on sweets whose scent carried on the wind.
Beware this woman.
Without a word, her form could ensnare a man and lead him into the woods’ depths. Sugary goodness and her curves blinding them to rationality. They’d become ravenous for her, clawing to know her taste for it must be as sweet as the candies she savors.
All who follow this nymph are led to the den of a monster. A butcher of a being, sly and fast. Her temptress form will be the last thing they see as a blade crosses their throat. Her sweet scent on their tongues replaced by the iron of their life’s wine.
For better or worse, that “nymph” was just plain ol’ you. Lee had made you a lure for his appetite, the tool he used to bait and trap his meals. It was a scary predicament, but the arrangement kept the woods safe. For you, at least.
You knew any time you saw a sweet on your doorstep that Lee was on the prowl. He was a deadly accomplished hunter; no matter how many times he set you out as bait, you returned home safe and sound, if not with a bit of a tummy ache. The sweets he conjured kept you transfixed and entranced. Going from one candy to another, you never had to be fully aware of what carnage was in your wake.
But instead of coming to on your doorstep again, you’re jerked out of your trance by a yank on your skirt. A gasp fell from you as consciousness returned abruptly, the trees spun as you were twirled around into solid arms. But they were slick as you gripped for them to steady yourself.
Lee smirked down at you.
His hand was slick too as it secured your jaw, angled your face up to his. “Not this time, sweetling.” He answered your unspoken question. “I want my dessert tonight, too.”
His lips descend on yours, licking into your mouth and sampling the trace flavor of the caramel clusters he left out for you. He hummed a low moan and you whimpered in kind, clutching the front of his shirt to find that, too, was wet.
The metallic stink finally met your nose. You parted from Lee’s lips and saw two bodies not too far behind him, sprawled face down in the underbrush and staining the leaves and moss.
He redirected your gaze again with his hold on your chin. “Don’t worry about them, toots. I’m gonna dress my dinner, you just go to my place and sit pretty.” Lee nuzzled his head between your throat and shoulder and nearly purred. “Been too long since I’ve been between your thighs and you know I can never get enough of you. Even as sweet as you taste, still ‘gonna drink you down to the last sip.”
He spun you back out of his arms in the direction of his gingerbread house with a wicked smirk.
And it was the first look at his fully horrifying appearance, dripping in the gore from his murders. He twirled his knife in his hand and winked at you, walking back to his bounty. And you sighed, heading to his house as you grimaced annoyed at your dress.
Lee was so lucky you’d gotten pretty good at getting blood out of your clothes. If not, you’d have to dye this one red too.
It's Christmas time and I started another recommendation list. In this List I only included Fics that take place around Christmas and focus on Loki. There are three other Christmas Fic Recommendation Lists: one for Steve Rogers, one for Bucky Barnes and one that includes various Characters.
Please note that these stories aren't mine! Credits go to all these lovely authors. If anyone should see this and read the fics, please show them some love.
Regarding possible warnings, I only write down the basics. More detailed warnings are written down by the authors on the beginning of their stories. Please always make sure you’re reading these warnings. Do not read if you are under 18 years old. Some of these stories are meant for adults only. But in the end, you’re always responsible for your own media consumption.
Be assured that I LOVE every single one of these amazing stories. Thank you to all the authors for writing and sharing them with us ♥️
Happy reading! ❤️
All I want for Christmas by @lokisgoodgirl
Avenger!Loki x F. Reader
1.7K | fluff, mild angst
Author's summary: Last Christmas, Loki broke your heart. Will this year be any different? Spoiler: yes. Yes it will.
I'm Dreaming of a Green Christmas by @joyful-enchantress
Loki x F. Reader
2k | fluff, humor, slight angst
Friends to lovers
In the Bleak Midwinter by @lokisgoodgirl
Loki x Reader
3.4K | fluff
Author's summary: On a mandatory Christmas Avengers Getaway, resident Scrooge Loki discovers there is warmth to be found
Peace by @lokisgoodgirl
Loki x Reader
1.2k | fluff
Author's summary: After an outing to the Christmas Tree Farm goes awry, Loki does a little soul searching in his moccasins.
A Clandestine Christmas: Clandestine F*cks by @lokisgoodgirl
Avenger! Loki x Fem.Reader
2.9k | Smut, Humour.
Author's summary: Off the back of a stunning festive revelation, Loki shows you a hidden room in Stark Tower
Part of the Clandestine F*cks Collection
Part of the Winter Warmers Collection
Mistletoe Mayhem by @tilltheendwilliwrite
Loki x Reader
3825 words | fluff
Author's summary: Mistletoe, mischief, and no mercy. Can you escape the Avengers long enough to make it through Christmas Eve without locking lips with the entire team? Especially when the only one you wanted to kiss had decided not to participate in Stark’s shenanigans.
Slipping between future and pastby @muddyorbsblr
Timeslipping TVA!Loki x F. Reader/ OC Talía Williams
3.8k | smut
Author's summary: You give your friend a few pointers on what to know about Yule, and come across a familiar looking stranger in your bookstore.
The Golden Yule Hunt by @societyfolklore
Loki x Asgardian Female Reader
3.2K | smut
Author's summary: Asgard holds its annual Yule Hunt, a festive competition involving enchanted beasts and snowy landscapes. Loki and the reader team up to win- but Loki has eyes on another prize.
Loki’s Gift-Giving Guide to Mortal Relations by @societyfolklore
1.7k
Author's summary: Loki, in an attempt to ingratiate himself with the Avengers, begins leaving them macabre 'gifts'
A Midgardian Christmas by @just-the-hiddles
Loki x Reader
six parts
Author's summary: This Loki’s first Christmas on Midgard. You decide to show Loki all that a Midgardian Christmas has to offer. Things don’t seem to go as planned and you are having a harder and harder time keeping your burgeoning crush for Loki hidden.
Man of the month by @muddyorbsblr & @mochie85
Loki x F. Reader
12 parts + Outtakes | smut, fluff, angst
Summary: Tony's been informed that he needs to come up with a charity fundraising effort that's accessible to more than just the rich & famous, so he comes up with the idea of making a calendar of the men of the Avengers, with you as the photographer. He also may or may not have let slip to the guys that you have feelings for one of them, so now it's up to them to see if you return their affection. Naturally, some hijinks are bound to happen.
Birthday magic by @holdmytesseract
Loki x F. Reader
1.9 k | fluff, slight smut
Author's summary: Everybody around you tends to forget your birthday, because of all the Christmas trouble. Except Loki, of course...
Unrequited by @glitchquake
Loki x F.Reader
fluff, hint to smut, slight angst
Day 18: Mistletoe by @gremlin-girly
Loki x gn. Reader
234 | fluff
established relationship
Author's summary: When you see some mistletoe, you tell Loki some not so fun facts about it.
Day 18 of Fluffcember 2024
Last Christmas on Midgard by @chantsdemarins
Loki x Reader
3k | smut
Author's summary: You are surprised to find your prayers answered, it's just not the right brother. Or is it?
Eine kleine Nachtsmusik by @xoxovivafics
Krampus! Loki x black witch reader
4,307 words | Holiday fluffy smut
Author's summary:An alpine witch visits Krampus with a Christmas surprise.
You Better Watch Out by @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy
Krampus!Loki x Reader
3100 words | Slight Dubcon
Monsterfucking
Author's summary: You've decided to spend Christmas alone this year, but someone is going to pay you a visit
All I could give you by @muddyorbsblr
Loki x Reader
2.9k | sad Loki, fluff
best friends to Lovers
Author's Summary: It seems that nearly the entirety of Asgard had forgotten that today was supposed to be a day of celebration. Everyone but you, at least.
All wrapped up by @muddyorbsblr
Loki x reader
6.5k | unrequited love-themed angst, smut, fluff
Author's summary: After getting in hot water with Fury about his shenanigans that revolve around candy cane, you give Loki some advice on how to seduce someone if he really wants to go down the red and white striped road. Even if it hurt you to do so.
Excuses & opportunities by @muddyorbsblr
Loki x reader
1.5k
Author's summary: Loki has some questions about the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe.
Blue Christmas by @mochie85
Loki x Female Reader
Over 2.7k | Smut
Author's summary: You ask Loki to give you something special for Christmas.
Winter drabble by @lady-rose-moon
Loki Laufeyson x reader Smut, fluff
Loki’s Holiday Lesson by @jtargaryen18
Loki x Reader x Bucky
6.3K | Smut
Author's summary: You’ve just been promoted to a lead elf in Santa’s workshop. You have a keen eye for detail and you’ll be running the show in no time. The first thing that’s going are those huge,gawdy bows slapped on each gift that Santa delivers. But Loki, the Head Elf, knows what you’ve been up to, He’s not pleased. His chief assist brings you into the office for a demonstration on the importance of ribbons and bows -- and discipline.
Hey hey- first off, love your writing and am always re-reading.
Second, here’s my smutty request. Can we have Eddie x Reader where they are good friends but are both horny as hell during/ after a party where they played spin the bottle and landed on one another…and now the party is over and they are all pent up and say screw it, let’s fuck? Throwing caution and platonic relationship to the wind
Thank you sweetheart! Kinda took a couple liberties with this.
I Will if You Will
Gif by @his-name-is-ed
Warnings: 18+ filthy smut. Squirting. If I catch a whiff of any minors in my yard I’ll shoo you away with a broom. 3k words.
The umber leaves crunched beneath your feet as you leaned against the rough bark of an ash tree. The air was crisp, summer haze fading gently into the comforting lull of fall. The cold seemed to make the stars shine even brighter, constellations you couldn’t name reflected in your glassy eyes. You smiled to yourself when you heard the unmistakable wail of Steve singing along to The Monster Mash from the open window behind you. A classic, for sure, but his enthusiasm in his drunken state lent itself to many clumsy notes.
His parent’s summer cabin was the perfect setting for a Halloween party, and enviably large enough to fit your whole senior class. Even if he was King no longer, no one could resist the allure of free booze courtesy of rich parents.
“Whatcha doin’ out here, my little stargazer?” A raspy voice spoke from beside you, a little tipsy and full of fondness.
“Just taking a break from the noise, Eds- head hurts.” You replied, thumbing at your temple. You hadn’t had much to drink, but on an empty stomach it seemed to be catching up with you.
“I’ve got just the thing, little lady-” Eddie leans over, pressing a wet kiss to your crown, laughing lightly as he did so. “Magic kiss. See? All better.”
“Gross!” You wiped his saliva from your forehead in mock disgust, but secretly you craved any kind of physical affection from him. Your “strictly and totally platonic” relationship with Eddie was always tactile. Chaste kisses on his forehead when you would nap together after too many joints. His strong, dexterous fingers massaging at your shoulders after a long day. It was normal for you.
What wasn’t normal were your frequent fantasies about him. How his fleeting touches made you feel your heartbeat between your legs. Or, how right at this moment, Eddie was thinking about nothing but hiking your skirt up around your legs and taking you up against this tree. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost feel you around him. Shit, he needed another beer.
“You gonna come inside, princess?” Eddie motioned toward the cabin and the cacophony of inebriated voices. “S’not my scene either but who are we peasants to turn down Harrington’s free food, huh?” He grinned at you, eyes teasing and cajoling.
“Fine-” You relented, “but you’re sticking with me! I don’t wanna get cornered by that dude from the chess club again. His breath smells of pickle juice.” Your nose scrunched up adorably.
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the nerds.” He offered, taking your hand in his and dragging you away.
“You are a nerd.”
The inside of the cabin was warm with bodies, the atmosphere buzzing as you regarded the generic blood-drenched costumes of the people around you. Neither you nor Eddie had put much effort into your attire, dressing mostly as you normally would, with a few adjustments. A smattering of fake blood on your cheeks, a tease of black kohl on Eddie’s waterline. He simply opted to wear a band tee with an emaciated skull on it. “Scary enough.” He’d said.
“Hey lovebirds, get over here!” Steve called from another, quieter room off to the side. You were still holding Eddie’s hand, but shyly retreated at Steve’s moniker.
Robin appeared like a shadow from behind him, yelling at you with her hands cupped around her mouth like a megaphone. “We need bodies! We’re playing spin the bottle.”
Eddie offered you a sly smile, one brow lifted with what could only be described as menace in his eyes. His way of saying, You game?, and you would never let yourself be called a coward. You’re on. You replied silently with your own smirk.
You took a seat cross legged on the scratchy green carpet of Steve’s obnoxiously large dining room. There were about ten to twelve people in total, sitting in a similar fashion, encircling a recently empty bottle of bud light.
“Right, rules are as follows- the bottle lands on you, you kiss. You don’t wanna kiss? You’ve both gotta do a dare. Got it?” Steve asserted, reaching forward for the first spin. It lands on himself, and then Robin.
“Oh absolutely not,” Robin slurred. “Dare.”
“Oh, I’m that disgusting am I?” Steve gestured in offense.
“Dare, dingus, I don’t have all day.” She rolled her eyes.
They offered each other a dare, and completed them with only a small amount of grumbling, and a roar of amusement from the small crowd. It continued in much the same fashion for a short while, and you eyed Eddie’s nervous twitching with suspicion. He had his first kiss at 13, it’s not as if he was totally inexperienced- what was he so antsy about? He caught you staring and smiled, but it was devoid of its usual mischief. Your eye contact broke when you heard Steve whooping and hollering, the bottle having landed on you.
Then Eddie.
“Cmon then Romeo and Juliet, get to it.” Steve chuckled at you both.
All of a sudden, the ambience in the room is stifling. Hot. You pull your collar away from your neck and take a shaky breath. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but not like this. Not because he had to.
“Dare.” You mutter. If you were completely sober, you would have seen the abject disappointment in Eddie’s expression. The tone of the room shifts to borderline awkward, as if the others can sense the underlying tension.
No. Eddie’s not having that. He needs to know what your lips feel like on his, and he’s just buzzed enough to take the chance.
“I dare you to kiss me.”
The small crowd erupt into teasing “ooooooohs”, and you crack just a little. The mischief is present again in Eddie’s smile and you figure he’s playing up for the audience, but a small part of you knows it’s something else. Hopes.
You crawl over to him. Inches away from his face.
“Lay it on me, then, Munson.” And he does.
You expect it to be sloppy and wet, full of tongue- a joke. Instead he takes your face in both his hands, tender and sweet, and presses his soft lips against you, the very tip of his tongue coming out to teasingly graze your top lip. You feel like you're standing on a live wire, the hairs in your arms standing to attention, your heart palpitating. It’s innocent, and over in seconds, but it’s lit a fire in you. In the moment as you pull away, you’re sure Eddie feels it too. You can see it in his eyes, a little wide and starstruck.
“Barf.” Steve interrupts, earning a smattering of chuckles from the circle around you.
“Whatever dude.” You brush off, returning to your spot and playing with a loose thread on the hem of your skirt.
Eddie stands up, a little ungainly, and removes himself from the room. Concerned, you follow immediately after as he all but hides in a spare room, closing the door behind him. You knock.
“Eds? You good?”
“Yeah, just, just give me a minute-” Before he can finish his sentence, you’re inching through the door. “Jesus! I said, give me a minute!”
He has his hand at his crotch, readjusting himself. He’s hard. You swallow thickly, mouth uncomfortably dry. You can’t peel your eyes away. Fuck. He’d kissed you, so tenderly and so briefly, and it had riled him up so much that he had to will away an erection. Something shifted in you, something overwhelming. Eddie could see it, feel it.
Before either of you could think, or speak, you had both closed the gap between you, meeting in a ferocious, teeth clashing kiss. So much different than before- a little messy and unco-ordinated it, but underlined with years of wanting. Your hand reaches into his thick hair and tugs harshly, out of nothing but pure desperation, and he groans unashamedly into your mouth. The sound sends pulses of pleasure to your cunt, and you return a small noise of satisfaction when his hands grip your waist and push you roughly up against the door, the latch digging slightly into your back.
“You too drunk for this?” He asks between heated kisses.
“No. You?” You assure him, biting slightly at his kiss-chapped bottom lip.
“No, but- are you sure? That you want this? I mean, I’ve wanted this for a long time but-” He’s rambling now, losing a little of the wind in his sails from nerves. You cut him off by cupping a confident hand over the delicious bulge in his jeans. You give it an experimental squeeze, rubbing your palm over its impressive length. He nearly whimpers.
“Just fuck me, Eds, please.” You breathe. He doesn’t need any more encouragement.
Eddie begins to trail hot kisses up your neck, to the spot just behind your ear, and he crowds you with his solid frame, snaking a hand up your waist to cup at your breast- determined, but not too rough. He’s getting lost in you, in your smell, your warmth. It’s why he can admit what he does.
“God, I’ve jerked off so many times thinking about this,” He rasps. “Your cute little mouth, and these perfect tits.” He takes them both in his hands, squishing them together a little obscenely. His honesty has you winded, overcome with desire at the thought of him touching himself to you.
“Maybe next time I’ll let you fuck them.” You offer, in complete seriousness. It catches him off guard and he drops his head to your chest, letting out a comically long groan.
“Can’t just say shit like that, jesus christ.” He laughs. “What’s wrong with you? Tryna make me cum in my fucking pants?” He lifts up to crash his lips to yours once more.
“Maybe.” You tease, breaking away to lift your shirt over your head. His shirt follows. You often went without a bra, and the sight of your bare breasts, nipples perked up in the chill air, has Eddie’s cock twitching painfully. He wastes no time wrapping his lips around one nipple, suckling gently as his hand massages at your hipbone, teasing the hem of your skirt. You impatiently grab his hand and slip it beneath and into your soaked underwear, and he moans around your peaked bud.
“Shit, so fucking wet- I did this to you?” He whispers lowly, a little in awe, as his index finger dips into your slick, spreading it slowly over your swollen clit.
“Yes,” You shudder, bucking against his hand, “want you so fucking bad, Eds. Don’t you want to feel me?”
“Want to taste you.” He mutters against your skin as he grazes his teeth down the soft plain of your stomach. He takes your delighted moan as permission as he removes his hand from your underwear, roughly tugging your remaining clothes down your legs, and you step out of them. Fully naked before him, he kneels below you in reverence, grabbing at the meat of your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder. God, you’re vibrating with need.
Eddie presses his nose to your pussy, inhaling deeply. His cock is leaking precum and pulsing in his boxers, but he can ignore it- for this. His tongue dives hungrily between your lips, latching onto your clit immediately and suckling. The way he looks up at you makes you want to collapse, and you nearly do when he slowly slides two deft fingers into your clenching hole.
“Oh fuck, Eddie!” You gasp, his fingers curling and bumping against your g-spot. He removes his mouth momentarily, kissing the inside of your thigh.
“Right there, princess? You like that?” He smirks.
“Fuck, yes, don’t stop-” You guide his head back to where it belongs, and he obliges, more than happy to suffocate in the salty sweetness of your perfect pussy. You grind against his face, your fingers a vice-like grip, tugging at his hair. “Just a little to the left-yes- fuck!”
Eddie laps at you, fingers pistoning into your tight heat, and you can feel the electricity, the pleasurable static build behind your clit and in the pulsing walls of your cunt. It’s all over when you look down and see Eddie’s hair wild around his face, your wetness painting his cheeks, his nose pushed up against your pubic bone. You cum with a silent scream, muscles wound so stiff you fear they’ll snap, endless waves of unbridled ecstasy washing over you. You’re too far gone to notice the mess you’ve made all over Eddie’s delighted face.
“Holy fucking shit, did you just squirt?”
“What- I- oh my god-” You’re not embarrassed, just absolutely dumbstruck. It had never happened before, not even on your own. Perhaps it was the slight relaxed buzz you had going, or maybe just that it was Eddie. That you were comfortable with him, that you trust him, and your body knows it.
“So fucking hot, cm’ere.” He stands up abruptly, lunging forward to kiss you again, your taste lingering on his tongue. You fiddle with the buckle of his belt, unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock free from his boxers. No more preamble- you need him inside you, right now. He needs it too. You take a brief moment to marvel at him in your hands, he’s big, but not frighteningly so. His tip is ruddy and leaking, and he feels weighty in your palm. You rub his tip along your clit, and he bites his lip, his forehead pressed to yours. You lift up your leg, and he supports the underside of your knee with his strong arm as you notch him against your opening.
He can’t help himself as he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke, letting out a shuddering moan.
“Fuck, oh holy shit, holy shit-”
He’s immediately drunk on the way your pussy hugs him so tightly, so warm and so wet. His pale, porcelain chest heaves against your breasts, and you cling to him wantonly, skin to skin. Your voice pitches and breaks,
“So big, Eds, fuck- faster, please, please-”
He obliges, the sight of you wrecked and begging making him fuck up into you with fervour, the salacious sounds of his balls smacking against your wetness only barely drowned out by the thumping bass on the other side of the door. A door, you realize, is unlocked- but you can’t bring yourself to care when he feels so fucking perfect inside you. He’s going impossibly fast now, hips jerking against you, cock buried so beautifully deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach. He presses a hand against your abdomen, massaging the point where he’s hitting your cervix, over and over, and you cry out. A cry so loud, you know someone will have heard. It’s dirty, it’s pornographic, but it doesn’t feel wrong.
“God, I’m so fucking close baby, touch yourself for me? Please?” Eddie grunts, desperately holding off his release. “Want you to cum with me. Need you to cum with me-” He rambles, nearing his edge.
One hand is braced on his flexing shoulder while the other slips between your bodies. Your fingers ghost over his shaft as it disappears into you, and then to your clit, where you rub determined circles. He hoists your leg up higher, opening more of you up to him as his other hand cups your face, his thumb resting against your lip- an incongruously gentle gesture to the way he’s fucking you.
He looks utterly angelic. Brows furrowed, lips open and slick with spit, something behind his eyes you can’t quite discern, but it feels like devotion. As if in that moment, he would do anything for you. You can’t handle his piercing gaze, so you close your eyes, your second orgasm creeping up on you with blinding force.
“Look at me, pretty girl, please.” He begs, his voice straining. Your lids flicker open just as a sharp, deep knife of bliss hits you, and you clench around his cock.
“I’m cumming, Eddie- fuck, oh god, oh god”
Eddie continues to fuck you through it, and it feels as though it will never end. You’ve never felt anything like it.
“Gotta pull out baby, shit, let me pull out.” He whines, the soft pudge of his stomach tensing as he withdraws from you. You feel the loss keenly, but you’re quickly distracted by the sight of his cock spasming in his hand, dense milky ropes of his cum splashing immediately onto your pussy as he shivers and moans- the aftershocks shaking his entire body.
Eddie kisses you like he needs you to to put the breath back into his lungs. You return it with the same unspoken need, and he embraces you with both arms, steading you against him. You’re surprised you didn’t rattle the door off its hinges.
You both reluctantly untangle yourselves as it dawns on you that this is Steve’s bedroom. His pictures and ornaments lining the walls and dressers. You both snort, breaking into a delirious fit of laughter, and Eddie lays his head on your shoulder.
“Did you mean that? About there being a next time?” He asks, so quiet you almost don’t hear it. You stroke his hair soothingly and press a kiss to his crown, inhaling the scent of his cheap 3 in 1 shampoo. It’s so achingly Eddie.
“If you think after that I’m just gonna let you go off and fuck other chicks,” you giggle, “you’ve got the wrong idea, Munson.”
You trace your fingers down the length of his softening erection, lips curled up cheakily.
“This belongs to me now, got it?”
His grin is cheek splitting as he looks up at you.
Summary: You're exhausted after a long day, but you're awake enough for Bucky.
Word Count: Over 1.1k
Warnings: Established relationship, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), pet name (sweetheart), mild dirty talk, slight feels, mention of being a housewife, breeding kink if you squint, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Just a rambling thot I wanted to share. We'll call this a Sex(y) Saturday rambling. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
You’re exhausted after multiple exhausting weeks in a row.
Bucky’s footsteps are gentle as he goes to the bedroom since you aren’t in the living room to greet him. He groans when he sees you facedown on the bed in nothing but your underwear, but there’s an edge of concern because you know he sees the weariness in your body. “Ready for me, sweetheart, or just a long day?”
You try to lift your head. “Both?” Your original intention was to seduce him because who wouldn’t want to seduce Bucky Barnes? But you ended up collapsing on the bed once most of your clothes were off. “And as much as I want you to fuck me, I’m too exhausted to move,” you mumble into the blanket.
“Poor thing. You work so hard. One day I’ll convince you to quit.” You hear the familiar rustling of clothes coming off. He wanted you to quit your job weeks ago. “You just relax,” he urges, the mattress dipping under his weight. “Let me do the work.”
A tired giggle slips out. “Okay, Bucky. You do the work.” He could offer to give you a massage, but you both know it would lead to him fucking you. It always does.
The loving partner that he is, he rolls you onto your back so he can kiss your lips, his stubble tickling your skin. It isn’t just a kiss. It’s hunger laced with desperation, tenderness wrapped in devotion. As tired as you are, it awakens the need inside you and itches to break through your skin.
Before you can make a sound, he flips you back on your stomach and tears your underwear away. He manhandles you easily with his strength, lifting your hips and sliding his fingers through your folds. “So wet already and all I did was kiss you,” he murmurs, your cheeks burning because you know he’s staring at your pussy like he discovered the world’s greatest treasure. “What did I do to deserve you?”
And then he attacks.
Your heart is hammering against your chest as his mouth and fingers work you over, his tongue swirling in a maddening way that has you moaning his name. He’s relentless, pressing deep and teasing your clit until your thighs tremble. You shriek when he smacks your ass, gripping the flesh and groaning as he continues to enjoy his meal. You need him to make you come, fuck you, whatever he’ll give you.
He’s your devil and your god.
“That’s it. Just let me do the work,” he encourages you, his fingers curling and earning a muffled cry from you. “Exhausted and still need my cock.”
“No!” you sob when he takes his fingers out, but he takes mercy on and presses the head of his cock to your soaked entrance.
“Yes,” he growls, driving into you in one deep thrust. You can only scream into the mattress and fist the blanket when he moves. He stretches your walls in ways that make you ache and need more. “Fuck, you look so perfect when you take it.”
He’s a man of his word, making sure you don’t have to do any of the work. He pulls your hips back, making you take every delicious inch of him. His thrusts are so hard and deep that it takes the very air from your lungs. But what brings the tears to your eyes is his back draping over yours, his hand covering yours in a way that makes you feel loved and owned.
“Love you, sweetheart. Love that you’re mine,” he rasps in your ear and you can only whine, his words and thrusts creating endless sensations that keep crashing over you. “Say it.”
How are you supposed to speak when you can barely form a coherent thought? “Love you, Bucky… I’m yours,” you manage because you do and you are.
He moans with delight, somehow driving even deeper into you, spurred on by your declaration. “Taking my cock so well. And you’ll take every drop after I make you come,” he praises, nuzzling your neck when he finds your clit and rubs it fast. Pleasure coils tight, making you start to spiral. “Just let go.”
You shatter with a broken cry, your back arching as much as it can with him pinning you down. He doesn’t let up as you gush around him, your eyes fluttering as he makes you ride it out. It’s dizzying, leaving you breathless. He bites down on your neck when he fills you up after a few more thrusts, marking you inside and out. You’re panting, even though all you did was take it, and he’s careful not to crush you with his weight.
“I don’t like you being exhausted, but that was hot,” he teases, only taking himself when he has to and you whine instantly from the loss. You don’t want him to leave your body, don’t want to waste a single drop of your mixed release. “You okay?” he adds, moving you on your back again, your body boneless as his hands roam all over you.
“I’m okay,” you whisper, smiling tiredly up at him. You aren’t sure how you’re still awake, but he looks refreshed, his steel eyes sparkling. It could be the serum that makes him bounce back so quickly, but you like to think it’s thanks to his love and need for you.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers fondly, leaning into your touch when you reach up to touch his cheek. There’s a smirk on his face when he kisses your palm, and your eyes widen when his cock is suddenly back inside you. Super soldier rebound rate is insane, and each of your holes have been thoroughly wrecked because of it, but you can take it. “Shh. Just relax. Let me keep doing the work,” he urges again, his lips brushing yours. “And let me convince you to quit your job.”
“What?” you ask. At least, you think you ask. You’re pretty sure it came out like a pleasurable sound instead of a word. And why is he bringing that up again?
“You’ll be too busy feeling me for days to do anything else by the time I’m done with you,” he promises, rolling his hips, your hands barely gripping his arms. His hair falls in his eyes and he smiles when you moan. “You just stay home, keep my cock warm, and have my babies.”
You gasp. You could keep his cock warm day and night. The two of you would have beautiful babies.
“Your company doesn’t deserve you.”
No, they don’t.
“I’ll convince you,” he groans, leaning down to kiss your breasts. “Right before I fuck you to sleep.”
