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nagdabbit · 4 months

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we collide with shoulder and steel: chapter 12/25

rating: t to be safe

words: 906

a quiet interlude of yuta reflecting on danny

also on ao3

There wasn't much to the village when he left. There were more still-warm graves in the cemetery than there were warm houses. Pockets were leaden down with gold that would never be spent on merchants that would never pass their way, while the root cellars lay cold and empty. The entire place was falling to pieces, and he seemed to be the only one willing to do something.

Those left thought they could continue to endure, that they could brave the drought and the illness and the starvation—but they'd thought that longer than Yuta had been alive. Tradition couldn't preserve what wasn't there to begin with.

He hadn't ever held out a true hope that he could save them, the last wights withering away in the barren fields. He wasn't even certain he could have himself. His only real hope was to save those that would come after, keep any more lives from being lost to the wastes. The land beneath his feet had forgotten its own name, lost to dust and drought, nevermind the names of those still tilling her soil. He knew, in his heart, his name would be forgotten along with the rest of the ghosts haunting the streets he'd once run and played in.

He spent a couple years gathering all the knowledge he could. Books from what had once passed as a library, journals and notes from the few passing hunters, long-forgotten records from the desks of the elders, everything he thought could help him make his way.

He took enough from the stores to make it two or so months, if he was spare with his meals, and enough flour and yeast to extend that a little further. What he didn't take, he left for Danny to find and squirrel away for his own journey. He pocketed all the spare gold he could find, if ever there was a need for it—and most of that he slipped into Danny's purse when the other boy wasn't looking. He gathered all the leftover seed he could find, and hoped to any god listening that they would finally take root, and maybe leave something Danny could one day come back to.

One dry, gray morning, he turned his back, and hoped to hell that if Danny didn't follow, he'd have the sense to run the other direction, just as he'd always dreamed of doing, and live as long as he possibly could. To be happy for as long as he could.

Even he knew what a fool's errand looked like, and he didn't once blame Danny for running. If anything, he was glad of it. He was, after all, going somewhere Danny wouldn't follow. Had he stayed in the village below—stayed and stagnated and died—Danny would have, too. Danny would have followed him anywhere, save into the heart of the curse that had already taken so much from him, and Yuta had never once begrudged him that. Danny had survived out of spite, lived long past what anyone would have expected—and in many cases, encouraged. He was passed from neighbor to neighbor as they waited for the sickness to take him the way it took everyone else.

They lied and said he was family. They would say, with unearned pride, that, “We take care of our own,” without ever once admitting that their care came with caveats. They cared for Danny the way they cared for the weeds sprouting up between stepping stones, the way they cared for starving wolves among the sheep.

Yuta had never believed he'd earned the place Danny had carved for him in his own chest. He cared, loved the other boy more than he had the words for, but he hadn't earned that care in return—though Danny had given it. He couldn't give Danny enough food to fill his belly, though he tried, and couldn't keep him warm through the long nights. He could read to Danny, fill his head with daydreams. He could make promises he knew he'd never be able to keep, just to give Danny some much needed hope. He did what he could, all the while knowing their paths would never run the same direction. But Danny cared for him in return, all the same. There were times Yuta felt himself a shackle, keeping Danny from going where he needed to.

There were more than plenty of times that Danny had saved his hide, kept him from getting killed by his own curiosity. Enough that anyone else would've left Yuta for dead. After all, one less mouth to feed meant stores lasted just that month or so longer. More firewood for those who needed it, as if he and Danny didn't. Another house to scavenge to pieces—though Yuta didn't begrudge them that, not really. They were dying, too.

When he left, he had always known Danny wouldn't follow, though he sometimes hoped the younger boy would. Even in a perfect world, even if he found his cure for the unending drought, Danny would've been unhappy there. He wanted for adventure and freedom, for a life far from the place that had abandoned him. Had he climbed the mountain, he would have stagnated, been listless and bored, and still he would've stayed for Yuta.

Despite his many failings, Danny had always cared for Yuta. In leaving as he did, he had hoped, in his own way, he'd managed to grant Danny his freedom in return.

#a tale as old as balls #aew fic #aew fanfic

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 9 months

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Since we have masquarade event ~

How about boys reatcing to y/n walking in looking all gorgous in a dress ?

+ they ask her to dance at the festival?? ♡♡

for:

Jamil, Duece, Malleus, Azul, Silver

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul couldn’t ignore what was right in front of him. The person he had grown into was one with a sharp eye for golden opportunities and seeing you as the most beautiful person in the room that night, he knew he couldn’t resist asking you to dance. You think it’s cute when he tried to hide his real intentions by acting extra shady; if he really had an ulterior motive he wouldn’t look so embarrassed when you called him out, taking pleasure in the way he nervously pushed his glasses back up his face before rescinding his offer. You don’t allow him to as you considered it a contract, just an invisible one, and if he tried to get out of the deal he would not like the consequences.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce is a mess. He doesn’t know how to articulate the way he feels when he sees you in your dress, heart tight in his chest, muscles spasming as you approach and he nearly kneeled out of respect for someone who was clearly royalty. Seeing your easy smile made him remember you were still you despite the fancy upgrade you’d taken, and it sets him a little more at ease when you speak. He started to stutter again when he wanted to ask you to dance with him, mumbling something about two left feet and not making a good argument for why you should be his dance partner (but you accept anyway).

Jamil Viper:

Jamil didn’t plan on dancing, he didn’t entirely plan on being here or dealing with this either, but life seemed to drag him around as it pleased. Seeing you was the only highlight of his night, watching from the shadows with stars in his eyes as he wondered what it might be like to be even considered as your (dance) partner. He’s a little surprised that as much as he tried to hide in the shadows you always sought him out, as if you had a radar just for him. He holds out his hand without uttering a word and you return the comfortable silence, your smile nearly causing him to take after that age old fairy tale of that princess who ran from the ball when the clock struck midnight (except you’d be coming with him, to a place he could admire you in peace).

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus can’t keep his eyes to himself. He normally thought you had a certain beauty about you but seeing you all dolled up in an elegant dress… It made him want to tap in to his more jealous tendencies, locking you away in a tower for only him to admire. Alas, he can’t imagine your relationship remaining positive should he try to force your hand like that but he knows one other thing he could do to assure others kept their distance. He approached you with an extended hand, taking yours in his own and pressing a kiss to the back of it before wordlessly leading you to the dance floor; you can’t deny Malleus, not after seeing the bright smile on his face as he enjoyed twirling you around in the middle of the masquerade.

Silver:

Silver’s gaze sends a shiver down your spine, the unreadable expression on his face making you a bit anxious. It was always so hard to fully understand what was happening in his head, and you felt yourself holding your breath as he silently approached you. You’re stunned when he held out his hand and asked you to dance, head tilting to the side as he told you it seemed like you wanted to ask him. You’re embarrassed at being read like an open book but Silver’s small smile sets your heart at ease, a clear sign that he had the same wish as you or he would have never approached you.

#Twisted Wonderland #Disney Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Disney TWST #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Silver #TWST Silver #Azul Ashengrotto #Deuce Spade #Jamil Viper #Malleus Draconia #Silver x Reader #TWST Silver x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Jamil Viper x Reader #Deuce Spade x Reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader

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tossawary · 4 months

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A weirdly formative movie for me was "The Slipper and the Rose" (1976), which is a live-action movie adaptation of the Cinderella fairy tale set in some made-up European country. It is also a musical. I think it's fun and funny and sometimes quite sweet and I really like it as a comfort movie. It's kind of long and a little slow and old-fashioned and silly, and the ending is a little flat, but there are several songs that are just... about various logistical and humorous realities of being royalty... and I thought that was just fascinating as a young teenager who liked historical fantasy fiction.

(I excitedly tried to show it to a friend once and she was like, "WHAT am I watching?" She was bored during the dance sequences. It's quite different to the "(Rodgers and Hammerstein's) Cinderella" movie from 1997 starring Brandy. They're entirely different Cinderella musicals.)

The king and queen (and the dowager queen and the prince's cousin who will inherit if he doesn't marry) have a song sung to the prince called: "What Has Love Got To Do With Getting Married?"

The prince has a companion-at-arms (servant) named John and they have a really funny song together in the royal family's mausoleum, where the prince is like, "No matter what I do, I'm just going to end up buried next to these kings. Let me tell you all about how much they sucked as people." (It's called "What A Comforting Thing To Know" and it's probably my favorite song.)

The king and his ministers have a song all about the protocol for throwing a ball ("Protocoliogorically Correct"), because they don't want to offend anyone and accidentally start a war (again).

The prince's servant, John, is in love with Lady Caroline, who is the lady-in-waiting / companion to the dowager queen, but they can't get married because they're apparently too far apart in status. After the ball, when the prince is failing to find Cinderella, there's an entire song ("Position And Positioning") where John, the castle servants, and guards and civilians explain to the prince that there are ranks among servants and servants aren't as free to marry for love as the prince thinks they are. They even take the prince into the kitchens and are like, "Here are a bunch of other servants that you never see and barely knew existed, dude. They're going to do an extended dance number about this."

There are other musical numbers in this movie, including the romantic ("He/She Danced With Me") and heartbreaking ("Tell Him Anything") songs you would expect from a Cinderella story, but I mostly remember the humorous songs that actually engaged with the worldbuilding. I hadn't really seen a "fairy tale" movie do that before to that degree. (I'd seen books adapting fairy tales do it many times, but they don't have musical numbers.)

I think both "What A Comforting Thing To Know" and "Position And Positioning" are both worth watching by themselves, just for how unique they are among the many different Cinderella adaptations, and the movie clips are easy to find online. Go look them up if any of this sounds neat to you!

#tossawary watching #tossawary musicals #the slipper and the rose #cinderella

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thefreakandthehair · 11 months

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@steddie-week, day 3: discover.

When Steve is five years old, his mom catches him sneaking cookies before dinner.

The jar is set up on top of the refrigerator, porcelain white in the shape of a teddy bear, and Steve isn’t supposed to be able to reach it. Unfortunately for the Harrington’s, their son is athletic and agile even as a child so of course, he discovers that if he slides a chair over to the counter, he can climb onto the beige laminate and reach the jar on his tippy toes. The head of the bear is removed easily, a cookie (or two) are snatched, and no one is the wiser. His devious heist comes to a halt one night after tee-ball practice when he thinks that his mom is in the shower. Steve ends up being caught with his hand literally in the cookie jar.

It’s a story his mom tells at dinner parties and family gatherings throughout his childhood, over and over with the same details. Steve hears it enough to visualize what his face must’ve looked like— wide eyes, mouth ajar, eyebrows nearly touching his hairline, cheeks and ears turning pink.

A few months into (finally) dating Eddie Munson, Steve finds his boyfriend standing in the living room mere feet from where Steve had tried to steal those cookies years ago wearing what he imagines is the exact same expression.

There’s no teddy bear-shaped cookie jar, but Eddie certainly looks caught: caught in a moment of jock euphoria, that is.

When Steve gets home from his trip to Chicago with Robin a day early, he decides to surprise Eddie rather than call ahead and it may be the best decision he’s made in quite some time because Steve recognizes this sight intimately.

Eddie’s in the middle of the room, bobbing around in front of the television with his hands threading through his hair and tugging in frustration as he yells things like:

“Are your blades dipped in fucking butter?” “The puck goes in the net!” "You can't shoot for shit, just like you can't grow a decent mustache, huh?" “Your job is to use your big ass body to stop the teensy tiny puck from getting around you and that’s a Hell of a lot easier if you stay in the fucking crease!”

He stands in the doorway in shocked silence, watching in bemused wonder. Even in his crouched position, even as he scuttles from side to side with a phantom hockey stick in his hands with the only light in the room coming from the television screen, he's beautiful.

How long has this been going on though? In the years of friendship that eventually led to their relationship, Steve’s never known Eddie to give a single shit about any sort of organized sport that didn’t involve Steve specifically running around in what Eddie calls his "utterly obscene shorts."

Hockey’s never been mentioned, not once, but Eddie knows too much to have randomly picked it up in just the two days Steve’s been gone. A ripple of something that feels like guilt washes over him, unsure of what he’s done to make Eddie feel like he needs to hide this from him.

Long moments pass and Steve continues to go unnoticed when the game rolls into overtime.

“I can’t take much more of this, Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie moans, his hands falling to his knees as he hunches over.

Commentators flash up on the screen and Steve supposes intermission is as good a time as any to interject.

“Would some company help?”

Eddie whips to the right and there it is: wide eyes, mouth ajar, raised eyebrows, flaring nostrils, and the tell-tale darkening of Eddie’s cheeks. Steve only assumes his ears follow suit— they usually do when he’s flustered but Eddie’s hair blocks the view. His hand flies to his chest, startled on top of it all.

The Bruins are going into overtime and his deepest, darkest secret was just unceremoniously discovered.

It’s been a rough day.

Steve just smiles and crosses the threshold into the room, standing next to his boyfriend who looks like all of the air has been vacuumed from his lungs.

“You— you weren’t supposed to be home yet! You scared the shit of me, man!”

“I was trying to surprise you but uh, joke’s on me I guess. Hockey, huh?” Steve gestures at the television with his chin. “Makes sense. It’s fuckin' lawless.”

Eddie’s features settle into something less abashed and more defensive, his eyebrows knitting together and his head tilting to one side just a hair.

“What makes sense? There was just nothing else on. It’s not a crime to flip through the channels, Steve.”

His lies are weak, and even under the best circumstances, the bar for Eddie’s ability to lie is on the floor so that's saying a lot.

“It’s not, no. If it was, you’d probably be doing it,” he teases, nudging their shoulders together. “Besides, you wouldn’t know what the fuck a crease is if you were just casually flipping through.”

“Wait, wait, shit. How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to find out you’ve been holding out on me, Munson.” Steve twists to face Eddie, pointing at the television. “We could’ve been going to games, screaming insults, calling plays together this whole time!”

Eddie groans, titling his head back to look at the ceiling. It’s been a long, long couple of days because even now, Steve can’t stop from staring at the expanse of Eddie’s throat, knowing exactly which spots make him groan for entirely different reasons.

“Okay, fine. You caught me,” Eddie admits, still staring at the ceiling but turning his body away from Steve and waving his arms in defeat. “I’m a fraud. A hypocrite. I enjoy a sport. You cannot imagine how much it pains me to say this out loud.”

“Ah, so we’re doing the dramatic thing about this?” Steve mutters, shaking his head. “Eddie, you’re allowed to like things. You know that, right? You liking a sport doesn’t, I don’t know, make you any less metal or whatever. Least I don’t think so.”

Eddie drops his arms and spins around. “Steve, Stevie, my dear sweet sunshine, I’m not sure if you remember this but I’ve made quite a name and reputation for myself in abject hatred of mainstream… everything. My credibility is destroyed.”

Steve barely chokes back his laughter. Eddie’s sounding and acting more like his Eddie, something equally as endearing as it is ridiculous. He reaches out and pulls Eddie to sit next to him on the couch, not missing the way Eddie glances at the screen to make sure he’s not missing the start of overtime.

“You know,” Steve starts before making air quotes, “a wise brat once told me that when you finish high school, it’s time to move on from primitive concepts like popularity. Or something like that, it was a while ago. Point is, what you staked your claim to in high school doesn’t apply here. You can be weird, and loud, and anti-mainstream, and like hockey. It’s the most violent of popular sports anyways.”

Eddie blinks at him once, then twice, before narrowing his eyes and drawing his lips into a tight smile. “Was the wise brat Henderson? That sounds like Henderson.”

Steve laughs and leans back against the couch. “Sure was. Don’t tell him I quoted him, he’ll never shut the fuck up about it.”

“What brought on a lecture about primitive high school concepts from Dustin Henderson?”

“He was trying to convince me to date Robin when we were spying on what turned out to be evil Russians at Starcourt who had a lab under the mall. It was a whole thing.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly.

Eddie nods slowly. “Right, yeah, the mall that exploded?”

“Yep. Same one.”

“Y’know, I should’ve known you had something to do with that.” Eddie smiles at him, wide and bright, and it’s a strange moment for Steve to realize he’s in love.

He’s wholly, unconditionally, disgustingly in love with Eddie Munson, with every side and facet, with every sparkling edge of the multifaceted prism of him. Steve’s entire body sighs with relief as his heart finally, finally catches up with the rest of him.

But there’s an overtime period about to start, and unlike this playoff game, Steve knows he has all the time he could ever need to tell him, show him, exactly how he feels. He starts by cheering for a team he knows shit about, and then by rubbing Eddie’s back when he curls over onto his knees after the Devils score the winning shot.

“Hate to break it to ya, Ed, this is very jock behavior. Think there might be a little jock in you after all.” He jokes, running his hand from the middle of Eddie’s back to the nape of his neck, circling his thumb gently into the flesh there.

“No the fuck there isn’t,” he mumbles, sitting up straight and turning devilish smile on Steve. “But I’d like there to be.”

a very, very happy birthday to @hexiewrites! you know that I couldn't let your birthday pass without writing Eddie as a Bruins fan. and I peppered in some of our and @maxineholtzmann's comments and insults from the playoffs liveblogging on discord. <3 hope you have a phenomenal day!!

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steddieweek2023 #myfic #myblurbs

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covetyou · 5 months

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baubles

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: ball fucking, ball sucking, balls, wall to wall all ball, BIV (ball in vagina), sex toys (the balldo [link to website] is real and it has haunted my dreams for 6 months - pic in this ask), there's some PIV too I guess. word count: too many and they're all balls 4.4k summary: Santa Joel fucks you with his balls. That's it.

A/N: I am NOT sorry. Not now, not ever. And, yes, I watched the instructional video on how to put it on, purely for Research Purposes. We don't talk about how long I've spent thinking about balls.

Happy Ball-idays, don't say I never got you anythin' nice.

...

Santa Joel-y, slip your ballsack right into me, oh gee.

I've been a fuckin' good girl,

Santa Joel-y, so stuff 'em up my chimney tonight.

...

It was your first Christmas in Texas and your first Christmas in a place that felt unseasonably warm for the time of year. That's what you tell yourself every night as you strip off completely before slinking into bed, at least.

Except, this night is different.

It's Christmas Eve.

And someone is in your house. You're sure of it.

A click of a button and you're on your feet, creeping to your bedroom door to listen out for the intruder. You almost didn't hear it, too preoccupied to be on the lookout for burglars on Christmas Eve.

There's a tell tale rustle, the stomp of feet. Whoever it is, they're not even trying to be quiet. You'd respect the brazenness of it all if someone hadn't broken into your damn house. You toy with calling the cops, maybe a neighbor, but you know it'll be too late by the time anyone gets here to do anything, so you make the stupid decision to head downstairs and confront the intruder alone.

Wrapping your flimsy bath robe around yourself, you grab the nearest makeshift weapon you can find (a broken umbrella you still hadn't thrown away) and click the door open, slinking out into the hallway and down the stairs.

If he hears you before you get down the stairs, he doesn't let on. But there, right in front of your Christmas tree is the unmistakable figure of a man. A big man. He's tall, and broad, and his silhouette is wrapped in something fluffy, making it look like there's a giant teddy bear standing in your living room.

You flick the light on, startling him, making him drop a heavy bag undoubtedly filled with your things onto the floor with a heavy thud.

"Oh, shit."

A single ornament rolls out of the bag and across the floor. You both stand frozen and silent, watching it move until it knocks against your bare toes. Only when it's stopped do you drag your eyes back up to look at the man who broke into your house.

Your umbrella clatters to the floor.

"What the...?"

The man before you is dressed as Santa, hat and all.

Only this man was not as old as you would expect for someone claiming to be Santa Claus. His beard is patchy, the scruff around his chin only speckled with gray. He has lines around his eyes, crinkled divots in his skin from so many years of laughter. The red coat pulled around his form is unbelted, falling open at the middle to reveal a white vest and the soft swell of his belly.

"What the fuck are you doin' in my house?" you yell.

"Shh, quit your fuckin' hollerin'."

He takes a step toward you and you back into the wall, trying to keep your distance from the very Texan man who had broken into your house dressed as Santa on Christmas Eve.

And that's when you see behind him, to the glittering lights of your Christmas tree, and the branches covered in ornaments. Ornaments that did not belong to you. You'd bought the thing on sale at the grocery store just a week ago. When you put it up and plugged it in, grateful for the existence of pre-lit trees, you settled on the fact you wouldn't decorate it this year. Even so, it was beautiful as it was, and you enjoyed the soft glow of the lights in the evenings as you wound down after work. Now, that soft glow was accompanied by the twinkling reflections of the many ornaments hanging on it.

"Did you... did you decorate my tree?"

He looks at you like you're mad, and maybe you are. Maybe you came so hard on your vibrator upstairs that you passed out, and this is all a dream. A very vivid dream where you can smell the warm oaky scent of the man in front of you and feel the heat of him as he crowds you against the wall.

"What else do you think I've been doin'?" he says, as if it should be entirely obvious that he's been here decorating your tree all along.

"I don't know, maybe stealing my shit?"

He, once again, looks at you like you're stupid and gestures to his suit, red and velvety, draped around his body. It looks good on him, and does nothing to help the thick syrupy feeling still coursing through your veins. Having a man like him break into your house felt like one of lifes great injustices, but having him break in when you were mid-jerk off was purely inhumane. Other than point to the door and tell him to get out, there was nothing you could do but gape at him and hope he didn't notice you curl your toes as he looked at you.

He takes a step closer, heavy boot falling with a thud in front of you, and shrugs. "If you don't want it, I'll take it back."

Up this close, the smell of him goes straight to your head, your body seemingly ready and rearing to go at the slightest hint of something masculine in your presence. Your tongue suddenly feels too big and clumsy so, not trusting a single word that would come out of your mouth, you shake your head. You would actually, really, very much like the decorations to stay and the man who put them there.

Texas always felt hot to you, but something about this room was now super heating. You're keenly aware of the stickiness pooling between your thighs, and even more aware of the visible sheen of sweat on your head and the warmth in your cheeks. If he looked closely, he'd even be able to see glistening on your fingers, making you look glitter coated in the twinkle of the Christmas lights. You shift, trying to mask the buzzing in your veins at his eyes as they drag down your body.

You hadn't noticed the silky tie of your robe slowly loosen as you wiggled and fidgeted. You were too warm to notice when the fabric parted, gaping over your chest and giving him a perfect view of your tits. You were too busy staring into his deep brown eyes to notice him raise his hand.

You did, however, feel the moment his finger stroked a slow trail down the swell of your breast, puckering your nipple and making a shudder run through your spine.

"You're all unwrapped, darlin'," he whispers, just as you remember to breathe again. "S'gettin' a bit warm in here, huh?"

He absentmindedly discards his hat as his finger traces down your body, flicking the light back off behind you once his hat hits the floor. You know where he, and this, is heading, and you're not keen to stop it any time soon.

When his fingers stroke across your mound, you gasp. Your vibrator had made you sensitive, but you'd never had chance to finish the job, and now here he was threatening you with a good time. He cups you, completely engulfing your pussy in his broad hand, and slides it between your legs.

By now it's no secret you're already wet, your upper thighs already sticky with it. His fingers slide through with ease, the quirk of his eyebrow visible now his hat has been thrown to the side.

"Here I was thinkin' you were on the nice list. But this little thing right here tells me you're naughty as they come, darlin'. What you been doin' to yourself all alone up there in the dark?"

You're staring at him opened mouthed as he works is thick fingers over you, dragging slick over your already sensitive clit. You'd been moments away from coming when the noise from downstairs pulled you out of it, and now here he was working you back up and quickly.

"It's my house," you stutter. "Can do what I want." And right now you want to collapse into a heap on the floor with his fingers between your legs.

"That you can. You wanna go back up there and finish yourself off?"

Logically, you know your pre-orgasm desperation is clouding your judgement, that you should take him up on his offer to leave and put a stop to this, but there's something too enticing about him. You don't want to stop.

"Or do you maybe want a hand with your... Little problem?"

"Yeah," you're nodding, eyes so heavy now you want them to snap shut, but you can't resist looking at him in the glow of your Christmas lights. Red really suits him, and you swear you can see his cheeks get rosy in the dim lighting.

"S'good. Got some little problems here myself. But, seein' as you're already halfway there, seems only fair to get me to your level before we start anythin', don't you think?"

Biting your lip, you nod, taking a step closer to him. Tentatively, you reach out a hand and caress the front of his pants. They feel velvety soft, and you have no fucking clue how he doesn't look as sweaty as you feel.

"That's right. You feel that?"

You feel something grow beneath your palm. Big, thick, and heavy. You look down in stunned silence, seeing only the odd shadows cast by the Christmas tree lights sparkling over the front of his pants.

"Get on your knees and close your eyes."

You obey, wanting very much to stay on the nice list now that you know exactly what you want for Christmas. His belt jingles as he undoes the buckle, pulling it from his waist and discarding it on top of his bag. He can't resist giving his dick a quick squeeze over the fabric of his pants at the sight of your bare chest heaving in the twinkling light, before unzipping them and letting them fall down to his ankles. The fabric is so loose he can step out of them, easily tugging his booted feet from the legs.

It doesn't go unnoticed that you spend the entire time eyes closed, listening attentively, and gently rocking your hips, discreetly humping the air in a desperate attempt to find any kind of relief.

"Tsk, got an impatient one on our hands."

The same hand he'd been stroking your pussy with wraps around his cock, slowly dragging his sticky fingers up and down his rapidly hardening length. He wishes he'd told you to strip, or left the light on so he could see you more clearly, but something about your skin under the sparkling lights and the shadows cast between your legs is making him harder more quickly than ever. When his dick twitches in his hand at your deep sigh, he finally stops staring and speaks.

"Open your eyes."

You snap them open, eager to see what he has for you, and your eyes immediately turn the size of dinner plates.

His cock gorgeous, and even in the grip of his large hand it looks big. He's long, thick with a slight upward curve and a smattering of salt and pepper hair at the base. You're fairly certain he trims it, keeping it well groomed and flush to his skin, making his cock appear even larger as it juts out infront of him.

But, despite the gloriousness of this mans cock, what you can't get over are his balls. They're heavy, and full, and getting tighter and tighter as his cock hardens under your gaze. You flick your eyes up to his face and he has a knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

"Fuck," you say as you look back down at it, at them, and let out a shaky breath.

His whole body shakes with a laugh, jingling his bells, as you take in his length. Hand never leaving his cock, his gentle strokes become firmer, and he's guiding the tip toward your face a moment later.

"What should I call you?" you ask, realizing you don't even know his name yet, just as his tip touches to your lips. Exhilarating as it was to fuck a man who had broke into your house, you still wanted to know his name, and not even to press charges - you wanted to know what to scream when you came.

"Santa works just fine."

Pulling back, you scoff, "You want me to call you Santa Claus?"

"Fuck no! Do I look like a Claus to you? S'Joel."

"Santa Joel?"

"Fuck yeah darlin', now open up."

You stick out your tongue, waiting for his cock to slide along the spit slicked muscle. He drags his tip across it, letting you lick at his head before you capture his cock in your mouth, sucking it in and flicking your tongue lightly on his frenulum. The salty sweet taste of him makes you crave more, so you draw him further into your mouth, sliding up and down his cock as he stares down at you with an open mouth.

Dragging your hands up his bare thighs, you grab the base of his cock with one, steadying him as you suck. You tickle the other across his balls, looking up at him as he pulls in a sharp breath, before grabbing them and massaging them. His balls feel entirely smooth to the touch, and you have an irresistible urge to put them in your mouth.

Dragging your lips back from his cock, you lick broadly up the length of it again and again until you're dragging your tongue across his ballsack, slowly trailing up his cock to his tip, watching him all the while. Then you kiss his balls, humming in satisfaction as you finally press your lips to the soft skin.

The sight of you on your knees, making out with his balls is sending him stupid, and all he can do is stare down at you with a look of deep concentration on his face. If he's not careful, he's going to blow his load early, coming in your hand before he even gets to fuck you.

He watches you lightly drag your teeth over his delicate ball skin. He swears he sees your eyes flicker with something deserving of the naughty list when you hear his intake of breath, but he's too preoccupied by your tongue lathing across them to take much notice. You take it in turns with them, sucking each ball into your mouth as you slowly pump his cock in your fist, before releasing and working on the other. By the time you've had enough, his cock is dripping, smearing pre-cum over your hand as you jerk him.

Licking the drippy mess off of your hand, you look up at him, savouring the taste of his cum in your mouth.

"Please tell me you want to fuck me," you say, biting down on your swollen lips. You don't know what you'll do if he says no now, you know going back upstairs to your vibrator just won't cut it, even if you now have the fantasy of kissing Santa's balls to get off to.

"You kiddin' me, darlin'? Get up here."

Relief and desperation wash through you, and you climb off your aching knees, letting your robe fall from your arms.

"Couch?" you say, keeping a firm grip on his cock as you stroke up his chest. He pulls you toward him, holding the back of your neck as he kisses you, tasting his cum and balls on your tongue. His lips are impossibly soft, just like his balls, a stark contrast to the scratch of his beard.

Moving to the couch, you bend over, wiggling your bare ass for him. He chuckles, stepping closer to you and marvelling at the lights dancing over your jiggling backside. He shucks off his own coat now, leaving him in just his vest and boots, and hones in on the peek of your pussy from between your legs.

Sliding his length up and down your slit he groans, gripping your hip in his massive hand just as he notches at your entrance.

"Well, shit, that's nice," he says, sliding his tip into you.

You're inclined to agree - it had been a long time since anyone other than yourself had fucked you, and the red hot feeling of his hard cock in you felt better than you remembered. He rocks his hips a little, drenching his cock in you bit by bit until he's fully sheathed inside your eager pussy. The solid beat of your heart throbs through your veins and straight to your core, making you clench around him as he begins to fuck you.

"You're gonna yank my dick clean off if you keep that up."

"Can't help it," you moan, "Feels so good." You let your eyes close, succumbing to the slow, steady, pleasure building in you.

Snapping his hips more firmly, he bottoms out in you over and over, pushing deep inside you with each thrust. You can feel his wet balls slap against you, rhythmically whacking into your clit, but it's not enough. You're so desperate to come you lick your fingers and reach between your legs, swiping your digits over your clit. His balls instead slap against your fingers and you can't resist trying to stroke them again.

The noises you're making are going straight to Joel's dick, and he knows he's going to blow his snowy load way before he's ready if you don't stop, so he pulls away from you. You protest as his cock slides out of you, leaving you empty and still desperate to come.

"Got a present for you, darlin'," he pants from behind you.

"The ornaments?"

"Yeah. Got some real pretty baubles for you, darlin'. You'll like 'em. I promise."

He goes to his bag, long forgotten on the floor, and bends over it. You watch his soft ass and the swing of his dick and balls as he rummages around inside the sack, pulling out two things before standing up. When he doesn't immediately turn back around, clearly playing with his own cock, you start to worry that you're not satisfying him. But then he rounds on you and you see his cock and balls glisten wetly in the twinkling Christmas lights just as he throws a bottle at you. Lube.

Catching him opening another box, you gasp and draw your hand to your chest in mock shock.

"Is that not my present to open?" you say coyly, now trickling lube over your own pussy. You don't need it, but whatever he has in mind clearly calls for it.

"Good things come to those who wait, darlin'."

"I'm still waiting for the coming part."

He shoots you a admonishing look and you raise your hands in surrender, before snaking one back down to keep rubbing at your clit. You're about to go mad if you don't come soon, your clit is so sensitive, a firm nub between your legs now, and your pussy so puffy from so much stimulation. It's a wonder you have any blood left in your brain at all.

The object in the box is revealed, and you can do nothing but gape at it as Santa Joel proudly holds it up with a hand on his hip.

It looks like a torpedo cockring hybrid, and you have no fucking clue what it is.

"Get yourself comfy, gotta strap myself in."

Laying back on your couch - for all its flaws, an armless couch certainly had its benefits - you spread your legs and watch him with curiousity. You still can't work out what it is.

"What is -"

And then he stretches the silicone underneath his balls, pushing each ball into the cage with his thumbs before letting go. Oh.

Oh. "Oh."

You sit in stunned silence. He's turned his balls into a dick or, more accurately, a dildo. With the length of it and the girth of his balls, you can only imagine what it's going to feel like.

"If you don't fuck me with that in the next two seconds I'm gonna scream."

With the contraption strapped around his balls, pulling them down and taught, crouches over you, pushing your legs back so your pussy is pointing skyward like a sloppy wet landing pad for his balls.

He dunks the tip of the dildo into your pussy. It's cold and unfamiliar, not like the velvety warmth of his dick that stands straight ahead of you, taunting you with its glistening tip. If you could fold yourself in a pretzel you would, just to suck the head of his cock back into your mouth.

He pushes down, squatting over you with bare legs, sheathing the entire dildo into you. Another push and you feel the swell of his balls as they pop past your entrance and nestle themselves inside of you.

You gasp. The feeling is wholly unfamiliar, but still you feel yourself soaking him, slicking up his balls as they sit in your pussy.

"That hurtin'?"

"No. No, it's just I- I've never had someone's balls in me before."

"A first ball fuckin' for this little pussy," he says affectionately, stroking a thumb over your lips as they wrap themselves around his balls. His cock is protruding out of you now, like you're wearing a life like strap, and you really wish you could reach to taste where his tip threatens to drip onto you. Suddenly you understand the boys back in highschool and their failed attempts to suck their own dicks.

"They feel so big inside," you moan as he begins to gently shift above you. He pops out of you once, and pushes back in, and you throw your head back onto the soft sofa woth a moan. You have never felt anything like this. "Joel, please don't stop. Please keep fucking me with your balls."

"You got it darlin'," his voice is soft, in awe of you as you take his balls and the toy deep inside you. You feel incredible, and the wet slip of your walls on his ball skin shoots straight down his dick, and for a moment he thinks he's accidentally came too early. A quick look from your face, contorting with the fullness in your pussy, down to where his dick sticks outward, tells him otherwise. Thank fuck. He knows he has to get you off quickly. You were soaking his dick not too long ago, and before that his fingers, and before that your own sheets upstairs. You were ready, and he was nothing if not a giving man.

His thumb finds your clit, slippery from lube and your own slick, and he circles it, applying a firm pressure as he moves.

"Oh my god, that's it," you plead, opening your eyes to look at where he plays with you, balls still sunk deep.

You spur him on, rocking your hips as much as you can with your legs back, fucking yourself on his balls as he strokes your clit. You feel your pussy tense, little spasms warning you of what's to come, and you hold on tight to your own legs.

"That's it darlin'. Come on my balls. Squeeze 'em."

"F-fuuuck."

The swipe of his thumb sends you over, and you come hard on his balls with your head back and eyes squeezed shut. Your legs shake and you know he can feel how you twitch and spasm around his balls, drenching them as he dunks them in you, shallowly thrusting them as you tighten and grip him hard.

He's holding your legs back for you, looking you in the eye as he bends forward over your limp body when you open your eyes. The feral look on his face tells you he hasn't come yet, and you're desperate to see when he does.

"You been so nice I'm gonna give you an extra present. You ready?"

"Please Santa Joel, I've been so good this year," you say with a soft smirk.

He soon wipes the smirk off your face when he fucks down into you harder, practically bouncing off your ass as he slots his swollen balls into your pussy. They feel so big and heavy inside you, and even strapped down and pulled tight by the toy, you feel his balls tighten and try to draw up closer to his cock as he gets closer to coming.

"Come on me. Please. Come on me," you beg, staring between his cock and his face. Pre-cum had been steadily dripping onto you, splattering your belly, but you were hungry for more.

His fingers grip around his flushed head, stroking easily over the slicked surface. Pushing his balls deep, he bounces gently, loving the feel of his sensitive ball skin inside of your soaked hole.

"Here it comes, darlin'. Oh shit."

"Yeah, come on me. Come all over me Joel."

"Shit. Fuck."

You watch his slit as it seems to wink at you before ropes of come spurt out of the tip, shooting across your chest and neck, spattering your face and even your hair with his cum.

"Yes, yes, thank you," your eyes have snapped shut. You can feel the warm trickle of cum by your eyebrow, and you're not keen to feel the sting of semen in your eye.

For a little while he looks at you, fucked out by his balls and laying boneless on your couch. With a soft pop he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty without his balls in you. Your legs flop down and you listen to his deep breaths.

"Nothin' like a ballgasm," he pants.

Nothing like being ballfucked, you think, but the words are heavy in your mouth and you do nothing but moan, mumbling some nonsense.

"Mm... balls. They... mm. Yeah. Good."

"Too fucked out, huh?" he laughs, before swiping the cum from near your eye. "Make a Christmas wish," and he slips the finger into your waiting mouth.

He slides his finger from your mouth and you murmur a thank you as you make your wish, sighing and letting yourself relax completely for a moment.

When you tentatively open your eyes, wary of any errant drops of cum, he's gone, disappeared as soon as he'd arrived. You didn't hear the door, the window, anything. You certainly didn't hear him get dressed.

Feeling stupid, and like maybe it was all just a dream, you rush to the window. You don't expect to see anything, the man feeling too magical to have been real. But, there he is, walking down the street bare assed, his pants slung over his shoulder and his balls still swinging strapped into the toy.

No, you don't think you'll be forgetting your first Christmas in Texas any time soon at all.

soz to my tag list for this: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #coveted fics #big bawl jawl #never forget the balls #fic: dress up joel

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fluff-n-cookies · 8 months

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soft yan! Dadzawa Head canons

SPOILERS DONUT DO NOT READ also contains light swearing

• Aizawa is the type of person to hold the Cat in his arms So you can pet it, since it's too big for you to hold. it Just makes his Day when he sees the way your eyes light up when you hear the cat start to purr.

• we will also wrap you up in his scarf if you even say it's too cold. (you and Nezu are scarf buds!) Just say the word and he's rolling out the sleeping bag and prepping to make your favorite hot chocolate with the extra whipped cream and cat marsh mallows and we all know he has all your favorite cartoons for the two of you to binge together!

• however, like most things, it's not perfect.

• a good example of this is that Aizawa likes to have you nap on his lap as he is grading papers.

BUT YOU WANT A BEDTIME STORY

and Aizawa tries his best but he will probably come up with a story worthy of being a german fairy tale. (translation: there are no happy endings, sorry.)

BUT AIZAWA IS SMART ... enough

most of the time he ends up reading to you Denki and Mineta's test answers. and by the time he's done you're asleep.

and then his mind starts to wander,

you just remind him so much of Oboro

how you always manage to light up the room with your smile, how you always manage to be pretty Badass yet kind, and how you always care for others so deeply.

he won't let you go, not this time.

some times, he'll lay awake at night sitting on the couch just curled up into a ball just thinking about the future, when he's all old and wrinkly, maybe you'll be a beautiful young lady (oh who am I kidding, ofc your will! some of you are! others are just beautiful!)

then will you leave him?

that's when he gets up to go look at your photo album. from when you were a newborn, to now, when you are a toddler.

that's when he comes to the conclusion, you may older, but he will always be your dad, he will always protect you.

sometimes Eri joins him, and draws hearts around the ones with you and her, or you Aizawa and her.

likes helping you do your hair, braids are his favorite, but he'll do any hair style as long as it's not too hard.

Aizawa loves you, nothing more than that <3

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allwaswell16 · 1 month

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A fic rec of my favorite One Direction alpha Louis omegaverse fics as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, let the writer know by leaving kudos and comments! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🌰 Light, Spark and Fire (series) by green_feelings / @greenfeelings

(E, 239k, CEO Louis) Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

🌰 Say Something by @kingsofeverything

(E, 105k, age difference) At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn't interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life. Twenty-eight-year-old Alpha Louis Tomlinson aims to change that.

🌰 Ace of Spades by @allwaswell16

(E, 78k, pirate au) Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are.

🌰 These High Walls by LarryAlways28

(E, 68k, CEO Harry) when the older, and wildly attractive Harry Styles offers him a deal in exchange for saving his family's legacy- how could Louis ever refuse that?

🌰 Unveiled by @phdmama

(M, 65k, royal au) There are no robes. And not a single one of them is veiled.

🌰 and i would search the night sky to find you by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 56k, boarding school) Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. He has his whole life already planned for him, learning his place as the potential mate for an important Alpha, practicing his home making skills, and be obedient above all else.

🌰 Just for Tonight (I can be yours) by @sadaveniren

(E, 42k, royal) Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth. He'd accepted a loveless marriage as his duty to his country, until an accident threw him in the path of a gentle alpha

🌰 You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(M, 38k, farm) He's been in stickier spots; he reminds himself. Way stickier. This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost.

🌰 Endgame by @brightgolden

(E, 38k, royal) Where omega Crown Prince Harry Styles is trying and failing to get pregnant for four years, but all that is about to change when courtesan alpha Louis Tomlinson comes into the equation.

🌰 The Risen (series) by @creamcoffeelou

(E, 28k, cult au) In search of the next breaking story, Harry goes off to do something no one else has been able to do: get the scoop on Louis Tomlinson and his devoted group of followers.

🌰 Keep Me Closer by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

(T, 18k, uni au) Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

🌰 Single Bells Ring by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

(M, 16k, alpha/alpha) A holiday singles event is not where Louis wants to be tonight, but there he is, helping his best friend find love.

🌰 Prince Harry and the Expert in Motorcycle Maintenance by @juliusschmidt

(E, 15k, fairy tale) a cinderella au in which prince harry rides a motorcycle and louis, a simple mechanic, fixes it.

🌰 Bentley Station, Now Arriving by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 13k, space) There's a ball coming up, and Harry is going to attend. Niall will make certain of that.

🌰 It's Been Ages by @2tiedships2

(NR, 13k, friends to lovers) Louis shook his head in exasperation. “If you’ve been watching, you would see that Harry is interested in, like, alpha alphas. Not me.”

🌰 I’ve Always Liked the Fireworks by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(T, 12k, football) When alphas and omegas reach the age of twenty-one they are required to attend a Proving Day ceremony. Omegas watch as alphas do their best to compete in events, show off their skills, and prove how good a mate they can really be.

🌰 Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 12k, neighbors) Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

🌰 Just Jump by @jaerie

(E, 9k, heat) “Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”

🌰 a body wishes to be held & held by @turnyourankle

(E, 9k, heat/rut) Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.

🌰 A Silver Lining In A Storm (You Were Lightning, I Was Born) by @fallinglikethis

(E, 6k, arranged marriage) after the death of his first fiancé, a man who turned out far worse than Harry thought possible, his subsequent marriage to the man's brother leaves Harry finding it difficult to trust that everything will work out

🌰 a rose by any other name by delsicle / @eeveedel

(G, 3k, Victorian) Harry is a sheltered omega who is the pinnacle of good breeding, but the flowers in his family’s garden – and the alpha gardener who keeps them – prove to be his greatest weakness.

- Rare Pairs -

🌰 That Don’t Define Who You Are by @lululawrence

(NR, 7k, Louis/Harry/Nick Grimshaw) the one where Harry is a licking omega with a broken bond who helps heal a fairly hapless beta with a folding bicycle. When Harry also meets the beta's alpha, things start to get... interesting.

#ficrec #alphalouis #1dficvillage #trackinghome #trackinghappily #hljournal #hlcreators #hltracks #1dsource #ficsfor4am

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