#BUT i got it out one minute before its no longer christmas. Not that it would have really mattered but i wanted it to say december 25th lol

[buwheal]

Merry (Kris)mas

[kaiwewi]

Their First Villain

Secret Santa gift for @the-modern-typewriter Prompt: "Scary villain x hero in a Christmas setting of your [the writer's] choice. Could go spicy, could go whumpy, could go unexpectedly sweet!" Hope you like this! Merry Christmas!! 🎅🎁

“You recognised me,” the villain observes, his tone unnaturally flat. His face betrays no emotion.

“Kinda hard not to, with your…” – the hero tilts their head at where the villain’s magic continues to spread, coiling around their limbs and securely fixing them in place – “…snake thingies?”

The individual tendrils really do vaguely resemble snakes, although the magic in its entirety reminds them more of some writhing alien monster plant from an old Sci-fi B-movie whose title they cannot remember. It’s not a good comparison anyway. The movie hadn’t been scary at all.

They experimentally try to wrestle one of their arms free, but despite the magic’s apparent fluidity, the moment they push or pull in any direction, whatever give appeared to be there all but disappears and they can’t move a millimetre.

“Oh.” The villain’s eyes widen. “You can see it.”

“See it. Feel it. Didn’t expect it to be this hot.”

An awkward pause follows.

They are decidedly not blushing. It’s just warm. All of them is so warm now that the villain’s powers have moulded themselves around the hero like something liquid but alive. Wherever the tendrils touch bare skin – their ungloved hands and that area just above their ankles where their pants don’t quite meet the rims of their boots – the raw energy buzzes, prickles just short of stinging.

They’d been shivering just minutes ago in their much too thin poncho and the not seasonally appropriate Agency office uniform. Well, they still are shivering, just no longer from the cold.

Where the villain’s magic is fever-hot, his scrutiny runs icy.

“You can see it, but not fight it,” he muses. “How curious. The Agency must be understaffed to send their defenceless little office drones out into the field.”

The hero would be glaring if the villain weren’t underscoring the point by pulling his magic tighter with the mere flick of a finger. That small, anxious sound that escapes them in response brings a self-satisfied grin to the villain’s lips.

“It’s Christmas,” the hero says, once the magic has settled again.

The villain raises a brow.

“Most of the regulars are on holiday, Christmas being a time best spent with family … or so I’m told.”

“Yet you are working.”

“Don’t have anyone.” They aren’t technically without family just … Sometimes, family isn’t a place of refuge and welcome. Not a home to turn to for holiday celebrations or company. Some families fashion themselves exclusive clubs with strict rules that refuse or revoke memberships as they please. The hero forces some levity into their tone. “I have nowhere else to be today, so, I’m helping out here.”

The villain chuckles. “Helping is perhaps not what I would call that.”

“Hey, I did recognise you,” they say, defensively.

���And look where that got you.” His smile is sharper than before, meaner. “Am I your first villain? My heartfelt condolences.”

They don’t dignify that with an answer. But the answer is yes. The villains they watched being interrogated through one-way mirrors at HQ don't count.

“Pity,” the villain says with zero warmth, “that you couldn’t just look the other way. What is it with you people that you're always so eager to cause unnecessary conflict.”

“Reporting suspicious behaviour is kind of my job.” It comes out barely above a whisper and carries the distinct cadence of an apology.

“Ah yes, and my mere existence struck you as suspicious behaviour because …”

Admittedly, once they’d recognised the villain, they hadn’t taken the time to consider his appearance beyond the magic he’d been wearing around his shoulders like a particularly weaponizable scarf. The lack of a combat suit in favour of a sleek, dark coat over a woollen jumper and cargo joggers – either an outfit designed to blend in or just what the villain happens to like to wear when he isn’t working – hadn’t registered any more than the total absence of weaponry other than his powers. And while he could have hidden those better, it’s not like he could have simply left them at home.

There hadn’t been time to ponder. It had all happened so fast. Their eyes had met, and a moment later the hero had already been scrambling away from the crowd, past a stall selling mulled wine and into the nearest alley, where they’d scrolled through their contacts with stiff, unfeeling fingers. The villain had caught up with them before they’d managed to call for backup.

Their gaze darts to the remnants of their smashed phone, sprinkled across the muddy snow, mere metres away but entirely useless even if they could reach it.

What if the villain hadn’t had anything nefarious planned? What if the hero’s brain had naturally jumped to the most prejudiced conclusion all on its own?

Of course, it is unfair to treat his mere presence as if it is a crime. But the things he could do ...

They think about the parents with their cameras, filming their ice-skating children, the squealing toddlers on the merry-go-round, the nice old ladies selling tea out of the back of a car.

“You could be a danger to all those innocent people,” they defend their judgement.

“And you could be a danger to me,” the villain replies coolly. “Would be unwise, letting someone roam free who can pick me out of a crowd with a glance. Perhaps I should thank you for revealing yourself. Very ill-advised. But quite convenient. You were so obvious about it, too.”

He has crossed the distance between them while speaking. Close enough now to reach out and tuck an unruly strand of hair behind their ear with his cold, slender fingers. His other hand settles almost gently on their throat, atop the magic that has slivered around their neck at some point during the conversation.

The tip of a new tendril is in the process of worming its way lower, nestling into the collar of their shirt. It laps against the crook of their neck and they cringe away from the touch as much as the magic allows. It doesn’t hurt. It would be so much easier if it did. The touch is light; it kind of tickles and, given the overall direness of the situation, the hero really isn’t in the mood for that. Or, they shouldn’t be.

Unhelpfully, their traitorous mind supplies them with a thoroughly inappropriate image of what else someone who isn’t the enemy could be doing to them with magic such as this.

“Tell me,” the villain says as the power shifts upwards, tilting their chin back with the movement, so his nails can bite into the newly exposed skin below their jaw, “is there anything else troublesome about you, or is it just the eyes?”

He looks most pleased when their breath hitches despite their best efforts to remain stoic. His grip tightens. He’s studying them intently, staring at their eyes like those are priced gems he considers adding to his collection.

Maybe, underneath the mockery, he actually does consider them somewhat of a threat. If he didn’t, why would he be looking at them like that.

It’s stupid, truly and utterly stupid, to feel flattered. This is not respect, they know, just sharp, calculating consideration. His attention promises imminent danger, might turn lethal at any second. It’s not something they should revel in. Still, it feels good, too – being seen.

Has anyone ever really seen them before?

Or perhaps that is the lack of oxygen speaking.

They struggle to focus their vision but all the twinkling Christmas lights in the trees are starting to smudge into dull, red and golden blurs. Vertigo is clawing at them.

There is absolutely nothing they can do against the villain's grip. They're so pitifully out of their depth.

They think about their bland, only half-furnished two-room apartment; their first day at the Agency HQ; their nth day – no more eventful than the first – sitting at the exact same desk in the exact same office and working on the exact same old computer; their colleagues’ looks of pity when their 14th application for a transfer to field work is being denied and their boss tells them, in stern admonishment, that their skill sets just aren’t suited to solo missions. They think about her condescending smile when she finally does assign them the Christmas market job, clearly convinced the worst thing that could possibly happen here is people getting drunk enough on punch to start throwing punches.

They think of their first split-second impression of the villain as just another guy standing by the ice rink with a cup of something steaming in his hands and a mellow, unguarded smile curving his lips.

They hope this montage doesn’t count as their life flashing before their eyes. It’s way too sad a summary of their depressing lack of accomplishments.

They think, with equal parts age-old bitterness and new-found sarcastic vindication, about their colleagues’ infantile, unofficial, end-of-the-year office rankings where flashier heroes with more impressive abilities always receive titles such as most likely to hook up with a hot reporter or most epic battle or best one-liners.

Meanwhile, all the hero has to show for are three consecutive wins of least likely to die on the job.

Which might have been a reassuring sentiment if it weren’t so clearly code for “you’ll never be a real hero”. Real heroes risk their lives on the job all the time.

Well, look at them now!

Will their colleagues manage to come up with a new title for them in time, they wonder, if the villain kills them now, just a week before this year’s poll results will be released?

Most unexpected death has a nice ring to it.

They should be trembling in terror. Might have, if the villain’s magic weren’t encasing them so – tight but soft and deceptively warm, lulling them in. The sticky heat of it leaves them squirming, stuck in a confusing limbo between gooey not-quite-discomfort and hot-bath sluggishness.

They’re drifting. Until they’re not.

It’s impossible to discern how much time has passed or when exactly the villain has released them; but their thoughts are beginning to clear and their brain catches up to the fact that there is air in their lungs again, and that the breathless, hiccuping gasps uncontrollably tumbling out of their mouth aren’t sobs. It’s laughter.

“Are you enjoying this?” The villain sounds incredulous.

They shake their head. “I don’t know,” they manage, between hysterical giggles. “Maybe. Yes?”

“How did you know I wouldn’t kill you?”

“I didn’t.”

That startles a short laugh out of him.

“I’ve never” – they pant, still struggling for air – “felt this alive before.”

“That sounds ... unhealthy.”

There is a long pause in which the villain silently stares at them while they are more or less regaining control over their breathing.

“You wouldn’t get it,” they say then, perfectly aware they must seem most unhinged. “Bet you don't even know what boredom is. Because your life is fun. Mine is not. I practically live at my stupid job, and my stupid job doesn't even pay well. No one there gives a fuck about me. And nothing exciting ever happens. So can I please just have this one damn moment without being judged?”

The villain hums, low. “And here I thought we were ruining each other’s days.” He presses a hand to their forehead. “Did the heat fry your synapses?” he asks, sounding more amused than concerned. His other hand comes up to cup the nape of their neck, as if he can’t help but reach out. Just as they can’t help but lean into the cooling touch. His gaze drops, as if drawn, to their lips. “Or, are you just naturally this unusual?”

They can smell gingerbread and mulled wine on his breath.

“Are you going to kiss me?” they ask, because yes their synapses are definitely fried and they do not care about consequences, awkwardness, or sanity anymore.

“Would you like me to kiss you?”

“I’d certainly much rather be kissed than killed. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeats, smirking. “But we've established I’m not about to kill you. And that wasn’t a yes.”

“It’s not a no either.”

“Not how consent works, darling.”

They scoff. “You didn’t ask for consent first when you strangled me five minutes ago.”

The villain laughs again, in genuine delight judging by how his magic ripples and purrs.

“Okay, fair enough,” he whispers, shifting so his lips almost brush theirs.

The kiss that follows is sweet, surprisingly chaste, and initiated by the hero.

“So, since you mentioned earlier you have nowhere else to be today,” the villain says, afterwards, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Have you ever had the pleasure of being kidnapped?”

Pleasure, as it turns out over the course of the next few hours, is an understatement.

If anyone at the office were to find out what the hero has been up to during their first (and best) and possibly only solo field mission, not only are they guaranteed to get fired, their colleagues will also surely create an entirely new office ranking category in their honour:

First to be seduced by a supervillain.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Whumpcember (day 15)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: Broken glass

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: slight mentions of panic attacks; crying; slight injury and blood; Bucky being a sweetheart because I love him so much

Author’s note: This got unnecessarily long somehow. Again, this was meant to be a shorty. Also, I was in my feels when I wrote this. Anyway, thank you for reading!

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

The final box of Christmas decorations thuds to the ground as you let it down with a heavy huff. You straighten up your back with a grimace, rolling your shoulders.

You might think as an Avenger, carrying a few boxes, would be an easy task. After all, you are trained to thrive under the most punishing conditions, with sharp skills and boundless stamina. But after hauling all those cartons stuffed with tinsel, garlands, and ornaments up from the storage room to the towering Christmas tree in the compound’s common area, you are left panting like you’ve just run a marathon.

It’s almost laughable. Thankfully, you are alone for now. Sam would have a field day, smug grin plastered across his face at the state you’re in.

Wanda, Natasha, and Clint meant to help you with this but they were all still glued to the desk, writing reports, but Bucky is supposed to be back from his latest mission any minute now and you wanted to do this nice thing for him at least. He did sound a little worn out on the phone earlier when he called you to tell you they were on their way back.

So perhaps decorating the Christmas tree would lift his spirit a tiny bit. It’s the first step in what you hope will be a cozy and inviting scene - something Bucky might walk into and, for once, not feel like a soldier returning from a war zone but a man coming home.

The tree is a statement, of course. Tony insisted on it. It’s so tall, it might even brush the high ceiling of the room and there is no way you’ll get some ornaments all the way up without risking your life. And Bucky would definitely not brighten up if you tried it out.

So you’ll absolutely be needing Wanda’s help sooner or later. With a flick of her wrist, she could make this whole thing a hell of a lot easier but you don’t have the time to wait until she is done writing her report.

You let your eyes roam over the many ornaments lying neatly in the box before you and one of them immediately sparks your attention. Your fingers brush against the delicate surface of the red ornament placed almost carefully beside the others.

Its glass is smooth and cool, the color a deep crimson so much more in depth than all the others. You hold it up to the light, turning it slowly, marveling at how the glow from the tree’s string lights catches on its curves and the unique and detailed pattern all across.

It’s heavier than expected, the weight surprising for something so fragile. The gold clasp at the top gleams faintly, tarnished just a little with age. A thin ribbon dangles from it, curling at the end like it has been tied and untied countless times.

There is something about it, some intangible quality that draws you in - a sense of history, of significance.

And then it happens.

The ribbon slips from your grasp, too quick for your fingers to snatch it back. If you weren’t so enamored with the beautiful piece, you would have gotten access to your reflexes a little earlier.

It’s too late now though, and you can only watch in stunned silence as the ornament tumbles to the ground, the crimson surface catching flashes of light as it falls.

It hits the hardwood floor with a sound that is both sharp and final - a crack, then a splintering.

Disappointed in yourself, you crouch down to the shattered remains. Tiny shards of glass fan out like a constellation, glinting under the glow of the tree. The ornament is no longer whole, splintered into different-sized fragments.

Annoyed that you were so stupid and careless to let this special ornament fall to its devastation, you begin to pick up the many red pieces into your palm.

It really was unique. It would have looked great on the tree-

Your movements freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat. A rush of panic claws at your chest and rises up to your ears where it floods and pounds tremendously.

Rebecca B.

It’s a name ingrained into the largest surviving piece of the glass - a faint, looping scrawl. Clearly written by hand.

Rebecca Barnes. The realization makes you weak in the knees and you fall back onto your heels, your ass hitting the floor with a thump.

This isn’t just some random ornament. This isn’t another piece of holiday cheer to hang on a tree and forget about for the rest of the year after packing it back into boxes to store it in a corner of the storage room.

This ornament belonged to Rebecca Barnes. Bucky’s sister. Something Bucky kept all these years, hidden among the other decorations like a relic of a life he’d lost long before his own had been ripped apart.

The air around you feels heavy. The smell of pine from the tree now stings in your nose. Your heart might actually have fallen along with the ornament because it too is shattered in pieces.

The shards tremble in your palm and you stare at them along with the rest still lying helplessly on the ground, as if there is actually something you can do right now to go back in time and not pick it up ever again, just to make sure.

But there is nothing you can do.

Your heart breaks even further at the thought that Bucky might have put it here deliberately. Maybe it was an attempt to move forward, to share the memory of his sister. Maybe he thought the ornament didn’t belong in some dusty package hidden away, but out in the open, a part of the holiday warmth he’s been so hesitant to feel. Maybe it was his thought of remembering her with someone else this time, instead of alone.

This would be such a huge step for him. And you would feel so proud if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.

Because it’s broken, divided into so many pieces. You just dropped something so carelessly that probably meant the world to Bucky. And, god, did he deserve the world. But you took it. You contorted the precious memories of his little sister. Unwillingly, of course. But that doesn’t make you feel any better right now.

You have known Bucky for a few years now. Though knowing him feels like a word too shallow for what you share. You never labeled it, both of you walking the fine line, and never crossing it.

But you see that Bucky trusts you - the kind of trust he doesn’t hand out freely. And for good reason, after all. In fact, you’re not even sure he’s ever given it to anyone else in quite the same way, not even Steve. And that’s saying something.

You see it in the small things, in the way his guarded demeanor softens when it’s just the two of you, the soft smiles that seem to be reserved for you. It’s the kind of friendship where silence doesn’t have to be filled, and words don’t have to be spoken to be understood.

He lets you sit with him on the couch in the living room on nights when his past pulls him under and doesn’t allow for him to get some shut-eye. You are usually awake yourself, sometimes just running on adrenaline after coming home from a mission and accompanying him silently. He always seems to linger out here when you are away on a mission anyway, so you usually meet him here after getting home, watching his shoulders slowly droop and his back rest more comfortably against the back of the couch.

You are the first at his bedside when his nightmares claw at his mind. You’ve seen him at his most vulnerable - shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked chest, hair plastered to his face, his breaths coming in uneven gasps as you help him fight to pull himself out of his memories.

Those nights, you never push him to talk. You don’t ask him to explain or tell you what he saw. Without a word, you would hand him a glass of water and wait while he drinks, his hands trembling so slightly it makes your stomach feel heavy every time. Sometimes you tell him to breathe with you, in and out, until the panic subsided and his shoulders stopped shaking.

You were never sure how much touch he needs in those moments so you usually stay at a small distance from him, but it seems your presence alone does wonders.

When he would be ready, he always searched your face so long and intensely, before croaking out a heavy but meaningful “Thank you.”

And his small acts of kindness always fill you with a jittery feeling that makes your knees weak and unfortunately doesn’t help at all when fighting against Natasha in the ring.

Just a few weeks ago, Bucky spent an entire Saturday afternoon fixing the squeaky hinge on your bedroom door because he heard you muttering to Wanda about how annoying it was.

He never even told you he was going to do it. You just came back to your room later that evening to find the door silent as a ghost. It took a whole week for you to find out how this happened. And it wasn’t him, who told you. It was Clint, who saw him walk around with a toolbox and a satisfied smile on his face that Clint, as he told you found a little terrifying.

Additionally, he always seems to know when you need a break during training sessions, tossing you a water bottle before you even realize how tired you are. Or he would plant himself wordlessly between you and your opponent for the day, with his arms crossed and a chastising glance at you when you’ve been fighting for hours without acknowledging the way your movements already grew sluggish and wobbly.

You are always aware when his hands linger on your shoulder a second longer after a sparring match, his metal fingers cold but careful, as if he’s memorizing the feel of you there. Or the way your stomach twists when he catches your eye across the room, and for just a moment, it’s like the rest of the world falls away. And the way he talks to you, even when people are around, his voice lower, softer, words chosen with an almost uncharacteristic care, makes you feel like you’re the only person he truly is interested in talking to. You also love the nights he shows up at your door with takeout, wordlessly handing you your favorite meal, and striding into your room to settle at the foot of your bed with a contented sigh.

Through it all, however, was always this persistent question you had. The one that molded into an ache inside your chest. Because what if? What if you took one step closer and stopped holding back? What if you risk everything you have with him now for something more?

But right now you feel like those questions don’t hold the same energy anymore. The same weight. No, they just got weightless. Pointless. Because you just ruined everything without even risking it.

You just destroyed something that can’t be fixed with glue and an apology. It can’t be fixed with you sitting with him and comforting him in the dark while his mind goes to the same cruel place like many times before.

This feels like you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.

The wrong line.

Shaking hands pick up the largest fragment, the soft loops of her name still visible through the fractures. The sharp ends bite into your palm like the memory of something sacred that’s been lost. You don’t feel the sting. You don’t feel the sensation of the few droplets of blood sliding over your palm where the ends nicked your skin.

The only thing you register is that this foolish mistake might actually unravel everything you’ve built with him.

He let you in, further than anyone, but that doesn’t mean he won’t push you back out if you give him a reason. And this definitely feels like a reason.

Your mind presents you with his reaction when he comes walking in here and sees what happened.

At first, there’d be nothing - just the stoic silence he uses to sink into, the kind that makes it impossible to tell what he’s thinking. But you’d see it in the smallest of things - the way his jaw tightens just enough to be noticeable, the flicker in his eyes that he’ll try to hide but won’t be able to, the stiffening of his shoulders. And then the desolation, like a tide pulling back just before it crashes. You wonder if he would say anything at all, or if the silence would hang heavy.

You swallow hard, begin to feel the sting behind your eyes, and try to force the lump in your throat down.

You’ve worked so hard to be someone he could rely on, someone he could trust in ways he hasn’t trusted anyone else in decades. You’ve sat with him, listened to him, stayed silent with him. Learned to know him so well, you even memorized the subtle shifts in his expressions, the things he won’t say but still lets you feel.

And now, here you are with broken glass in your hands and a painful feeling in your chest, terrified that this could be the moment that shatters the thing between you.

He might pull away, retreat behind those walls he’s spent years building. What if he doesn’t let you sit with him anymore. Or what if he does, but his shoulder would only grow more tense. What if he starts holding back, measuring his words, locking the parts of himself away that he once entrusted to you?

The idea of losing him - not just losing him, but losing this connection, this unspoken, almost-more-than-friendship thing that you’ve both been too afraid to name - makes your breath catch and something rise in your chest that might be bile.

A sob comes out instead.

It comes out like a wound ripped open before it could begin to heal. You press a quivering hand to your mouth, in hopes of muffling the sound, but it’s no use. More broken sobs come anyway.

You try to pull yourself together, to force the tears back, but your body feels so weak under the guilt and shame.

More parts of the broken ornament bite into your skin, red droplets welling up and sliding down your skin, pooling at the curve of your wrist, before falling soundlessly to the floor.

Pain should ground you. It should pull you out of this spiral, force you to snap back to some semblance of control. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t do anything at all.

Instinctively, your hand gives way, the pieces tumbling from your fingers and scattering across the hardwood once more.

You only sit there, frozen, your breath hitching and catching in your throat as tears streak down your face, warm and unwelcome. You can’t stop them.

You’re not supposed to be this weak. You’re not supposed to break down like this, over something so small. And yet that makes the sobs only harder to contain. Because this isn’t small - not to Bucky. And that’s the part that leaves you as shattered as the crimson glass. Perhaps as shattered as your relationship with the person you fell for as hard as the ornament fell to the ground.

It’s Rebecca. His sister. His past. His grief. It’s a tiny piece of his life that he trusted enough to bring out of hiding, to put here with the rest of the world, in the open where it could be seen. Where it could be touched. And you touched it, only to let it fall. Only to ruin it.

Shame knocks down on you so hard, you draw your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself as though you could make yourself smaller, invisible, anything but this.

You don’t even know what to do with your blood-streaked palm, only letting it hover in the air, the shallow cuts glistening under the still-glowing lights of the tree. It’s a mess. You are a mess. Curling your fingers into a fist, you wince in pain at the stinging of the cuts but you leave it like that.

Perhaps you are overreacting, sitting here on the floor in the common area of the compound with a bleeding hand and the shattered remains of Rebecca Barnes's memory, but you feel so helpless and remorseful, you can’t really think straight at the moment.

The sound of the elevator is faint, but it’s enough to reach your ears. You freeze. You just sit there, knees drawn to your chest, blood smeared across your palm, the shattered glass of the ornament glittering like broken stars on the floor.

You are tear-streaked, trembling, your chest still hitching with uneven breaths and Bucky just got home.

Those approaching footsteps are so familiar to you, you would always recognize his gate. Usually, it’s comforting, grounding to know he got home and would leave you with relief in your chest.

But there is no place for relief in your chest right now.

His footsteps sound normal, steady, perhaps a little hurried but he hasn’t reached this room yet.

You don’t look up. Instead, you bite your lip to stop the sob that threatens to escape. The shame is too sharp, cutting deeper than any piece of the ornament and making your heart bleed as well.

Maybe if you stay still, if you stay quiet, he’ll miss you somehow.

But then his steps come to an abrupt halt and you know you are screwed.

Burning tears spike once more and the sob breaks free.

“Woah, hey-” he calls out, so urgent, so worried.

Bucky is across the room in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees in front of you with a speed that catches you off guard.

“Sweetheart, hey.” It falls from his lips so softly, so worried, it nearly breaks you all over again.

Tears fall more freely at the kind of tenderness in his tone and suddenly his hand is cupping your face, thumb, and knuckles brushing the streaks of wetness from your cheeks.

But they keep coming.

“Look at me, please! Doll, look at me,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly gentle, but dripping with so much concern. His metal hand is on your face as well and he tilts it upward, guiding your gaze toward his.

His brows are drawn so deeply, lips parting slightly as he studies your face - the tear tracks, the desolation in your eyes, the shame and guilt, the trembling of your shoulders.

You can’t look at him. Can’t bear to see it. So you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’ll ever be able to forget that look on his face. Not when you know what’s coming. Not when you know what you have caused.

Just wait until he sees it, you think. That look will change.

“No,” he whispers, his voice so soft again, but there is a firmness in it. The pad of his flesh thumb smooths gently across your cheek again, while his metal fingers move to your hair. “Hey, no, don’t do that. It’s okay. Y/n, it’s okay!”

You shake your head quickly and try to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a choked sound, half-sob, half-breath. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t know what this is about.

You want to stay hidden behind the veil of your closed eyes, safe from not seeing what you know will be there in perhaps seconds when he figures it out - disappointment, maybe anger, the grief of what you’ve broken.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, please.”

There is something in his voice you can’t ignore. It sounds unshakable and steady, yet fragile and thick.

Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes flutter open to meet his, but when you do, you freeze.

Because he already knows.

He looks at you. Just looks, but you see he already put the pieces together. He saw the shards scattering around your knees. His expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it but he looks at you with an intensity that is new to you. There is that understanding in his eyes. But it’s so soft. So gentle.

There is no anger, no frustration, no disappointment.

There is nothing of the reaction you had feared for.

Yes, there is pain in his eyes as well. It’s unmistakable, flickering in the soft blue of his irises. But it’s not the pain you expected.

It’s not for the ornament. It’s not for what it meant.

It’s for you.

You can see it in the way his brows crease, the frown that tugs at his mouth. And the way he never once lets his gaze stray to the shards on the floor. All he looks at is you.

Bucky keeps his hands on your face, continuing to swipe over your cheeks like he’s afraid you’ll crumble if he lets go. Then, his thumbs still, resting against your cheekbones, his touch so achingly gentle that it only makes more tears fall.

“Sweetheart,” he says again, and the word cracks, quiet and uneven. He still doesn’t look angry. He still doesn’t look disappointed. He looks devastated - not for what you’ve done, but for what it’s done to you.

Your lips tremble, barely able to form words.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Come here.”

Baby definitely is a new one. It’s something he’s never called you before. But there is no time to linger on it, no chance to unpack the flutter it sparks in your stomach because he’s already pulling you toward him.

His flesh arm wraps around your body, tugging you against his chest, while his metal hand finds its place at the back of your head, cold but reassuring fingers threading through your hair.

He lets you cry against his chest. Cradles you so tightly to him, you might actually get worried about your ribs, but it feels so good. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, his heart is pounding. The fabric of his tactical suit presses against your skin, rough and worn from the mission he just came back from, but it grounds you to some extent.

“It’s okay. Just breathe, alright? Breathe,” he keeps whispering, exaggerating his breaths against your body to invite you to follow his lead. You try.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob, the words spilling out in a choked, broken rush as you bury your face in his chest. The tears won’t stop, soaking into the dark fabric of his suit.

“Shh,” he keeps on with his soft voice. His arm around you tightens, holding you closer, while his metal hand stays solidly at the back of your head. His fingers brush through your hair in slow, soothing motions. “Don’t be. Don’t you dare be.”

He continues murmuring to you when you try to apologize again, his voice low and warm. He talks so calmly and sure, you feel something inside of you churn.

Bucky tilts his head slightly, resting his cheek against your hair, and you feel the warmth of his breath as he talks to you.

And yet, biting guilt gnaws its way through your ribs. You feel terrible - worse than terrible - because it should be you comforting him, not the other way around.

It’s him who lost something precious, something you had broken. And here he is, holding you, brushing tears from your face, whispering words meant to stitch you back together.

But somehow, he doesn’t even seem to care. He holds you like you are the only thing that matters right now.

Remorse burrows deep, heavy, and shaming, until it pulls you back to yourself - slowly, shakily, but enough to loosen the sobs caught in your throat.

You sniff and take a breath, a real one this time, ragged but yours.

Then, you shift in his arms, gently pressing against his chest to put space between you. His hold loosens, slowly, with a hesitation that tugs at something in you. As if he is reluctant to let you go. Still, he relents.

His flesh hand slides away first, but his metal one lingers, brushing through your hair one last time before settling on your shoulder. He keeps you close, his thumb brushing absentminded sweeps across your sweater.

His gaze never strays and it’s heavy. You can’t meet his eyes for long. They’re too full of that care you don’t deserve, the care he shows you in so many small gestures all the time.

So your gaze falls to the floor, but then you freeze again.

The broken shards that had glinted so mockingly against the floor just moments ago are gone. Instead, settled carefully on the coffee table as though it had never fallen at all, is the ornament.

Whole.

It takes you a moment to process it, to trust what you’re seeing. The cracks are gone, smoothed over seamlessly. The gleaming red glass catches the light of the Christmas tree, its golden little details shining like something out of a memory, timeless and unbroken. As beautiful and aesthetic as before.

For a moment, you even wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then you notice Wanda standing at the far side of the room. Her hands lower slowly, the telltale red glow of her magic fading from her fingertips.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step closer - just tilts her head slightly, offering you the faintest, knowing smile. Her eyes are warm.

God, of course. You should have thought of that. It even makes you feel a little ridiculous. You live together with people who possess supernatural abilities, powers beyond comprehension. You should have thought of Wanda. How her hands could have mended it back together in seconds.

A choked breath stumbles out of you, somewhere between relief and disbelief. Bucky follows your gaze, his brows furrowing, only to soften when he sees the ornament resting perfectly intact on the table. He stares at it for a moment.

But then he looks back at you and his sweet smile could melt any ice this winter has to offer.

His flesh hand moves a few strands of hair out of your face and tugs them tenderly behind your ear. His hand stays on your cheek. “Told you it’s okay.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I still broke it,” you say, words slipping out quietly, somberly. Your gaze remains fixed on it. Wanda seems to have slipped out again.

“Stop,” Bucky cuts in, his voice more firm than before but still gentle as always. He shakes his head, moving closer to you again, gaze fixed on you.

You feel his hand brush against yours, but then his shoulders stiffen up. He stops. His eyes catch on something and his expression shifts in an instant.

“Jesus-” His frown deepens, something like a shadow crosses his eyes. Sharp eyes lock onto the red streaks lining your palm, the cuts where the shattered glass had broken your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were still holding onto the pain - too caught up in everything else to notice the dull throb of your hand or the sting of the scratches.

“You’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?” The words are a quiet exhale, soft but weighted. There is no reprimand in his voice, no anger - only concern coloring every syllable.

His thumb ghosts over your wrist, careful not to brush against the cuts. His intense gaze flickers from your injured hand to your face, searching your expression.

“It’s not a big deal-”

“Don’t.”

Bucky shakes his head. His jaw tightens and he exhales sharply through his nose. It’s not frustration - not with you, anyway. It’s something deeper, something that seems to pain him in his chest as he studies the scratches like they’re a personal failing.

“Bucky,” you say while trying to pull your hand back from his grasp when he tilts it more toward the light to get a better look. As if he hasn’t the eyesight of a super soldier.

“Doll. Let me see.” His lips press into a thin line, the faintest hint of exasperation ghosting across his face.

The sigh you let out drags down your chest and you don’t resist when Bucky keeps cradling your bleeding hand and studies the scratches. His brow is furrowed in concentration that feels too much for something so small.

You want to tell him it’s fine, that this is nothing, but the words die before they reach your tongue.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he says tightly, the tone of his voice all business and leaving no room for argument.

But you shake your head. It’s your fault the ornament broke in the first place. You’re aware it’s whole again, but it was in shambles just moments earlier and you cut yourself thanks to your own stupidity.

“Bucky, you just got back from a mission-” you protest, your voice quieter than you’d like.

“Not too worried about myself right now, doll,” he interrupts, his voice insistent but warm. The hint of steel beneath his words not directed at you but at the way your guilt is still in control, trying to downplay yourself.

“Come on.” He says it softer now, but before you can argue any further, he’s already moving.

Without so much as a pause, Bucky stands and scoops you up into his arms as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You barely have a second to process the shift, before you’re pressed securely against his chest.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, startled, your uninjured hand reaching for his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Relax, doll. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost amused, though his expression remains calm, focused.

You sigh again, but there is a laugh on your breath. “Buck, I can walk. You don’t have to-”

“Not hearing it,” he says simply, almost flatly. He just continues striding along the halls with you in his arms. His steps are heavier, but you know it’s not because of your weight. He holds you like you weigh nothing at all. “You’re hurt.”

That doesn’t sound like a plausible explanation to you, since you’ve come home with way worse injuries from missions over the last months alone. But the gruffness of his voice, the one that always accompanies him when you’re injured, no matter how small - the seriousness, the concern - it shuts you up for the time being.

You let your head rest against his shoulder. He smells a little like gunpowder and dust, but you only latch onto the parts that are him and breathe them in.

“I didn’t mean to break it, Bucky,” to whisper, gaze dropping to the tightly pressed ball that is your bloody fist. “I’m so sorry.”

You feel the intake of Bucky’s breath against your body and his eyes warmly falling down on you. You don’t meet his gaze.

“You didn’t break anything, sweetheart.” His voice is like velvet, brushing so softly against your skin. So reassuringly. So profoundly gentle. “You’re okay, doll. We’re okay. I promise.” His hands curl tighter around you.

You blink, your head tilting to glance up at him, and your breath catches when you meet his gaze.

It is intense. His brows are pulled together - not with anger, but with concern. Like the only things he cares about right now are the tears that linger in your eyes and the way you’re still trying to curl in on yourself, still letting your body slightly shake with the guilt that he refuses to let you carry.

Something stirs in your belly. Something flutters, as if thousands of tiny wings brush against the walls of you, demanding to be seen. To be felt.

Because you let your mind spiral so much earlier, bracing yourself for a reaction of disappointment, frustration - that flicker of something unnameable that might pull the two of you apart.

But it still isn’t there.

Not even close.

It’s the opposite, really.

[shadowbriar]

Bucky Barnes — Dishwasher

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x (she/her) wife!Reader Word Count : 1.5k Warning : None? Synopsis : Bucky knew that he was a man out of time, but never would he expect that this world no longer accepts home appliances as presents. Notes : If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Bucky’s palms were starting to sweat. He knows when she’ll return home, down to its minutes, but he still couldn’t shake the jitters that were brewing up his spine. He has more than enough window to finish his quest, perhaps even sparing himself a good other hour to clean up any possible mess and wipe the apartment clean before she could smell anything amiss, but with the ticking of the clock taunting on him, agitation was starting to pool a little thicker in his gut.

He taps on his watch, wondering where the technicians that were supposed to be here half an hour ago might be at. The drive from the store to their apartment shouldn’t be that complicated. He’s written in bold font the address and their unit number. There should be no issue for them to find it.

He was just about to ring the store when the doorbell rang.

“Mr. Barnes?” one of the technicians asked, looking at the clipboard in his hand “You ordered a dishwasher, Sir?”

“Yes,” Bucky answers with a slightly annoyed grunt “I’ve been expecting you.”

The technician shows a corporate disinterested smile, walking in the apartment as his partner wheeled the boxed item.

“Where do you want us to install it, Sir?”

“Right here,” Bucky says as he pulls the cabinet door that hid their old dishwasher “Could you bring the old one with you? I’d rather not leave any trace of mischief for my wife to find.”

“Of course,” the technician says as he begins to unbox the appliance “Wait, you didn’t make this your wife’s Christmas present, right?”

Bucky frowns, shaking his head with his brows knitted, “No, why?”

“Cause the guy at the last house did and that was a bad scene, man,” the other guy finally speaks up.

“Bad scene, why?” Bucky’s arms were folded to his chest now “They didn’t like the dishwasher?”

“No,” the first guy snorted with his laugh “They didn’t like it, alright.”

“The wife was insulted. Said home appliances don’t count as a gift,” the second guy further explained as he begins to take out the tools to install the item “She said it’s not fair that she always gets ‘gifts’ that are just things that their household needs to function while he gets all the niche personalised presents.”

“Not going to lie, I felt bad for the lady,” first guy chimed in “It was a bloodbath there, man. She was yelling and crying by the time we finished installing the dishwasher. Poor woman, I hope the husband found her something better for Christmas.”

Bucky could only nod in agreement. The crease on his forehead only gets deeper as the technicians continue their story. A new sense of guilt and anxiety brewed in his stomach. Perhaps the dishwasher wasn’t a great idea, afterall.

At first, he thought giving out a lie to a random technician about whether or not the item was his Christmas gift for her wife would never bring any harm. These men are just strangers that need not know any of his business, anyway. But now that they’ve told the story of their last customer, Bucky wonders if he should’ve just answered truthfully and see if these men have any better ideas for a replacement gift.

In his defence, the dishwasher was something she said was listed in her wishlist. He got her the very one she pointed at when they went to the electronic store the other day, down to the very colour that she said was her favourite. He thought that this would be the grand gift to reveal for her, the grandiose early Christmas present that would get her jumping and squealing in excitement, but having the story sinking into his brain now, such fantasy might not be the reality he’ll witness.

Bucky knew that he was a man out of time. That the world has progressed in ways that his mind couldn’t catch up still, but never would he expect that this world no longer accepts home appliances as presents. Perhaps he needs to whip out that notebook of his again and relearn the rules of gift giving in the twenty-first century.

—-

“Doll,” Bucky starts while his fingers cut through the meat of his dinner, trying his best to act as nonchalant as he could “I have a proposal to offer.”

She nods, chewing her food, “I’m listening.”

“Since you’re pretty busy with work and I have the whole month off from missions, why don’t I take the kitchen duty? I’ll cook our meals, make our coffee, wash the dishes, everything that’s involved in the kitchen, I’ll take care of it.”

Her head darts up to face him, an impressed smile tugs on the corner of her lips, “Okay..? Why?”

“Just wanted to take some of the burden off your shoulders,” Bucky lies through his teeth, shrugging “I’ve seen just how tired you’ve been lately. It’s the least I could do.”

“You’re very sweet,” she replies as she places a small kiss to his forearm “I’ll take the laundry duty, then.”

Bucky smiles, nodding in agreement.

His brain has been wiring since the technicians left their apartment. He wonders what he could get for her that would match the brilliance of the dishwasher that he thought would have been. He tries to squeeze the essence of his memory, trying to find anything that she might have mentioned that he could get for her, but everything she’s ever told, he’s bought, and he still wasn’t sure if there would be anything bigger than the dishwasher.

Now priding himself as a good husband, how could he not know what his wife wants most?

—-

In his defence, a twenty minutes longer sleep was something he earned for all the hard work he’s done in the kitchen for the past week. Bucky has made every meal, every coffee and every snack that he’s promised to make. He’s taken out the trash without being asked and has done all the dishes before the grease could even set on their plate. Now he might be a supersoldier, alright, but waking up early to brew some coffee and make breakfast was still something he’s not accustomed to and letting his eyes rest a little bit longer feels like a reward he’s very well earned.

So now he finds himself buried under the many layers of their blankets. The fluffiness of their pillows and how the scent of her shampoo still lingers on them made him drown in the pool of comfortness. He snuggles tighter to the pillows, burying his face on the softness of its fabric, before slumber was abruptly yanked off of his feet.

“Good morning,” she says after jumping right on top of him, now sitting on his stomach with a teeth-rotting grin “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” Bucky grunts, smiling through the regret of his lost doze “You’re up early.”

“No, I woke up on time. You’re just taking a little more nap than usual,” she answers as showers his jaw with kisses “When were you going to tell me?”

His eyebrows knit, trying to understand her words with a brain that’s still partially asleep, “Tell you what?”

“That you got me the dishwasher.”

Bucky’s eyes shot wide. His blue fraught-filled eyes were clashing against her fevered ones. He studies her face, trying to find any trace of disappointment or anger, but the only things he could find were the lovely creases around her eyes and the big grin that he thought must’ve ache her cheeks after a while.

He sits up, leaning against the bed frame as he tries to assess his situation better. Wrath was devoid from her face. She was jumping a little, evidently excited upon unravelling his confidence. Something that he wasn’t sure how to react to now.

“You’re not mad?” he asks instead.

“Why would I be mad? You got me the dishwasher!” she exclaims, placing another kiss to his lips “I was planning to get it next week after my Christmas bonus is in, but here you are playing Santa. You’re quite literally crossing wishes off my list. I love you.”

 “I love you,” he answers “But— You’re sure you’re not mad?”

She sits up, studying his attentive manner with a raised brow, “Why would I be mad?”

“Because the technicians said home appliances don’t count as presents anymore,” Bucky answers, looking further lost “They said dishwashers don’t count as Christmas presents.”

“Sure, they do! Home appliances or not, a present is a present,” she argues “It’ll only be an insult if all your gifts are home appliances. That wouldn’t count as Christmas presents. But that’s not what you’re doing. You’re giving me something that I want, which so happens to be a dishwasher.”

Bucky closes his eyes, letting out a sigh, “I am so confused right now. I thought I ruined your Christmas.”

“On the contrary, you’ve just made my Christmas,” she beams, pampering his face with little kisses “I love you, thank you.”

“I love you, Doll,” with his eyes still closed, Bucky pulls her face to his chest, trying to tame her excitement a little so he could recollect the drowsiness that was slipping off his fingertips “Does this mean I can forfeit from kitchen duties, now that you’ve found the surprise?”

She looks up, resting her chin to his chest with a satisfied laughter, “Yes, baby, we can get back to our usual schedule now.”

[gejo333]

Under the Mistletoe with You

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: Enjoying the holiday market with Miguel.

Enjoy!🎄

Wc: 1.2k

————————————————————————

You breathe warm air into your hands, trying to keep them warm as your worn-out gloves are not helping. You happily listen to the holiday tunes playing, people watching in Columbus Circle at the holiday market, and feeling jittery from the cold and the butterflies in your stomach waiting for Miguel to arrive. It has been over two months since your first date, and everything has been perfect. Even though neither you have declared to make it official, you have high hopes of it leading in that direction soon.

A sense of comfort and warmth washed over you as strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into a broad chest. You felt a pair of lips against your cheek as he gave you a hello kiss.

You turn around in his embrace as you get on your toes and return the sweet gesture on his lips. "Hi, mi amor. I'm sorry I was running a few minutes late. I hope you weren't waiting for me too long in the cold."

Your cheeks redden from what he called you. He had never called you anything except your name before now. You notice the grin on his face as he notices your reaction to his words.

"No worries. I only got here a few minutes ago. But I didn't realize how cold today would be, so I'm a little underdressed."

You notice his concern as he takes your hands in his large hands and blows hot air into them to help keep you warm. He frowns when he notices your worn-down gloves.

"How about we go to one of those igloo tables at the bar to warm up? I reserved one for us. And then we can walk around and look at the shops?"

"Sounds perfect!"

He smiled as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm as you headed to the bar.

As soon as you entered the igloo, you were relieved to be wrapped up in the heater's warmth.

"Feeling a bit warmer?" He smiled as he sat down next to you and brought his chair closer to you.

"Much warmer. It feels nice. Thank you, Miguel." You lean forward and kiss his cheek in thanks, but immediately, his fingers gently move your chin as his lips meet yours. Once you pulled away, you couldn't help but feel your heart pound out of your chest as you saw his loving and slightly lustful gaze with a wide, happy grin.

After stealing a few more kisses from each other, you choose your drinks as Miguel goes back outside to get them.

It took him a bit longer to get your drinks, which worried you, but your relief rushed through you once you saw him come back with them. When he entered, you noticed a small bag hanging from his wrist. Sitting down, he passed the bag to you with a happy expression.

You return his smile with an added confused expression. "What's this?"

"I saw something at a stand while waiting for our drinks and wanted to buy it for you." You smile as you open the box to reveal beautiful black leather gloves. Your heart glowed from his sweet gesture. You put them on and were instantly comforted by the soft cashmere against your skin. 

"I love them, Miguel. They're beautiful. Thank you." You give him a kiss, which he happily returns.

After sharing sweet sayings and catching up about each other's day, you decided to leave the warmth of the igloo tent and enter the slight chaos of the Christmas market.

One of the first stalls you visited was handcrafted ceramic china from Spain. A row of colored bowls caught your eye as you stared at them in awe. After checking the price of one bowl, your excitement lowered when you realized how expensive one bowl was. You still had to buy gifts for your family and friends. And Miguel. With how tight money has been lately, you knew getting it wouldn't be wise. You sighed sadly as you set the bowl gently back in its place before thanking the store owner and leaving.

"Everything ok?" Miguel looked at you with concern as you saw your slight frown. You smiled up at him in reassurance. "Yeah, I am. I was just a little bummed that those bowls were so expensive. They were so cute. Maybe I can get them next year if the shop is here again."

As soon as you finished your sentence, you were whisked back to the booth by him as he was holding your hand. You stood there dumbfounded as Miguel told the shopkeeper that he wanted to buy one of the bowls in every color you liked: four different bowls. When you came to your senses, you walked right up to Miguel's side.

"Oh, Miguel, you don't need to buy these for me. I'll be ok. You don't need to spend any more on me."

"Nonsense. You liked these bowls. And I want to buy them for you. Especially if I get to see that amazing smile that captures my heart." Miguel handed the shop owner his credit card before smiling lovingly at you.

"How did I get so lucky finding such an amazing man like you?" You wrap your arm around his bicep and hug him. You get on your toes and kiss his cheek.

Miguel leaned down to whisper in your ear."I'm the one who got lucky in finding someone as perfect as you."

As you walked around more of the market, a random man in an elf costume shouted happily at the two of you. "Pucker up, love birds. You're under our surprise mistletoe!"  

You and Miguel stop before looking up and seeing the over-the-top mistletoe hanging above your heads. You look back at each other as your cheeks redden from Miguel's smirk.

"I guess we should appease the elf." He chuckled.

"I guess we should." You giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck. Miguel wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against his warm chest before capturing your lips into a sweet, loving kiss.

When your lips separated only centimeters apart, he said, "I love you, y/n."

Your eyes widen in surprise at his words, and your smile widens before you capture his lips again and say, " I love you, too."

3 years later

You chuckled at the framed photo of the two of you from that day at the Christmas market on the bookshelf. Then, you glanced at the adjacent picture from your wedding day, captured just two months ago.

You felt strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against a warm body as you felt lips on your neck.

"Dinner is almost ready. Can you help me with bringing the dishes to the table?" He mumbled against your neck as he kissed you.

"Of course." You giggle at him, tickling your neck with his stubble. As you walk toward the kitchen, Miguel grabs you by the waist and stops you right under the doorway as he points up. You look up to see a mistletoe in the middle of the doorway's frame. You smile at him with an arched brow as he sends you a mischievous smirk before dipping you and giving you a passionate kiss.

"Merry Christmas, mi amor."

————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed it!🎄

[belovedhoon]

mr. grinch

pairing: jeno x f! reader fandom: nct dream

a/n: sorry this is late for christmas...i'm just glad its up in decemeber! i hope you guys enjoyed! i think it's crazy how jeno is my ult bias, yet this is my first fic for him...oops...anyways enjoy y'all! merry Christmas to those who celebrate! and happy holidays to those who don't!

wc: 2.4k contains: smut, fluff at the end, jealous jeno, husband jeno (I NEED him) taglist: @shypen @st1llm0nster @squoxle

synopsis: you and your husband jeno are over at your friends house for a christmas party and at first jeno is having a great time but then he starts to act like a grinch and you can’t help but wonder why, as soon as you get home jeno lets you know just exactly why he’s being a grinch so you decide to try to get him back in the christmas spirit and you know just the way to do so.

fic under cut >>>>>>>

You placed the red lipstick down and looked in the mirror one last time to check over your appearance and smiled softly at yourself. You got up from the vanity table to look for your husband Jeno to see if he was ready, he tends to take awhile…even longer than you sometimes…

You head towards your bedroom to see if Jeno is in there but don’t see him so you call out his name so that he could hear you. You hear a quick “I’m in the living room love.” before Jeno pops his head out from around the corner. You smiled as you saw your husband and walked towards the living room. 

“Jeno are you ready? We should be leaving soon.” You said softly smiling up at him. Jeno just nodded his head with a bright smile, his eyes scrunching up cutely. Jeno gave you a once-over and smirked.

“Maybe we should skip the party, you look so good, babe…” Jeno said winking. You just laughed and swatted at his muscular chest. You shook your head no at his words.

“Be serious Jen, you know we can’t skip the party, Renjun would be so upset with us!” You scolded your husband playfully. He just laughed and shook his head. He gave you a quick kiss before announcing that the two of you could head out now. You both grabbed the gifts for your friends before walking out of the house and to your car. Jeno placed the presents in the trunk of the car before opening the passenger side for you and then hopping in the front seat to start the car so that you could be on your way to Renjun’s house for the party. 

When you got to Renjun’s house, Jeno parked the car in Renjun’s large driveway and shut off the car before jumping out and opening the door on your side like the gentleman he always is. The both of you grabbed the gifts, walked up to Renjun’s front door, and rang the doorbell. About a minute later, Mark opened the door smiling at the both of you, before ushering you two inside. 

“Hey guys! Come in, it’s cold outside!” Mark said welcoming the two of you inside. You smiled gratefully at Mark and walked inside, Mark closing the door behind you and Jeno. “The rest of us are in the dining room! Come in whenever you get situated.” Mark said again before walking away to the dining room where he was before you two got there. Jeno and you took off your shoes leaving them on the rack by the door and putting your coats on the coat rack beside it before you two made your way to the dining room where everyone was. 

“Hey, lovebirds! You made it just in time! Jaemin just got here a few minutes before you two! So everyone is here now!” You heard Renjun say cheerily. You smiled and nodded gratefully at the information. Jeno and you exchanged hugs with everyone and Jeno couldn’t help but vaguely notice that Jaemin held you for a tad too long for his liking but shrugged it off. “All the gifts are over on that table if you want to go put them over there! We’re gonna be starting some Christmas-themed games afterward!” Renjun announced. Jeno nodded at his words, walked over to the table, and placed the gifts you both had gotten on the table with the other gifts. 

For the games, you all were paired off in groups of three people. You were paired off with Jaemin and Renjun, Jeno was paired with Mark and Haechan, and Chenle and Jisung were paired off. The first game you had to do was try to pop as many Christmas balloons by throwing darts at them as you could in 5 minutes. To say you were bad at it was an understatement…Your aim was so bad, so Jaemin stepped up to you and helped you aim correctly so that you could hit the balloons properly. Jeno’s eyes narrowed as his eyes zeroed in on Jaemin’s hands on your waist and hands to help you but he didn’t say anything…in fact, he didn’t say anything, not when you turned around and hugged jaemin tightly when you finally made a dart through the balloon, not when on the next game, he watched as Jaemin whispered in your ear and not even when through most of the night your attention was in fact on Jaemin. No, Jeno just sat there fuming, a nasty glare on his face as he watched the two of you interact. The fact that you were so oblivious to Jaemin’s shameless flirting and Jeno’s very obvious anger just made Jeno even more angry. 

It was time to open presents so you were sitting beside your husband, who you could tell seemed to be in a sour mood but couldn’t place why he was. You looked over at Jeno, a look of concern on your face but he just looked forward not paying you any mind, so you just shrugged annoyed. If he was going to act like a Christmas Grinch then you weren’t going to let him ruin your fun night. Everyone handed out the gifts they got for everyone and then everyone proceeded to open them one by one. When you got to the gift that Jaemin got you, you opened it and gassed when you saw the sweater you’ve been wanting for a while. You thanked him graciously and hugged him. Jeno just scoffed at the interaction quietly but you heard him. Then it dawned on you…Jeno was being a Grinch because he was jealous. You smirked internally at the thought. You knew just how you would get him back in the Christmas spirit…

As soon as you got back home, you went straight to your room and changed into the red and green lingerie you got as a gift for Christmas tomorrow to surprise Jeno and hopefully get him feeling jolly once more. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs and heading towards yours and Jeno’s shared bedroom, so you put on the matching silky Santa robe and stood in the middle of the room. Jeno opened the bedroom door and saw you standing there but didn’t say anything, he just stared at you. You smirked sultrily at him before sauntering over until you stood before him. 

“I noticed you were upset earlier…So I wanted to give you an early Christmas gift…get you back in the Christmas spirit…” You said your tone was seductive and light. Jeno’s eyes darkened and he watched as you ran your hands up and down his chest, shivering at your touch. “Don’t you want to open up your present Mr. Grinch?” You whispered to your husband. Jeno nodded his head as if he was in a trance but he reached out and untied the pretty bow you tied in the front of the robe and groaned at the sight of you dressed up so prettily for him. 

As soon as Jeno saw the lingerie sat so gracefully on your body he sprung into action, running his big hands up and down your lace-covered torso taking in the beautiful sight in front of him. Jeno brought his hands to your back and skillfully unclipped your bra, letting the offending article fall to the ground. Jeno groaned at the sight of your bare chest and then brought his hands up to your breasts which looked so inviting to him that he couldn’t help but squeeze them gently. He bent his head until he was eye-level with your chest before taking an erect nipple into his mouth and sucking at it just right, which caused you to let out a whimper. Jeno used his hand to tweak the other nipple before switching between the two and doing the same. Jeno took his mouth off of your nipple before he gently led you to your shared bed and pushed you atop it. 

Jeno climbed on top of your half-naked body, after he stripped his button-down shirt off, he was so impatient that he hadn’t even undid the buttons, he just tore the shirt open, the buttons springing everywhere but Jeno couldn’t care less about the expensive materials…not when his stunning wife was layed so beautifully on the bed looking up at him with hooded eyes. As soon as he was on top of you he leaned down capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Jeno let his hands wander down your torso and towards your lace-covered heat and to his surprise found that there was an opening in the bottom of the pretty red panties. His eyes shot down to look at what his hands had just discovered and he moaned loudly…your panties were crotchless… Jeno’s thick fingers spread your folds and instantly started to rub circles into your swollen clit. You whined out at the feeling of Jeno touching you in your most sensitive area.

“Jeez love, you just keep on surprising me, don’t you darling?” Jeno all but groaned out, loving the fact that you just kept on blowing his mind. You’re just so sexy to him. You just smiled up at your husband innocently contradicting the way you were rolling your hips into his hands sluttily. Jeno slipped a thick finger into your dripping entrance and started to move his digit into your gummy walls causing you to moan out at the feeling of his fingers digging into your spongey walls. Jeno could feel his cock twitching in his pants at every pretty sound you let out from his doing. 

“Jen…o.. please…I need your cock…please..!�� You whimpered out, barely getting the words out because of the way Jeno now had two fingers pounding into you. The sloppy sounds coming from you caused the tips of your ears to redden at the vulgarity of it but how could you be embarrassed when he made you feel so good? Jeno grinned down at you, cooing at you in a mocking tone at how desperate you already were. 

“This is my gift, remember? Let me enjoy it yeah?” Jeno said smugly when your eyes rolled back as your high ran through you unexpectedly. Jeno groaned as your walls clamped down even more tightly than before as the heat spread throughout your body like wildfire. Jeno slid his fingers slowly out of you when he was sure the aftershocks of your high were over. He brought his fingers to his mouth sucking your juices off his fingers seductively groaning at the taste all while making intense eye contact with you. You felt shivers run through your body at his heavy gaze and from the nastiness of what he had just done. 

You thought that since he had just made you cum on his fingers that he would finally give you his cock, but Jeno had other plans. You didn’t think you could just tease him with just a taste of your sweet slick without him getting a proper taste, did you? Jeno slowly made his way down your body, sucking marks into your skin until he was face level with your dripping center. He brought his face closer to your core, inhaling your scent deeply, causing you to scold out “Jeno” in disdain though he knew you secretly loved when he acted this way. Jeno pressed his face into your folds, and then sucked your clit into his mouth, alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue against the nub. Jeno slid his tongue through your folds and brought it to your entrance and slipping it inside thrusting it at a slow but steady pace, trying to catch any bit of essence that would drip out, moaning into you at the taste. Your hands were in Jeno’s hair tugging whenever something felt particularly good, leading him to groan into you again. 

Just as you were about to cum again, Jeno stopped and pulled away abruptly, stepping away from you to pull his pants and boxers off, his big cock springing out and hitting his abs. The protest you were about to let out dying in your throat at the glorious sight of your husband completely naked. Jeno quickly made his way back on top of you and gave you a deep kiss. You could Jeno bring his hand to his cock and tease the tip against your slick folds before positioning his head at your soaked entrance and pushing in slowly. The two of you let out twin moans at the feeling of finally, finally being one with the other. As soon as Jeno bottomed out, he stopped his movements to let you adjust to his impressively thick size. 

Jeno began to move at a quickly fastening pace when you whined out for him to ‘please move Jen, I need you’. Jeno kept up his fast pace as he grabbed your hands and brought them above your head, holding them there. You both couldn’t stop the sounds coming out of you even if you tried, the pleasure the two of you were feeling was so inexplicably intense. You could tell Jeno was getting close from the way he was starting to move more sloppily than before and his grunts were getting higher in pitch with every movement from him.

“Doll, please tell me your close…please…” Jeno whined out, his thrusts getting quicker and more uncoordinated. You nodded your head frantically at his words, the fact that he tore your orgasm away from you earlier combined with his frantic thrusts had you right on the peak. Sensing this, Jeno brought his hand down to your sensitive clit and started to rub at it harshly. This brought you over the edge, causing you to tighten over Jeno’s cock as you came. Jeno cursed out with a long groan as his warm sticky cum coated your walls in strong spurts, his cock throbbing as you milked him for all he had. Jeno let out one last groan before falling on top of you, careful to not put all his weight on you. 

“I can’t believe you called me Mr. Grinch!” Jeno said laughing. You just snorted at his words, looking over at him.

“Maybe if you weren’t acting like you were about to murder Jaemin, I wouldn’t have called you one. Btw Jaemin was doing it on purpose to see what you would do.” You said laughing at Jeno’s shocked expression.

“That sneaky bastard!”

[hottiesforhockey]

underneath the tree ⎜j.hughes + l.hughes

🎄pairings: jack hughes x afab!reader ⎜luke hughes x afab!reader 🎄genre: christmas special ⎜ romance ⎜ smut 🎄warnings: thigh riding ⎜ heavy petting ⎜ oral (f recieving) ⎜threesome...sorta...kinda? ⎜ there's kind of a hint of something between luke and reader 👀 ⎜luke is sick of the lovesick couple ⎜ luke showing jack how its done ⎜ fingering ⎜ 🎄synopsis: when luke comes home to catch you and his brother up to no good under the christmas tree - he decides to give jack's christmas present to you early. 🎄word count: 7k 🎄authors note:  this is the third post in the christmas special series! and definitely ended up a little longer then anticipated. feel free to check out the others already posted or the other upcoming fics : christmas specials

(unedited)

“You can’t just throw the lights on top of the tree and hope for the best.” You sigh as you snatch the christmas lights from your boyfriend’s hands - demonstrating how to loop them around every branch to get the best coverage. 

“I never thought I’d be the one decorating to be fair - it’s usually Luke’s job.” Jack huffs in return. You roll your eyes as you glance up at the clock in the living room - Luke had promised to be home by eight thirty to help decorate the house for the christmas season, it was almost nine o’clock and he still hadn’t shown up. 

“Have we called him? What if he was in an accident?” You say, Jack waving you off as he continues looping the lights around the tree just like you showed him. 

“He’s fine, he said he was grabbing a few gifts on the way home and he always gets stuck when he goes shopping.” 

“Still, it’s not like him to be this late,” you mutter, biting your lip as you glance at your phone. No messages. No missed calls. A strange unease twists in your stomach, but you shake it off. Luke had a habit of losing track of time when he got into the holiday spirit.

“I’m sure he’ll walk through the door any minute now, arms full of bags and that goofy grin on his face,” Jack says, attempting to reassure you. But even as he speaks, you notice the slight furrow in his brow.

The two of you continue working in silence for a while, the soft hum of Christmas carols on the radio filling the room. The tree starts to come together beautifully—twinkling lights cascading perfectly over the branches, thanks to your precise instruction.

By the time the ornaments are unpacked and ready to go, it’s well past nine-thirty. The unease has grown into a dull throb in your chest. You can’t help but glance out the window every few minutes, hoping to see Luke’s car pull into the driveway.

“Maybe I should try calling him again,” you say, picking up your phone and scrolling to his name in your contacts. Jack pauses, an ornament in hand, and nods.

“Can’t hurt,” he says quietly, his usual teasing tone subdued.

You press the call button and hold the phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. Frowning, you hang up and try again, only to get the same result.

“He’s not answering,” you say, your voice tighter than you intended.

Jack sets down the ornament and walks over, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. He probably just lost track of time like I said. Let’s give it another half-hour, and if he’s still not back, we’ll go looking for him.”

You nod reluctantly, though the unease refuses to budge. Together, you and Jack hang the first few ornaments on the tree, the joy of decorating dampened by Luke’s absence.

“Maybe we can do something a little more… interesting while we wait.” Jack hints, raising his eyebrows in anticipation as you let out a scoff of laughter surprised but his suggestion. 

“Oh, so this is why you agreed to help decorate,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. Jack grins, leaning casually against the edge of the couch.

“Caught me,” he says with a shrug. “But come on, it’s better than sitting here staring at the clock, isn’t it? We’re just killing time until Luke gets back. Why not make it a little more fun?” You hesitate, glancing at your phone on the table. Luke’s absence still gnaws at the back of your mind, but Jack’s mischievous expression is infectious. Maybe he’s right—what’s the harm in a little distraction?

“All right,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. “What did you have in mind?” Jack’s grin widens. 

“I knew you couldn’t resist. Let’s see... how about we start with a little wager? Whoever hangs the most ornaments in five minutes wins. Loser has to fulfil the other person’s wish.” You laugh despite yourself, already picturing Jack fumbling with ornaments in his rush. 

“You’re on,” you say, grabbing a handful of decorations and heading to the tree. Jack grabs his own pile and sets a timer on his phone. 

“Ready... set... go!” 

The two of you dive into the game, the tension from earlier fading into the background as you race to hang ornaments. Jack’s competitive streak kicks in immediately—he’s practically tossing ornaments onto the branches in his rush, while you focus on keeping yours evenly spaced and stylish.

“Careful,” you warn as Jack tries to hang a bauble too high and nearly knocks the star off the top of the tree. “If you break one, you’re automatically disqualified.”

Jack mutters something under his breath but adjusts his approach, all while shooting you a playful glare. The timer buzzes just as you’re reaching for your last ornament.

“Time’s up!” Jack announces triumphantly, stepping back to admire his handiwork—or rather, lack of it. Half his ornaments are clustered on one side of the tree, dangling precariously.

“Not bad,” you say, fighting back laughter. “If the theme was ‘Christmas chaos.’”

“Hey, it’s about quantity, not quality,” he retorts, counting his ornaments. “Twenty four. Beat that.” You let out a long sigh as you count your ornaments knowing you’re no where close to Jack’s debatable success. 

“Nineteen.” You hiss, your lips forming into a pout - Jack lets out a whoop of joy, leaning forwards to press a soft kiss to your temple as he dances past you. “Okay, Cheater, what’s your wish?” You can’t fight the smile growing on your face as Jack slides up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you against him. 

“I want you to kiss me.” He whispers softly, “Kiss me like you’ve never kissed anyone before.” He continues, his smile growing as he presses a kiss to your neck when you shiver in his arms. 

“You want to make out with me? That’s your wish?” You say tilting your head to give him better access to your sensitive skin, “You could ask me to do all your chores for the week, and instead you ask for a kiss?” 

Jack chuckles softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Chores aren’t nearly as fun, and besides," he murmurs, his lips grazing your skin, "this feels like a much better way to spend the evening." Your heart stutters as his hands slide over your waist, pulling you closer. The twinkling lights from the tree cast a warm glow over the room, but all you can focus on is the way Jack looks at you—like you’re the only thing that matters.

“You’re impossible,” you murmur, tilting your head as his lips press to the hollow of your throat. Your breath hitches at the soft, deliberate pressure. His fingers trace small circles against your lower back, his touch grounding but electric all at once.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he whispers against your skin, his voice low and intimate. “Not stopping me.”

You try to muster some kind of retort, but the words melt away as Jack leans back slightly, catching your gaze. His eyes flicker to your lips, and in that moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist. Slowly, achingly slowly, he leans in, brushing his lips against yours in the lightest, teasing touch.

It’s not enough—not nearly enough.

You close the distance, capturing his mouth in a kiss that’s anything but shy. Jack responds immediately, his hands tightening on your waist as he deepens the kiss, coaxing you into a rhythm that’s both tender and demanding. His lips are warm and soft, his movements deliberate as if savouring every second.

One of his hands slides up your back, threading into your hair, while the other keeps you anchored firmly against him. The heat of his body against yours is intoxicating, and the taste of him—the faint hint of cinnamon from the mulled cider earlier—sends your senses reeling.

Jack shifts, pressing you gently against the edge of the couch as his kisses trail from your mouth to the curve of your jaw, then down the line of your neck. He lingers there, his lips and tongue exploring the sensitive skin, drawing soft gasps from you with every touch.

“Jack,” you manage to breathe, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if to steady yourself. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark and filled with something that makes your stomach flip.

“What?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Too much?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed and your pulse racing. “Not even close,” you whisper, pulling him back into another kiss. This time it’s hungrier, more insistent, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how badly you want him. His hands explore your sides, your back, leaving a trail of heat everywhere he touches. Time feels suspended as the two of you lose yourselves in each other, the earlier tension replaced by an overwhelming, magnetic pull.

When you finally part, your breathing is uneven, and your heart pounds in your chest. Jack presses his forehead to yours, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your cheek. “Satisfied?” You whisper into the space between you, Jacks head shaking as he pulls you with him as he falls back onto the couch. 

“Not even close.” He groans, mimicking your words from earlier - his hands gripping your waist as you straddle his thighs. Jack’s lips find your again, his fingers digging into your sides as your hips slowly roll forwards, your arms looping around his neck.

Just as your lips part, Jack’s hands tightening on your waist, the sound of the front door creaking open shatters the moment. You both freeze, heads snapping toward the noise. Luke’s voice echoes through the hallway, laced with a familiar blend of frustration and something that almost sounds... hopeful.

“Why’s it so dark in here? Did you two forget how light switches work, or—oh.”

Luke stops in his tracks as he steps into the living room, his arms full of shopping bags. His eyes lock onto you, perched on Jack’s lap, your faces flushed and breaths uneven. The warm glow of the Christmas lights does little to mask the intimacy of the moment.

For a heartbeat, no one moves. Luke’s gaze flicks between you and Jack, the tension in his posture unmistakable. The bags in his hands crinkle as he tightens his grip, his jaw clenching.

“Luke!” you exclaim, scrambling off Jack’s lap, your cheeks burning. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly,” Luke says, his tone sharp, though there’s a slight waver in his voice. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Jack sighs, standing and rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not interrupting, Luke. Relax.”

Luke’s eyes narrow, his gaze settling on you for a beat longer than comfortable. “Sure doesn’t look that way.”

“Come on, don’t start,” Jack says, his voice firm but not unkind. He steps closer to his younger brother, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re late, and we’ve been trying to finish the tree without you.”

“I can see that,” Luke mutters, shrugging off Jack’s hand. His eyes flick to you again, softer this time, a mixture of longing and hurt flashing across his face before he looks away.

You shift uncomfortably, the weight of the situation settling in. Luke had always been sweet to you—offering to help with chores, finding excuses to spend time around you, and sometimes even going out of his way to get your favourite snacks. At first, you thought it was just him being polite, but over time, it became hard to ignore the lingering looks and the way his face would light up when you smiled at him.

Jack, of course, seemed blissfully unaware of his younger brother’s crush, even teasing him about being “the baby” of the family. 

— or so you thought. 

Now, though, standing in the awkward silence, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Luke’s crush had become more complicated.

“Luke,” you start gently, taking a step toward him. “We were just messing around, trying to make decorating a little more fun. We didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what?” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve ever heard it. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the usual warmth in them is replaced with something raw. “Didn’t mean for me to walk in on you two... like that?”

“Hey,” Jack interjects, stepping between you and Luke, his tone defensive. “Watch it. Don’t take your anger out on her.”

Luke’s mouth snaps shut, but his glare shifts to Jack. “Of course, you’d defend her,” he mutters bitterly, his voice barely audible.

“Because she’s my girlfriend,” Jack says firmly, his hand resting protectively on your back. “And you’re my brother. What’s going on with you, Luke? You’ve been weird for weeks.” Luke lets out a long sigh, dropping his shopping bags to the floor before crossing his arms tightly over his chest. 

“Jack, it’s fine.” You say softly, reaching out for your boyfriends hand, “He didn’t mean any—” 

“Yes he did.” Jack interrupts, “He’s been weird since I asked him to help me with your christmas present.” Jack says scowling at his younger brother. The two Hughes lock in a tense conversation with their eyes - your gaze flicking between the two in confusion. 

“What? What are you talking about?” You question, your gaze settling on your boyfriend. 

“She didn’t even know about it?” Luke sneers at his brother - his eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise as he removes himself from the staring contest with Jack - his gaze sliding over your confused face. 

Jack shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair, his usual confidence faltering. “It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze. “It was just an idea I had for your gift. But Luke... didn’t exactly take it well.”

“Jack,” you say slowly, stepping closer. “What idea? What’s going on?”

Luke crosses his arms tightly over his chest, glaring at his older brother. “Go ahead,” he says, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Tell her. Let her hear this brilliant plan of yours.”

Jack exhales heavily, clearly frustrated. “I thought it would be... meaningful. Special. Something different from the usual gifts,” he begins hesitantly, his eyes flicking toward you before quickly looking away again. “I asked Luke to... spend a night with you. If you wanted to.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can hear is the faint hum of the Christmas lights. You blink, processing what he’s just said. “Spend a night with me?” you repeat, your voice soft but steady.

Jack nods, his cheeks flushing as he finally meets your gaze. “I know it sounds... unconventional. But I wanted to give you something that showed how much I trust you, how much I trust us. You’ve always been close with Luke, and I thought... maybe it could be something we all share. If you’re okay with it.”

Your stomach flutters—not with discomfort, but with intrigue. You glance at Luke, who’s staring at Jack like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, and then back at Jack, whose expression is a mix of vulnerability and nervousness.

“Jack,” you say carefully, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you serious?” He nods, his voice firm despite the tension in the room. 

“Only if it’s something you’d want. I’d never push you into anything, and if you’re not into the idea, that’s totally fine. But I thought... maybe.”

Luke lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair. “This is insane,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious.”

“I think he is,” you murmur, your gaze still on Jack. His sincerity is unmistakable, and the thought of his trust—and Luke’s involvement—sends a curious warmth coursing through you.

You take a slow step toward Luke, your pulse quickening as his eyes snap to yours. “What about you?” you ask softly. “How do you feel about it?”

Luke’s mouth opens, then closes again as he searches for words. “I... don’t know,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t exactly something I ever thought about. And honestly, I’m not sure I believe Jack’s really okay with it.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t,” Jack interjects firmly, his gaze flicking to his brother. “Look, I know this is weird, but I trust both of you. I love her, and you’re my brother. I thought... maybe this could be something meaningful for all of us.”

Your heart races as you glance between the two brothers, their contrasting expressions—Jack’s cautious hope, Luke’s guarded confusion—only adding to the charged atmosphere. You step closer to Jack, resting a hand on his arm.

“You’re sure about this?” you ask softly, searching his eyes.

He nods, his hand covering yours. “Only if you are. This is about what you want.”

You turn back to Luke, who’s watching you with a mixture of uncertainty and something deeper—something almost longing. “And you?” you ask again, your voice steady despite the nervous energy bubbling inside you. “Would you be okay with it?”

Luke hesitates, his gaze dropping to the floor before slowly returning to yours. “I don’t want to make things weird between us,” he admits. “But if this is really what you both want...” His voice trails off, leaving the unspoken possibilities hanging in the air. You take a deep breath, your decision crystallising as you glance between them. 

“I think...” you begin, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’d like to try.”

Jack exhales, relief washing over his features, while Luke’s expression shifts to one of stunned disbelief.

“Seriously?” Luke asks, his voice cracking slightly.

You nod, stepping closer to him. “Only if you’re okay with it,” you assure him. “But yeah. I think I’d like to see where this goes.”

Luke glances at Jack, as if seeking confirmation, and Jack nods firmly. “She’s serious,” Jack says. “And so am I.” The tension in the room shifts, giving way to something warmer, more electric. As the three of you stand there, the possibilities of what comes next hanging in the air, you can’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and anticipation

Luke exhales slowly, his expression shifting from disbelief to cautious consideration. His eyes flick between you and Jack, the charged silence thickening. Jack steps closer, placing a steadying hand on your back, his touch grounding as he glances at his brother.

“Luke,” Jack says softly, his tone more relaxed now. “This isn’t about pushing boundaries or making things weird. It’s about trust. And... about her.” His gaze moves to you, warm and protective. “If she’s open to it, I am too. And I think, deep down, you’ve been curious too.”

Luke swallows hard, clearly at war with himself. Finally, he nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Alright,” he says, his voice low but steady. “But only if this is what you want.” His eyes lock on yours, his sincerity striking.

You smile softly, stepping forward to close the gap between you and Luke. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” you assure him. Then, turning your head slightly, you glance back at Jack.  The weight of the moment settles over the three of you, the air crackling with an intensity that feels both thrilling and vulnerable. Slowly, you step closer to Luke, the uncertainty in his expression giving way to something warmer. You reach out, your hand brushing against his cheek, and he freezes for a moment before leaning into your touch.

Luke nods slightly, convincing himself that this is really happening, his eyes flicking to Jack’s before returning to yours. He leans forward, hesitating just a fraction before his lips meet yours. The kiss is tentative at first, soft and searching, but it deepens as you respond, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging on the ends of his curls as he pulls your closer to him - his hands knotted in your shirt.

Behind you, Jack’s hands slide down your arms, his touch both reassuring and suggestive. When Luke pulls back, his breathing uneven, Jack presses a kiss to the side of your neck, his lips warm against your skin.

“You okay?” Jack murmurs, his voice close to your ear.

You nod, your breath hitching as you look between them. “Better than okay,” you whisper.

Luke’s expression softens, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “This still feels... surreal,” he admits, his voice tinged with a mix of wonder and hesitation.

Jack chuckles softly, his tone light but teasing. “You’ll get used to it,” he says, his arm sliding around your waist as he pulls you closer to him.  Luke’s lips twitch into a tentative smile, “Yeah,” he says quietly. 

As the three of you stand there, the Christmas lights casting a warm glow over the room, the boundaries between you blur, giving way to something deeper, more intimate. Your gaze snaps away from Luke’s as you both turn to look at Jack who steps away from the two of you. 

“Alright, well I’ll leave you to it.” Jack jokes lightly, clasping his hands together, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He warns his younger brother, whose mouth falls open as his brothers attempted retreat. 

Luke’s hand shoots out, grabbing Jack by the arm before he can leave. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Luke says, his voice low but firm. His grip tightens just enough to make Jack pause. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, half amused, half surprised. “What? Thought you’d wanted me out of the way.”

Luke smirks, an edge of confidence creeping into his expression. “Not anymore. You started this, Jack. You don’t get to walk away now.” His words are calm but carry a deliberate challenge that makes Jack hesitate.

You glance between them, your pulse quickening as the tension shifts again, this time carrying a playful undercurrent. “Luke’s got a point,” you chime in, your voice soft but teasing. “You can’t just drop this bomb and then vanish.”

Jack tilts his head, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, I can’t?” he teases, his tone light but his eyes glinting with something sharper.

Luke steps closer, his grin widening as he stands toe-to-toe with his older brother. “Not unless you’re scared,” he taunts, his voice dripping with mock bravado.

Jack scoffs, rolling his eyes but clearly enjoying the game. “Scared? Of you?” He gestures vaguely in your direction, his grin turning wicked. “I just figured I’d give you two some space. But if you need me to show you how it’s done...” He trails off, shrugging dramatically.  Jack exhales slowly, his gaze locking with yours for a long moment before shifting to Luke.

Luke watches the exchange carefully, his arms still crossed but his posture relaxing. “You sure you’re up for this, Jack?” he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes serious.

Jack smirks, his confidence returning in full force. “Please,” he says, stepping closer to you and sliding an arm around your waist. “I think the real question is—are you?”

Luke lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Cocky as ever,” he mutters, but there’s a warmth in his tone now, a subtle shift in the dynamic between the three of you.

As the Christmas lights twinkle in the background, the room seems to hum with an energy that’s both thrilling and tender. Whatever comes next, you know it’s something none of you will forget.

Luke watches Jack closely, his smirk fading into something softer. “Alright,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, as if he’s surrendering to the moment. “Let’s see if you can back up all that talk.”

Jack chuckles, but it’s less sharp now, his usual cocky confidence tempered by the weight of what’s unfolding. His gaze shifts to you, and he presses a lingering kiss to your temple, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. “You okay with this?” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring.

You nod, your heart racing but not from nerves—from excitement. “Yeah,” you say softly. “You two can stop asking me that now.”

Luke steps closer, his hesitance melting away as he mirrors Jack’s careful movements. He brushes a hand along your arm, his touch light and tentative, as though he’s testing the waters. When you glance up at him, he meets your gaze with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “It’s about continuous consent, this stops the second you say so.” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sure,” you reply, and you reach out to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Jack doesn’t let the moment linger too long. “See, Luke?” he says lightly, his tone edging back into playfulness. “Told you she’d be into it.”

Luke rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice behind it. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” Jack shoots back with a grin, his other hand sliding along your waist as he pulls you closer.

The charged air between the three of you grows heavier, the lines blurring even more as you feel Luke’s hand brush against your back. He’s still cautious, like he’s waiting for a signal that it’s okay to let go, to fully step into this strange, uncharted space the three of you have found yourselves in. Jack notices the hesitation and chuckles softly.

 “Relax, Luke. You’re not going to break her.” His voice is warm, teasing but kind, and it seems to put Luke at ease. With that, Luke leans in, his lips finding yours again. This time, the kiss is more confident, his movements less uncertain as his hands settle on your waist. Jack’s presence is grounding, his steady touch a constant reminder of the trust you all share.

Jack grins, clearly satisfied, while Luke’s expression softens, his usual sharp edges replaced with something vulnerable and new. The room feels smaller now, the three of you wrapped in a moment that’s equal parts thrilling and overwhelming. Luke’s voice breaks the silence, his tone lighter now but still tinged with disbelief. 

“This is... not how I thought tonight would go.”

Jack laughs, his hand resting on Luke’s shoulder. “Welcome to life with her,” he says, his gaze full of affection as he looks at you. “Never boring.” Jacks pulls your hair away from your shoulders, taking a step back and making his way over to the couch, perching on one of the cushions as he speaks, “Baby, you should tell him all about that thing you wanted to try.” 

Luke’s eyes leave his brother as he tilts his head down to look at you, his hands leaving your waist to gently cup the underside of your jaw, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he takes you in. He raises a questioning brow as you hesitate, the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“I like your thighs.” You blurt out - Jack letting out a bark of laughter as your words linger. 

“And what do you want me to do with this information?” Luke questions back. 

“I want to ride them.”  

Luke blinks at your bluntness, his grip on your jaw faltering for a split second before his lips quirk into an amused smirk. His eyes glint with both surprise and intrigue as he leans slightly closer. “Is that right?” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave.

Jack’s laugh subsides into a low chuckle, and he shakes his head, clearly entertained. “Well, she doesn’t beat around the bush,” he says, reclining further into the couch with an easy confidence. “Guess you’ve got your work cut out for you, little brother.”

Luke’s gaze flickers briefly to Jack, a hint of competitiveness in his expression, before returning to you. “I think I can handle it,” he says, his voice steady but laced with playful challenge. His hands slide from your face to your hips, steadying you as he takes a slow step back toward the couch.  The weight of Luke’s hands on your hips is grounding, and the anticipation coursing through you feels electric.

Luke sits down, his broad frame sinking into the cushions as he watches you with a mix of curiosity and confidence. His legs part slightly, and he pats one of his thighs, the smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, then. Show me what you’ve got.”

Jack whistles low, clearly enjoying the shift in dynamic. “This should be good,” he says, but there’s no malice in his tone—just a genuine appreciation for the moment unfolding.

You step closer to Luke, your pulse quickening as his hands find your waist again. He steadies you as you move to straddle one of his thighs, the firmness of his muscle beneath you sending a thrill through your body. Luke’s hands remain on your hips, guiding you gently but firmly as you settle in.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his voice softer now, the teasing edge giving way to something more genuine.

“Very,” you reply, your breath hitching as you shift slightly against him. The friction is tantalising, and you bite your lip, meeting his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his expression a mix of concentration and curiosity as he watches you move.

Jack’s voice cuts through the tension, smooth and teasing. “Don’t go easy on him, baby.” He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he observes, his presence adding another layer of heat to the moment.

Luke exhales a shaky breath, his hands tightening on your hips as you grind against him, the flimsy material of your pyjama shorts bunching up around your hips as you move. “You’re... full of surprises,” he mutters, his voice tinged with a mixture of awe and amusement.

You lean forward, your hands resting on his shoulders as you press your lips to his ear. “And the nights just getting started,” you whisper, your voice low and teasing.

Luke’s breath catches, and his grip on you steadies. Luke exhales deeply, his hands firming on your hips as if to anchor himself in the moment. His thigh shifts slightly beneath you, and the subtle motion sends a jolt of pleasure through your body. His gaze locks with yours, his expression softening into something more intimate, more vulnerable.

“Just getting started, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a mixture of teasing and wonder. His hands slide from your hips to your waist, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of your shirt. “Guess I better keep up.”

From the couch, Jack’s low chuckle breaks the silence. “You’re doing fine so far, Luke. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable. She’s got high standards.” His tone is light, but the warmth in his voice is unmistakable.

You glance over your shoulder at Jack, his relaxed posture contrasting with the heat in his eyes as he watches you and Luke. The weight of his gaze sends another thrill through you, and you turn back to Luke, emboldened. Your hands slide up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as you lean in closer.

“I don’t think he’ll disappoint,” you murmur, your lips hovering just over his. Luke’s breath hitches again - a part of him still in disbelief that his brothers girlfriend is currently on top of him -  his grip on your waist tightening as he closes the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s more confident now, more consuming.

You let out a soft moan against his lips as you feel Luke’s thigh tense below you, his muscles hard and rigid beneath you as he pushes you further down onto his leg - a part of you glad for your choice to go commando in your pyjamas tonight - your clit rubbing deliciously against the rough fabric of his sweatpants. 

“Fuck, Luke.” You hiss as his lips leave yours, pressing soft kisses against your neck as you throw your head back, his hands smoothing up from your hands until they slip under your hoodie, your bearskin breaking out in goosebumps as he stops just under the curve of your breasts. He finds the junction of your jaw sucking sharply as your hips start to falter on his hips. 

“She’s close.” Jack notes, sounding nothing more then a curious spectator as he watches - You can feel Luke smile against your neck as he lifts his thumbs, to graze over your nipples - the ever so soft stimulation pushing you over the edge, as your teeth sink into your lip - your eyes slamming shut as you let out a whispered whine as your orgasm rushes over you. 

Your body trembles against Luke’s, the aftermath of your release leaving you breathless and lightheaded. Luke’s hands steady you, his touch firm but comforting as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. There’s a softness in his expression now, a quiet awe that contrasts with the intensity of moments before.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice low and tinged with concern.

You nod, a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips. “More than okay,” you murmur, your voice still a little unsteady.

Jack leans back against the couch, his arms stretched along the backrest, his grin equal parts smug and affectionate. “Told you she’d enjoy herself,” he says, his tone teasing but warm. “Didn’t expect you to handle it so well, though, Luke.”

Luke snorts, shaking his head as he glances over at his brother. “You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you?”

Jack shrugs, his grin widening. “Just keeping you on your toes.”

You let out a soft laugh, the playful banter between the brothers grounding you in the moment. As your breathing steadies, you shift slightly, slipping off Luke’s thigh to sit beside him. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist, pulling you close as Jack watches with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

“Well,” Jack says after a moment, his voice light but his gaze lingering on you. “That was fun.”

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You glance between the two brothers, their contrasting demeanours—Luke’s cautious curiosity and Jack’s confident mischief—only adding to the heady anticipation building between you.

“Why are you saying that like I’m even remotely finished.” Luke asks his brother, his voice soft but steady.

Jack’s grin turns wicked, his eyes glinting with playful intent. “Oh,” he says, pushing off the couch and stepping closer. He crouches in front of you, his hand brushing against your knee as his gaze locks with yours. “Well do continue.” You bite your lip, the thrill of the unknown sending a shiver through you. Luke’s hand tightens slightly on your waist, his expression serious but supportive.  Jack’s grin softens into something more genuine, and he leans forward to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, leaning back against the arm of the couch - his gaze wandering over you. 

Luke rolls his eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Go sit in front of Jack, get comfortable,” he mutters, his hand sliding down to rest on your thigh. The atmosphere between the three of you shifts once again, the room humming with an unspoken energy as the possibilities of the night stretch out before you.

You shuffle away from Luke, smiling as you slip yourself between Jack’s thighs, his arms wrapping around your torso to you back against him - his lips pressing a kiss into your hair. Luke takes a big breath before he turns towards the two of you - pulling himself onto his knees as his hands reach for the waistband on your shorts. “Do you mind?” He questions, waiting for the shake of your head before he slowly starts slipping them down your legs - your hips raising to help slip the shorts off. 

“No underwear?” Jack whispers from behind you, “Naughty, I like it.” He grins. The two of you watch Luke move, the younger boy shuffling further back on the couch  - his hand wrapping around your thighs as he pulls you down the couch with him, his body lying flat on the cushions until you line up with his mouth. 

Your lean your head back against Jacks abdomen looking up at him in surprise as he shoots your a soft grin. “Watch him, not me.” He whispers, pushing your hair away from your face, “tonight is for you, baby.” Your eyes lower back to Luke, his hands lifting your thighs till they sit comfortably over his shoulders, his hot breath teasing against you. 

“You’re so wet.” He mumbles, your pussy glistening in front of him, as he leans forwards to swipe his tongue against you. Luke lets out a low groan as the taste of your hits his tongue, his fingers digging into your thighs as his mouth latches onto you - his tongue flicking against your clit as your breath catches in your throat. 

“Oh, shit.” You curse, one hand gripping the forearm Jack has around your torso, your other hand sliding into Luke’s curls as he sucks on you - the almost silent room filling with the lewd sounds of Luke’s mouth working. Luke’s teeth graze against you as your hips buck, his fingers sliding against your slit as he gathers your moisture before teasing his fingers at the entrance of your cunt. 

“If I died right now, I’d die a happy man.” Luke jokes, as his fingers slip inside of you - your head tilting further back against your boyfriend as you let out a shaky exhale. Jack just chuckles at his brother, his hands lifting your shirt until your breasts fall free, Luke eyes darting up to his brother before dropping back down to your tight nipples. 

“Finish the job, Lukey.” Jack says, an invitation, as Luke doesn’t waste his chance to lean forwards, sucking your right nipple into his mouth - his fingers working inside of you at a steady pace, your hips bucking as he brushes the spot inside of you that you can never seem to reach on your own. 

Lukes mouth leaves your nipple, the cold air hitting your wet flesh as he moves to suck the other nipple - your back arching at the overstimulation. “Come for us, baby.” Jack whispers into your ear, Luke adding a third finger as his thumb joins to rub soft circles against your clit - your thighs fighting against Luke’s body still slipped between them, wanting desperately to slam shut. 

You know both of the brothers as smiling as you come down from your orgasm, your chest heaving as Luke leans forwards to capture your lips one more time - his kiss gentle but all consuming as he seems to eat every whine that leaves you as his fingers slow their movements. 

“Merry Christmas.” Jack says as Luke pulls his fingers from you, your cunt clenching around the emptiness as he dips them into his mouth. 

“Merry Christmas.” Luke responds, a shit eating grin on his face. 

+

+

The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The quiet hum of the world waking up outside was a stark contrast to the tangled intimacy of the night before. You stretched lazily, the ache in your thighs and the lingering warmth in your chest a reminder of the boundaries you’d crossed—or perhaps, dismantled entirely.

Jack was still sprawled on your mattress, his arm draped over his face, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips even in rest. You leaned over pressing a soft kiss against your boyfriend’s cheek before slipping out of bed quietly, tugging one of Jack’s oversized shirts over your head and padding softly into the kitchen. The mundane act of making coffee was grounding, the hiss of the machine and the rich aroma filling the room like a balm. You were pouring a second cup when you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you.

“Morning.” Luke’s voice was husky with sleep, his hair a disheveled mess as he leaned against the counter. His eyes met yours, a flicker of uncertainty there, but also something warmer, deeper.

“Morning,” you replied, handing him a cup. The silence stretched for a moment, comfortable but charged, until Luke broke it.

“Last night…” He trailed off, his fingers tightening around the mug. “I mean, are we… okay? Are you okay?”

You smiled softly, stepping closer to him. “I’m okay. Are you?”

He nodded, his expression lightening. “Yeah, just… trying to wrap my head around everything. It’s not every day your brother ropes you into something like this.”

Jack chose that moment to saunter into the kitchen, shirtless and unapologetic. “Something like what?” he teased, his grin wide and shameless as he grabbed the mug you’d prepared for him. “Don’t tell me you’re already overthinking it, Luke.”

Luke shot him a glare, but there was no real venom behind it. “I’m not overthinking it. Just… processing.”

Jack’s gaze softened slightly, though his smirk remained. “Good. Processing is fine. But let’s not turn this into something weird, alright? Last night happened because we all wanted it to. Nobody was coerced, nobody’s regretting anything.” He glanced at you, his tone turning more serious. “Right?”

You shook your head. “No regrets.”

Luke exhaled a quiet laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Okay, no regrets.” He agrees, his gaze trained on you as you turn to greet his older brother, Jack pulling you in for a long kiss, your bodies swaying together as you let out a light laugh - Luke just watches,  his arms tingling with the phantom wish of being able to hold you the way his brother does. 

“So what’s the plan for today?” Jack breaks the silence, turning you in his arms to face his younger brother, “Round two?” He teases with a laugh, both you and Luke letting out a groan at the same time. 

[4doras]

MY CHRISTMAS MIRACLE ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

everyone knows wishing for a boyfriend doesn’t work, but why does the perfect man keep finding his way to you? ⊹♡

jungwon x f!reader

genre. fluff (lowercase intended)

wc. 0.9k

a/n. first enhypen fic~ i wrote this a while ago so it MIGHT be bad, but i still hope you guys like it… 😅

“i wish for a boyfriend. a boy who’s like a little ginger cat, cute, smart, clingy. just perfect for me. please, santa. i’ve been single for too long.” that’s what you wrote. you were in desperate need of a boyfriend.

your blaring alarm woke you up. the warm smell of cinnamon lingered in the air — the product of your candle burning for over four hours. your phone was full of messages and missed calls, all asking if you want to go ice skating. you quickly responded to them, agreeing to the outing.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

“let‘s go get our skates!” sunoo cheered, practically jumping up and down with how impatient he was. once everyone got their skates, sunghoon helped you all tighten your laces, making sure none of you would have loose skates. once he was done checking, you all got on the ice, slowly skating to get used to the slippery surface of the ice.

by the next minute, you were gliding around the rink. that was until you bumped into a person coming your way. you prepared yourself to bang against the ground, instead, you were caught in the embrace of a boy.

more under the cut!

“are you okay?” the stranger asked you.

“yeah, are you? im so sorry.” you apologized.

“of course, i was the one that banged into you.” he fixed a small misplaced piece of hair before smiling at you, and skating away.

“what was that?” sunghoon asked you as you returned to your group. “or should i say, who was that? i couldn’t see their face.”

“i don’t know, but he was really cute, hoon.”

“god, you’re so desperate for a boyfriend, aren’t you…” he sighed.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

jake had found a local cafe that was near the rink, deciding that you all should meet up there to rest. you all were free, therefore came to the function.

you met up at the cafe, everyone holding a cup of coffee or tea. you knew everyone there except for one boy. little did you know, that boy would be the only thing you could think about. he was adorned with big eyes like a cats, little dimples formed on his cheeks whenever he smiled.

he was the boy from the skating rink.

“y/n!” jake called you over to sit next to him. “this is jungwon, yang jungwon. jungwon, this is y/n.” jake smiled, his australian accent prolonged on jungwons name. you reached your hand out to shake jungwons, though, it was covered by the long sleeve of your shirt. before shaking your hand, he rolled your sleeve up, and shook it, not putting his hand back before re-covering your hand. weirdly, the small gesture make your heart beat faster than usual.

“sorry for bumping into you at the rink, y/n.” he gave you a sheepish look.

you giggled, “its okay, jungwon.”

you all chatted for a while, ending up in you and jungwon sharing numbers. you and jungwon seemed to have more in common than you would’ve initially thought, it really felt like you two were soulmates. the longer you hung around jungwon, the more you found out about him.

he was a sweet boy. he had the same humor as you, was really caring, and cute. he would follow you around like a little cat, trailing beside you or scurrying to hold your hand so he wouldn’t be left behind.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

“do you have any plans for christmas?” sunoo asked you, his tone sounded like there was a correct answer.

“nah, im free the whole holiday.” you responded, hoping “no” was right.

“perfect! do you wanna go out with the guys? jungwon will be there.” he teased.

“where are you guys going?” in all honesty, you didn't care, as long as you could hang out with jungwon.

“maybe just hanging out at my place, we don't have that much planned.” he suggested.

“sure, i'll join you guys.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

it was christmas day, the streets were bustling and busy. you dressed up and quickly went out so you could buy small gifts for all of your friends, getting one that’s slightly more significant for jungwon, a bear plushie holding a heart. you got back home, completing your look with a spray of perfume and you were once again, out the door.

you greeted everyone, hugging jungwon tightly as you saw him.

“i got you a gift, y/n.” jungwon said, his dimples forming.

“me too.” you reached into your bag, bringing out the plushie.

you and jungwon must be fate, because you both got each other the same gift, but you got jungwon one with a red heart, and jungwon got you one with a pink heart. while you both laughed at the twinning gifts, everyone was curious about what was so funny, but easily caught on by the bears being your hands.

“its a sign, you guys are made for eachother.” jake joked.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

you were all sitting on the sofa together, playing truth or dare.

“jungwon, truth or dare?” jay riddled.

“um… truth.” he hesitated.

“do you like y/n?” jay asked without thinking, it was like he had been waiting for this day.

“yeah.” jungwon tried to avoid eye contact with you.

“won, actually?” you turned your whole body to face him, attempting to look at him while he swung his face away from you.

“im serious, y/n. i really like you,” he confessed.

before jungwon could say any more, you cut him off with a kiss. you held his face in your hands, kissing him softly.

jungwon pulled back. “can i be your boyfriend?”

“please.” you giggled.

maybe wishing for a boyfriend does work.

[just-some-trans-nobody]

December Christmas Monstet stories

December 8.) Horny Krampus

Sorry everyone this one was supposed to br way longer than this but I'm having really bad writers block. I might try to rewrite it eventually I just had to finish what little I had if I want stick to the schedule.

Warnings: NSFW, spit as lube, bare minimum prep, swearing, possessive behavior, stalking behavior

Minors Don't Interact!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Three weeks. 

You only got three weeks a year with him and then you had to wait longing for his touch until next year. 

It was like clock work. December 1st at midnight the sound of heavy hooves landing on your roof waking you. The last two years you would wake up a minute or two before the stroke of midnight in anticipation of his arrival. 

Giddier than a kid on Christmas day you threw the blankets off yourself and rushed to the living room. Some years he came down the chimney, sometimes the window. He always kept you on your toes never fully knowing where he was going to enter. You weren't sure how a man of such a large size could fit down a chimney but your brain always turned off when he was around. Too dick whipped to think about anything but him and the pleasure he gave you.

Hearing his low growl rumble from behind you, your body trembled in response. He had come through your bedroom window expecting you to be there. Seeing you weren't there made him mad, he wanted his cock in you immediately. Having to wait irritated him. Turning you smiled at him before letting out a gasp when he grabbed you pushing you against the nearest wall. “Fuck.” You moaned out, leaning your head back. He let out a low rumble hearing your moan. The sounds you make when he's with you calmed his raging soul, if only a little bit. Seeing that you were still dressed he growled before ripping off your clothes. His clawed hands tearing your clothes to shreds. You know you should be mad about it but the act had only served to turn you on even more. 

Heart pounding in your chest you reached out to hold onto him as he lifted you up pinning you to the wall with one hand. Your legs dangled, unable to reach the floor by a good foot or two. He effortlessly freed his cock from its restraints with his free hand. Lifting a leg up you rested it on his hip spreading your legs for the large man.

Biting your bottom lip you trembled at his touch as he held your chin. “Open.” He growled in a low voice that rumbled in your chest. Obediently you opened your mouth, lightly sticking your tongue out. His fingers immediately slide into your mouth causing you to close it around them. He hardly ever took the time to lube you up first so this felt special for you. Keeping eye contact with him you made sure to lube up his fingers with your saliva as much as you could before he finally pulled them out of your mouth leaving a trail of saliva from his fingers to your plump lips. The trail broke after a second landing on your chin causing him to let out a low rumble at the sight. 

Lowering his hand to your entrance he pushed the lubed up fingers inside of you causing you to moan. He wanted to take you so much it hurt but he knew you haven't had him in such a long time you would need to be stretched out first. By the end of the month he would be able to slip it in without reliance, but that was then and this was now. He would never admit it to himself or anyone else that he cared deeply about you to the point it scared him. As much as he loved making you scream out in painful pleasure he didn't want to hurt you so badly he scared you off. He needed you more than he realized.

Hearing you moan from just his fingers made him smirk in pride. He loved hearing how well he pleasured you, he wanted to hear more. Spreading his fingers wide he continued to pump them into you faster drawing out more moans from your lips. “O-oh oh fuck keep going! Gonna cum!” You moaned, throwing your head back against the wall. Your words encouraging him to pump his fingers harder. Reaching your orgasm with a cry you clung to his arms closing his eyes. 

You barely had a moment to come down from your orgasm when he slid his fingers out and replaced them with the tip of his cock. Gasping you opened your eyes to be met with his hungry gaze. Letting out a quiet moan you rolled your hips against his taking in more of his cock. He let out a low moan feeling his cock go deeper into you. It drove him mad. Growling he snapped his hips forward pushing all of his cock into you causing you to sob lightly. It stung but felt good at the same time. Whimpering softly you clung to him as tears welled in your eyes. He waited for a moment letting you adjust for a moment before he started to slowly rock his hips. Once your face started showing more pleasure than pain he sped his pace up thrusting faster into you. Pressing against you harder he pushed you against the wall even more making you feel a little squished. “Harder.” You moaned scratching at his arms. It was a request he was more than happy to comply with. 

The room was filled with the sounds of your needy moans and the relentless thrusts of Krampus. It was utter bliss being with him. December was by far your favorite time of the year and Christmas had nothing to do with it. 

[justgigity]

First Time with bf kento ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Cw: smut (obviously), p in v, oral (f receiving)

Summary: you’ve been dating kento for quite some time and you’re finally ready to take the next step. One problem, he’s completely oblivious.

“How the hell do you- ow!” You winced as your friend tightened the corset to your new lingerie set.

“Like that.” She grinned at you through the mirror before stepping back, admiring her work.

“Think it’ll work?”

“If it doesn’t, dump him.”

Truth is, you’d been trying to tempt your boyfriend for weeks. He’s a gentlemen, really. He’s careful and doting, opening doors and spoiling you till his wallet lacks its usual weight. But there’s just something missing-

“Sex?” Your boyfriend stands before you with a raised brow.

“Y-yes…I’m asking for sex, is that so hard to believe?” You look away in a mix of shame and arousal. Standing in front of him in this lingerie is something you’d never imagine would happen when you two first met.

“I just- wasn’t sure you were ready..” and it’s his turn to be embarrassed, maybe for the first time since you’ve met him. He’s usually so composed..

“You weren’t sure? The other day I nearly deep throated a popsicle in hopes you’d get the fucking hint!-“ you stop yourself, you’re getting too riled up over something so trivial.

“Sorry- sorry I just…I was-“

“Too scared to tell me directly what you needed?”

“Hey- I’m not the one who’s been acting all dense!” In one swift movement, he pushes you against your dresser.

“Do you know how long I held back?” He grips your chin.

“W-what..?” Before you can question him any further, he’s crashing his lips against you.

“Mm!- mm…” you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him down to your level. He pulls back, disconnecting your lips with a small ‘pop!’ And picks you up, rough calloused fingers digging into your thighs.

“I think I got the hint now.”

“Oh- really?” You roll your eyes, sarcasm filling your voice.

“Don’t get bratty, or I’ll hold out on you much longer.”

“As if- you look like you’re ready to devour me. No way you can hold back any longer”

“You wanna test that theory?” He retorts quickly

“…no.”

He chuckles

“Good girl..” he leaned down, peppering kisses on your inner thighs

“This is cheap material…not good for your skin” he mumbles as his hands run over the corset

“Be grateful-“

“Shh, let me take it off for you. I’ll buy you something of higher quality…can’t have my girlfriend wearing cheap lingerie.” You want to roll your eyes, if only he wasn’t so fucking hot like this. His fingers tug at both sides of your lacy sheer panties, tugging them down and carefully folding them off to the side.

“Seriously?” You raise a brow and a smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m messing with you..” he takes no time tearing the rest of the lingerie off you like a kid rushing to rip open his presents on Christmas morning. His eyes seem to soften as they scan over your body. he gently cups your breast, kissing the skin as if you were made out of glass. His delicate actions make you soften too.

“Nanami..”

“Shh baby…let me worship you, let me give you everything I’ve deprived you of..” with that, he leans down. Now face to face with your pussy.

“Hi.”

“…are you talking my pussy?-“

“Shh, baby. Don’t be rude..” he continues the greeting with a kiss to your clit, causing you to tense. He gently runs his tounge up your slit and once again to meet your clit. Keeping your thighs spread with his hands, sure to leave crescent indents from his nails. He leans closer, his mouth connecting to your entrance as his nose bumps against your clit, and you’re sure you’ve never seen the man so desperate. You’re his new favorite meal, and he’s oh so hungry. His tounge pressing into your hole, feeling the warmth envelop him. It only takes him about 7 minutes before your squeezing your thighs around his head, squealing.

“Nanami! c-cumming!” You throw your head back, gripping the sheets under you as you yell out his name like a prayer. He continues his movements for moments after, letting you ride it out till you’re pushing him away in desperation.

“W-where the hell did you learn that…?”

“I read a lot.” He pulls back. He gently adjusts the two of you, he strips his own clothes off. You swear you’re in heaven, because he looks just like an angel right infront of you. His body looking jaw droppingly handsome in the dim llight of your bedroom. But just wait till he wips it out. The sound of his zipper and pants dropping is followed by a somewhat dramatic gasp. He’s around 6 inches. And he’s oh so pretty. His girth is enough to make you contemplate calling off work tomorrow. The tip is already leaking beads of precum down his cock. You can only assume he was that way the whole time he ate you out. You reach out, and he allows you to stroke him, precum glistening on your hands now. He pulls your hand away.

“It’ll feel better somewhere else.” He lays you back down, aligning his glistening tip with your needy hole.

“Can’t believe I’ve waited this long..” he slowly moves his hips, watching your reaction until his pelvis is flush against yours.

“Are you…ok?” He groans out. He doesn’t know how he’s deprived himself of such bliss. You almost want to laugh, but decide against it in hopes of not ruining the atmosphere he’s created for the two of you.

“I’m fine just…give me a second or two” you smile up at him. You can feel the stretch of his cock filling you, even without moving he’s managed to press against spots you weren’t even aware existed.

“Now.” You speak up, holding his hand tightly. Nanami slowly pulls his hips back, and forth…setting a slow pace, speeding up little by little as he examines your face for any signs of discomfort.

“You feel so good, my pretty girl…so- fucking good..” he groans, his cock already twitching inside you. His tip rubbing against your g spot, fat cock stretching you so good.

“Nanami- right…right there, please” you whine.

“Here?” He angles his hips.

“Y-yes! Oh fuck- yes, please” he grins at your pleading. You’ve never seen him so..devious. He’s fucking into you at a faster pace now, the sound of your whines and skin slapping against skin fill the room. You clench around him as you feel a familiar tingle.

“W-wait I think- think I’m gonna-“ you can’t even finish your sentence before you’re a moaning squirming mess, nanami follows suit not longer after.

“Oh fuck- fuck- I love you so much” he groans as his cock twitches, leaking ropes of cum one after the other into your pretty pussy. He slowly pulls back to watch it drip from your leaky hole.

“So pretty…you’re so pretty..” he collapses next to you, going limp as he clings to you. You smile, moving his hair out of his forehead to plant a kiss there. You contemplate something before whispering to him with a mischievous grin.

“I love you too…one more round?”

[fellominaarcher]

About You - yearning!winter x fem!reader

1. December 16th.

chapters || next

The muffled sounds of the bustling city outside did little to break through the hum in Minjeong Kim's mind. She sat on the bench in the locker room, her scrub cap still crumpled in her lap. The sterile fluorescent light above flickered slightly, but her gaze was fixed downward, her thumb absently swiping at the screen of her phone.

"Do you think I have forgotten about you?"

The words stuck to her ribs, heavier with every breath.

Her thumb froze over a photo: her, smiling in scrubs, leaning close to a brunette with a grin so bright it seemed to cut through the walls of this very room. The date on the photo was over a year old, yet it felt like yesterday. Minjeong closed her eyes, resting her head against the cool lockers behind her. It was December, and the weight of it pressed on her shoulders. This month always did.

Minutes later, the bite of winter greeted her as she stepped out of the hospital. Her hands were buried deep in her coat pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold. With every exhale, a puff of steam escaped her lips, fleeting and ghostlike. The city didn’t slow for her melancholy. The streets buzzed with car horns and chatter, holiday lights draped over every lamppost and shop window. She walked through it like a shadow.

Her apartment was a haven above the chaos, modern yet warm. The smell of cinnamon from a candle she’d forgotten to extinguish the night before lingered faintly in the air. Minjeong—rather, her English name, Winter—locked the door behind her, pressing her forehead against the wood for a moment longer than necessary.

When she finally moved, it was methodical: her coat slid off onto the rack, her shoes abandoned at the door. She swapped her scrubs for a long black shirt and plaid sweatpants, the soft fabric comforting against her skin. Padding into the living room, she flicked on a single lamp. The warm glow softened the edges of her solitude, though it couldn’t erase it.

Minjeong dropped onto the couch, staring blankly at the space ahead. The city lights outside danced against the walls, their movement restless and alive—a stark contrast to her stillness. Somewhere in the corner, a Christmas tree stood undecorated, its branches bare but waiting.

She sighed, pulling the picture back up on her phone. She knew she shouldn’t. But there it was again: her face, her smile, and the brunette’s, luminous and carefree. The memory burned, a bittersweet warmth in the cold December air.

"Do you think I have forgotten about you?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she tilted her head back against the couch, tears threatening but never falling.

She sat on the couch for a few minutes, legs sprawled out, head tilting back against the cushions. A heavy sigh escaped her lips.

Then she got up.

Her fingers traced the spines of the books on her shelves before she pulled one out, but the movement was too sudden. A quiet thud followed as two polaroids slipped from between the pages, fluttering to the ground.

Minjeong froze.

Her expression remained blank—almost eerily so—as she stared down at them. Seconds passed, then a minute, before she finally kneeled down, picking them up carefully.

She didn’t look at them.

Instead, she quickly shoved them into a random book and pushed it back into place, as if burying something she shouldn’t have unearthed.

Opening the book in her hand, she cleared her throat, forcing her eyes to focus on the words.

"The Kocher maneuver is a technique used to expose the posterior aspect of the pancreas..."

Her voice was steady, detached. She flipped the page.

"Blunt dissection should be performed carefully to avoid injury to the surrounding vasculature..."

Her grip tightened on the book.

The words blurred slightly, but she kept reading.

Because if she stopped, if she let herself think, December would feel even longer than it already did.

[outsideratheart]

Meant to be - snippet (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: this is only the first part of this fic which could be read as a stand alone fic or prequel to Birthdays in Bed. There is more, I promise.

Life has a funny way of giving you the thing you wanted most exactly when you needed it. Sometimes you think it isn’t meant for you, only for it to happen a few months later. 

Both you and Alexia were emotionally exhausted after going through 4 rounds of IVF. The first time didn’t take which you knew was a possibility but the fourth, that one was successful. As Christmas morning came around you watched as Alexia handed out Eli and Alba two very different presents that held the same meaning. They both welled up upon realising what it was you were telling them.

It was happiest time of your lives but only a couple a weeks later, a few days into the new year something felt wrong. You woke up in the middle of the night with sharp pains in your lower abdomen. When you pulled back the bedsheet and saw the red stains you knew exactly what was happening. Alexia woke up just as you got out of bed and saw you go into the en-suite. When she saw the cause of your awakening she jumped out of bed and ran to you.

It was a tough couple of months that followed. The team hadn’t been told that you were expecting so at least training was like normal, that was about the only place. You and Alexia were grieving the loss of your child and it was starting to take its toll. You had a decision to make. Do you try again or take a break to process the loss. In the end you agreed to try once more and if that one didn’t take then you would take a break until the summer where you would try another round.

“Are you ready?” Alexia stood in front of you in your bedroom with the test in her hand. You had sent her into the bathroom to get it as you were too nervous.

You nod your head. That told her yes but that wasn’t was you were feeling. You weren’t ready and that’s because you didn’t know if you want it to be positive or negative. The miscarriage affected you mentally more than you could have imagined.

Alexia looked down and whilst you tried to remain stoic, you saw her features drop a little bit and that told you all you needed to know.

“It’s negative, isn’t it?” You hold your hands out for her to take. She joins you on the bed and rests her head on your shoulder.

“Why is the universe so against us starting a family?” Your wife asked in defeat “We are good people”

“You, my love, are the amongst the very best people” you softly kiss her hairline “This is something that is out of our control. I have put a lot of stress on my body over the years may—“

“No!” Alexia’s head snapped up “You won’t blame yourself for this”

Alexia knew that you blamed yourself for the loss of your unborn child and whilst you promised you were doing better, she knew deep down the guilt was still there.

“I was going to say that it’s because of this stress that it might take a little bit longer than we hoped. Let’s face it, we are not the most patient people in the world”

The woman beside you chuckled as she fell backwards so she is now laying on the bed.

“We will have a family Alexia. It will happen when it is suppose to happen” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I don’t but I refuse to believe the alternative. Now, go shower because we have training in a hour and you know we can’t be late”

It was true. Every training session was crucial at the minute. The team were only a couple of games away from winning the league, the Champions League final was at the end of May and the Copa de La Reina semi final and final was at the beginning of June. It was a busy time for Barcelona and truth be told it was a welcomed distraction for the both of you.

Before you knew it you were playing in the Copa de La Reina final having won the league and the champions league within the span of a month. It was a final again Atleti, your favourite fixture of the season. You got to play against some of your best friends and it was always a good game.

“Once last game. What do you say? Shall we have some fun?” You nudge Alexia as you exit the locker room for the warms up.

“And dinner afterwards” Alexia suggested.

“You do realise that if we win then the whole team will be going on out dinner” you teased.

“I’ll take that as a yes” Alexia kisses you on your lips, leaving you in shock. Never had she done that before a game and not out in the open, not that you were complaining.

You ran your fingers over your lips as you savour the feeling of your wife’s lips on yours. There was something going on with Alexia. She was untouchable on the pitch and she played you ball after ball. Lola did a very good job at keeping your shots out of the net but some she stood no change at stopping. Going in to the final minutes it was 3-2 to Barcelona.

You were through on goal and it was only going to end one way. You felt so confident in the shot you had planned that you were already planning your celebration in your head. Only you never got the chance to fulfil it as you felt the full force of a pair of studs connect with your ankle and you heard something snap. Carmen was by your side immediately.

“Y/N! Y/N!”” Lola joined her followed by Alexia a couple of seconds later. Your wife didn’t push the defender out the way as she knew the tackle wasn’t on purpose. She simple went to your other side but not before looking at your ankle which was clearly broken.

It was bad. You knew this so you didn’t argue when the stretcher came onto the pitch. You were strangely calm as you talked to the physios and the players around you.

“Ale, please come with me to the hospital? I can’t go there alone not after last time” 

Staying and playing out the final seconds was never even a thought in Alexia’s mind. She knew the moment you were referring to and whilst you would be going to a different part of the hospital, she wouldn’t let you go alone.

A couple of hours later you were laid in a hospital room. Alexia was by your side as you both wait for the x-ray results. You knew they had to take them but you didn’t need a medical degree to know that you broke you ankle, it was a clean break and you knew that you would be out for an extended period of time.

It felt as is every five minutes three more footballers joined you in your room. You were pretty sure this many visitors weren’t allowed but you also know that the nurse was a fan which explains the leniency.

When the doctor came in there was enough football players to have a starting 11 and some subs. The older man laughed as he scanned the room. 

“I have your results. Miss Y/L/N—“

“It’s Putellas-Y/L/N” Alexia hated it when people called you by your maiden name even though the two of you never officially announced you were married.

“My apologies. Miss Putellas-Y/L/N” The doctor sent Alexia smile who nodded whilst smiling herself “as I was saying, I have your results. I think it’s best to talk to you in private. Your wife can stay of course”

Up until now you had remained in high spirits having already accepted your fate but the doctor words dampened those spirits entirely. 

“Is something wrong?” Alexia asked as she squeezed your hand three times.

“Not necessarily”

You told your friends that it was ok to leave and the doctor promised to come and get them once the results had been discussed.

The atmosphere in the room did a complete 180 as you and Alexia waited for the doctor to speak. 

“She has broken her ankle, no?” Alexia’s patience grows thin.

“Yes, let’s start with that” he says which confuses you and Alexia “You ankle is broken. It was a clean break but is a bad one. We are going to take you into surgery in the morning”

“No, you do it now. She is a professional athlete. She is a priority”

The doctor looked at you for help.

“Alexia, let the man speak. I’m sure there is a reason for the delay in surgery. There is a reason, right?” 

“There is a reason. It is part of procedure to take blood tests when a patient gets admitted. Y/N,” the man donning a white coat moves closer to you “Have you been trying to start a family?” 

This was private information. Information that you and alexia didn’t feel comfortable discussing with a stranger, nor were you ready to talk about it.

“We were. Did that play a part in the break? Did the hormones I’m taking weaken my body?” 

The doctor looks at you, over to the Alexia and then back to you.

“You’re pregnant. Rather far along actually”

You were rendered speechless. How is this possible? The text was negative and you haven’t tried since. There was no way you were pregnant. Alexia must share the same disbelief because she explains this to the doctor. He confirms again that you are indeed pregnant and that the hospital tests are much more accurate that the ones you take at home.

“You’re 9 weeks along. I have a nurse ready to give you an ultra sound if that is something you would like or we can schedule it for the moment when things are a little bit quieter” he laughs as he dips his head to the door, a reminder that your friends are outside.

“Are you sure?” Alexia asks still not believing what she is hearing.

“100%” and with that the doctor left you and your wife alone to proceed what he has just told you.

[storiesfromafan]

Heart Felt Gifts - Benny x Reader

A/N: so its Christmas Eve for me right now. I have gifts to wrap but I've chosen to write instead 😅

I thought a cute Christmas fic was in order. And in true fashion, this little idea came to me while in the shower lol.

Now I have to wrap presents, before finishing my Mattheo Christmas fic haha.

Warning: fluff, cute nonsense 😅

Words: 1428

You weren’t one for being woken up, but having a strong set of arms wrapping around you, and being pulled against a firm body. Your back to their chest, and you knew exactly who the body was; Benny Cross. The most delicious mix of a moan and a groan came from Benny as he buried his face against the back of your neck. Seems he had just woken up too.

You stretched lightly, placing a hand over one of his arms that held you securely. You might not like being woken up but every time Benny stays over, and wakes up to hold you close, you could definitely wake up like this without an issue. Benny squeezed you once more loosening his hold on you, as he moved his face back.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart" his morning voice pleasantly greeted your ears.

You smiled, turning in his arms so you could face the gorgeous Vandal. “Merry Christmas”. And you pecked his full lips.

Of course Benny moved in, chasing your lips for another kiss – a longer kiss. You playfully fled his advances with a giggle, but eventually gave into him. Tender and lazily Benny kissed your lips, the both of you enjoying this sweet moment. You both laid there, wrapped around the other for some time. Just talking, sharing stories and laughing.

Finally you did get up, putting on your robe and slippers, you told Benny you’d put some coffee on. He made a noise of acknowledgement, and you then slipped out from the room. Reaching the kitchen you moved around getting the coffee brewing, and putting the pot under the machine. When it was ready it began to drip into the pot. You took that time to get two coffee cups, along with milk and sugar.

Benny entered the kitchen just as you’d finished make your cups up. He kissed your cheek before taking the offered cup. You took a cautious sip, savouring the liquid and hoping it would help get you through the day. Benny was doing the same. You then took a hold of his hand, leading him back into the lounge room. Sitting on the couch together, you put down your coffee and sat back, getting comfy up against Benny’s side as he put an arm around you.

You put on the TV, finding something Christmassy to watch, though it was more background noise. As Benny seemed to just enjoy having you close. His hand would graze up and down your arm, the pads of his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. He’d kiss your cheek or neck, just for the fun of it. Another perfect moment.

“This is the perfect morning" you sighed, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I got ya a little something".

With that you slipped out of Benny's strong arms and moved to your small tree nearby. Picking up a small red box with green tartan ribbon. Joining Benny back on the couch, you sat with your legs under you and offered him the gift. Looking at the gift, to you and then back to the box, he was speechless. You moved the box a little closer to him, saying it’s his.

Cautiously Benny took the offered gift in his hand. He felt the weight and it wasn’t that heavy. Bringing it to his lap, Benny continued to look at your gift. All the while you watched him. And after a few minutes you began to think a gift wasn’t a good idea, as he didn’t seem excited about it.

“I-it’s alright if ya don’t want to open it now, maybe later" you stated moving your legs out from under you and taking a sip of your cooling coffee.

Benny looked to you, hearing how your voice had changed. As well as seeing how deflated you were. Sitting up quickly, he grasped your gift in both hands. “I’m gonna open it now, baby”.

He pulled one of the ends of the bow, it came undone without a fuss. Removing the ribbon and lid, Benny was greeted to white tissue paper. Moving it out of the way what greeted him surprised Benny. There in the delicate white paper was a new pair of leather riding gloves. Reaching out, Benny ran his finger tips over the cool material. A small smile working its way onto his face. A thoughtful gift, from his thought girl.

You watched with baited breath when he had said he would open it. You were nervous, not knowing if he would like the gloves. As you’d seen his well-worn ones every time you rode with him, and thought it might be time for a new pair. You released the breath you’d been holding when you saw that smile on his face.

He likes it, thank God!

Turning to you, Benny leant in for a big kiss. “Thanks sweetheart. I love ‘em".

You giggled and smiled, heart light and absolutely over the moon. “I am so glad! I was nervous you wouldn’t like them...”

Pulling you in for a hug and another kiss. Benny whispered how much he loved them. And how sweet, caring and thoughtful you were. I don’t know how I ended up with you he had commented, just adding to your joy. Glad to hear him being so vocal. But then, while tucked in his arms, Benny seemed to freeze. Like he was suddenly unsure about something. Then it hit you, maybe Benny hadn’t gotten you anything. And that was fine, you didn’t expect a gift after a month of being together. When it came to your gift, it was just a spur of the moment thing when you saw them.

“It’s alright if you didn’t get me anything” you said suddenly. “I didn’t expect anything, really. Just happy to be with ya right now". And you gave him a big, bright smile to show him you weren’t upset.

Benny shook his head. “Nuh...I got ya somethin’...”

He then put the box down on the floor and headed over to his jacket, which was hanging by the door. From his pocket Benny seemed to retrieve something. You noted it couldn’t have been a big gift, not that you were expecting a large gift. Whatever he gives you, you would appreciate it. As it was from him. That he had thought of you when he picked it out.

Falling back down next to you, Benny hesitated before holding out a tiny box. It was green and had no bow, which meant he hadn’t shopped anywhere fancy. Taking the tiny box in your hand, you looked to Benny once more, who seemed to be shy and embarrassed. But why? What was in this box that had him acting like this. Surely it couldn’t be a curtain kind of ring, right?

With that thought in mind, nervously you opened the box with a shaky hand. Upon seeing the contents you sighed, relieved to not see an engagement ring. But what lay in there confused you. Between your finger and thumb, you picked up the contents and held it up while looking to Benny. He had gifted you a men’s ring, like one of the ones he wore.

“Ah, I know it’s the thought that counts...but” – you tried it on your pointer finger, which was your thicker finger, and it was still too big – “this ring is too big, and is a man’s ring...”

Benny chuckled. “I know, baby" he removed the ring from your finger. “It’s mine". He flashed the finger it had previously sat on.

Now you were even more confused. But then Benny moved his hand to the box you still held, pulling out a silver chain that you hadn’t seen. He then proceeded to undo the clasp, slipping the ring on the chain and then leant around you to clasp it behind your neck. It fell down under your collar bone, resting there like it had always been there.

“I’d gotten the chain so ya could wear my ring around your neck" he stated, looking at the ring before back to your eyes. “My girl should have somethin' of mine to wear, right?”

When Benny’s words washed over you, your brain registering what he’d said, the brightest smile crossed your face. Eyes lighting up with joy. You launched yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck while you crawled into his lap. You showered him with kisses, making Benny laugh. Being – officially – Benny’s girl was the best Christmas present you could get. And you had his ring to prove it to anyone who wouldn't believe you.

[lvnleah]

— christmas date | lia wälti 🎄

find the twelve days of Christmas masterlist here!

You and Lia had been looking forward to this evening for weeks, a chance to escape the whirlwind of the holiday season and focus entirely on each other. Christmas Eve had arrived, and the city was alive with twinkling lights, the streets bustling with last-minute shoppers, and the air cold. But tonight, none of that mattered. All that mattered was you and Lia, together.

You’d planned a surprise date night for her, one that you hoped would be full of warmth, laughter, and unforgettable moments. Lia, as always, was a little too suspicious, already guessing that something special was in the works, but you could see the excitement in her eyes when you told her to get ready. She didn’t ask questions, instead just giving you that knowing smile of hers. 

The evening started with a casual walk through the nearby park, hand in hand. The air was crisp, the streets damp from an earlier rain, but everything felt magical under the glow of streetlights. It was one of those rare winter nights where everything seemed perfect, as though the world had slowed down just for you two.

Lia squeezed your hand as she pointed out a set of Christmas lights in the distance, sparkling from the branches of a tall, proud tree. “Let’s go see that,” she suggested, her eyes lighting up with childlike wonder, even though you both had seen dozens of holiday displays by now.

You both strolled closer, taking in the beauty of the decorations as they danced in the chilly breeze. Lia’s laughter rang out as she tried to twirl in the snow that had started to fall lightly, her movements graceful and effortless even in the cold. You couldn’t help but laugh with her, catching her in your arms when she nearly lost her balance on the slick sidewalk.

“I swear, you could dance anywhere,” you teased, feeling the warmth in your chest as her laughter softened into a smile.

“I’ve got a good partner,” she replied, leaning into you for a brief moment of quiet before continuing your walk. Her arm found its way around your waist, and for the rest of the journey, you both simply enjoyed the beauty of the night, the peace of the world around you, and the joy of being together.

Next, you led her to a nearby ice skating rink, a small outdoor setup nestled between two shops. You had rented skates for the two of you earlier, and now, with the rink almost empty save for a few skaters, it felt like the perfect spot to share a slow, intimate evening. Lia raised an eyebrow when she saw it, but she didn’t protest, only accepting your hand as you both walked toward the rink.

“I can’t believe you got me skating,” she joked, a smirk on her face. “You know I’m terrible at this.”

“You’ve got me, don’t you?” you teased back as you took her hand and led her onto the ice.

At first, the two of you wobbled and laughed, arms flailing as you found your balance. Lia’s grin was wide, and her laughter was contagious. Eventually, the two of you found a rhythm, skating slowly in circles, your hands clasped tightly together. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the soft scrape of skates against the ice and the gentle rhythm of your breaths.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” Lia said, her voice full of delight as she managed a smooth glide around the rink.

“I knew you would,” you responded, a sense of pride in your voice. You had always known that no matter how many challenges life threw her way, she’d rise to meet them. This was just another example.

You skated for a while longer, gliding in sync with her, then pulled her aside to warm up by the firepit nearby. The warmth from the flames made the cold air feel bearable, and as you sat side by side, you found yourselves wrapped in a comfortable silence. You let your fingers intertwine, feeling the familiar sense of closeness and love that had become second nature between the two of you over the years.

“I’ve missed this,” Lia said softly, her head resting against your shoulder. “Just us. No distractions.”

“Me too,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “We need more nights like this.”

The final part of your evening took you both to a Christmas market, tucked away on a quiet side street. The soft glow of lights and the scent of warm mulled wine and roasted chestnuts filled the air as you wandered through the stalls, hand in hand. You bought hot chocolate, letting the warmth seep into your bones as you stroll between the shops, stopping every so often to admire the handmade ornaments and trinkets.

Lia was practically glowing, the soft light from the market stalls reflecting in her eyes. You could see how content she was, how she revelled in the simple joy of the evening. And it made your heart swell, knowing that you were the one who had made it all happen. This was your Christmas gift to her: a night of laughter, love, and memories that would last far beyond the season.

As you walked, Lia pulled you to a stop in front of a little booth selling mistletoe. You laughed as she grabbed a sprig, holding it above your head. “Guess we have to,” she said with a cheeky grin.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You leaned in, your lips finding hers in a kiss that was slow and sweet, lingering under the mistletoe. For a moment, everything else faded away—the lights, the sounds, the cold air. There was only you and her, wrapped in love and contentment.

When you finally pulled back, your hearts beating in sync, Lia gave you a soft, dreamy smile. “Best Christmas ever,” she whispered, and at that moment, you knew she meant it.

And you did, too. Because no matter how many Christmases passed, the best part would always be sharing them with her.

[ichasewaterfalls]

CAR OMORASHI.

By reading this, you verify that you are 18+ years old, and understand the content you’re about to read is considered NSFW and omorashi-linked, and therefore unsuitable to minors.

I tried to keep the heightening urge to pee in the back of my mind as we sped down the highway towards the mountains. We’d only been driving for an hour or so, and I didn’t want to inconvenience Jake just yet. I was sure that I had a good few more miles left in me before it escalated to emergency status. I’d turned down the initial toilet break before we left, confident in my holding ability and wanting to keep to our strict schedule in order to get to Jake’s parents house before Christmas Eve.

Dismissing the thought from my mind, I instead scrolled the plan I’d written for our trip. Itineraries for each day, special activities for us all, and even a family photoshoot for the entire group. I’d taken joy in planning every family reunion since Jake and I got married 4 years ago. Admittedly, I’d also taken control the 2 years we were engaged, and the 3 years of dating. So with 9 years of planning under my belt, I was confident I knew how to create the perfect festive bash.

That wasn’t the only thing under my belt. My bladder reminded me of its existence as Jake merged rapidly into the left-most lane, and I shivered randomly as a wave of urgency fell down my spine.

‘What the hell? You’re supposed to be in the right lan-‘

Before I told him off for his directional mishap, I looked up quickly to see the lane was blocked off, a massive spill of hay all over the road. Should’ve thought of this as a possibility, since we were just passing the thresholds between country farms and mountainous ranges. My bladder seemed to be passing a threshold too, between uncomfortable and urgent.

‘We’ll have to go the back way. It’ll be about 45 extra minutes added to the journey.’

I sighed with frustration, 45 minutes? Not only did it throw us off schedule, it meant longer for me to hold my increasingly aching bladder.

‘I’ll text your mom.’ I scoffed, quickly shooting the group chat a text to let them know we’d be a bit late. As I put my phone down again, I crossed my legs and placed my hands on my lap, preparing myself to have to place a hand or two between my legs to hold myself.

I must have been shaking without notice, but Jake obviously did. He always did.

‘You alright there? Need a bathroom break?’

‘N-no, I’m fine. I- Yes I need a bathroom break.’

‘I’m not sure where the closest facility is on this road. I don’t normally drive the backroads to mom’s. I’m sure we’ll figure it out babe.’

The drive continued, and so did my need for a bathroom. I now had one hand between my legs, and another hand scanning Google Maps, trying to find any relief stops near us. But of course, rural mountain roads aren’t the most reliable source of internet connection. I thought about asking Jake to stop so I could get out and go, but since everyone was diverted, like us, we had cars in front and behind us. And with narrow, slippery roads, there wasn’t enough space to stop and pull over, or safely get off the road. A sinking feeling set in. My sense of chivalry was no longer important to me, he was my husband after all.

‘Jake it’s getting worse, I need to find relief ASAP.’

‘I don’t know how to help babe, I’m trying.’

He was obviously noticing the severity of the situation, as he placed his foot on the gas, going up to the safest speed limit for these roads. I watched him stare at me anxiously as I shoved both hands inside my pants, trying to hold back the pee from escaping.

As the car climbed higher into the range, my need for a bathroom reached a breaking point, and the urgency in my voice became palpable. "Jake," I gasped, my face contorted with discomfort, "I really can't hold it much longer."

"I know, Clara," Jake signed, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of civilization or a restroom. "Just a little longer, okay? Let's try some deep breathing together."

He reached over, placing one hand on my shoulder to guide me through deep, calming breaths. "Inhale deeply...hold it for a moment...now exhale slowly," he coached, trying to keep his voice steady despite the rising panic.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the seatbelt tightly. "It's not working, Jake," I whimpered, my voice trembling with desperation.

But as the minutes ticked by, my resolve wavered. I clutched the dashboard, my face flushed with embarrassment and defeat. "Jake," I whispered, tears forming in her eyes, "I can't...I'm so sorry."

Before Jake could respond, the inevitable happened. My efforts to hold it in proved futile, as the pee rushed out of me, soaking my jeans and the car seat beneath me.

For a moment, silence filled the car, save for my muffled sobs and Jake's stunned expression. The weight of the situation hung heavy between us.

"I'm so sorry, Jake," I managed to choke out, tears streaming down her face.

Jake took a deep breath, reaching over to comfort me. "It's okay sweetheart," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy and understanding. "Accidents happen. We'll figure this out together."

[bunnylovesani]

Miss Congeniality

Chapter 1

Content warnings: suggestive and derogative language, reader being humiliated, mentions of panties and arousal

WC: 2.4k

You stared at the clock and huffed, it was 10 minutes past midnight. Your older brother Jaden and his best friend Anakin should’ve come home by now.

“Good night honey, don’t stay up too late, you need your beauty sleep for the pageant tomorrow!” your mother cooed as she walked past your door, peering into your admittedly childishly decorated bedroom.

You had turned 19 last month but still hadn’t gotten over your fixation for all things pink and frilly, your walls adored with posters of your favourite singers and your bedsheets decorated with petite lace bows on every corner. You wrapped your satin bedrobe tight around yourself as you got up and headed downstairs to the lounge, where you’d spent many nights staring at the door waiting for your favourite boys to come home from their escapades.

Your gaze settled on a large framed photo of you resting on the mantlepiece, wearing a pageant crown and smiling gracefully. Sure, you were mommy and daddy’s pride and joy, the most beautiful girl in the county and latest winner of the teen Miss Naboo competition, but you were bored. A whole lifetime of always being the good girl had taken its toll and left you with a feeling of discontenment and envy. You saw the way other girls had fun, sneaking out at night and going to parties with handsome boys- Anakin always had a crowd of women swarming him and you hated that you felt jealous at the attention he gave them.

You knew ultimately you were above all that, you knew that you were saving yourself for a worthy man, one who would appreciate the efforts you made to keep yourself pure. But sometimes, when you saw the veins snaking their way down Ani’s arms, with his black band tees rolled up to his muscular elbows and his plump lips playing with his tongue piercing, you feared you might not be able to hold back much longer. As if your thoughts summoned him, the door swung open and the raucous laughter of the boys filled the stately family home.

“Did you see the way that chick was giving me fuck-me eyes? She totally wants it, I’ve got half a mind to - oh. Sis, what are you doing still up?” Jaden’s face fell as he hung his coat up.

“I was just making myself a cup of cocoa, trying to soothe my nerves for the competition tomorrow.” You lied. You couldn’t care less about the pageant and you didn’t even really like cocoa. You just wanted to be there to catch a glimpse of your favourite emo boy.

“Oh yeah, forgot that shit was tomorrow. Do I still have to drive you?” Jaden rolled his eyes, he never did understand the appeal of being paraded around like a prized pig.

“No, I presumed you’d be too inebriated from the night before so I asked daddy already.” You happily chittered, unconsciously raising your nightie just a little so that your brother’s friend might catch a better glimpse of your freshly moisturised, strawberry scented thighs. He didn’t pay it any notice as per usual, not that it stopped you from trying.

“Ah you know me too well.” Jaden chuckled “Good luck with that, let’s go Anakin.”

“Wait, wait! How was your night? Did you guys have fun?” You pouted, big doe eyes staring at them in disappointment to have not been filled in on their nighttime adventures.

“Oh you don’t wanna hear about that sweetheart” Ani finally spoke, smirking. “Your brother is quite the Cassanova.”

“That’s enough of that, off to bed with you” Jaden interrupted him, motioning for you to leave before slipping into the kitchen to help himself to the pot of fresh cocoa you’d made.

“You know, you look really creepy when you’re sat there like that right in front of the door. At least turn on a lamp or some shit.” Anakin uttered harshly, making your cheeks burn up with embarassment.

“Um, I, I’m sorry? I’ll make sure the place is lit up like a christmas tree next time.” You muttered, staring at the ground and silently cursing your obedient nature. God, he had a way of making you feel small. The slight smirk that creeped up on his face made you suspect that he liked that.

“Now that I think about it, why is it that you happen to be in the living room every time I come through the door? Do you wanna hang out with us that bad?” Anakin sniggered in that signature cocky way only he knows how.

“Oh shut up, I have better things to do than to sit around smoking joints with 2 college dropouts.” You rolled your eyes, was it that obvious? Clearly you would have to find a better cover than drinking hot chocolate.

“Goddamn, this cocoa tastes like shit. Are you sure you didn’t make it with mud?!” Jaden emerged from the kitchen sipping from his mug and scowling, eliciting a cackle from Anakin. “Don’t ever try cooking sis, stick to looking pretty in dresses.” he tousled your hair as he walked past you and up the stairs to his room. Anakin gave you one last look, subtly dropping his glare down to your legs before smiling ever so slightly as he followed his friend. The second of eye contact made your heart pound with a worrying intensity and you had to calm your racing mind before the inappropriate thoughts started forming again.

It had been a week since the last time the boys hung out, and in this moment you wished it’d been longer as you sat in bed, enveloped in your pink fluffy blanket - huffing at the sounds of Anakin and Jaden howling with laughter next door. What could possibly be so funny that it induces such animalistic noise? Once the guffawing was so loud that you could no longer hear your movie over it, you resolutely climbed out of bed, slid your slippers on and marched over to your brother’s room across the hallway. As soon as you opened the door, the pungent smell of their sweet, earthy joint hit you.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re laughing so hard.” You cross your arms at the sight of them convulsing with giggles. “Can you cretins keep it down?”

“Apologies, are we disturbing your Barbie movie marathon?” A very dishevelled looking Jaden grinned. “Or are you watching Enchanted again? How many times have I told you, stop dreaming about Prince Charming, he’s not coming.” You furrow your brows, about to launch a tirade on your brother when Anakin interjects.

“Oh my God, what are those?” he points at your slippers. “Are you wearing fluffy pink bunnies on your feet? Seriously?” He covers his mouth with his hand to stop the giggles that threaten to burst through. You stare down at the dopey faces of the little bunnies sticking out of your shoes.

“No! I mean yes but these are old, mom bought them for me, they were just lying around and I’m kinda cold.” The excuses started flowing out as Anakin glared at you endearingly.

“Oh my God, why are you lying? They’re her favourite ones, she wears them every day.” Jaden sniggers and you wonder why you even tried to lie with your brother there.

“Aw, you don’t have to lie sweetie, I think it’s cute. Pretty little pageant princess in her pink slippers.” Anakin smiles and you’re unsure whether he’s mocking you.

Feeling mortified, you run out and slam your bedroom door closed- a resounding bang being heard as the bedrobe and nightie that hung on the back fell off the hook and spilled onto the floor. For their information, you were watching a documentary. You know he dismissed you as nothing other than his friend’s childish little sister, just a brat who couldn’t ever keep up with him- he was 4 years older than you after all.

But you’re not a little girl anymore. Sure, your favourite colour was pink and you pranced around on stage in ballgowns, but you were a woman now. You had come into your own this year and you saw the whole world differently. You had never usually paid any mind to the boys that circulated around the house with your brother- but now they piqued your interest immensely, one in particular. You’ll never forget the first day you really noticed him.

It was last winter, you had gone to support your big brother at one of his hockey matches as you often loved doing. It was the semi-finals and he had led his team to a resounding victory as captain, rushing the barricades towards you and your parents, arms raised and fists curled in a triumphant dance that you mirrored. He engulfed you in a callous bear hug, easily enveloping you before clambering over to your parents. Over the broad shoulders of the players, you caught a glimpse of him.

His dark hair swooped messily over his forehead, thick eyebrows furrowed over his piercing blue eyes as he hung back from the rest of the team, choosing to avoid the adoring crowd and slip away into the changing rooms. You experienced a visceral response to seeing him in that oversized hockey jersey, so much so that you saw it in your dreams for the next month.

Suddenly, the unobtrusive guy who hung around your brother and occasionally teased you for the way you dressed became so much more than that. You felt on edge every time he came over, rushing over to your room to put on some lipgloss or change into a cuter dress before casually walking past the hallway a suspicious amount of times, hoping he would get a glimpse of you through the open crack in Jaden’s door. Luckily for you, your oaf of a brother never caught on, and if Anakin did, he never made it known.

Whilst reminiscing, you heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Ani’s sweet voice sounded. “I didn’t mean to upset you, we were just playing around.” You got up from your wallowing position in bed and straightened up like an arrow.

“Oh no, it’s fine, I wasn’t upset. I’m used to it.” You smiled sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But thanks anyway.”

“I meant what I said. It’s good you have a strong identity, it’s what makes you you. You shouldn’t pay any mind to what others say, least of all me. I mean I’ve had plenty of choice comments about my look but I wouldn’t be Anakin without the piercings or the headphones or the bad attitude now, would I?” He leans on the doorframe and looks at you curiously. You have to take a deep breath to suppress a full body shiver, you don’t think you can take much longer of him staring at you like you’re his next meal.

“What’s all this- oh my“ he spots your nightie on the floor and picks it up. “Who are you trying to impress wearing this missy?” he closely inspects the white satin dress adorned with a lace trim, rubbing the rough pads of his fingers over the smooth fabric.

“And this?” He picks up the scandalous red panties sprawled out next to his feet and observes them as they dangle off his finger.

“Anakin! Put those down!” You jolt up towards him in an attempt to frantically snatch them out of his hand but he simply holds them up in the air so that you can’t reach. You weren’t a short girl by any means but you felt like one next to Ani’s staggering height.

“Oh this is priceless, are you telling me you actually wear these around the house? Or is it to your pageants, do you have some kind of boyfriend we don’t know about?” He laughs, clearly enjoying this abuse of power.

“No I don’t, not that it’s any of your business!” You huffed, slapping his chest in indignant frustration. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look pretty for yourself.”

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t believe you. Because these aren’t pretty panties, this is a very slutty thong. One that someone would only wear if they were expecting to get laid.” His raspy voice dropped in tone, like he was saying something he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “Are you trying to get laid?”

A whimper almost escaped your lips at the unexpected question. Suddenly you were aware of how close your face was to his and that both your hands were resting on his chest.

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.” You muttered quietly, maintaining eye contact.

“Ah, who would’ve thought Jaden’s little sister would be such a slut. I bet daddy wouldn’t be happy to find out his little girl wears these.” He wraps his hand around the panties and subtly pockets them into his baggy black jeans.

“If I were really a slut then you’d be the first to know about it.” The words slipped out as you turned away from him.

“What?” He grabbed you by the wrist and turned you back around. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve never even been with one guy, let alone enough to make me a slut.” You admitted coyly, regretting the words as soon as they came out.

“You really are a good girl, aren’t you?” His gaze is so intense you worry your knees might buckle. “Something’s gonna have to be done about that.”

His fingers trace your collarbone as he takes one last look into your helpless eyes before turning around, smirking to himself as he leaves the room. You sigh a breath of relief at his absence, trying not to pay too much attention to the growing wetness between your thighs. This was not going to bode well for your vow of chastity.

Wait a minute, did he take your panties?

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